#not my best work due to time and hand constraints but I hope you enjoy anyway!

[aptericia]

are you doing trick-or-treats?! I did not see! or maybe I sent you one a while ago. but if I did not: trick or treat from Barfie, Lulu, Uru, Ballyfätten, meow meow tsum tsum, nyanzy, and various other sweet smiling children!

Haha I wasn’t planning to, but they kept coming in!! Thanks for stopping by!! I am giving a treat to each of Barfie, Lulu, Uru, Ballyfätten, meow meow tsum tsum, nyanzy, and the other various sweet smiling children 🥰💕🍬

I was going to send you this in an ask, but since you’re already here…

Happy Halloween from the sewer children!!! Thanks so much for all your support and sweet comments, and of course for continuing to provide ashen wolves propaganda! hope you have a great one 😊🙏

[catt-marp]

Left Behind - Sylveon & Trainer story

The pager in his hand gave little away–a room number and the patient’s age. The room itself was a few floors up and on the opposite end of the hospital. He reached down to his belt where his partner currently enjoyed a well-earned rest. He took the Poké Ball off his belt and released his friend into the call-room that was their home base on days like today. A bed, a bedside table with a lit lamp providing the only lighting in the room, and a desk and chair combination with a computer not actively running. No windows, as per usual.

A flash of light later, a Sylveon stood at Oliver’s feet shaking off the last vestiges of sleep as he looked up at his best friend, tilting his head a little in question.

“Duty calls, Star! Sorry to wake you from your nap. I know you didn’t sleep great last night,” Oliver said with an apologetic smile on his face.

Star strode up to Oliver and rubbed against his leg where he sat on the bed, his signal for pets. The smile on Oliver’s face turned fond as he reciprocated the affection with a rub of his hand through the top of Star’s head, gripping the bow affixed in front of the Sylveon’s left ear between two fingers. A ribbon unconsciously wrapped around said hand in response, a pulse of love flowing between them. Oliver stole a glance at the clock on the wall–1600, almost done. 

With great reluctance, Oliver pulled his hand away. A quick huff and a good natured glare from Star had him holding his hands up in defense.

“Not my choice! If you weren’t so sleepy, we could have been doing this well before we got the call!” 

Another huff. 

“At any rate, we should get going on this call. Nothing specific on this one.”

A serious expression overtook Oliver’s face as he said that, a similar one appearing on his partner’s. The Sylveon wore a sash with the letters “BERT” running across it in all caps, matching the symbol on Oliver’s badge. 

BERT. Behavioral Emergency Response Team. A fancy way of saying “de-escalation squad” for the hospital. With the designations in place, they started toward the room number provided.

***

Oliver never thought himself a high level trainer, but he went on a few league season runs in Unova. He was one of the very lucky ones to stumble into meeting an Eevee that agreed to be his partner, several years before he went on his first journey at 14. 

They became fast friends in those early years, doing anything they could together. It wasn’t until near the end of their second league season while battling Skyla for their 5th gym badge where, when hope for victory seemed lost, Star evolved into his Sylveon form. He quickly cleaned up Skyla’s rental Swanna with a well-placed Moonblast, earning them their 5th badge. They got little farther than that due to time constraints, but they were proud of what they accomplished.

Oliver and Star had discussed his evolutionary path years in advance. Oliver made it clear that he would support whatever Star decided about his own evolution. Star himself felt fine staying an Eevee as long as it made Oliver happy. Both were content with letting fate do what it may, evolution or no. Still, Oliver couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of pride in his best friend, nor could he stop the giddy feelings that rose to the surface when he thought about what that particular evolution meant.

After retiring from running the league circuits, he ended up receiving an education in psychology with a focus on crisis management and mental health. Oliver not only found the topic interesting, but he also wanted to better understand emotion for the sake of his best friend.

Selfishly, he was also hoping he could find a field where they wouldn’t have to be separated.

Friends in healthcare helped him land a spot early in adulthood at a general teaching hospital that centered on human health in Mistralton City. The pay and hours were decent, and he got to work in a more centralized environment responding to crises instead of all over town. The primary draw was the clause that said any employee could have a Pokémon with sufficient skills as an aid in their work, as long as they completed the required training per their species’ protocol. 

Both Oliver and Star passed with flying colors.

Now, a few years into their roles, they had developed a bit of a system. Other staff on the squad would attempt to de-escalate the situation with standard practice human-only techniques. If that did not work, then Star and Oliver would step in to assist. There was a general implicit feeling that humans did better long term when only humans were involved, but sometimes they needed extra support. That is where they came in. Oliver and Star, a sort of “last line of defense,” called upon when basic human de-escalation had failed. 

When they started in this position, the Fairy-type’s presence made many folks nervous, causing quite a commotion as they moved around the hospital. Now the sight of them together brought reassuring smiles to those that knew them.

They wandered their way into a nursing station located on one of the floors in the hospital after a few minutes of travel. Plenty of people (busybodies, Oliver thought) milled about. As was customary in situations like this. They saw a security guard standing at the entrance of one of the patient’s rooms, along with one of the charge nurses, and approached them.

“What’s the short summary?” Oliver asked, flashing his badge for identification with Star dutifully at his side, ribbon lacing around his wrist and sending a feeling of reassurance his way. 

The nurse gave them a once over and flashed a smile in recognition.

“Star Squad back at it, eh?” she directed more at the Sylveon than the human, knowingly. “Well, we got Rose Woolridge, a 74-year-old female with some mild cognitive impairment at baseline admitted for urosepsis, hospital day #2. Fever and vital signs improved, but now having more episodes of altered mental status and sundowning, concerns for delirium. Today, it elevated to striking an RN, throwing things randomly, and trying to run out of her room. Not redirectable to conventional methods, Posey bed or haloperidol available if needed. Good luck, and thanks for your help.”

A grimace came over Oliver’s face and a sensation of disgust came in a rush from Star at the mention of a Posey bed. Horribly dehumanizing things. Sometimes, like with medications, it was necessary. Oliver understood that, but he and Star made it a mission to prevent any unnecessary outcomes like that.

“Sounds good, Mary,” he said to the charge nurse. He placed the hand currently grasped by a ribbon on top of Star’s head. He bent down by the Sylveon’s side and faced the patient’s room. 

“You ready, partner?”

A rush of confidence, and then, softly, “Yes, love.” 

Surprise colored his features as he tried to catch Star’s eyes, but the Sylveon had already moved toward the room, dragging him in after. That was odd. The act of using telepathy with his innate Fairy powers put a lot more strain on Star than just the sharing of emotions and feelings, along with the nonverbal cues they normally used for communication. Oliver wondered at that, but then focused up.

They had a job to do.

Upon entering the room, it was indeed quite a mess, with a security guard present and talking quietly to Rose, who insisted on leaving. They both took the initiative and stepped forward.

“Hi, Mrs. Woolridge. My name is Oliver, and this here is Star.”

He introduced himself and Star with a low, soft voice, non-threatening. He sat himself by the bed, Star by his side, a ribbon firmly clutching a limb without release. 

“I want to leave,” she said, looking up at him in frustration. “These assholes won’t let me leave. They’re holding me here hostage, dammit!”

“Why do you want to leave, ma’am?” he asked, calm as ever.

“I don’t belong here. I belong at home. I want to go home!” With a burst of energy, she tried to jump out of the bed, but the security guard gently held her in place to prevent her from injuring herself in her weakened state. No physical restraints applied yet. No extra drugs yet. Thankfully.

“Star, you ready?” he whispered to his companion. A subtle nod and flow of support through their touch is what he got in response.

A ribbon slowly stretched from Star as Oliver continued trying to make eye contact with Rose, providing a reassuring smile. As the ribbon connected with Rose’s leg, Oliver grasped the ribbon Star kept around his wrist in his hand, projecting an air of calm collectedness.

Studies of Sylveon and their abilities, notably when it came to calming agitation and preventing fights, were rare. Theory suggested in the past that this power could conceivably provide medical benefit. However, the barrier facing volunteers for such a study was plain–his Fairy type. There was a distinct lack of trust in the medical community and the general community at large with Fairy types. The alien-nature of how they viewed the world, and by extension those around them, unnerved most humans.

Sylveon as a species deserved more respect, Oliver thought. A Pokémon that evolved for the love of another human? How could they not have the best of intentions?

The limited evidence available suggested that there were no significant long-term consequences of contact with a Sylveon after they used their calming aura on a patient. Compared to physical restraints or medications like haloperidol or olanzapine, they had shorter hospital stays, less physical injuries, and reported better well-being.

Oliver thought his contribution was non-existent in this exercise of a Sylveon’s power. Star would vehemently disagree. Whenever Oliver suggested they separate a few times so others would acknowledge the good Star did, the Sylveon refused. Many folks would thank Oliver for his time and for what he did, and it irked him immensely. 

Still, Star desired his contact, even after discussing the aforementioned disrespect. He never elaborated on reasons, only the importance of Oliver’s role.

So Oliver held firm, trying to send a pulse of love through the ribbon he held, willing his partner to feel how much he trusted in him. 

So focused on this task, Oliver did not notice the patient slowly but surely calm in bed, fighting less against the hold the security guard had on her. Through their connection, Oliver could faintly feel the telltale signs of relaxation overtake a stressed mind. Any amount of detail escaped him, however. The connection did not provide that much information on his end. The stress in the air dropped as Rose descended into a peaceful slumber at Star’s ministrations.

Upon exiting the room, the support staff sent another collection of thanks their way, while a family member eyed Star with no small amount of suspicion off to the side. Oliver ignored them and focused on propping up Star, as was his way.  

Oliver did not fail to see the distant look on Star’s face when they exited the room, nor how it kept firm even after leaving the floor back to their call room.

He wouldn’t push now–their shift was almost over. 

The feeling that something was off had happened with more frequency recently. Oliver felt it was his duty, as Star’s partner, to get to the bottom of this.

***

They finally found their way back home after a meal out at one of their favorite restaurants. It was a more muted affair between the two than usual. Oliver could tell the job with the older woman had affected Star more than the stubborn Sylveon would admit.  

Star flicked the lights on in their living room as they made their way to their favorite spot on the couch. Oliver settled down, pulling the blanket splayed out haphazardly over the lower part of his body as Star jumped up and burrowed into a spot on his side. Oliver’s hand stretched out to give skritches–a ribbon wrapped around the wrist multiple times, as if trying to ensure its hold on its prize. 

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence as Oliver tried to work up the courage and energy for a conversation that was long overdue. 

“I love you. You know that, right?” 

A pulse of love flowed through the ribbon, leading to a smile breaking out on his face, but he continued on. 

“You can tell me anything, Star. I want to hear about what troubles you. I want to help you feel better and be better. Please confide in me when you need to.”

Star, who rested his head on Oliver’s lap in quiet contemplation, suddenly sat up. He adjusted himself so he sat face-to-face with Oliver, eyes focused and alert. Another ribbon moved to rest gently against Oliver’s forehead.

A different sensation hit Oliver–hesitation, then swiftly a strong undercurrent of resolve. Star continued to look into his eyes, a wan smile appearing on the Sylveon’s face. Star leaned further in, bumping his forehead with Oliver’s, with eyes closed and a smile still in place.

“Words…help,” a soft voice echoed in Oliver’s head. A deluge of emotions piled in after them. Frustration at himself. Fear of what the future may bring them. Joy at the life he had with his love. Sadness at disappointing the self-same love. Confusion at his own feelings, jumbled as they were.

“Combination…to assist. Want…clarity.”

Arceus, he loved that voice. Many people thought Fairy Pokémon gave off uncomfortable vibes, especially in any form of telepathic communication. Oliver never found anything but comfort and safety in their bond or in the words that echoed in his mind.

“I’m listening, Star. With everything I have.”

Oliver narrowed his focus and tried to muster as much support as he could the Pokémon’s way. 

“So, the last several weeks you have been…far away, after a few jobs.” 

He repeated his thoughts from before, mind flashing to the old woman they helped early today, then to some of the other patients involved in prior episodes.

Foreheads never separated as Oliver again felt a rush of contradictory emotion, a rational irrationality. So very human, and yet, not. How could people not see or feel this? Embarrassment was at the forefront now, a small grimace appearing on Star’s face before switching to a more neutral expression.

“Nothing…you did. You’re wonderful.”

A weight fell off Oliver’s shoulders.

“I…am weak.”

And lo, there it was again.

The words came out with that same embarrassed tinge, a hint of self-directed anger as well. There were a few other emotions in play, but one that stuck out was fear. A fear involving him. Again, contradictory feelings played a role. Didn’t Star just say how he found Oliver wonderful?

“I’m sorry to push you, Star, but can you elaborate on that? You’re stronger than anyone I know, and I’m not talking about your moves that can take down gym leaders, even years after we retired.”

He said the last line with humor coloring his words, and he felt a pulse of pride at the words coming from the Sylveon, but then as the rest of the words mulled over, a stronger sense of melancholy overrode most other emotions.

“I am weak…I do not want…to lose…you!”

Images of several people filled Oliver’s head; the old woman from earlier that day, an old man suffering from Alzheimer’s a few days before, a younger patient suffering from uncontrolled schizophrenia a week back. On and on the list went. With the images came this great fear of…madness, perhaps? That was the feeling Oliver got from Star. 

He pushed into it to better understand. Not madness, no. It was a look into the mind, the minds of humans. Star grounded himself with Oliver to best treat the patients, so he kept comparing them. And in the comparison, Oliver saw it.

Chaos. From delirium to dementia to other illnesses, the chaos of a human mind dealing with sickness was clear.

Oh.

The studies he read focused on the effects related to the patients being treated by Fairy types, specifically Sylveon. They never touched on the effects such a connection had on the Sylveon.

“Oh, Starlight…” Oliver let out in a gasping breath, and reached both arms out to draw his partner even closer, bodies together in a tight embrace. Tears present on both their faces, where they lived in the moment, finding comfort in each other. Oliver felt Star touch his mind, recognizing him. 

They didn’t separate before Oliver spoke again. 

“I should have known. I was so excited to have you with me, to continue being partners. I didn’t truly examine what it is I was asking of you. Can you forgive me, Star?”

Star, who had been pushing into the embrace with fondness, suddenly reeled back and out of Oliver’s arms. Anger and hurt, not all of it directed at Oliver, flowed between them. Oliver opened his eyes to see a glaring Sylveon, who, with one of his other ribbons not currently holding onto the human in front of him, flicked him on the cheek.

“Ow,” Oliver said as he rubbed the spot. Star leaned in again, foreheads touching, where it was easiest to communicate with telepathy.

“Idiot…nothing to forgive. You’re just…good.”

Words stopped for a bit as sensations, images, and emotions conveyed at the speed of thought. Initial wariness quickly replaced with playful happiness at this new human friend he had made, who was quite small, indeed. The sense of adventure as they traveled together, doing whatever filled their fancy. The thrill of evolution for one he trusted above all else. The love he held on to, reciprocated and true. The image of it all, of everything they had built together, falling away one day. Suddenly or drawn out, it did not matter. The result was all the same.

Separated. Apart. Broken.

The embrace returned, and this time Oliver would not be a moron and let his words cause any more hurt. He thought over what he was going to say carefully and then powered through.

“Your love is more than anyone deserves, Star. I can only hope to give as much as I get, and you keep me honest on that, alright?”

He rubbed the Sylveon’s back while his forelegs hung over his shoulders on the edge of the couch in their embrace. He hoped the earnestness shone through in his words.

A swell of love and trust crashed into him, another goofy smile splitting his face before turning contemplative.

“I…cannot promise what will happen to my mind, Star. Humans, well, we don’t have that kind of power. Not yet, anyway,” he said slowly, gauging for any strong reactions. There was only silence, a feeling of patience, waiting for more words.

“I can promise you this–I will do everything I can to prevent that from happening. And I will have contingencies in place to make it as…comfortable as possible. I love you–of course I want what’s best for you! It’s just, wow, I just can’t lie and say everything will be fine, you know? But dammit, I want to! I want to so bad a-and I j-“

A ribbon, his fourth, swung around and gently fell on his lips, stopping his rambling.

“I…understand, love.”

 A tinge of sadness, but with an undercurrent of contentment on releasing some of the feelings Star had been keeping locked inside.

“Do you want to keep doing what we’re doing?”

A firm nod against him was the response. The wave of feelings and emotions were more complex than that simple answer.

“Well, I’m glad we have this out in the open now,” he said, continuing to rub Star’s back in the embrace they held.

“I love you. Thank you so much for sharing this with me, Star. I cannot imagine how hard it was for you. Still, I think having someone else to talk to may be helpful for the both of us. You know, get an outside perspective and all that.”

Oliver said it as a statement, but the question hung there. He would not force Star to do anything. 

There was hesitancy, a general distrust of other humans that were not him, a common trait in Sylveon. But with everything else in their connections, a love Oliver could never find absent in the flow of feelings that came from his partner.

“Ok…I trust you.”

And Oliver swore there was not a better feeling in the world.

----------------------------

----------------------------

Thanks for reading, hoping to create more in the future! If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

[conchshell]

I’ve heard mixed reviews about TUA season 3 now that it’s actually out, so I’m a bit on the fence about watching it. Would love to hear your thoughts/review on it after you finish the season :)

So it's taken a while for me to answer this because I've been watching an episode a day, so I don't know if you've started the show or not. But I'll try and give my thoughts about S3 without spoiling anything major plot wise in case you haven't started watching it.

Things I disliked;

The CGI in some of the scenes is rough and very noticeable in places, however this seems to be an issue with the earlier episodes and there is an improvement in the later ones.

The pacing is a little off in places, I felt that the first half of the show was too slow and the second half was too fast - I would have loved to have seen some of the action spread across more episodes.

Some of the loose ends in the previous seasons weren't addressed or answered in this season, and some of the scenes felt like they were just there for the sake of trying to answer past questions without actually giving it much thought (such as Five and his Commission storyline).

Related the previous two points, I felt like the plot was a little weaker than in S1 and 2, I wish that they'd really made the "foundations" of the season more solid. The best way I can describe it is that it felt more like a first draft.

The Sparrows were criminally underused and felt one-dimensional at times, which is a shame because they were interesting characters with equally interesting powers, and I thought they would have more of a presence given the amount of promo content. And maybe this was just me, but I felt like Alphonso's character was merely there to make fat jokes about.

Again, maybe it's just me but it felt like some of the Umbrellas hardly used their powers. I think it's most noticeable with Five whom in the previous seasons would blink everywhere, whereas he hardly did that this season. I don't know if this was due to the constraints of the special effects budget?

The ending was interesting, I've very torn on it because on one hand I like how everything comes together yet leaves it open for another season, but on the other hand it felt slightly like a rushed afterthought

Things I liked;

The footloose scene, enough said 💃

Having said what I did about the CGI, there are some downright beautiful scenes with wonderful cinematography in the later episodes. I feel like they really tried to do some some atmospheric shots and backdrops and it paid off.

I really enjoyed the relationships between some of the characters in this season. Luther and Viktor have some really great heartfelt scenes, and Lila and Diego make a great duo. Five and Klaus have some nice scenes too which was great because I was hoping for some. But of all of them I really liked the progress of Lila and Five's relationship from S2 to 3, you can really see that they're starting to warm up to each other.

I've seen some criticism about the music choices but I actually really liked it. The songs were softer and more subdued than past seasons which were more upbeat, which I felt really worked with the tone of the season.

Luther's character really shines this season, he's given much more screen-time and I'm glad that they decided to do so, because all of his scenes are very enjoyable to watch. I know a lot of people who were unsure of Luther have changed their minds following S3.

Viktor's and Klaus' character arc was also really good, it's great to see them more confident with both themselves and their powers.

Overall, I got the feeling that S3 was aiming to recreate the vibe that S1 had, but didn't quite manage to get there, there were so many great opportunities for certain scenes to progress and then they fell short. But on the other hand, I do think there were some really enjoyable scenes between the siblings, and it's nice for the show to delve more into the characters and the bonds between them. I also felt like it did answer a lot of questions about Reginald and his motives for the academy, so it's worth watching it to get more understanding regarding that.

TLDR: There are some pacing issues and the plot is rather shaky in places, but it's enjoyable to watch merely for the bonding scenes between the siblings. I think the main thing is to go into S3 without any expectations - I think the fandom has come up with some great ideas so S3 in reality felt a little lacklustre. But despite its shortcomings and the odd scene here and there, I really did enjoy watching it and I will probably rewatch it again. 6.5/10

[brattyfics]

Like That

Pairing: Rio x Black!Reader

Summary: You and Rio get to know each other better. Loosely based on ‘Like That’ by Doja Cat. 

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 3.5K

Installments: Say So | Like That | Talk Dirty

And baby, I want it, and I'll just be honest 'Cause I just can't front when I look at you

About six weeks have passed since Rio declared himself your man, and you quickly learned he took the title very seriously.

He was busier than usual with ‘flipping his game,’ and you were busy preparing to transition your shop, but you saw each other often despite time constraints. You agreed date nights at least once a week were a must, but when you couldn’t see each other, Rio made sure to end nights with a phone call. Virtually falling asleep next to him gave you butterflies, reminding you just how exciting new relationships could be. It took prodding, but he told you made-up bedtime stories and the boring details of his day. In return, you shared things about yourself— childhood memories, the crazy things your mom did to embarrass you. He was sweet and attentive, and you found it refreshing to be with someone who was just as infatuated with you.

On your second date, he took you to his favorite restaurant, a fancy sushi place with expensive rolls. He taught you to hold chopsticks the wrong way the way he did and even fed you across the small table, a couple of unfortunate rolls falling apart due to his prodding. You tried your best to hide your amusement at the pensive look on his face. For whatever reason, Rio thought of himself as a sushi connoisseur, but it was clear to you that he was still learning.

“You’re no better than me!” He admonished when he noticed the way you held your chopsticks. Like his technique, it was incorrect, but it worked for you— sort of. “I never said I was.” You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face any longer. “You’re the one who comes here weekly. I thought you were a professional, and we’re in the same boat.” He folded his arms on top of the table as he insisted you were wrong, but secretly he found your teasing endearing. Later that night, he called and gave you a cheesy line about loving to see you smile.

The following week, you had lunch at a mom-and-pop soul food restaurant that served the best cornbread and peach cobbler in the city. The owners, an adorable older couple, Donna and Gene, and servers alike stopped by your table to meet Rio. Donna gushed over Rio, showering him with compliments and extra cornbread. “Girl, he is cute!” She told you, failing miserably at whispering. He smirked as you rolled your eyes, but he handled the attention well, being friendly and personable even when Gene kept going on and on about changes to the menu, one chef to another.

A few days later, he called you up randomly and asked you to get ready and ride with him somewhere. “What should I wear?” You asked, hoping for a hint. You could hear him smile as he said, “It doesn’t even matter, ma. You always look good.” The occasion had turned out to be ‘Foodtruck Friday.’ Barbecue, kebab, taco, ice cream, and other miscellaneous food trucks were parked in a spacious lot in Downtown Detroit. You settled at a picnic table and shared several plates of food as you discussed the possibility of your own mobile ‘Mad Batter’ shop somewhere down the line. It got you thinking about the future.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” You asked the dreaded question in between bites of a colorful Korean fusion taco. He stiffened as he considered the answer. “What is this, a job interview?” Sometimes you saw peeks of bossman Rio rather than the Christopher Castillo you were getting to know. It happened seemingly out of nowhere when you asked questions he felt were invasive.

You looked up from the panko-fried shrimp, red cabbage, shredded carrots, and tasty orange sauce wrapped up in a flour tortilla with a frown. You had two choices: respond in the way he had or make light of the situation. So, you said, “Kinda. You’re auditioning for a spot on my roster, so...”

He stopped chewing the half-eaten dumpling and swallowed hard. “That’s not funny.”

“You better start taking the interviewing part of the audition more seriously then.” You wiped your fingers on a napkin, and he gathered your hand in his own, wearing a look you couldn’t decipher. “You got it, ma.”

You played a game of mini-golf at the local arcade. Rio stood tall behind you, holding you by your hips as he corrected your stance. You purposefully arched your back, brushing against him just slightly. “Like this?” You looked over your shoulder with the most innocent look you could muster, but his eyes were glued to your ass. “Yeah, just like that.” He answered in a low tone without looking up. You giggled as you took your swing, adding a wiggle for his benefit. You pretended to care about the ball as it glided across the bright green tarp towards the hole. “How was that?” You chirped, looking down the lane.

“I can’t even lie. I don’t care about the game right now. I just wanna watch you.” Your aim was terrible, and the ball never went in the hole without several attempts, but he insisted you finish playing the course. You teased him about it for days after despite his claim that he actually enjoyed the game because it was one of Marcus’ favorites.

“Stop lying! You just wanted an excuse to openly watch my ass.”

“Why you always gotta call me out?”

You shopped a cozy health and wellness store with hundreds of cool little trinkets for sale. Neither of you had been there before, so you took your time exploring, stealing unexpected kisses from the other. Rio took full advantage of the size of the store, pulling you by the hand and holding you close to his side.

He frowned at the large collection of shiny crystals. “A rock, really? What does anybody need with a rock?”

“It’s not a rock!” You hissed, head whipping around as you hoped the owner didn’t hear him.

“What is it then? It looks like a rock to me.” He picked one up, turning it over in his hands.

“It’s a crystal!”

“What’s the difference?”

“It has healing properties...” Rio snorted but strung his arm across your shoulder and listened intently as you read the info cards to him. When it was all said and done, he bought an aventurine stone to apologize to the owner for prosperity, well-being, and good luck.

The next day, he disappeared with no warning. You had been worried sick until Mick let you know he was busy handling something. It would have only taken a minute to tell you that, so you were (understandably) pissed. He showed up at the shop several days later like nothing had ever happened. “What’s up, mama?” The greeting that usually melted you grated on your nerves. All of your feelings about the situation bubbled up to the surface. It was hard to find the right words— you were still getting to know each other, so how mad could you be? At the same time, how little did he think of you to not say anything? Finally, you settled on, “I can’t do the disappearing act.”

Rio wasn’t used to answering to anyone, not even his child’s mother, about his whereabouts, but he put his palms up in surrender when he saw the serious expression you wore.

“You’re right, mama. That’s my bad. It won’t happen again.”

And it hadn’t.

But knowing ahead of time only made it a tiny bit easier, especially when he didn’t have a set return date. You were going on day seven (the longest you had gone without seeing him since you started dating) when he called to say he made it home and wanted to see you. Your heavy heart swelled with relief. You missed him way more than you probably should have, so you insisted on a night in at your place, wanting him to feel relaxed and at home instead of on guard somewhere public.

It had been a long six weeks without sex while he romanced you with delicious food and beautiful words. It wasn’t an easy task, but you knew as soon as sex was thrown in the mix, you would be done for, either destined to be his or ruined by him. It was a scary thought, but distance had indeed made the heart grow fonder, and you cared about him enough to take a chance.

He was set to arrive within the hour, but you were still unsure of what to wear, frantically rummaging through the dresser for something cute and comfortable. You let out a frustrated groan when your phone started to ring, thinking Rio might have come early, but when you look down at your phone, you see your best friend’s name and face. You swipe quickly, accepting the FaceTime call. “Hey, girl!”

“Hey, stranger!” You pick up the phone, so you can look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She replies with just as much sass. “I haven’t talked to you in what— two weeks?”

“We talk—“

“—text.”

“Okay, fine. Text. We text every day. What are you talking about?”

“That’s not the same.” She insists even as you remind her of the ridiculous amount of time you spend trading memes and food pictures with her.

“Anyway, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to decide what I’m going to wear between this, this, or this.” You move the camera around, showing her the different options. A black-and-white tank and short set with ‘Being cute is not a crime’ in a cute font. A fuzzy grey sweatsuit set with hearts, or a simple cream hoodie with matching shorts.

“Um, what’s the occasion?” You giggle at the look on her face, knowing she thinks none of the above are appropriate for wearing outside of the house.

“Movie night in.”

“You need help picking an outfit for movie night with yourself?” Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, is it movie night with yourself?” You try to be casual about it, shrugging your shoulders in response. As usual, she sees through your bullshit and goes straight into an interrogation. “Oh, bitch. You been holding out on me!” She asks you five questions in a row without stopping to breathe before settling on one. “Who?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. “...Rio.”

“Rio?” She frowns. “Like the guy we work for, Rio? With the eyebrows and the neck tattoo, Rio?”

“Yes, that Rio.”

“Wow.” You wince but decide it’s best to get it over with. “What? I know you, so I know there’s more where that came from.”

“I don’t know what to say! From what I can tell, he’s a decent dude, I guess, but you know what he does. You definitely know what we do for him! You don’t think that could be a problem?”

“It’s messy, for sure, and I can admit that, but I’ve been thinking about getting out anyway...” She nods. “Then, I guess there’s nothing else for me to say about that. You’re both grown, and you know what you’re doing.” She was your best friend, which meant she’d always give her honest opinion, but wouldn’t berate you about your choices. Just like that, you return to your regular discussion topics, everything from warehouse gossip (yes, even in the business of crime, there’s a rumor mill) to new music releases. Before you knew it, forty minutes had passed, and Rio was calling your phone. You promised to call her more often before hanging up.

You sing your ‘hello’ into the phone, hoping Rio can’t detect the shakiness in your voice as you clumsily pull on your bottoms.

“Hey, mama. You about ready? I know you’re sensitive about your space and all that.” He was referring to the fact that he had never been past the doorway of your home. Your home was your sacred place, so you were extra careful about who came in and what energy they brought. It was always nerve-wracking to let somebody into the space that you cherished so much.

“Yeah.” He picks up on the hesitancy in your voice. “Are you sure?” You nod your head as if he can see you before telling him yes with a giggle. “Alright, well, I’m outside. Can I come in?” You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your tummy. “Yeah, I’ll come unlock the door.” He whispers his thanks, and you take a moment to force yourself to relax. When you meet him at the door, you do so with an open mind and heart, taking in his appearance with a goofy grin on your face. As usual, he’s dressed in all black, wearing a well-fitted t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s casual but still so high quality and attractive.

“Hi.” You breathe out like a dork when you realize you’re staring. It helps that he seems just as mesmerized, stepping forward to envelop you in a tight, warm hug. He sways you from side to side before pulling back, his hands resting heavily on the top of your ass. He settles for a quick peck on the lips because he has something to say. “You’re as pretty as ever, darlin’.” He says earnestly, shaking his head as he steps back to look you over once more.

“Kiss me again.” His hands cup your ass as you devour each other in the open doorway. You forget your surroundings. “Damn, ma. Can I at least get inside before you jump my bones? I don’t mind giving your neighbors a show if that’s your thing, but…” You turn to hide your embarrassment, leaving him to close the door behind you as you gesture around the room as if you’re in an episode of MTV Cribs. “... here’s the living room. The kitchen’s through the arch. The bathroom’s over there...” He follows you with his red as you point.

“And the bedroom?”

You snort. “The tour stops here for now. Sit down.” Your tone leaves no room for argument. He settles into the soft couch while you grab the snack tray from the kitchen. Homemade popcorn, chocolate-covered pretzels, and dried fruit gummies are on the menu.

“All this for me?” His arms snake around your waist so that you can curl up into his side. “What we watching?” You grab the remote. “I saw a trailer this week that caught my attention. I’ll play it for you.” He didn’t care what you watched as long as he got to be close to you, so it didn’t take long for you to get the movie started. He stole glances at you when his knuckles brushed against your bare knees under the blanket. You’re embarrassed at how wet the small action makes you, so you stretch out across the couch and place your bare feet in his lap, silently planning your revenge. The movie may as well not be playing because you couldn’t be less interested in the plot as you lightly stroke him through his sweatpants with the balls of your feet.

“Ma...” He warns, watching you in the low lighting. He’s come to learn you like to tease, but he doesn’t think he can take it, not tonight. “Hmm?” You hum innocently, loving the strained look on your face. He doesn’t move even as you sit up on your haunches and kiss him. It’s slow and long in the best way. He pulls you to sit in his lap. His hands roam your body as you grind down onto him, relishing in the feeling of the soft skin on your tummy. He sighs into your mouth as one hand finds your bare breasts.

He pulls away to talk shit. “No bra? You just knew I was gonna put out, huh?” He pushes the cotton material up so he can see you properly. “Perfect.” He murmurs into your skin. You let him kiss and lick and suck on your nipples until the pressure you feel below is too much to handle. You’re a quivering mess when he finally helps you pull the cotton material up and over your head. It lands on top of the television behind you, but neither of you notice.

You nudge him until he removes his own shirt, and then he lifts his hips to help you when you begin tugging on his sweats. They puddle at his feet while you spread your legs wide, desperate to get your hands on him. “I could cry right now.” You admit honestly when you finally see him, biting your lip. He arches a brow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing, darlin’?” His hips jerk when you take him into your hands, the cold temperature surprising him.

“It’s definitely a good thing.” You whisper excitedly, staring with wonder as he hardens in your hands. He barks out a laugh, stunned by your ability to make him laugh, even with his dick in your hands. “That’s really nice, ma. I feel real special.” Your eyes meet, and silent promises of all the filthy things you’re going to do to each other are exchanged. “You should. I’m about to change your life.” He throbs in your hands, loving that you find small ways to challenge him.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.” He wraps his arms around you in preparation to get up, but you stop him with a shake of your head. “I don’t wanna.”

“No? What you wanna do then?”

You answer him by slipping to your knees. You spit on his dick, stroking him up and down slowly. He watches you closely as you lower your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip. It takes a lot of restraint, but he lets you do your thing, slowly working him deeper into your throat. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on lasting, but he can’t turn his ears off, the obscene smacks painting a vivid picture for him. When you swipe your tongue across his balls, he moves to stop you, grabbing your shoulders. Fire dances in your eyes as you realize you got him where you want him. “I don’t wanna.” You repeat.

“You are a brat.”

You release him with a pop. “The biggest.” You admit, swallowing him once more. He groans, thinking he can’t believe you’re the same sweet girl who bakes in a frilly pink apron and begs him to tell her bedtime stories.

“I want you to fuck me now.” He stops you before you can bend over the couch. “Slow down. I want you on your back, darlin.”

You throw his earlier words back at him. “That’s nice. I feel really special.”

“You should.” He mocks you, instructing you to hold your legs wide. He wastes no time licking and sucking you as enthusiastically as you had done him. “You’re so pretty. I could eat this pretty pussy forever.” He compliments as you squirm in his hold. “You’d let me, huh?” You shake your head frantically. “No! You’d drive..me crazy!” Payback is a mother, especially when Rio’s the one dishing it out. “Wait, wait—“You whimper, clawing at his shoulders.

“What?” He cajoles. He almost wants to laugh at the distressed look on your face. “I want you.” You pout, trying to sweet-talk him.

“You have me.”

“Not like this. Inside.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Mhm.” You swallow, watching as he fumbles around with his pants searching for a condom. He opens the golden foil packet with expert fingers, positioning himself in between your spread legs. “You don’t have any pointers for me now?” He drags his tip up and down your slit, slowly pushing his way further. Teasing. You shake your head. “No. Just fuck me.”

“That ain’t polite. You gotta say please, mama.” You scowled, but he didn’t budge. “Please.” You pleaded with the sweetest tone you could muster, sighing as he gave in. You cursed at the stretch, him at the way you squeezed him. “You feel…” He couldn’t find the words, so he buried his face in your neck, trying to gain some composure. You caressed the back of his neck sweetly. “You feel good too, baby.”

His hips stuttered forward, and you gasped as he worked himself deeper. You grasp his shoulders tightly, your nails embedding themselves into the soft skin.

“Yes!” You squeal.

“Like that?” He grits out, struggling to keep his rhythm.

“Yes, just like that!” You cry, moaning as he pounds up into you. His lips find yours again, and it’s bliss. Then before you can stop yourself, you’re calling him Daddy like it’s his given name. He groans into your sweaty neck like he’s in pain.

“You’re so nasty.” Overwhelmed and breathless, you whine your protest, “You’re nasty. Look at what you’re doing to me.” His eyes shift to where you’re connected. You’re creaming all over him and leaking down onto the couch, but you can’t bring yourself to care about anything other than coming. You do just that, mewling as you make an even bigger mess between your legs. He whispers filthy things into your ear as he finishes, grunting at the way you seem to be sucking him in even deeper.

“That was—“

“—unreal.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you can bring yourself to move. Your sweat-covered skin sticks together. You swipe your hand against your forehead while he pants.

“I wanted to ride you at least once tonight, but after that, I’ll be lucky to make it to bed.”

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903

RIO TAGLIST

@xsweetdellzx​

[soranis-sunshadow]

Looking back

@cruelfeline wanted a snippet between Hordak and Glimmer where they contemplated on how much of a fuckup either of them is.

I took it as a prompt and I hope this little oneshot scratches that itch.

It was always better to go to a banquet than to host it, Glimmer thought to herself while making her way down the long hallway of the reclusive palace wing. If she felt at odds or tired or just not in the mood, all she had to do was signal Bow and he’d take her home. But as a host, she WAS home, there was nowhere else to go to. Besides, since she was the esteemed host, she couldn’t leave early. It would be in poor taste.

This year, the anniversary of the end of the war was hosted in Bright Moon and she had to find a secluded place in her own home to take a breather from all the commotion before she had to return to the party and smile and nod and… try not to feel like such an imposter.

She finally found her favorite overlook, the one where she came to sulk whenever her mother gave her a stern -and justified- talking to, the best view and the music of the party down in the main hall was muted. No sooner did she lay her hands upon the balustrade that she spotted movement to the periphery of her vision. It was another person she really didn’t want to interact with due to the sheer awkwardness: Hordak. He was sitting by himself in contemplation, looking on into the distance in the last light of the day.

She and he stood meters apart on the balcony in silence for a while. He seemed to look at peace while staring off into the sunset. She tried to do the same. Her maelstrom of thoughts made it difficult.

During the war, she had never met him face to face, all she knew was what other people said of him – both her own and other hordesmen that were captured and interrogated.

Their first meeting in the flesh had been memorable… for very terrible, nightmare inducing reasons. Even now, she couldn’t look at Hordak without seeing Prime discard his errant tool then threaten to destroy her world in a dulcet voice as if it were the most trite of things. It probably had been to that monster…

Hordak hadn’t been what she – an everyone else thought he was. What made it even more jarring, and unexpected, had been his eagerness to repent and atone following the war.

Glimmer had decreed that Prime’s little brothers were not at fault for what they had been made to do for their creator, all of them, Hordak included. She couldn’t in good conscience persecute any of them whilst knowing, intimately – unlike the other monarchs- where they came from and what had been done to them.

Hordak however, decided to be difficult, because of course he did.

He insisted that even had his actions been in the hopes of serving Prime, they had been his actions, his mistakes. He owned them, and he owed Etheria. He had decided- by himself - to rebuild the things he had a hand in destroying not out of a desperate bid for forgiveness but because it was what he had been convinced that it was the right, and the just thing to do.

It made it very awkward for her to interact with him… whenever she invited Entrapta to these events, he was always her plus one. Entrapta was a sore spot for Glimmer. She had decided that the Dryll princess would be the first one to be invited whenever Glimmer hosted any event. It was the least she owed her.

She had learned that Entrapta endangered herself to save her back when she had been abducted on Prime’s ship… a few weeks before that, Glimmer had argued with Adora and Bow to leave her on Beast Island for the time being. It was a shame that stung deeply. Entrapta had been a far better friend to her than she had been to Entrapta. To make matters worse, Entrapta seemed either oblivious or not to hold it against her. It made Glimmer’s guilt even worse. At times, she wished Entrapta HAD been angry, she wished the other princess would give her a piece of her mind, at least then, she’d be able to make it up to her.

Huh!

No wonder Hordak “punished” himself with reparations and reconstructions…She couldn't stop a heavy sigh from escaping her. It wasn't an invitation to talk but he seemed to take it as one since the noise startled him out of his contemplation and he slowly turned towards her.

“Good evening, your grace.” It was always a bit comical when one of Prime’s clones bowed to her, they would have to bend over comically low to match her height. Hordak didn’t. He merely bowed his head smoothly and lowered his ears to convey submission.

“Uh, hey.” How dignified of her. She wished she had half as much grace as her mother had. “Uuuh,-“ he looked at her with that blank face that had been conditioned into him. ‘Ugh, say something Glimmer, this doesn’t have to be this awkward. Make an effort, for Entrapta’s sake at least!’. “- lovely sunset, right?”

He blinked slowly then turned back to the vista. “Indeed.”

‘C’mon! Give me SOMETHING to work with here!’ She thought to herself. “What do you think of the party?” That had been a host thing to ask, it was appropriate and neutral right?

It wasn’t... The answer came in that calm, low, dignified and slightly husky voice of his, a voice that had cracked from screaming and had never recovered. His posture betrayed his unease. Hordak further stiffened at the question.

“It is,-“ he paused considering his words carefully “quite sumptuous, your grace.” He bowed again. It was clearly at least as uncomfortable for him as it was for her.

This wasn’t helping… ‘Good job Glimmer!’ If it hadn’t been weird and both of them had enjoyed the companionable silence before, now she had made things awkward.

While considering what to say next, he saved her the effort by saying. “Your guests are enjoying themselves.” Was that a compliment? Was he trying to compliment her? She knew from former interactions with him that he had a very stiff and formal way of talking, very unlike his progenitor. Words fit poorly in his mouth. It was so curious how, despite having the same voice and the same face, almost… they sounded worlds apart. He held himself differently too, Prime had filled every space he was in, he owned every room he walked into. Hordak on the other hand seemed perpetually on eggshells. Was that why he was here by himself?

“You are my guest too.” She said to him, trying to sound warm and welcoming but it came out a bit defensive.

The unasked question hung between them in the dying light of the day.

He saved her from asking it once more. “My presence… makes some of your other guests uneasy, your grace. I did not wish to impose.”

“Impose? Nonsense!” She waved it off with a chuckle. “You and Entrapta are welcome here, I’ve expressly invited the both of you myself. There is no way you could ‘impose’ in any way!” Then it hit her… “Did anyone tell either of you that you were imposing? If they did, tell me who it was and I’ll have a chat with them.”

He huffed out a chuckle then turned towards her once more. A small, tentative smile made its way on his face. “No such thing your grace, the initiative was all mine.” The shared gaze was broken as he looked at his feet then back into the distance. “ I wished to prevent it from becoming an issue. Many of your kinsmen are weary of me, and for good reason. My actions on your world did not endear me to most of your kind.” It seems that guilt had brought them both on this overlook.

“I should name this ‘the shitty overlook!’ Hah!” She laughed. “Because everyone comes on this balcony to feel shitty.” He looked at her, one browridge raised in inquiry. “You’re here because of the whole conquest thing and I’m here because I’ a terrible friend.”

Glimmer continued. “We both did regrettable things during the war.” She too looked on into the distance, the line of bleeding orange light got thinner and thinner as night overtook it, a thin line of fiery hues reflected off the surface of the turbulent lake. Silence hung between them for a few minutes.

“You did what you thought was necessary, your grace.” Despite the curt tone, it was a reassurance. It was uncanny for Hordak of all people to be the one trying to comfort her.

“We both did. It still doesn’t make it feel right.” Both of their closets had skeletons cramped in them.

“It may not but, at the time, you saw no other way to do your duty.” He sighed deeply. “Hindsight is indeed, not a charitable beast your majesty, but it is unfair.” He clicked his claws on the balustrade. The motion was somewhat distracting. ” You know things now that you couldn’t have possibly known back then. Within the constraints of the time and the data available, you did the best that you could, the best that could be expected. You were a formidable opponent.” As sound as his logic was, it did little to assuage the anger she aimed at herself.

“And I had my friends take the fall for me because I thought it was necessary.” She sighed and hugged herself. “I was wrong, even back then but I didn’t want to admit it, I thought the ends justify the means. They don’t. They never do.”

“It’s easy to overthink the choices made when one is aware that there were other options, other paths that could have been taken.” He sounded, small and sad, his own demons haunting him.” The reality of it is that, in the moment, you may not have been aware of other possibilities and time had not been on your side. You decided to move forward down the only path you saw before you. The alternative would have been admitting defeat. Had you done so, you wouldn’t be here to second guess yourself. It was, in general, the right thing to do even if you are left with the consequences of your perceived momentary oversights. You have the privilege now, to make up for your mistakes – a privilege you wouldn’t have had should you have not done the things you did. “

“Thank you. I needed to hear that.” She hadn’t known she needed it nor would she had ever asked for it and that’s exactly why the point had hit home. “She was right, you’re a good listener.”

He chuckled again, an animate chuckle that rippled through him as he shook his head and turned back to look at the lake. She made her way closer and took in the familiar view. Neither of them said anything after that.

They watched the stars appear on the night sky, reflecting off the surface of the lake, somewhat distorted. The ripples of the lake made their twinkling even brighter. The night was peaceful.

[here4theheartbreak]

Lazy Dog Mornings

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Hoseok x Jimin x Jungkook x Taehyung Genre: smut, PWP Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~3.1k

Tags: smut, PWP, puppy play, dirty talk, rough sex, knotting cock rings, discussion of breeding, D/s relationship, oral sex, anal sex, barebacking, bottom Park Jimin, puppy Park Jimin, switch Jeon Jungkook, puppy Jeon Jungkook, top Taehyung, top Hoseok, 

Summary: Taehyung brings Jimin to spend a lazy Saturday with Hoseok and Jungkook for a puppy play date.

A/N: The first of 2021′s Kinktober fics! Due to time constraints with real life, I will not be doing all 31 days for Kinktober. There are 18 fics listed at the moment for this month’s official Kinktober, scattered from today to the 31st. Between these fics I will be publishing the rest of Moonlight as I am able, so I recommend turning on notifications or AO3 notifications if you’re interested, since my normal Monday’s only posting schedule will be gone at least for the remainder of this month. Hope you enjoy! 

“Long time no see,” Hoseok rose, hugging Taehyung. 

“Right, it’s been weeks. How’ve you two been?” Taehyung asked. Jimin slipped in behind him, smiling sheepishly at Hoseok. 

“We’ve been good,” Hoseok said. He reached out, tugging Jimin’s collar. “You’re okay, you can go play. Jungkookie is in the living room. Make sure he puts his collar on if he’s gonna play with you.”

Jimin grinned broadly and rushed into the living room, forgetting to drop onto his hands and knees. Taehyung chuckled. “He’s been asking to come see Jungkook for ages.”

“He lost his phone,” Hoseok said, rolling his eyes. He laughed as he did. “We’re getting him a new one, but that’s why he’s not talked to Jimin.”

“How’s he been adjusting to the more permanent lifestyle?” Taehyung asked as they walked into the living room. 

“Not too bad. We still keep it pretty casual, especially because he does still wanna have a regular job, all that. But on weekends like this, well – aside from a video game I know a pup would never be able to play…” He tousled Jungkook’s hair as he passed. Jungkook smiled up at him sheepishly, holding his game controller a little closer to his chest. “He’s enjoying it.”

“Oh!” Taehyung patted Jimin. “Get comfy, pet – you’re safe here.”

“Can I?” Jimin asked. Taehyung nodded. 

“Me too?” Jungkook chirped. 

“Of course.” Hoseok handed him his collar. “You want a drink, Taehyung?”

“Something light,” Taehyung said. He followed Hoseok to the kitchen. “You know, I got Jimin the neatest new toy.”

“Oh?”

“I think Jungkook might really enjoy it.”

Hoseok nodded as he dug in the fridge. He passed Taehyung a bottle of yellow alcohol. “It’s sweet,” he assured him. He reached up and grabbed a bowl, as well as a stainless-steel dog bowl, and two more bottles of the alcohol. 

The two had met at a munch nearly seven years ago. Taehyung was fresh to the scene, while Hoseok had been playing a few more years. They became fast friends, sharing tips and learning new things together. It wasn’t until five years ago that they stumbled across Jimin and Jungkook, two young men in a very similar situation, at a much, and rather new to the scene. The four formed a friendship that shifted very easily and organically into something much deeper; Jimin finding Taehyung’s close age a comfort and seeking him as a more permanent partner, and Jungkook preferring the firm hand of an elder to take care of his needs. The rest, as they say, was history. Even now, years later, they rarely played outside of their loose quad, and puppy play had become the shining key in their relationship, Jimin and Jungkook taking to it instantly.

When they returned to the living room, Jungkook and Jimin had gotten themselves far more comfortable. Their clothing was in a pile nearby and they were lounging on Jungkook’s blanket on the floor, each wearing their collars and preferred tails. Jungkook’s was a sleek, whiplike black one, as well as a pair of soft, folded velveteen ears, and Jimin’s was a curly-q one, fluffy and big, dyed in a variety of bright colors. His ears were bright yellow and white, one that stood straight up, the other flopped down, with the same fluffy fur as his tail. They were both watching the television intently, some sports program Jungkook must have found. 

Hoseok crouched, pouring one bottle into each bowl. He snapped, getting their attention. “For you guys.”

Jungkook grinned and made a small noise of appreciation, rolling over and crawling to the bowl. 

Jimin yapped, pouting at Jungkook, who’s movement had disturbing his head rest. He stayed on his back for a moment before rolling to trot to his bowl as well. Hoseok smiled softly, watching the two for a minute before leaning back on the couch, sipping his drink. Taehyung moved closer to him, brushing a hand lightly over his thigh. 

“We really need to make time to hang out more often,” Taehyung commented. 

“Hm… We do.” Hoseok leaned over, his lips grazing Taehyung’s jaw. “Oh, you smell amazing.”

“A new cologne, Jiminie got it for my birthday.”

“It’s splendid. Tell me,” Hoseok set his bottle down and slid his hand up Taehyung’s thigh, squeezing firmly. “How’s work been going?”

Taehyung sighed, leaning into Hoseok. “Same old, same old,” he mumbled breathily. “My boss is sort of a jerk but I’m making due… I’m up for a promotion next month.”

“Congrats. You’ll finally be out from under his thumb if you get it.”

“Mm, that’s the hope; I’ll be his equal. I’ll have some more flexible time too, which will be nice.”

“Come visit us more often,” Hoseok suggested, beginning to press gentle kisses along Taehyung’s jaw. 

“I’d like to. Playdates for the pups at least.”

“Oh, of course… That’s the only reason,” Hoseok teased. He shifted, meeting Taehyung’s mouth in a gentle kiss. It deepened easily, their hands sliding over one another’s bodies. Taehyung shifted his hand under Hoseok’s shirt, pinching his nipple hard enough to make Hoseok hiss. 

“Tease,” he growled, nipping Taehyung’s bottom lip.

“No… Foreplay,” Taehyung promised. He moved over, nudging Hoseok’s shirt out of the way to suck a bruise onto the firm muscle of his collarbone. Hoseok moaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut. He reached out, palming Taehyung’s cock gently through his jeans, savoring the feel of it stiffening even through the thick fabric. 

His eyes fluttered open and glanced down at their pups on the floor, chuckling. 

“I think someone’s in a humpy mood,” he teased, nudging Taehyung.

Taehyung pulled away from his neck looked over to see. Jimin had mounted Jungkook and was lazily thrusting into his mouth.

“Jimin!” Taehyung hissed. 

Jimin jumped down, doing his best to look guilty and remorseful with his cock hard and wet between his thighs. Jungkook, on the other hand, pouted. He trotted up to Hoseok and rested his chin on his knees, whining softly.  

Hoseok smiled, stroking his hair. 

“Aw, I’m okay with having a breeding session if you are, Taehyungie,” Hoseok said. 

Jungkook wiggled his butt, looking expectantly at Taehyung. 

Taehyung chuckled, reaching out and tugging Jungkook’s ear playfully. “You’re really too cute for your own good. Fine. But you mount him. Minie is in trouble for coming too fast earlier this week and isn’t allowed to fuck anything.”

Jimin whined softly, spinning himself in a small circle before play bowing to Taehyung in apology. 

“Oh! Wanna try out the new toy?” Taehyung offered, pulling it out. It looked like a leather cock ring, dyed a vibrant, ruddy red. It was thick – two strips of leather at the top and bottom of the ring, connected by a thinner strip of leather that would rest at the top and underside of the cock when attached. In the middle, where the open space was, was what looked like a piece of a thick condom. Attached to the ring was a rubber tube that ran back and attached to a little hand pump coming from where the ring attached to where it connected behind the balls.

“It’s a knotting cock ring. He can pump it up when he’s coming and knot him, just like a real pup.”

Hoseok grunted in approval. “I would love to see that. Let him put it on you, Kookie.”

Jungkook nodded. He went up on his knees and set his hands on either side of Taehyung’s knees. Taehyung leaned down, attaching the cock ring to him. As he did, Jungkook snuffled over his neck and licked him, earning a laugh. Taehyung tousled his hair and flicked his cock gently.

“Go on, breed my Minie. Make sure he howls for you like a good boy,” he cooed.

Jungkook rushed back over, tackling Jimin down. The two began to wrestle around, kissing and biting at each other’s necks and mouths. 

“Is he well lubed?” Hoseok asked, palming himself through his jeans as he watched the two.

“Oh yeah, I added a lot before we came, just in case you or Jungkook wanted to use him.” Taehyung reached out, palming Hoseok himself. “Wanna fuck my mouth while we watch?”

“No, I think I’m gonna get some puppy kisses after they get going, do you mind if I use Jimin?”

“By all means… Can I breed Jungkook?”

“Please do - he’s been itching for a new cock in his hole lately.”

Jimin yelped, drawing their attention to the two on the floor. Jungkook had him pinned on his stomach, teeth digging hard into his shoulder. He’d nudged the tail plug out of the way, using the strap around Jimin’s middle to keep it on. He was rutting away, trying to sink his cock in without hands. 

“That’s a good boy,” Taehyung cooed. “You breed him. Show him who’s the boss.”

Jungkook barked and shifted, yelping himself when his cock finally plunged into Jimin’s slick asshole. 

Jimin screamed, jerking under him as Jungkook began to fuck into him, not giving him a chance to ease into it. 

Hoseok swore softly. He sank to the ground, undoing his jeans and sliding close to Jimin. 

“Come on, Minie. Be a good dog and play with a bone.” He taunted. He fisted Jimin’s hair and pulled his head up. Jimin’s cheeks were mottled, his eyes already glazed in pleasure and Jungkook used his ass. 

Hoseok slapped his cock over Jimin’s wet, plush lips. “Come on, puppy. Be good.”

Jimin whined low in his throat. He stuck his tongue out, drooling over Hoseok’s cock before letting it slide into his mouth. Hoseok moaned happily, holding his head. “Oh, good doggie,” he groaned. 

“That mouth is phenomenal, isn’t it?” Taehyung asked, crawling onto the floor with Hoseok. His own cock was pulled from his pants, wet with his own spit as he stroked himself.

“Amazing, you’ve done wonders training him, Taehyung,” Hoseok panted, fucking up into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin whimpered and groaned, his throat making small, wet gulping noises each time Hoseok’s cock penetrated it. 

“Want me to suck it?” Hoseok offered, looking at Taehyung’s cock pointedly.

“Nope, I was just getting ready. Is Kookie’s hole ready?”

Jungkook barked sharply, his grin wide enough to show most of his teeth. Hoseok laughed. 

“There’s your answer.” 

Taehyung chuckled. He pulled his pants off and went over behind Jungkook. He pulled the plug out, sliding two fingers in instead. “Oh, good boy. Ready to get filled up, huh?” 

Jungkook grumbled happily, wiggling his ass as much as he could still humping Jimin. 

“That’s it, hump my boy,” Taehyung coaxed. “Minie needs a nice thick load from a puppy like you this week, remind him what a good little breeding boy he is.”

Jungkook growled. He laid over Jimin, panting and huffing in his ear. 

Jimin moaned as well as he could, his voice cut off when Hoseok pumped his cock back into his mouth. He held his head down, eyes rolling back. “He’s gotten so much better at deep throating,” Hoseok panted.

Taehyung slid his cock slowly into Jungkook, sighing contentedly at the tight squeeze. Jungkook yipped, his body giving a pleasant little shudder. Taehyung went still, almost all the way inside Jungkook. He let his hands rest on his hips gently. Each time Jungkook thrusted into Jimin, he pulled slightly off Taehyung’s cock, and the pull out pushed him firmly back onto him. Jungkook groaned deep in his throat.

“Good boy,” Taehyung praised, stroking his sweat slicked back. “Harder you fuck my pup, the more cock you get, you’re learning.” 

Jungkook barked. He leaned down, licking a stripe up Jimin’s neck before nipping his ear and growling deep down. He began to move faster, slamming into Jimin hard enough to jerk him forward ever so slightly. The movement made him take Hoseok’s cock a little deeper as well, his shoulders jerking when he gagged on his cock. 

Jungkook picked up the hand pump, squeezing it a few times. Jimin whined, pushing his ass back further as the knot began to swell. It wasn’t enough to lock yet, slipping in and out of his ass with a slick pop. 

“Has he taken it before?” Hoseok panted, shifting to fuck up into Jimin’s mouth. 

“Not yet,” Taehyung said. He laid over Jungkook, his own hips now working to pound deep into his ass on each thrust. “He’s knotted me with it, and it felt amazing, but he’s not had a pup to give it to him.”

Hoseok moaned softly at that. “Hear that, Kookie,” he cooed, stroking Jungkook’s hair. “Gonna be the first to knot Minie’s tight little hole. How proud you should be. Give it to him good, pet… Make him howl for you.”

Jungkook barked sharply, choking back a moan. He shifted, driving his hips harder and faster into Jimin’s ass. 

Jimin shouted around Hoseok’s cock, his tears sliding down his cheeks. Hoseok looked at him, giving a thumbs up in question. Jimin nodded as well as he could, wrapping his lips tightly around Hoseok’s cock and sucking hard even as he gagged.

Jungkook began to pant more erratically, his hips working wildly. He snarled huffed and whined, biting down on Jimin’s shoulder lightly. He grabbed the pump, squeezing it each time he thrust forward. 

Finally, Jimin yelped and Jungkook went still, spinning his hips in tiny little circles. He leaned his head back, mouth open as his body jerked gently with the force of Taehyung’s thrusts. 

“That’s a good boy,” Taehyung purred, holding Jungkook’s hips. “You breeding my boy? Hm? Filling my pup full?”

Jungkook let his tongue hang out, his eyes going a little unfocused. The sight was stunning. 

Hoseok swore softly. He shifted and thrusted hard and fast into Jimin’s mouth. He could feel drool dribbling down his cock as Jimin struggled to take him. 

“Relax, Minie,” he panted. “Just let me in, I’ll give you a yummy treat, just let it happen, oh, fuck—” Hoseok gritted his teeth. He drove his cock into Jimin’s mouth, feeling his throat clench and convulse around his tip. He held his head, his cock spurting ropes of come. 

Hoseok released Jimin’s head, letting him pull back. Drool and come spilled from his mouth and over his chin and he coughed and gagged. He went back immediately, lapping at Hoseok’s cock to clean it. Hoseok smiled softly, stroking his hair. “Such a good boy,” he cooed. 

Jungkook grunted, baring his teeth as Taehyung pounded into him, his nails biting into Jungkook’s hips. 

Taehyung shuddered, his thrusts breaking their rhythm as he neared his orgasm. He tossed his head back, grunting as he came, still driving into Jungkook’s ass as he did. Jungkook grinned broadly, looking back at Taehyung and barking once sharply. 

“Yeah, I know… Good boy,” Taehyung panted, patting his ass. 

“I think Minie needs to come still,” Hoseok worried, leaning down to stroke Jimin’s cock, leaking and hard.

“Aw, you didn’t come from being bred?” Taehyung asked. 

Jimin shook his head in something resembling a no and whined, thrusting forward into Hoseok’s hand as much as he could still tied to Jungkook’s cock. 

“I’ll milk him,” Hoseok offered. He kissed Jimin’s cheek and forehead gently. Letting go of Jimin’s cock for a moment, he swiped his hand through the come and spit from their earlier activities still on Jimin’s face, using it to ease his hand as he began to stroke Jimin with a firm, sure grip.

“Come on, pup – let it out. We gotta get you to come or you’ll get pent up, won’t we?” He coaxed, his voice soft and soothing. 

“Such a good boy, Minie,” Taehyung added, reaching out to stroke Jimin’s back. “Didn’t come without permission, you’re getting so good at that. You have permission now, puppy – you can come any time you need.”

“He is a good boy,” Hoseok agreed. Jimin smiled crookedly, letting his tongue hang out even as his eyelids fluttered. “Holding his come until we’re ready to milk it out of him. Taking Kookie’s knot all the way, taking me without so much as a complaint or a nip. You’re such a good boy, Minie.” Hoseok stroked his cheek gently, his hand working fast along the length of his cock. 

Jungkook snuffled against Jimin’s ear, whining and woofing softly. He licked a stripe up his cheek and Jimin turned his head, meeting Jungkook’s mouth in a kiss that was more tongue and teeth. 

Jimin broke the kiss to hiss, his hips twitching wildly. 

“That’s it,” Taehyung coaxed. “Let it come. Come for Hobi, Minie.” Taehyung slowly pulled his softened cock from Jungkook’s ass, slipping the tail plug back in. Jungkook let the air from the knot, pulling himself free. He crouched down, sliding his tongue deep into Jimin’s gaping hole to catch the come as it dribbled out.

Jimin groaned at that, thrusting back against Jungkook’s tongue. His eyes rolled back a little, mouth hanging open. 

“Come on, such a good boy, come for me, Minie, come on, let it all out.” Hoseok praised.

Jimin yipped, his entire body shuddering. Jungkook leaned up and pushed his tail plug back in, biting his ass playfully. Jimin’s cock jerked in Hoseok’s hand and began to spurt ropes of come onto his hand and the floor. 

“Oh, good boy,” both Taehyung and Hoseok praised as Hoseok milked his orgasm from him. When he could get no more, Hoseok pulled his hand back and both Jimin and Jungkook went forward, licking the come from it. They shared another messy kiss afterward, nipping each other’s mouths.

Hoseok settled back onto the couch, wiping his hand free of saliva and come, and tucking himself back into his jeans.

“That was very needed,” Taehyung said, slumping on the couch after putting himself away. 

“Most definitely,” Hoseok agreed, watching the two cuddle on the floor. “You boys wanna get a bath?” He offered. “After we can all take a nice nap together and then go out to dinner?”

Jimin and Jungkook untangled themselves from each other and rushed up to the two, wagging their tails as fast as they could manage. 

Taehyung laughed brightly. “Guess that’s a yes.”

The two rose and led Jimin and Jungkook down to the bathroom. Deciding it was far easier, they got the others up on their feet and showered two by two, sharing gentle kisses and touches as they passed. 

After their showers, Jungkook and Jimin were permitted to remove their plugs, leaving their ears and collars on. Hoseok let Taehyung borrow a pair of sleeping pants, and all four curled up on Hoseok and Jungkook’s bed. It was a tight fit, not that they minded; the closeness was comforting for Jimin and Jungkook after playtime, and Taehyung and Hoseok were happy to give them all they needed. They knew they weren’t in the most traditional relationship, but it didn’t bother them. They were happy, and they found joy in the small things. That was what really mattered. 

[willow-salix]

TAG MiniBang 2021

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

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

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

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

Ting ting ting

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

“Yes, Gordy, what do you need?” 

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

“Sure-”

“But maybe make me a sandwich first?”

“A sandwich?” 

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

“Sure-”

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

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

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

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

“What did the cheese do to you?”

“It’s guilty by association.”

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

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

“Can you fix his drink?” Virgil asked.

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

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

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

“How can I escape when Gordon needs help?”

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

“I am? And that would be…”

“John’s home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The cheesy curl ones?” Gordon asked hopefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, got it, my bad!”

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

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

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

“Anything else I can do for you?”

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

“Of course I will.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only when it’s true.”

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

“Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Lame,” he declared, dismissing it.

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

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

“Thin ice, bub, thin ice.”

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

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

“Who?”

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

“John? No way.”

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

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

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

“No offence, Sel, but John’s a bit…”

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

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

“A bit boring.”

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

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

“He is not boring.”

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

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

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

-x-

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did you do?" 

"Nothing!" Gordon protested hotly.

"Are you sure?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just sit around all day."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you even doing?" 

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

"Why?" 

"Because she likes them."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-x-

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, what are you doing?" 

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

"The same one?" 

"Yes."

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

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

"Why?" 

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

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

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

"Sounds lame to me," Gordon yawned. 

"Obviously," John drawled, rolling his eyes. 

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

"Because it's you."

"Hey! Rude."

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

"Why?"

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

"Says the console jockey." 

Console Jockey? He did not just say that!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry!” 

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

“What happened, love?”

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

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

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

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

“Because I know you two?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I tried, he’s not interested.”

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

-x-

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

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

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

“Grandma finally released you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You actually believed that threat?" Gordon laughed. 

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

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

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

"Yep."

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

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

"Actually, we got you a present."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A ship?" Gordon frowned. 

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

“So you put the ship in the bottle?”

“Yep, instructions are inside, go nuts.”

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

-x-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Against the list?” John clarified.

“I eyeballed it, OK?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-x-

 “Gordon, that’s my finger.”

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

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

“Do you really need them?”

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

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

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

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

“Do I even want to know?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never,” Gordon agreed. 

-x- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-x-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s looking great.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

-x-

“Careful,” John warned.

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

“Your hand’s shaking.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.” 

“Welcome.”

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

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

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

“String one.”

“Got it. Watch number four sail.”

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

“Sail three is flopping!”

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

“Maybe if I gather…”

“Yep, that’s good, do that again.”

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

“Hey! I can be delicate!”

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

“There, saved it.”

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

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

The boat, with its sails, stayed strong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-x-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Bro.”

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes 26: Preparation

[part 2 of 2]

Another day, another classroom bell. As far as Monday’s go, today was pretty harmless for Summer. Classes went by fast, Veronica only nagged her about what to eat for lunch, and P.E. was used for tournament announcements so she didn’t have to change. In a few minutes she’ll be able to walk out of the student council meeting and go home to escape-

“We’re all staying after school today, all of us.” Eliza said, filing papers.

Summer planted her head on the table. “Why do you hate me!? I’m nothing but kind to you.” She whined.

“Stop crying! Did you expect to go into the tournament performance cold turkey? This isn’t one of your concerts. Multiple things need to work at once. Which is why Harriet was kind enough to keep a platform up to act as a stage in the gym. You and your brother will have the band’s support.

Nick’s face turned to terror. He could see Summer’s face begin to get excited. “Summer, I know that look. Please remember that neither the band nor I are as skilled as you. Don’t go full dictator on us.”

She could only laugh and smile energetically. “That won’t be a problem if you hit the notes.”

“Not what I wanted to hear, Summer!”

Veronica got up from the table and packed her things. “You all have fun. I’m gonna get started on that outfit. The materials should be at your house by now.”

“Not so fast.” Eliza interjected, “Did you forget that you’re filling in on the cheer team? Their practice starts in fifteen minutes.”

“B-But my fabrics!” She gasped.

Eliza folded her arms confidently. “Sorry, tough luck. Harriet saw your moves and she gets what she wants. If only Amber didn’t twist her leg.”

Nick let out a snicker before hiding his smile from Veronica. Karma is a cruel mistress.

“I myself will oversee everything as best as I can while leading my own rehearsal. Don’t think twice to come find me, or the President, who should really be the one leading this meeting.”

“Nah you’re on a roll.”He smiled.

She gave him a glare before continuing. “Anyways, I also need somebody to let Valerie know the water heater is screwed up again and also that she should at least help with hauling supplies to Amity Arena; since she so rudely skipped this meeting.”

All of the council and other student body members turned to Nick instinctively. It was warranted but man did it blow. Summer glady stood up to take the bullet.

“I will tell her everything she needs to know, after rehearsals.”

“Works for me. Let’s move people! Time is ticking.” Eliza gathered her belongings and went out the door with the rest of the staff. Summer and Veronica gave him a nudge as they walked by. “You two still have enough time to do the outfit?”

“I fixed your sister’s uniforms in no time at all. I already have all her measurements I need so the annoying part is over.”

“What she said.” Summer added. “At this point I guess I’m being moved to wherever I’m supposed to be. Eugh, after school, even the name hurts my throat.”

“Think of it like this. We get to spend all day with Eliza!” Nick yelled out the door cheekily.

“I will answer none of your questions!” She yelled back, knowing she basically has to spend the entire day around Nick. She hadn’t told him yet but she was going to accept his offer. Her curiosity about his plan was too strong. The tournament was quickly approaching. Every step forward counts. Time to kick things into high gear.

Nick found the strength to leave the table and face judgment. “Alright, let’s get this pain over with.”

“Quit exaggerating! I will be a humble singing instructor.”

xxxxx

“COME ON NICK! YOU CALLED THAT A HARMONY!?” Summer was not humble, or quiet for that matter. “I know you can do better!”

Nick endured the criticism as he sipped his water. He was prepared for this but obviously the band wasn’t. Summer had everyone in their group scared stiff and onlookers watching in awe. This might be the first time they’ve heard her speak in school, let alone emote.

Her fiery nature was on full display and it’s intensity was higher than her ponytail. Free from uniform constraints, she wore compression tights and a thin long sleeved shirt that hugged her frame. Summer looked more sporty right now than she has in her entire school life.

The many eyes on the twins' practice didn’t seem to bother her. “Let’s take it from the top.” She grabbed her guitar and began to play immediately. A quick glare to the drummer snapped him out of his trance and got him to play, making the rest fall in line. Live practice was never a thing she did often. People ceased the opportunity all around the gym to watch magic be created before their ears.

Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold.

But you will remember me~

Remember me for centuries~

She nodded to Nick and he gripped his mic.

And just one mistake... is all it will take.

We’ll go down in history~

Their breathing synced up.

REMEMBER ME FOR CENTURIES~

Summer raised her fist, silencing the band. The performer turned towards her brother and band. A fraction of a smile crept onto her face. “Better. Not perfect, but much better.” She took a sip of water. “Not to be tyrant-”

“Yet here we are.” Nick said, earning a few laughs from the band and a glare from his sis. “What!? I’m boosting morale!”

“I know. It’s the only reason I’m not chewing your head off. Here I was about to compliment you too.”

“The biggest compliment you can give me is letting us finish the song completely. We’ve only gone about a fourth through it. Everyone knows this song.”

“Anybody can know a song but few feel it. I know you know this. The crowd at the tournament is gonna want hype and they’ll most likely sing along. Our job is to cultivate it to its peak. We are the opening of the event. I picked this song for a reason. If we come out firing on all cylinders then I know we can ride the wave through the whole song! Let me feel your hype, your energy!”

Nick pursed his lips. “If you want energy, then you let these guys have fun! Ice breaker time!” Nick spun around and pointed to the band. “Give me a funky beat!”

The members looked at one another, shrugging before kicking in a fun, funky classic; Billie Jean!

Nick let out the biggest “Yeah~” then started moonwalking around Summer. “Come on Summer, you can’t resist the beat!”

“Really? Of all the songs you think I’m just gonna-” She kicked her leg out and then twirled to the microphone.

She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene…!

Nick hopped with joy before chiming in as the band jammed out. Eliza watched the two from off stage with her color guard troop in disbelief, joined by Veronica seconds later in her cheerleader uniform. Eliza waved her hand to her group. “Guys, take ten. I guess it’s break time.”

“Those two seem to be having a ball. They always like this with council stuff?”

“Hardly. It’s the only reason why I’m not yelling at them right now. Can’t remember the last time they looked happy to participate. They can laugh their lungs out as long as the work gets done. Might motivate the others. Anyways, how are you holding up?”

“Oh you know, as much as a newbie could be in this situation.” Veronica shook her pom-poms for dramatic effect. “Feels nice to do something like this again though. It’s like wearing an old glove.”

“History with cheerleading?”

“Gymnastics, my ribbon work doesn’t stop with a needle. That was some time ago but I digress.”

“I see. Well...you move like a pro.” Eliza said, a little stuttery. She played with her hands a bit while focusing on the twins.

Her elevated heart rate rang like a bell while her movements reminded Veronica of herself whenever she first met Coco Axel. “So...a little birdy told me I got a fan of my work here? Got any clue who?” She teased, enjoying Eliza's jump a little. Poor girl's cheeks went red.

Eliza felt a crushing betrayal. “Which twin opened their big mouth?”

“Is the ‘who’ that important?”

“Ah so it’s both?”

Veronica tucked her lips in. “Uhhh I won’t confirm or deny that. To think I’d have a fan all the way up in Atlas?”

“Please, we don’t have to discuss .”

“Why not? No reason to hide it. I’m honestly flattered by it. Civil rights movements don’t attract the right kind of like-minded individuals typically. Then there’s the obvious regional differences.”

“Huh? Regional differences?” Eliza tilted her head. “Have faunus here been giving you a hard time?”

“No, but that’s because I’m making zero effort to approach them. Faunus here as a whole are treated crueler than other places. An outsider like me coming in and trying to ‘relate’ never goes over smoothly.”

Eliza was surprised. She had never heard of that before. “Oh, I guess I was being a bit presumptuous. Apologies.”

“No it’s fine. It’s just one of those annoying little things. A lot of the preach about wanting a voice and equality but sing a different tune when those voices start speaking because they aren’t the ones those people had in their heads. Sigh, we faunus are fickle creatures.”

“Boy, sounds like you hate your job?”

Veronica laughed, “Haha! I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe it’s my unique circumstance but as far as my personal beliefs go, Faunus and Humans are basically the same. They both hate and judge others far too viciously due to bias. I may advocate for our rights, but I’m not above calling ourselves out. It’s probably why the elders especially don’t care for my efforts.”

Veronica turned to Eliza and smiled. “Sorry, rambled for a bit there. Hope I’m ruining your hero perception of me. That is if I am a hero to you?”

“No. Wait! I mean it’s not ruined! You’re definitely inspiring to me. So much in fact that I got a cool magazine cover of you!” It took a minute, but Eliza’s brain registered what she had just said. “I…why did I tell you that?” Eliza facepalmed.

Vee was in shock. Her jaw slowly fell open. “Wow, you are a total fangirl right now. I didn’t think you could look embarrassed. Ha, you’re adorable blushing!”

“Please don’t talk about it…”

“Can I see the magazine cover? I’ll be honest. I rarely pay attention to those puff pieces. My mom handles all that.”

“Really?” Eliza patted her pockets before pulling out her scroll. “It’s from your rally in Vale.”

Veronica had a peek. “Oh I remember this!” The picture was from a year ago. Vale’s rally was pretty huge and loud. The photo was taken right when she had stood proudly on top of a car with a megaphone, protesters following her to city hall. “Not to toot my own horn but look so cool in this.”

“It’s surprising you’ve never seen it.”

“My eyes are usually glued to my sketchbook or a threaded needle. If I’m looking at myself then it’s in the mirror to see how fabric falls onto me or someone else. Speaking of clothes, maybe I can make you an outfit? First one is free. Just wear it to an event; tell your friends about it.”

Eliza lit up, but then immediately started to cringe. “An event is no problem. However...uhhh, yeah, rain check in the whole friend part. A social butterfly, I am not. Don’t have friends.”

“Uh Nick and Summer?”

“Gross.”

Veronica could barely stop herself from laughing out loud. The speed in which Eliza answered was swift to say the least. “Wow, and I thought the twin’s aunt was blunt? Are you sure that message is clear to them, because I’m positive they think you’re a friend.”

“I’m friendly, but not a friend.”

“Do you have their number?”

“Yes.”

“Sad to say you’re their friend. Don’t fight it.”

“What!? That’s not how- what!? From what I understand you and Summer aren’t friends, but I’m positive you have her number.”

Veronica nodded. “Yeah, but that’s necessary for multiple reasons. Besides, we actively shit talk one another. I reckon you don’t. I’m not saying you three are tightly knit. Just that you’re close enough.”

Eliza folded her arms and huffed. “I suppose so. That’s...annoying.”

“Look on the bright side.” Veronica grabbed Eliza’s scroll to put her number in. “Now you aren’t alone. We can complain about their antics together.”

The grin Veronica gave Eliza made her Eliza sheepish. The abrasive girl took her scroll back. “That...sounds nice.” She laughed under her breath.

Veronica couldn’t stop examining Eliza. This girl was all over the place! It was a little funny, awkward, and yet flattering. “Is this how the twins feel meeting fans?” The young lady could get used to this.

“Your last name is Marigold right? I’m so used to such a fierce expression that seeing you like this feels a bit unusual.”

“Used to? I take it you’ve spoken to my aunt then?” Eliza lit up.

“Not really. She’s been at events my mom dragged me to before. Didn’t speak with her directly but she looked pretty interesting. Her and my mom worked together before. You both and your father have some strong genes. I bet the mom must be jealous.”

“I...doubt it.” Eliza said, her tone drifting. The smile on her face faded back to neutrality. A silent breath escaped her lips while her eyes gazed into distance. Her change in attitude didn’t go unnoticed. Veronica’s ears fell watching her.

“Shit, did I...bring up something touchy?”

“It’s okay, honestly. I just wouldn’t know how my mom feels since...I’ve never had one.”

“Oh. I had no idea. Do you wanna talk about it or…?”

“Not really. It’s really not that big of a deal. You just caught me off guard since I’m used to people knowing that part of my life.” Eliza raised both her hands and gave her face a light slap to get out of her funk. Moping about nothing is pointless. Right now she was talking to Veronica, a person she admires! This was supposed to be exciting! “Phew! That’s better. Let’s change the subject. I don’t know much when it comes to fashion, but I have read about some of your involvement in contests.”

For a moment it felt like Veronica’s body had been hit by a truck. The muscles in her body constricted at once and her stomach felt queasy. “Have you now?”

“Just a little bit. It came up from time to time when I learned about your work with your mother. I gotta say your outfits definitely have your personality. More so than some of your contestants.”

“Heh, that’s not what judges think.” Vee uttered. “Not a first place prize to my name.”

“That may be true but that doesn’t make your designs less interesting in my opinion, but I know how you feel. It stings entering contests and sometimes not even making it to the end. Still, I really thought one dress in particular had it in the bag but…” Eliza silenced herself suddenly. She had forgotten the topic of this particular contest may not be light at all. “You...got disqualified?” She finished, cringing at her own stupidity.

“Yep. I got disqualified. No medal at all for that one.”

The air felt dead. Eliza clicked her tongue. “I had forgotten that part. The article never said why though, so it stuck out to me. If..if you don’t mind-”

“I actually do, a lot.” Veronica’s sharp response made Eliza jump a little. A few people passing by took notice of the aggressive tone, making Veronica mentally kick herself. “Shit, that wasn’t supposed to be so...I’m touchy about that day.”

Eliza waved off the comment like she was the one in the wrong. “It’s fine! I should’ve known better.”

“I guess we’re both even now huh?”

“Even!? I wasn’t trying to get back at-”

“Haha, relax before your heart explodes. It was just a tease.”

Eliza’s for got red. “Oh...of course.”

“You weren’t kidding about not having friends. I thought I was bad at small talk.”

Eliza held her head down. “I’m like a dumpster fire…”

“Ha, I can see that. I guess I’m fortunate to do speeches often. Easily the savior of my social skills. My parents are great but I wouldn’t say they aren’t the most elegant people in conversations. At least not ones that aren’t in front of a camera where they have to be. In a regular conversation they are as uncoordinated as they come.”

“I can see that. Yang’s sister does live here after all. She definitely has her own way of holding a conversation.”

“Pfft, that’s one way to put it. Just shake it off. We’re all kinda tone dead I guess.” Veronica laughed. This was fun. This was actually fun. Talking casually, who would’ve thought? She grabbed her water bottle to drink.

Eliza was also having a pleasant time. She was running low on conversation starters though. There had to be something that shouldn’t go horribly wrong. That’s when it came to her…

“So your head over heels for Nick right?”

Water sprayed out of Veronica’s mouth. How did each question keep getting her!? It shouldn’t even have been that bad yet here she was, choking over the most basic thing that everyone knew! Normally she hated being touched but feeling Eliza pat her back was gladly welcomed.

If Eliza didn’t feel bad before, then she definitely did now. “I am so sorry!” her voice was so spastic it would make Summer look calm. “I told you I’m terrible at this!”

“No, agh, no… this one is me!” Veronica coughed. “Damn, that really hurt my chest. It’s like the entire gulp went down the wrong pipe!” A few more coughs and another sip of water cured the promise. Veronica rubbed her chest and tearfully looked at Eliza. “Yeah I’m into him. Why do you ask?” Her desire to act like she didn’t nearly die was strong. “Wait, don’t tell me you like him too!?”

Water wasn't the only thing that was gonna be on the floor with questions like that. Eliza made a face that looked like she may have gagged out of spite. “Ugh, not a chance.” She folded both her arms aggressively.

“Cool, that would’ve been weird.” Veronica thought. Then Eliza began rubbing her chin. That was never a good sign.

“Weeeeeell…” Eliza said.

Veronica deflated like a balloon. “Here we go…”

“Huh? No! It’s not what you think. I don’t like him like that, or much at all really. However, I can’t deny he is...charming to put mildly. I can recognize that. As a whole, I don’t like Nick that much. There’s too much that grinds my gears. That said, there is a side to him I deeply appreciate. Don’t tell him that or I’ll deny it.”

Her tidbit made Vee’s cat ears wiggle. “You gonna leave me hanging like that? Elaborate a little.”

“Really? I didn’t want to diss him in front of you or anything.”

“Tah! Nick doesn’t need anyone coming to his defense and I’m not gonna bite your head off over an opinion, most likely.” She had to add that last part. Veronica doubted Eliza was going to say something that would be unapologetically mean but you can never know what a person could say. “Speak your mind.”

Eliza looked towards the stage to watch the council president in question adjust some light equipment to put on his sister. “That boy is...selfish in the wrong way.”

That sure was an answer. Veronica tilted her head. “I...don’t follow.”

“Nicholas Schnee is a people pleaser, yet he goes out of his way to do things on his own and inefficiently. He has the qualities of a great leader but doesn’t truly lead anyone. Instead he bends over backwards. This entire concert was his idea yet he chose not to fill anybody in on this for weeks; leaving us in the dark when we could’ve been further along. All that money, trust, and influence, yet I fail to see him use it with the care I know he knows how to do. It’s so annoying! Agh, I wish I had a fraction of what his name has.”

“Sounds like to me you’re a little envious?”

“A bit, but that doesn’t change my view of him. You know him. Am I wrong?”

“I’m the last person to judge right or wrong here, but I see what you mean. Nick definitely has his faults, no argument there. I told him the other day he was a bit pushy at times and overbearing. Still, I wouldn’t say those qualities are bad. Nick is… a man on a mission.”

The administration in Veronica’s eyes was clearer than air to Eliza. “Opinions aside, his heart is good. The love he has for family and friends is undeniably. I respect that.”

“Is that the part you deeply appreciate?”

Eliza shook her head. “No, that quality is a given. The side I like is one few people see. I witnessed it for the first time at a red carpet event several years ago. It was our first time actually speaking. I stubbornly declared I’d beat him in a tournament and show everyone how beneath me he was.”

“Wow, your social skills really are rough.”

“Cut me some slack. I was fourteen and cocky. Anyways, I expected him to laugh it off and give that fake smile he gives to the public. Instead, he gave this smug smirk at me and said ‘I can’t wait.’ It was actually chilling. I could tell from his eyes that he was threatening, no, intimidating me. He had no problem letting me know he wanted to take me down, and that’s exactly what he did on tournament day. However, right before our match, Nick took me to the side to chat. It was my first tournament. The anxiety I had was a plan on my face. Instead of using that weakness, he gave me tips to calm down. Having him focus solely on me in that ring was thrilling, different from his usual self. There’s an honesty about it I like. No way somebody can be nice all the time.”

It was for that very reason Eliza knew she had to hear Nick’s offer out. Whenever that look comes out, it spells trouble for who caused it. To think the plan involved beating Valerie? What could he possibly be up to?

Veronica rubbed her chin, intrigued. “So that’s your reasoning. Hmm.” She snapped her fingers and smirked. “Masochistic.”

Eliza bugged out. Her jaw dropped and she was seconds away from protest, until the snickering from Veronica let her know she was teasing again. A smile slowly formed and Eliza playfully elbowed Vee. “Shut up.” She laughed. “Talk about a mood killer.”

Veronica stuck her tongue out before breaking out into laughter when Eliza. Hard to believe the key to being social was being kinda bad at it? It was nice making a friend. Veronica didn’t say it but they were glad to be here.

Across the room, the gym door opened. “Well look who’s having fun!?” A voice bellowe, the condescending echo gaining everyone’s attention. To many’s displeasure, it was Darren sauntering in with his silent partner Max behind him. “Sounds like a real party here. Care if I join? Maybe shake things up a little?”

The upperclassman paced like he owned the place, watching. “Hard at work for my big day?” His eyes go to the stage. “Well if it isn’t the Jester of the School!”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Very original. I’d love to hear more of this comedy act but unfortunately the gym is closed for regular students. Please take your friend and your clown makeup somewhere else.”

“Pfft, you diss like a child.”

“Said the man who called me a jester.” Be it a deity or the universe itself, people should count themselves lucky Nick had high tolerance for stupidity. Darren’s presence was grinding it down however. Punches and nearly getting a friend hit by an asshole’s car did that to an individual.

Summer could see the sparks fly between the two. Grabbing the microphone from Nick with no hesitation, Summer took the lead. Unfortunately for Darren she didn’t have her brother’s tolerance, and she was on her favorite spot in the whole world. “You’re interrupting our practice and wasting my time. Beat it.”

The gym went silent. Did everyone hear that right? Summer Schnee...was rude!? Darren blinked twice, stunned. “Excuse me but, nobody was talking to you.”

“And nobody invited you. Scram.” She shooed him away as if he was a bug.

“Now is that anyone to talk to a superior? I don’t care how famous you are or what your last name is, you little princess. You just keep singing like a little songbird; it’ll be the only good press you get that day before losing to yours truly!”

Summer out of this expression of confusion. “And your name is…? Sorry, I just have a really hard time with faces when they don’t even rank in the top five.” Multiple ‘oooos’ and chatter started going. “Is Dean? Dunce? …..Dumb and Dumber?”

Max let out a simple “Hmph” while Darren got pissed. “So you got jokes huh?” He said through his teeth. It only took one step closer before Nick immediately stepped in front of his sister. Before either could give the audience a glimpse of tournament match l, Eliza flicked the lights off and on to gain everyone’s attention.

“HEY! Knock it off, all of you.” She demanded. Darren’s gaze came her way and towards Veronica by extension. Eliza took a step between the two, stopping a problem before it could start. “Na uh, eyes on me. One word to her and I might let Principal Coal know. May I remind you that after recent behavior it would behoove you to act like a respectable upperclassman, or else-”

“Hey hey hey there, little one, I just came in here to mingle a little; shoot the breeze and all. I’m not the one who got all bent out of shape and started insulting people. Ain’t that right Max?”

Unbothered, Max put his hands behind his head. “That is what happened; dumb jokes or not.”

“Yeah that’s- hey! You aren’t talking about my jokes are you!?”

Eliza took a deep breath. “Consider the breeze shot to hell. Now if you would kindly be on your way so-”

“Uuuugh, you’re so boring, acting like a lifeless doll and shit. Even her frail and tone deaf highness behind me showed some backbone for once.”

“Tone deaf!?” Summer yelled. She would’ve thrown her microphone if Nick didn’t take it from her. “Oh I really hope your bite is at least half as good as your bite. This ‘Princess’ thinks you deserve a public beat down for the world to see, personally delivered!”

“See you at the tournament!” Nick added.

Darren pointed behind himself. “See? At least they’re interesting.”

“If getting egged on by your limp insults is what you want then why should I even bother?” Eliza stepped to the side. “Best be on your way. You can earn my wrath whenever you feel man enough to enter a solo tournament instead of hiding behind your partner.”

“Oh yeah?” Darren glared. “Tough talk from a-” The back of his shirt was pulled by Max.

“Time to go. You’ve had your fun, and I’m getting a headache. No use talking. Let the tournament do all the bragging.” Max began dragging Darren to the exit until Darren brushed him off to walk himself. He gave Eliza one last pissed off look before giving a smug face as he walked away. “Tsk, drug baby.” He mumbles.

Loud footsteps and the sound of metal clanged behind him. Darren quickly turned around, ready for a fight. “Well I guess you can get ma-”He didn’t move. What he thought was Eliza losing her cool was actually her defending him with her baton from a very pissed heir with an Arma Gigas.

“He’s quicker than he looks.” Max grabbed Darren again and all but tossed him out the gym before any actions became an incident.

“Care to tell me why you wanna fight my battles?” Eliza complained.

“I’m not fighting your battles. My patience just got a little restless.” Nick unsummoned his blade and walked away. Thoughts of last night suddenly came to mind, making him sigh. “Sorry. Overstepped a bit. I’m gonna cool off.” He groaned.

Eliza rubbed the back of her head. That was...off. Nick must’ve been more ticked off by Darren than she was aware of. “Just don’t get so jumpy. The last thing I need is you not being able to kick his ass because you got suspended.”

“Haha yes ma’am.”

Eliza clapped her hands loudly. “Okay everyone! Get back to business!” She shouted, returning everything to normal. Thank the gods for at least giving Eliza cooperative staff members. Her body slumped over. Why can’t any event be peaceful! Damn that Darren! Now she wished he was in the solo bracket. Her head lifted to look at Veronica. “I take it if Nick heard that then so did you?”

“Little bit. I can pretend I didn’t. Makes no difference to me.”

“Don’t sweat it. Who likes beading around the bush anyways? You asked about my mom earlier. Now you basically know. To make a long story short, my dad in his younger years spent his money in...less than responsible ways. Who needs love when there’s plenty of clubs and corners with people looking to make a quick buck? My mother just so happened to get a little more than just lien.”

Veronica’s face scrunched up. “Yikes. That’s a lot to unpack.”

“Not really. Never had a mom so it’s not like I’m yearning for a connection when there never was one to start with. One day my dad noticed her pregnant and like you said before, I have strong features. A woman parading around with no home, every drug under the sun, and a potential baby that looked like the CEO of a company one kingdom above is a recipe for ruin. Many board members thought it best for my father to deny anything and everything. Apparently a few of them along with some kind individuals thought it best to move my mother in with him. This way the baby, me, would at the very least be healthy.”

“What about your mother?”

“Ultimatum. Fall in line with this new society and learn to act like a high class citizen, or take a generous amount of money to keep quiet. I don’t look like her so spinning a story wouldn’t do her well, and high class society didn’t mean she could get high any hour of the day. Took the money and never looked back. Tabs were kept on her for a while but she eventually became white noise among the gutter trash of Mantle. A druggie with tons of cash is never good. Most likely ended up in a gutter from overdose or somebody who caught wind of her spending habits.”

“Eliza that’s...I’m sorry that happened.”

“Eh, I’m not losing sleep over it. Not like I got a bad deal either. Contrary to what people might say about my name, my father is a decent man and cares for me as well. He’s by no means perfect but who is? Aunt May told me once that if nothing else, my dad doesn’t make problems bigger than what they have to be. I didn’t ask to be born, so resenting me would be shallow. We get along and that’s all that matters family wise. Though...it’s not like he got a raw deal out of it.” Eliza conjured a small flame in her hand. “He took the high road and learned he got Remnant’s first magical daughter in ages. Talk about good karma.”

“Way to look at the positives.” Veronica said.

Eliza put out the flame. “It’s just the facts. Unfortunately rumors floated and not all people were happy with the decision, so little tidbits here and there got learned. As you can see with Darren’s mouth almost getting him into trouble. The only thing bigger than his mouth is his ego.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with his type.” Veronica said with annoyance. She was too familiar with it.

“Anywho, I should get back to practice. Thanks for chit chatting. And people say it’s bad to meet your heroes and stuff. I guess they’re meeting the wrong ones.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I mean I’m pretty rad but you know...modesty and all that. I’m no Blake Belladonna or Yang Xiao Long. Just little ol’ me.” Veronica chuckled. “See ya around?”

“Sooner than you might think.” Eliza twirled her baton and went on her way.

Veronica watched the girl leave. No wonder Nick chose Eliza to be the one to keep an eye on her. She was tough as nails; with or without the uniform! A shame Darren outed her like that. Veronica felt a little dirty learning something Eliza didn’t want to tell her. Veronica was surprised that Eliza didn’t ask for her to return the favor. Then again, it would’ve been pointless. Veronica knew herself. She wouldn’t say a word regardless of fairness. She might have even lied. The girl let out a sigh, taking a moment to look down at herself before heading back to practice. Some things are just better left unsaid.

[mimizepp]

abba! surprise birthday date scenarios!!!

BB DESERVES THE BEST BDAY SURPRISE <3 ty for the request + i loved writing this !!!!! also no i didn’t post this with just fifteen minutes left in his birthday what are you talking about.. ha ha...

** edit: now that i revisit i see that i basically wrote this like a oneshot.. so i’m giving this it’s proper title as such **

abbacchio surprise bday date oneshot !!!

abbacchio normally treated his birthday just like any other day of the year. with you, he’s tried his best to humor your (admittedly) adorable attempts and try his best to celebrate himself. he actually kind of looks forward to the big day, now that he has you to spend it with.

-

leone grumbles quietly as you wake him with twice the amount of usual kisses. you leave your spot in bed to get him a nice cup of tea to start his morning. somehow he nuzzles even further into his pillow, wishing he could sleep the day away and get back on with his normal routine. buuut once he hears your sweet little voice call out ‘get up, birthday boy!’ from the doorway, he gives in (and is blushing like craaazy).

as the two of you eat a quiet breakfast you’re constantly checking the time, hoping it’s not noticeable. leone takes notice immediately but doesn’t question it, not wanting to spoil your potential surprises for him. he thinks it’s incredibly sweet, seeing you so discreetly excited about wherever you’re planning to take him. just to tease a little bit, he takes his time finishing up his meal.

‘leone...’ you laugh, slightly antsy due to time constraints, ‘i know we got up a little late today, but... we don’t have to take our time with.. everything.’ you emphasize the final word, glancing down at his plate. he smirks slightly, amused. he loves pushing your buttons.

‘hm?’ leone fakes a puzzled expression, avoiding eye contact so he doesn’t start laughing right in your face. he slowly brings his tea up to his mouth and is hardly able to conceal his pursed lips.

you sigh with a smile, caught up with his usual antics. ‘you’re so annoying.’ you stand and walk around the table to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, ‘be ready to get out of here by eleven.’ leone closes his eyes, pleased with how his birthday has gone so far.

some months ago you decided to book a private museum tour of the ‘poor souls church’, san severo chapel, for leone’s birthday. when you looked online the site seemed just as moody and alluring as your boyfriend, which was perfect. you knew he would enjoy the place, especially with the tour being privately booked (no lines, no random people to make small-talk with, nothing that could bother him).

leone was dressed up all nice and pretty by 10:45. he wore black, perfectly fitted pants with a thin black v-neck sweater that dipped down just the right amount, and ideally hugged his strong form. his hair was tied back in a messy bun, and damn did he look perfect. leone also put on a well-worn pair of dr martens, and his light purple lipstick had his lips looking delicious as ever.

your eyes widened at his delectable appearance, earning you a soft chuckle from your boyfriend. leone grabs some sunglasses as the two of you leave his home. the day is lovely, the atmosphere nice but not too warm. you start walking towards the museum, and it’s only about a twenty minute trek to get there. the two of you hold hands the entire way, a smile lingering on leone’s face as he notices your growing excitement. all he can do is wait and wonder.

upon arrival to the museum, leone freezes dead in his tracks, ‘what the fuck..’ he looks to you, nearly speechless.

you feel worried for a moment, already preparing an apology and plan b for the day. fuck fuck FUCK why couldn’t you have chosen that other museum.. the one with all those historical things! he would have loved those, dammnit.

‘h-how did you know?? i’ve been wanting to come here forever! i even thought about reserving tickets for us, but no dates were ever open...” he looks up at the chapel wondrously, lifting his sunglasses to get a clearer view. he is absolutely infatuated with the place.

‘wha-?’ you experience so much shock and relief, all at once. what a wonderful surprise this has been for the both of you!

leone is so incredibly ‘peppy’ the entire tour. he asks loads of questions about different artifacts and sculptures, taking in all the spook that the chapel has to offer. he is constantly walking up to different little things that catch his eye and calling you over, just as a child would excitedly show their parents the sandcastle they’d made. he was especially interested in the veiled christ piece, one of the more popular attractions of the site.

at one point the two of you are alone in a vast, dim room together. the walls are covered in various works of age-old art, but all leone can focus on is you. he stands before you, delicate eyes fixed on your own. you can’t recall a time he’s looked as appreciative as he does now.

‘my love... i can’t thank you enough. this is just.. perfect.‘ he takes your hands in his own, holding them prudently.

‘aw, leone... i’m happy you liked this so much, i just knew you would.‘

he smiles and looks around at the hoards of art surrounding the two of you once more, before lightly taking hold of your jawline. he leans in and meets your lips, kissing you with a familiar and heated devotion. he pulls away after a few moments, and you can tell he didn’t want to end that embrace so quickly. even in the dim-lit room he appears quite flushed.

‘i love you.. and thanks, again. i really do mean it.’

[brynnmck]

Chapters: 9/9 Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth Characters: Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Rhaella Targaryen, Aerys II Targaryen Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Competence Kink, Battle Couple, excuses to get Brienne into men's clothes, and Jaime into Brienne's trousers, eventually, I overshot the minimum wordcount just a bit, I blame this amazing prompt, also fyi no one in this fic has sex with any of their immediate blood relations, the tags this fandom requires I swear Summary:

Faced with the untimely death of her brother and the resulting threat of losing her guardianship of her wards, Sansa and Arya Stark, Lady Brienne Tarth determines that she has no choice but to dress and act as Galladon until such time as she can see Sansa safely married. Enter infamous rake Jaime Lannister, Lord Casterly, sent to secure Sansa's hand on behalf of the marquess Aerys Targaryen. It should be a most fortunate arrangement, except that much as Brienne's present is not all it seems, neither is Jaime's past, and--quite inconveniently for both--they find themselves wondering whether they might have a future together.

Or: five times Brienne refused Jaime's proposal, and one time she proposed to him. (And also she's wearing 19th-century men's fashion because of reasons and fuck the patriarchy.)

____________________

Well so this was my @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange fic and it was a JOURNEY. I did not want to put myself in the position of having a deadline death-march to finish this and so I very faithfully kept myself to an average daily wordcount throughout July and I actually managed to stick to that and I was SO PROUD of myself and the only problem was that it ended up being almost twice as long as I had projected. Lolsob. ANYWAY. Aside from my lack of planning skills, writing this for @nire-the-mithridatist was a joy in all other ways; I absolutely adored her prompts, her feral comments once I started posting made my LIFE (seriously, if you read the fic please read nire’s comments just because they are so fucking hilarious; more than one of them made me giggle for DAYS), and getting to be friends with her and realizing we should’ve been friends all this time was an unquestionable highlight of the whole experience for me. So thank you to her for all the things, including helping make all of this happen in the first place, and thanks to the amazing @firesign23 and @slipsthrufingers as well--I know that wrangling an exchange of this size was not easy and all your hard work is so deeply appreciated!! Thanks also to @ajoblotofjunk for beta-ing and hand-holding and putting up with my whining and providing enthusiasm when I desperately needed it; she is the best and I would be lost without her. Thanks to @pretty--thief and @agirlnamedkeith for helping me brainstorm a couple of key elements and character moments (and to PT for naming the dog! ❤️). Thanks to my delightful sprinting buddies, particularly the 9 pm - 2 am Pacific time crew, including the ever-faithful Sprinto and our benevolent overlady Slipso (whom I am also so grateful to have become friends with as a result of all these shenanigans); SPRINT CHANNEL AFTER DARK brought me a lot of joy and a lot of distraction and some actual completed words and I wouldn’t have wanted to do it without y’all. And thanks to anyone who listened to me flail about this story, including @kiraziwrites and @naomignome who both found themselves on the receiving end of some not-entirely-sober DMs, as well as the thirsters who were lovely to me when I was like “listen, I don’t want you to read my draft, I just want you to tell me, sight unseen, that it doesn’t suck”. Thank you also to everyone who has already read and kudos’ed and commented and recced--I’m behind on replies, but please believe me when I say that I’m well aware of what a behemoth this is under the circumstances and so the fact that you’ve made time for it even with all the other amazing fic to read means so much to me. THANK YOU.  ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ And for those of you who read this sometime in the future, I hope you enjoy!! As challenging as this was due to the time constraints, getting to play in this style was a ton of fun, and I’m so happy to have been given a prompt that inspired me to try something new and intimidating and exciting. Thanks again to everybody!  ❤️

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 33: Windswept

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Thirty-Three: Windswept

Note: Hope your all having a good week! I loved the comments you left for the last chapter! They were so wholesome and sweet! Now then… onward!

(-~-)

Rain ran down the inner courtyard windows, soaking the pavement and topsoil below as the once light rains steadily progressed into a full-on storm. Thunder rattled the windows, and the occasional flash of light was the closest thing to mid-morning light that they would probably experience today. Wind whipped through the covered corridor, spraying water up the bottoms of the windows and caking mud and grime between every grove and seam in the stone foundation. It would be a mess to clean up, but at least they didn’t have to worry about that for a while now. They were safely inside of the old house, and that was where they would stay until this storm let up.

Some would consider the conditions dreary and even disheartening, but V welcomed them. There was something about the sight of rain that soothed him, the ambient trickle of water that threatened to lull him to sleep if he didn’t keep his wits about him. The addition of whatever kind of tea they had been served didn’t help, the warm mixture of herbs and spices tingling his tastebuds and swaddling him in an inviting warmth that he didn’t want to leave. All he was missing was a good blanket. He already had access to the fireplace on the right side of the room. He would have to make a note of asking what this was so that he could venture out and procure some for himself. Or maybe he could order it. Going to the grocery store wasn’t something he was keen to do for a while. Perhaps a grocery delivery service.

Noticing that the storm was picking up again, Magnolia leaned over and lazily rested her chin and neck on her open palm, her elbow doing most of the work in keeping her head upright. Now that she was able to truly appreciate the view from within her ancestral home, she had to admit that her assumptions about this storm were true. And something told the botanist that her young niece might agree with her. “This storm is unnatural. It has been for some time.

“It’s been storming quite a bit lately, hasn’t it? I mean, it’s always dreary in this region, but this year has truly been something else.” Hydrangea said casually as she sipped her tea, looking out at the rain-drenched garden just behind the glass on the far side of the room. Overcast weather didn’t help the encroaching darkness that had consumed the manor by this point. “Well, I can’t say the whole year. Just in the time since that whole ordeal in Redgrave City. I wonder if any of the locals have noticed. A storm rolled in a few weeks after it, and it just hasn’t let up since. This is going to be a winter to remember.”

“Oh, I would think they have noticed. No one stays out late anymore. The streets are bare and lifeless. One would think the entire region was on lockdown, but I think people have just become afraid to venture very far beyond their own front doors.” She shook her head slowly, quietly morning the loss of independence that she knew most of the locals must feel in regards to their situation. All they probably knew was that ever since that demonic tree had sprouted from the depths of hell and sucked the blood out of the unfortunate denizens of several city blocks, nothing had been the same. And it probably never would be again. Damage like that left a gaping wound, both physically and metaphysically. “Those of us who actually know what’s going on have seemingly done the same if this lockdown is anything to go by. Would you mind explaining the nature of it to me, dear?”

Hydrangea shrugged nebulously, yawning as she stretched and attempted to wake herself up. “Mom called for basic precautions about two weeks ago. Auntie Aluta said she had a bad feeling and that she suspected that something ominous might happen. And then there was a fire at a convenience store, and some of our scouts found evidence of dark corruptive magic on a scale that hasn’t been seen in a long time.” She shrugged again, clearly not really sure what else she could say about the matter. These were matters that she honestly didn’t know much about. After all, she didn’t help make those decisions. “Mom locked up the place tight after that, and then Auntie Aluta skipped town. Said she would be back sometime this week. Apparently, she has to check on something, or whatever. I don’t question her. Sometimes she has a hard time grounding herself in the present, what with her premonitions and all.”

Vergil shared a questioning glance with Dante before turning back towards the young girl, drinking the tea that they had been served. It was quite good, and barely anyone had spoken since it had been poured into their cups and the first sips had met their lips. “Does she leave town unannounced often due to these…  premonitions?”

Dante nodded, admittedly curious as to what she had meant by that statement as well. Did Magnolia’s younger sister have truly strange powers, or was something more going on here that he just didn’t quite comprehend? He would be the first to admit that he didn’t actually know much about magic, or whatever the Ludwig family considered it. This was a learning experience for him, just as much as it was for most of the rest of them. Lucia seemed to be the only one in this situation who wasn’t totally out of the loop in regards to these sorts of matters. While she didn’t seem to fully understand what they were talking about, she was at least able to nod along and comprehend it. Either that, or she was a dab hand at faking it until she made it. Either way, she was leagues ahead of him in that regard.

“Yea, about that… can your aunt see the future or something? Is that, you know, a thing? Because I didn’t know you could do something like that. That’s news to me.” The youngest son of the Dark Knight Sparda said, gesturing to emphasize his surprise. If that was possible, then he wanted to know if it was something you could learn, or a gift you had to be born with. It couldn’t be all that common, or he would have heard about it by now. What an interesting revelation.

The young woman looked skeptical in regards to her ability to answer that question. “You’re probably not going to believe me, but I never really questioned how she was able to do that. I heard she came in contact with some statue or something, and she just sort of developed the ability to sense when things just weren’t right. They were called the Beast Heads or something like that. Can’t be sure. I was probably five when that happened, si it was almost a lifetime ago. My mom was there, so you should probably ask her. If you really want to know more about it. Honestly, she probably doesn’t know too much about it either. Auntie Aluta can’t really control it. It just sort of happens every now and then.”

Dante cringed internally. Great. Things just got better and better.

It was Nero’s turn to interject. He had been sitting next to V this entire time, quietly awaiting the moment when something would be said that would actually pique his interest, and this was it. He could sympathize with having gifts thrust upon you that you never would have asked for in your wildest dreams. What she was going through sounded hellish to him. What on earth did she see or sense? He’d like to ask her, if he ever got the chance. There was no way of knowing if they would still be over here when she returned from whatever she was doing.

Little did Nero know that V shared much the same opinion in regards to this revelation as he did. The older of the two had been quietly listening to them as he indulged himself, enjoying the tea and opting to only speak up if he thought he had something useful to add to the discussion. Unfortunately, he only had questions, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t still contribute something. None of them had thought to mention what had happened inside of Belial’s illusion to her. If her family was concerned with the attack that he had orchestrated that had resulted in that store being burned down in the first place, then it might be a good idea to explain to her what had happened. For all he knew, she might be able to put his mind at ease.

“We happened to be inside of that anomaly when it occurred. It was certainly dark.” V said as he calmly gestured towards Sirrus. The man with the red hair had seemingly checked out of the conversation and seemed to be nearly ready to doze off. Much like himself, his wounds had healed quickly, but he couldn’t say much in regards to his energy levels. He had remained somewhat drained, but Sirrus seemed to be able to manage a little bit better than him, despite the severity of his injuries. It was hard to say what he was going through, but if he was falling back asleep this early in the morning, then V was willing to bet that they were largely in the same boat. “I have no idea how the attack was orchestrated, but I believe I was the target of its creator. Of that, I have very little doubt. Belial was very clear about that fact.”

Hydrangea gaped, clearly recognizing that name. She looked between V and Sirrus, a look somewhere between wonderment and concern spreading across her face. It seemed that that wasn’t a consideration that they had taken into mind. Belial might not have even been on their radar. V remembered Sirrus saying that his organization had been keeping tabs on the Devil Prince’s activities, but that didn’t mean that that organization had to be his relatives. Sirrus was here because of work, even if they didn’t understand that work. Magnolia had asked for his assistance, and he had made it work equally within the constraints of both parties. That didn’t mean that V necessarily knew who the other party involved was, or that he needed to. So long as Sirrus was on their side and was trying his best to help them, that was all he truly cared about.

“You lost a fight to Belial? Wow Siri, I thought you were tougher than that.” Hydrangea leaned over and punched him in the shoulder, giggling frantically as she took the opportunity to shame him and everything he stood for. This wasn’t a regular occurrence that she could normally capitalize on. Sirrus was usually very difficult to take down in a fight. “Why didn’t you just do that thing? You know, that one thing? I can’t remember what it’s called. You're really good at it, though.”

“First of all, I’ve only done that once. It’s very dangerous, and I probably would have caused far too much damage to the integrity of the illusion for it to be a feasible option.” Sirrus said, shaking his head and leaning over to playfully point at her. There was a note of seriousness to his tone, but he was still trying to keep things civil and lighthearted, and it showed. But then something changed in his eyes, a certain mournful pain glittering in them for a moment as he swallowed and glanced over at V. “Power like that has a terrible cost. I could only bring myself to do something like that if I was the only one in danger. When you wield weapons of that magnitude, you have to consider the lives of those who walked into that fight with you. You have a responsibility to make sure they see their families again. Victory at the cost of everything is not victory, it’s egotistical and an example of hubris in its purest state. A war of attrition is preferable to a pyrrhic victory.”

Pausing for a moment to consider her relative’s words, she seemed to allow them to really sink in. She then nodded, looking over towards V and then back towards Sirrus. “Is it a victory if you never live to see it, either? I agree with you… but in situations like that, is there ever a way to truly win? Because it doesn’t seem like it.”

Sirrus nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. He then shared a final look at V before turning away. “Sometimes your lucky enough to share the battlefield with someone who has integrity. It’s especially rare when it’s not a battle that you willingly walk into, but I believe that is when one truly demonstrates their true upper limits of character. It’s about what you do when you think no one will be able to judge you for your actions that truly matters, and that is when you glean the true worth of another. I was simply fortunate to be stuck in an unfortunate situation with the kind of person who understood that.”

The room fell quiet for a moment as V took in Sirrus’s statement in silence, unsure as to what to say to something like that. While Everyone present seemed to grasp the bare essentials of Sirrus’s ethos statement, he was the only one present who truly understood what the other man was talking about. This was about more than the battle that they had not been able to fight. He understood that now. This was about the moment when he had made the decision not to turn tail and leave Sirrus for dead. After all, he was right. He would not have been able to pass judgment on him for something so basic as not wanting to die. But the fact that he had been willing to intervene and risk everything in spite of that meant a greater deal to the Adjudicator with the long red hair than he realized, and in turn, that meant something to him that he couldn’t quite put into words.

Griffon suddenly manifested a moment later, perching himself on the back of the couch as he cackled mischievously at V’s silence. The young summoner blinked slowly, giving his trusted companion a knowing look and a disapproving head shake. There were far too many people in this room for him to even consider allowing the dastardly little troublemaker to do what he knew he probably planned to do. “Don’t you dare start.”

Unable to help himself, Griffon’s laughter picked up and became more noticeable, drawing eyes from throughout the room. “Don’t what? Point out the fact that you have the communication skills of a smirred love letter to an unrequited lover? Or is that too topical, V?” The bird’s eyes darted across the room, lingering on Lucia for a moment before they returned to V. Thankfully she couldn’t see him do that from the angle that she was sitting at. “What, too soon? Look, just take the compliment! It won’t kill ya, will it? Or are you allergic to being proud of yourself?”

Shadow manifested a moment later, swatting Griffon away as he darted out of her reach and onto the top of one of the bookcases. The large panther then walked around the couch and plopped down on the ground, allowing her head to rest against V’s ungrateful legs. He wouldn’t complain though. She had just saved his hide. She had earned head scratches for that timely rescue. He had been too mortified to react, and she seemed to sense that. He had to appreciate that about Shadow. The demonic housecat was always there for him when it truly counted, even if she couldn’t say anything. And she made a good pillow, all things considered. Truly a versatile companion.

Just then, the sound of heels clicking echoed down the hallway as a woman in a long blue dress rounded the corner and, upon seeing the room full of people, stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes seemed to linger on her older sister, a sort of festering white-hot furry threatening to bubble over as she attempted to compose herself. This had to be Willow. The resemblance between her and Magnolia was uncanny, almost startlingly close, in fact. At least as far as appearances went.

Before anyone present could say anything, Willow looked over across the room and went from frustrated and seemingly livid at her older sister’s presence, too flabbergasted and flustered. Practically every set of eyes in the room traveled to her and then from there, to the object of her attention. And when they realized what she was looking at, confusion and surprise set in in equal measure. Was she actually looking at… 

“Well, one of us is going to have to change, and it isn’t going to me, Vergil. By the gods, do you age? What’s it been, twenty-five years?” She folded her arms, an amused smirk spreading across her face into an actual full-blown smile as he allowed her arm to fall and rest at her sides. As much as she was trying to hide it, she was thrilled to death to see the Darkslayer, and it wasn’t a reaction that he or anyone else in the room was accustomed to receiving when he met a long-lost acquaintance. “I’d hug you, but I enjoy having two arms. I’m sure you’d be just as liable to remove them from my body as you were back when we were teenagers! Some things never change. I don’t even need to consider my chances.”

“Twenty-three years, five months, and one week. Not that I was counting.” Vergil said in a tone so deadpan that it was hard to tell if he was being disingenuous or actually had counted the precise days. Either way, it elicited a humored giggle from the tall woman in the trailing blue dress. Her gray and brown-streaked hair trailed down her back and fell in curtains around her shoulders as she brushed it out of the way and looked over at Dante, a surprised look crossing her face. “Oh, and you finally brought your twin brother to visit us like you said you would. And here I thought you were lying.”

Dante looked between his twin brother and the tall woman in abject shock and confusion, sure that he wasn’t the only one in the room who had picked up on the change in atmosphere around them. There was no way that Vergil hadn’t noticed it, even though he seemed to be doing his level best to neither acknowledge it nor contribute to it. This reunion was surely the only thing keeping peace in the room, a fact that was supported by the uncomfortable look that Willow and Magnolia shared a moment later, clearly uncomfortable with being in the presence of one another.

“I was, Willow. This is just happenstance.” Vergil said in a slightly more accommodating tone, sensing the growing hostility between the two sisters. “Speaking of things that didn’t change… My eldest has found himself in something of a predicament, and as such, we came to seek your expertise. My brother is rarely up this early otherwise.”

The Youngest Son of Sparda shrugged in reluctant agreement. Vergil wasn’t wrong, but he also didn’t appreciate him negatively contributing to the possibility of this frankly drop-dead gorgeous woman ever speaking to him. But surely if she tolerated Vergil, she could at least allow him a moment of her time once things calmed down a little. Oh, who was he kidding? He had rotten luck with beautiful ladies. It was only a matter of time before she impaled him with something, shot him, or ran him over. Maybe he should just quit while he was ahead… 

“Honest as ever, old friend. And even less funny. Oh, how I’ve missed our talks.” The smile returned as she shook her head, genuine amusement present in her face as she glanced over at Nero and V. A soft smile spread across her face. She didn’t need to ask if they were his. She just knew. Especially Nero. The resemblance was uncanny. “So then… how can I help you?”

(-~-)

Well, this was a fun chapter to write! Books are in the mail! Supposedly they will take two weeks to get here, so I’ll update you when they arrive. Wasn’t willing to pay $28 for faster shipping. That’s insane. Can’t wait to read your comments on this one!

[youveneverbeenalone]

Well, I finally decided to write something during the pandemic, and another event via @daredevilexchange for the 2020 Daredevil/Defenders exchange seemed like the best way to do it. Here’s my fic for AO3 user Longdaysjourney in which I explored an idea that wormed its way into my head about what it would be like if Matt met Kilgrave. I had to keep this short-ish due to time constraints, but I really enjoyed it, and hope to maybe revisit it sometime in the future. There’s just so much more to explore there. Hopefully some time I’ll get the chance to do that. Anyway, please enjoy my attempt at writing to the prompts: hurt/comfort & someone using Matt’s senses against him; sensory overload, Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd, and selections from the play Long Day’s Journey Into Night by Eugene O’Neill (which, btw, inspired the title). Also, fulfills my wild card square for AU canon divergence for @daredevilbingo.

______________________________________________________________

The man blinks, surprised, but nods his head a few times, considering. “What about sight? You didn’t mention that. Is that enhanced, too?”

“No.”

“And why not?” the man asks with an air of petulance, as though personally offended by Matt’s answer.

“Because I’m blind,” Matt says with a shrug and a flat, matter of fact tone.

This catches the man’s attention again. “What? Really? Come here,” he says and waggles his index finger, beckoning Matt over.

Matt tries to resist, to fight the compulsion driving him to comply, he really does, but it’s as if he’s being controlled remotely and this man works the control panel. The desire builds subtly, like a fog. But as it rolls into his mind and down his spine, it wraps around his ankles. And then his feet move of their own volition, leading him to stand in front of the man.

“Take off your mask.”

----

What if Matt met Kilgrave? And then, what if he met Jessica before the events of The Defenders? Canon AU set in JJ S1 in which Matt meets Kilgrave and learns first-hand what it's like to suffer under his control, until Jessica helps him escape.

[wicked-game-black-butler]

congrats on 300 hun💕✨ if you’re interested, would you mind doing some sieglinde/wolfram headcanons? sfw and nsfw are both alright in my book- whatever sparks your interest ig!

I’ll start with the sfw ones and then end with the nsfw. Gotta save the best for last. ;)

Sieglinde and Wolfram continue living in London after things with the Undertaker and Ciel are resolved, though they often travel so Sieglinde can meet with various scientists, such as Marie Curie, who is one of her personal heroes. She also became fast friends with the then young Albert Einstein. Later Sieglinde would be instrumental with the development of his theory of the law of relativity.

Due to the constraints on women at the time, Sieglinde initially began publishing her scientific research under Wolfram’s name. Otherwise it wouldn’t have seen the light of day. She accompanies him as well when he is invited to speak at universities around the world about “his” discoveries. Wolfram goes along with this for awhile, especially while she is still a child. However, once she comes of age, it was the butler who ultimately convinces her to take proper credit for her work.

Wolfram and Sieglinde’s relationship remains that of platonic friendship, Wolfram taking on the roll of caretaker during Sieglinde’s childhood and through early adolescence. He, always the dutiful and attentive butler and she, the kind-hearted mistress. Throughout this time he would carry her whenever they left their London house, would rub soothing ointments on her feet when they ached because of oncoming rain or when the winters would turn cold, and would ensure she continued to eat and drink properly, even when she was consumed in her research (if not, she would go all day without taking in any nourishment and end up confined to bed the next day while she recovered).

Puberty came late for Sieglinde, when she was 15. Though, honestly, no matter when “the great change” occurred, Wolfram would never be prepared. He was scared shitless when Sieglinde came to him, hands bloody and in tears, complaining of a terrible stomach ache. Though Sieglinde knew much about biology, there weren’t many resources on women’s menstruation. That, combined with the lack of feminine influences in her life left her terrified as well. He had called for the doctor immediately, who, upon examining the young woman was kind enough to sit down with the butler and explain that nothing was the matter with his mistress. What was happening was completely natural and the young woman simply needed plenty of rest and an iron-rich diet for the next week or so. Though the next day, Wolfram visited Nina, who happily visited to explain to the both of them how Sieglinde could best cope with this change. After he had the proper knowledge, though, Wolfram was just as attentive to his mistress in this area as any other in her life. Every month when her time came he would dote on her, in his awkward way, and would provide her with heated towels and herbal teas to help with the pain.

However, when puberty came, that was when Wolfram’s problems began. He had first noticed it when her dresses began to grow tight in the bust and hips. Then came the thinning of her face, her appearance less like a child’s and more like a woman’s each day, accentuating the plumpness of her lips and the healthy blush that dusted her cheeks. After a few months, there were times when Wolfram would notice Sieglinde’s gaze tracing his form, a confused hunger in her eyes, as if she was seeing something for the first time. All of these stirred an unbidden hunger of his own, but he did his best to dismiss them, hanging onto the frail thought it was because it had been some time since he had been with a woman. Though the moment when his desire for her became undeniable was when he was assisting her with her leg strengthening exercises. When she pushed against his hand which secured her foot, her skirt slid back, revealing where his hand rested on the side of her thigh, testing the muscle there. He felt his cock stiffen as his gaze followed the soft, milky skin if her leg, the the swell of her thigh and rear. Without thinking, he squeezed her thigh, kneading the supple flesh. She was beautiful, he thought as he gaze continued to travel up her lithe feminine frame, until his eyes met hers. The look he saw in her eyes almost made his knees buckle. He had expected disgust or fear, but instead he saw only desire. His cock twitched at the realization. She wanted this. She wanted him. Shame washed over him when his erection pressed against the bed and he dismissed himself, offering a quick apology, before all but fleeing from the room.

The next two years would be filled with this back and forth, both mutually desiring the other, but not acting on that desire. Occasionally they would share a kiss, but only on special occasions like birthdays and holidays, afraid of what would happen to their relationship if they became more than mistress and butler, more than friends. But that changed on Sieglinde’s 18th birthday. The strong-willed, independent woman initiated things and by then Wolfram could no longer deny himself, nor her, consequences be damned. Their first time together was gentle, sweet, and slow, but no less passionate. Wolfram’s previous experience helped him work Sieglinde through the initial discomfort, until she was a sighing, mewling mess beneath him. She came, and would always come, first, just mere seconds before Wolfram pulled himself out of her just in time to release in his hand instead of inside her.

Wolfram is a fairly simple creature when it comes to sex, changing positions being the most adventurous thing he thinks of. Though he has one condition- he has to be able to see her face. Whether that means she's facing him or a mirror, he wants to see the way her delicate brows crease, her kiss-swollen lips parting, his name reverently dripping from her tongue as her eyes close, her head leaning back as her face reflects nothing but enraptured bliss when he brings her to climax. He is also a huge fan of blow jobs. He had initially been opposed to the idea, believing such an act beneath his lady. Though the moment he looked down to see her on her knees, red, swollen lips around his cock, the warm, wet muscle of her tongue teasing his tip, her hand stroking what she could not take in her mouth, changed his mind immediately. The only time he faltered was when he caught her lusty, half-lidded emerald gaze. It makes him come immediately every time. Generally he's a gentle lover, fully attending to his partner's needs and finding his fulfillment in that. Though nothing makes his blood run hotter than when Sieglinde corners him without warning in a place like a carriage or a private room at a noble's house, wasting no time to unbutton his pants and lift her skirts to ride him mercilessly until they both come, fast and hard, their necks and shoulder littered with scratches and bruises that will be difficult to explain away. 

Sieglinde is the more adventurous of the two, often suggesting different things to try. Though most times she is the more dominant one, she enjoys it more when Wolfram is in control. She craves the strength and power she can feel rippling through his muscles as he presses her close and thrusts into her. And she relishes in the trust she shows him then. She wouldn't allow any other partner to dominate her in the ways he does, but she trusts him implicitly. That being said, she is down for literally anything, even enjoying light BDSM and wax play. She enjoys studying her lover and learning what pleases him most. Though, as much as she enjoys things like toys, blindfolds, and the occasional exotic asphyxiation, the thing that makes her weakest, that makes her clench greedily around Wolfram’s cock is when he's so enraptured by her, by them being together, that he slips back into German while he fucks her.

I hope you enjoyed these. I’ve not given much thought to the Sieglinde/Wolfram ship, simply because of Sieglinde’s current age in the manga, but it was interesting and fun to think about how things might develop between the two as Sieglinde grows into a woman. 

Thank you so much for this ask and for supporting my work! You’re so kind and sweet and I appreciate what you bring to the fandom. I can’t wait to read your Sieglinde/Wolfram fic! It’s in my (ever growing) “to read” list. <3 <3 <3 

[bloodraven55]

The Potential of Glimmer's Villain Arc

Okay so a lot of people have been theorising about what's coming next for Glimmer's character with everything that's happened in Season 3. And I have plenty of thoughts of my own so this is going to be my longest analysis post in a while. I'll put it under a cut for ease of reading, and I hope y'all enjoy!

So as an introduction let's briefly look at where Glimmer is now. She's getting ever closer to Shadow Weaver, and we all know how well that ended for her father, plus the loss of Angella is undoubtedly going to be hugely traumatic for her, especially because as she herself says she assumed that Angella would always be there since she was immortal.

Angella is gone, Adora is going to be under a whole lot of mental strain of her own due to the revelations she's had about her past and the pain of having lost both Catra and Angella for good as far as she's concerned, the rest of the Princess Alliance aren't exactly around a whole lot at Bright Moon, and it doesn't look like Shadow Weaver is going anywhere any time soon as long as there's power to be had and the Rebellion is where she can best work towards her own goals.

What I'm saying is, Glimmer likely isn't going to have much of a support system except for Bow next Season, and she's in a prime position for Shadow Weaver to employ similar manipulation tactics and methods of abuse on her as she did on Catra and Adora. Glimmer has no real experience with that type of abuse and manipulation, or any real frame of reference to understand the more nuanced form of evil that Shadow Weaver represents, and so she probably won't realise that she's being played and pushed down a darker path until it's too late.

So with that basis established let's look at some of the other signs that seem to point towards an arc of this sort for Glimmer.

One very significant thing is some of the cinematography in Moment of Truth.

First Glimmer is positioned directly in front of the image of her father in this shot, showing us that she's figuratively as well as literally taking the same position as Micah with regards to becoming Shadow Weaver's pupil. Note that she’s standing in darkness rather than in the light in this frame as well, because that’s going to be important going forward.

It’s also very telling that this shot comes right after Glimmer argues with her mother about the best course of action and first suggests accepting Shadow Weaver’s help. The visual symbolism of her replacing her father on screen reflects her taking the first step towards filling the same role as him in the story as well.

Then we have Glimmer flat out stepping from the light into the darkness as she decides to perform the spell with Shadow Weaver. Which is extremely Not Subtle.

Plus the angle of the following shot making Shadow Weaver's outstretched hand look bigger and more striking to highlight the threat that the offer poses.

And finally there's the way that the scene where they actually do the spell is framed. Shadow Weaver's hand extends through the circle, like a barrier is being crossed metaphorically, and again it fills the screen to make it seem threatening and imposing.

Meanwhile when we get the reverse shot, which I might add is clearly meant to actually be from Shadow Weaver's perspective, Glimmer looks very small and very young, an uncertain and far less powerful figure ripe to be taken advantage of.

There is no way that the tone of this scene was accidental. Without any dialogue being exchanged it's telling us that Glimmer is going to suffer for this choice---it's telling us to be worried---and it's honestly a masterful piece of television.

Another aspect that isn't hugely noticeable on first watching is the undercurrent running through the show of Glimmer's desire for power. She's not obsessively power hungry the way Shadow Weaver is, that's for sure, but she does often demonstrate annoyance at her own limitations.

"Glimmer is frustrated by the constraints of her magic, by the constraints of being a princess, the daughter, of this immortal queen — her mother is this kind of immortal, untouchable angel and her father was the best sorcerer that Mystacor has ever seen. And she’s in the shadow of that." (x)

This quote from a recent interview with Noelle Stevenson pretty much spells it out, and I don't think I need to mention the importance of the use of the word "shadow" here.

With all of that covered, I want to move on to something I haven't seen talked about as much, which is the ways that Glimmer and Catra are paralleled in the story.

"In some ways I think [Glimmer]’s a little bit of a mirror to Catra, although neither of them would ever admit it."

I find this quote from the same interview incredibly intriguing, and it gives me lots of ideas about not only the potential development that a villain arc for Glimmer could bring to her own character, but also the development it could bring in terms of her and Catra as foils for each other in the narrative.

For a start, Noelle then goes on to talk about how "it’s always been this kind of like losing battle for [Glimmer]" and I would like to point out the resemblance to Catra's lines about how she "never gets to win" and "if [she] wins a battle [she] loses the war", because this really does seem to foreshadow that Glimmer could end up in a similar place next season to where Catra was at the end of Season 3.

"So when someone comes to her and offers her more power and the ability to actually really save the day and prove her worth, she takes it. Glimmer’s also sorta crossed the line in the sand this season."

This part of the interview I want to bring up just to further prove that the way these things were written this season was certainly deliberate and it isn't reaching to draw these conclusions from them. It's apparent that the writers are very aware of what they're doing in terms of Glimmer and Catra's character arcs and the possible link between the two so I simply wanted to include this quote to give my analysis here a more solid grounding.

The one thing I'd like to pick out of that as well is the idea that Glimmer is looking to "prove her worth", which is something that has been the core of Catra's decision making throughout most of the show so far. In the past it was Catra making bad choices in an attempt to get respect and admiration from Shadow Weaver, and now I believe it will be Glimmer's turn to do the same.

But beyond that, I want to wind the clock back to the beginning of Season 3 for a moment, specifically to when Glimmer asserts that "evil people don't change." Adora is quick to point out that that is an extremely reductive mindset to have and far from always the case, though she does so by applying it to completely the wrong target in the form of Shadow Weaver who is almost certainly not going to be redeemed in any way, but that got me thinking about how Glimmer flirting with her inner darkness could be utilised in the story in exceedingly interesting ways.

The most obvious path is that through having to redeem herself for bad decisions that she made for understandable reasons, Glimmer would come to realise that things aren't as black and white as people being good and evil but rather there is far more nuance to be found with regards to morality. Basically, she would gain a greater understanding of what it means to be good or bad and the possibility of redemption first hand and grow to acknowledge that she was wrong to oversimplify it down to a binary choice of people being immutably good or evil and never able to change.

However, I would also like to discuss how Glimmer's villain arc could intersect with Catra's redemption arc. Glimmer has always balked at Adora's attempts to get through to Catra, telling her that Catra is evil because she's with the Horde and dismissing the notion of a redemption for her. But if Glimmer sinks to that same point---if she hits rock bottom the way Catra did---and she sees Catra pick herself back up and rebuild herself successfully to become a better person than she was before?

Well, then that could provide some amazing inspiration for Glimmer to then follow in her footsteps and break free from the cycle of Shadow Weaver's abuse herself as well. Add Catra getting to see that the Princesses are far from perfect but fallible people just like everyone else on top of that, and both Glimmer and Catra would evolve as part of the same arc and come out of it with a much stronger understanding of each other and just how people work in general.

Lastly I want to bring up this quote that I’ve put below from a recent convention.

"Interesting foil! Catra is a secretly sweet person with her darkness on the outside. While Glimmer is the opposite."

As well as again emphasising that Glimmer and Catra are in some ways two sides of the same coin, this would definitely seem to back up my theory and indicate that Glimmer has depths that she herself doesn't even understand that are now going to be pulled to the surface by Shadow Weaver.

To add to this, in the interview I drew from earlier Noelle comments that "the way this season ends has major repercussions for Glimmer. It throws her into a world that she never expected to be in." I think the second half of that quote is key. Glimmer never realised that she had this darkness within her, let alone expected to tap into it, and this is why it could lead to serious growth for her as a person to discover the worst of herself and in the end choose to cultivate the best of herself despite that.

There’s one more layer to the Glimmer/Catra aspect of all this as well if you combine this theory with the concept of Micah being alive and mentoring Catra during her redemption process. Because it would link Glimmer and Catra even more closely and beyond that it would create a great call back to the fact that this arc started with Glimmer being paralleled with her father.

And if Catra does work with the Rebellion at some point in the distant future, this could also serve as a starting point for the two of them constructing a friendship using the foundation of that shared similar experience (and also a shared father figure potentially) as they learn how to be part of the same team. It might also play into restoring Adora's faith in the people around her as seemingly losing Glimmer to darkness so soon after losing Catra the same way would undoubtedly nearly destroy her and it would give her some much-needed motivation to see both of them pull themselves back from that.

Anyway, there we have it. Those are all of my thoughts on why I do definitely see some kind of villain arc for Glimmer, and how I think it could be an excellent addition to the show for a number of reasons. Thanks for reading and see y'all next time.

[forgenotes-archived]

VERONICA    ROSE    SAWYER    AND    THE    MUSIC    OF    ST    VINCENT    .    

word    count    :        3,006    . trigger    warnings    for    :        child    abuse    /    neglect    ,        depression    ,        self    harm    ,        suicide    ,        murder    .

there    are    a    few    points    that    i    will    be    ignoring    -        namely    ,        clarke’s    music    does    have    a    heavy    focus    on    catholicism    that    ronnie    ,        as    a    jewish    woman    ,        won’t    relate    to    necessarily    on    a    literal    level    .        i    might    purposely    misinterpret    some    of    the    more    catholic    songs    ,        but    for    the    most    part    ,        i’ll    just    .    .    .        skip    over    that    shit    ,        lol    .        

of    course    ,        not    every    song    of    hers    makes    perfect    sense    with    veronica    ,        but    there    are    a    substantial    amount    that    really    hit    home    for    characterization    purposes    .        i’ll    be    pretty    brief    about    them    mostly    due    to    the    fact    that    this    is    going    to    be    long    enough    but    !        

please    enjoy    a    massive    post    about    veronica’s    most    influential    muse    inspiration    ,        st    vincent    ,        and    how    each    song    sparks    a    different    facet    of    her    characterization    ,        personality    ,        and    history    .

  ALBUM    ONE    -        MARRY    ME    .

*** NOW ,  NOW .       this    song    is    one    of    five    songs    that    truly    cuts    to    the    very    core    of    veronica’s    persona    .        it    is    written    as    a    cutting    dismantlement    of    preconceived    notions    ;        and    while    that    in    a    general    sense    does    apply    to    her    ,        it    pulls    apart    as    a    particularly    embittered    attack    on    heather    chandler    .        with    the    deconstruction    of    her    worth    to    her    (    i’m    not    your    mother’s    favourite    dog    /    i’m    not    the    carpet    you    walk    on    /    i’m    not    the    feather    at    your    feet    /    i’m    not    the    paw    to    your    king    /    i’m    not    anyone    you’ll    beat    )    ,        it    harkens    to    her    rebellion    and    powerful    nature    that’s    been    crushed    under    heather’s    heel    .        the    chorus    and    final    lines    of    the    song    draw    perfect    parallels    to    her    and    heather’s    fight    at    the    party    ,        and    the    inevitable    death    -        you    don’t    mean    that    ,        say    you’re    sorry    /    i’ll    make    you    sorry    .    this    track    is    desperately    dramatically    perfectly    attached    to    my    interpretation    of    ronnie    .

*** YOUR LIPS ARE RED .        this    goes    along    almost    chronologically    with    above    -        this    song    is    about    murder    ,        explicitly    ;        and    by    god    does    that    ever    track    !        particular    lyrics    of    note    are    :        this    city’s    red    from    riding    us    into    the    ground    /    your    face    is    drawn    from    drawing    words    right    from    my    lips    /    my    hands    are    red    from    sealing    your    red    lips    /    your    skin’s    so    fair    ,        it’s    not    fair    .        the    narrative    of    the    song    leads    towards    a    crime    of    passion    ;        anger    and    hate    towards    someone    with    some    sort    of    power    over    them    ,        and    the    eventual    revenge    for    their    (    perceived    )    mistreatment    .        veronica    doesn’t    feel    as    bad    as    she    should    that    heather’s    gone    ;        a    part    of    her    feels    satisfied    ,        and    that’s    the    part    that    this    song    exemplifies    .

THE APOCALYPSE SONG .        embracing    the    carnal    nature    of    life    and    cutting    away    from    those    who    refuse    to    (    or    are    too    afraid    to    )    join    you    -        in    a    more    subdued    sense    ,        it’s    similar    to    what    veronica    does    in    cutting    loose    from    her    friends    ;        and    further    still    ,        ostracizing    herself    from    her    family    to    build    a    more    spectacular    life    for    herself    and    jason    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        you’ll    awake    with    the    stitches    over    both    of    your    eyes    ,        and    deny    me    my    body    and    all    earthly    delights    /    i    guess    you    are    afraid    of    what    everyone    is    made    of    /    your    devotion    has    the    look    of    a    lunatic’s    gaze    .

LANDMINES .        in    terms    of    the    tragedy    of    the    beginnings    of    her    and    jason’s    relationship    -        when    he    spirals    into    the    worst    parts    of    his    plans    ,        she    is    desperate    to    try    and    lure    him    back    to    the    better    side    .        it’s    sadness    ,        it’s    hope    without    reason    ,        it’s    painful    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        i’m    crawling    through    landmines    just    to    know    where    you    are    /    there’s    smoke    in    my    eyes    ,        ‘cause    you’re    burning    the    ground    /    i’m    crawling    through    landmines    -        i    know    ,        ‘cause    i    planted    them    /    under    cover    of    night    ,        i    put    my    heart    in    the    ground    /    where’d    you    go    ?    please    don’t    go    /    i    found    your    glove    with    the    leather    torn    ,        five    fingers    that    i’m    counting    on    ,        smoke    signals    to    call    you    right    here    .

  ALBUM    TWO    -        ACTOR    .

THE STRANGERS .        clarke    said    she’d    written    this    song    about    a    woman    who’s    spoiled    by    decadence    and    leisure    ,        but    is    desperately    sad    by    her    situation    .        which    ,        in    all    honesty    ,        fits    veronica    to    a    t    -        exhausted    by    the    picturesque    garden    ,        and    unwilling    to    continue    being    trimmed    to    fit    in    paradise    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        lover    ,        i    don’t    play    to    win    ,        but    for    the    thrill    ‘till    i’m    spent    /    you    showed    up    with    a    black    eye    ,        ready    to    go    start    a    fight    /    desperate    don’t    look    good    on    you    ,        neither    does    your    virtue    /    paint    the    black    hole    blacker    .

THE NEIGHBOURS .    ��   the    song    paints    a    picture    of    a    hatred    of    suburban    sedentary    lifestyles    ;        partial    arson    ,        partial    alcoholism    ,        all    very    accurate    to    the    way    ronnie    feels    being    stuck    in    sherwood    ohio    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        let’s    pour    wine    in    coffee    cups    and    drive    around    the    neighbourhood    /    i    won’t    believe    not    a    word    you    speak    just    make    it    sweet    to    hear    /    these    kids    are    foaming    at    the    mouths    ,        psychotropic    capricorns    /    how    can    monday    be    alright    ,        then    on    tuesday    lose    my    mind    ? 

* BLACK RAINBOW .        this    is    a    portrait    of    one    person    in    their    isolation    of    an    elevated    comprehension    above    the    brainwashed    masses    of    average    american    life    -        the    loneliness    in    their    own    self    -    aggrandizing    thought    processes    ,        but    also    the    pangs    of    hopelessness    when    they    know    that    they’re    still    right    .        veronica    is    allowed    an    understanding    that    her    parents    and    these    remington    assholes    have    chosen    to    ignore    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        think    i’m    glass    ,        think    i’m    breaking    it    /    let    the    children    act    like    furniture    for    the    ladies    of    the    lawn    /    unkissed    boys    and    girls    of    paradise    lining    up    around    the    block    /    back    pocket    full    of    dynamite    while    the    neighbours    talk    and    talk    /    bird    outside    the    kitchen    ,        fighting    his    reflection    ,        what’s    he    gonna    win    when    he    wins    ?    /    if    you    want    the    neighbours    woke    ,        you’ll    have    to    shout    even    louder    .

* LAUGHING WITH A MOUTH OF BLOOD .        clarke    has    described    this    song    as    a    balancing    act    between    the    pain    of    the    past    and    the    uncertainty    of    the    future    ,        and    the    desperation    that’s    found    when    those    two    roads    meet    .        ronnie’s    got    scars    she’s    healing    from    ,        but    she’s    also    got    no    idea    why    and    how    to    keep    on    living    afterwards    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        just    like    an    amnesiac    ,        trying    to    get    my    senses    back    /    laughing    with    a    mouth    of    blood    from    a    little    spill    i    took    /    all    my    old    friends    aren’t    so    friendly    ,        and    all    my    old    haunts    are    now    haunting    me    /    i    can’t    see    the    future    but    i    know    it’s    watching    me    .

MARROW .        a    vague    song    ,        but    one    that    resonates    deeper    with    ronnie    than    she    expected    through    its    undertones    of    feeling    as    though    she’s    not    in    control    of    her    body    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        i    wish    i    had    a    gentle    mind    and    spine    made    up    of    iron    /    mouth    connects    to    the    teeth    and    teeth    to    the    loves    and    the    curses    /    so    i    pretend    there    aren’t    ten    strings    tied    to    all    ten    of    my    fingers    .

THE PARTY .        a    dreamscape    of    a    song    that    touches    on    her    subtle    alcoholism    and    desperation    for    connections    that    never    come    .        veronica’s    coping    mechanisms    lead    her    into    bad    habits    in    order    to    make    connections    ,        but    ultimately    leave    her    completely    floundering    after    everything’s    over    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        i’d    pay    anything    to    keep    my    conscience    clean    /    there    aren’t    enough    hands    to    point    all    the    fingers    /    i    lick    the    ice    cube    from    your    empty    glass    /    honey    ,        the    party    ,        you    went    away    quickly    /    i’ve    said    much    too    much    and    they’re    trying    to    sweep    up    .

* JUST THE SAME BUT BRAND NEW .        this    song    is    a    floating    heartbreak    ,        following    the    descent    into    depression    st    vincent    falls    into    after    losing    somebody    she    loves    -        did    she    do    something    wrong    ?        where    do    i    go    from    now    ?        how    do    i    fill    this    hole    in    my    heart    ?        veronica    feels    this    on    a    lesser    level    towards    her    friends    ,        however    few    she    may    have    had    ;        but    in    its    fullest    extent    after    jd    ,        because    despite    everything    (    fear    ,        pain    ,        abuse    )    ,        she    still    loves    him    for    what    she    thought    she    had    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        so    i    walked    away    all    perfumed    ,        felt    just    the    same    but    brand    new    /    and    anything    you    wrote    i    checked    for    codes    and    clues    /    i    changed    my    ‘a’s    and    ‘i’s    to    yours    /    i    do    my    best    impression    of    weightlessness    now    too    /    i    might    be    wrong    ,        i    might    be    wrong    ,        i    might    be    wrong    ,        but    honey    i    believed    i    could    just    float    away    ,        dangling    .

  ALBUM    THREE    -        STRANGE    MERCY    .

* CHEERLEADER .        a    determined    cry    to    reject    the    role    being    forced    upon    her    ;        a    final    stand    to    shed    the    expectations    thrown    over    her    ,        while    also    reminiscing    on    how    these    constraints    have    forced    veronica    to    become    afraid    of    being    vulnerable    .           important    lyrics    to    note    :        i’ve    had    good    times    with    some    bad    guys    /    i’ve    told    whole    lies    with    a    half    smile    /    i    don’t    know    what    good    it    serves    ,        pouring    my    purse    in    the    dirt    /    i’ve    played    dumb    when    i    knew    better    /    i    don’t    know    what    i    deserve    ,        but    your    you    i    could    work    /    i    don’t    wanna    be    a    cheerleader    no    more    ,        i    don’t    wanna    be    a    dirt    eater    no    more    .

DILETTANTE .        a    brutal    cutting    slice    of    her    and    jason    dean’s    relationship    -        a    desire    to    stay    ,        but    a    desperation    to    bring    their    passion    back    down    to    earth    .        partially    a    love    song    ,        trying    to    preserve    their    fire    without    burning    up    ;        partially    a    lament    about    overcoming    the    fear    of    stagnation    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        nobody’s    winning    ,        the    sharks    are    swimming    in    the    red    /    while    you    are    sleeping    ,        my    mind    goes    creaking    down    the    wall    /    slow    down    dilettante    so    i    can    limp    beside    you    ,        i’m    following    your    houndstooth    /    street    savant    ,        my    bank    in    my    back    pocket    ,        how    far   you    think    it’d    take    us    ?    /     but    let’s    not    forget    why    we    crawled    here    .

  ALBUM    FOUR    -        ST    VINCENT    .

* PRINCE JOHNNY .        this    is    the    second    song    in    a    trilogy    about    an    archetype    of    a    friend    clarke    has    named    “    johnny    ”    -        this    particular    angle    focuses    on    the    helpless    desperation    to    stop    someone    you    care    about    from    falling    down    a    dangerous    ,        self    -    destructive    path    .        in    veronica’s    eyes    ,        jason    is    her    prince    johnny    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        prince    johnny    ,        you’re    kind    but    you’re    not    simple    ,        by    now    ,        i    think    i    know    the    difference    /    saw    you    pray    to    all    to    make    you    a    real    boy    /    prince    johnny    ,        you’re    kind    ,        but    do    be    careful    /    don’t    mistake    my    affection    for    another    spit    -    and    -    penny    style    redemption    /    i    wanna    mean    more    than    i    mean    to    you    .

DIGITAL WITNESS .        a    cutting    dialogue    on    the    desperation    for    popularity    ;        in    modern    day    ,        it’s    a    critique    of    social    media    and    societal    pressures    ,        but    in    terms    of    veronica’s    timeline    ,        it    doubles    as    a    light    on    westerburg’s    obsession    with    their    queen    bees    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        i    want    all    of    your    mind    /    if    i    can’t    show    it    ,        if    you    can’t    see    me    ,        what’s    the    point    of    doing    anything    ?    /    this    is    no    time    for    confessing    /    if    you    can’t    see    me    ,        watch    me    jump    right    off    the    london    bridge    /    get    back    to    your    stare    ,        i    care    ,        but    i    don’t    care    /    what’s    the    point    of    even    sleeping    ?        so    i    stop    sleeping    /    won’t    somebody    sell    me    back    to    me    ?

REGRET .        a    self    -    explanatory    song    ,        in    all    reality    ;        you    are    afraid    to    move    ,        and    your    anxiety    keeps    you    away    from    opportunity    -        before    you    even    realize    you’ve    wasted    your    potential    ,        you’re    doomed    .        veronica    is    trapped    in    a    vicious    cycle    that    won’t    allow    her    to    spread    her    wings    ;        fear    begets    fear    ,        and    life    moves    on    without    her    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        memories    so    bright    i    gotta    squint    just    to    recall    /    regret    the    words    i’ve    bitten    more    than    the    ones    i    ever    said    /    i’m    afraid    of    heaven    because    i    can’t    stand    the    heights    /    i’m    afraid    of    you    because    i    can’t    be    left    behind    /    oh    well    ,        there’s    a    red    moon    rising    /    the    door    slammed    and    it    felt    like    a    cannonball    .

  ALBUM    FIVE    -        MASSEDUCTION    .

SUGARBOY .        a    mashup    of    a    love    song    and    an    ode    to    vicious    bisexuality    ;        a    heart    that    is    sharp    and    easy    to    slice    yourself    open    on    ,        but    a    reciprocal    appreciation    of    the    danger    that    comes    with    falling    for    someone    .        ronnie’s    sugarboy    is    jason    ;        but    she    also    learns    to    acknowledge    that    she    wouldn’t    have    minded    finding    a    sugargirl    ,        either    .    important    lyrics    to    note    :        sugarboy    ,    i    am    weak    ,        got    a    crush    on    tragedy    /    oh    here    i    go    -        a    tragedy    ,        hanging    off    from    the    balcony    /    making    a    scene    ,        oh    here    i    am    ,        your    pain    machine    /    sugargirl    ,        dissolve    in    me    ,        got    a    crush    from    kicked    -    in    teeth    /    pledge    all    your    allegiance    to    me    /    i    am    a    lot    like    you    ,        i    am    alone    like    you    .

* LOS AGELESS .        again    -        a    mashup    of    a    love    song    ,        and    a    loss    of    all    autonomy    .        what    have    you    lost    ;        a    lover    ,        or    your    sense    of    self    ?        veronica’s    lost    both    ,        and    she    doesn’t    know    what    else    to    do    but    fall    into    the    ease    of    her    prison    position    ,        following    the    orders    of    someone    who    claims    to    know    better    than    she    does    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        burn    the    pages    of    unwritten    memoires    ,        but    i    can    keep    running    /    but    how    can    i    leave    ?        i    just    follow    the    hood    of    my    car    /    how    can    anybody    have    you    and    lose    you    and    not    lose    their    mind    ,        too    ?    /    i    guess    that’s    just    me    ,        honey    -        i    guess    that’s    how    i’m    built    /    i    try    to    tell    you    i    love    you    ,        but    it    comes    out    all    sick    /    i    try    to    write    you    a    love    song    ,        but    it    comes    out    a    lament    .

SLOW DISCO .        finding    yourself    in    the    crowd    of    a    party    ,        but    not    liking    who    you    see    -        a    contrast    between    the    life    you    should    be    living    ,        and    the    life    you’re    actually    living    .        veronica    falls    to    one    side    more    than    the    other    ,        and    by    trying    to    find    herself    in    other    people    ,        she’s    doing    herself    a    grave    disservice    that    leaves    her    feeling    almost    as    if    she’s    a    ghost    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        am    i    thinking    what    everybody    else    is    thinking    ?        i’m    so    glad    i    came    but    i    can’t    wait    to    leave    /    slip    my    hand    from    your    hand    ,        leave    you    dancing    with    a    ghost    /    there’s    blood    in    my    ears    and    a    fool    in    the    mirror    /    the    bay    of    mistakes    can’t    get    any    clearer    /    don’t    it    beat    a    slow    dance    to    death    ?

* SMOKING SECTION .        self    -    destruction    .        self    harm    .        the    call    of    the    void    .        suicidal    urges    .        it’s    a    song    about    trying    to    overcome    these    feelings    by    giving    them    a    name    ,        and    remembering    that    they’re    thoughts    you    can    work    through    .        veronica’s    felt    them    her    entire    life    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        sometimes    i    sit    in    the    smoking    section    ,        hoping    one    rogue    spark    will    land    in    my    direction    /    and    when    you    stomp    me    out    i’ll    scream    and    i’ll    shout    “    let    it    happen    ,        let    it    happen    ,        let    it    happen    ”    /    sometimes    i    stand    with    a    pistol    in    hand    /    sometimes    i    stand    on    the    edge    of    my    roof    ,        and    i    think    i’ll    jump    just    to    punish    you    /    and    then    i    think    ,        what    could    be    better    than    love    ?    /    it’s    not    the    end    ,        it’s    not    the    end    ,        it’s    not    the    end    ,        it’s    not    the    end    .

  BONUS    LEVEL    -        LOVE    THIS    GIANT    .

* ICE AGE .        written    as    a    prequel    of    sorts    to    cheerleader    off    her    album    strange    mercy    ,        clarke    has    said    it’s    a    get    it    together    song    of    sorts    .        veronica’s    in    her    own    ice    age    ;        she’s    frozen    over    to    protect    herself    ,        but    in    doing    so    ,        she’s    deprived    herself    of    the    experience    of    living    .        important    lyrics    to    note    :        oh    ,        diamond    ,        it’s    such    a    shame    to    see    you    this    way    ,        your    own    little    ice    age    /    seams    are    showing    ,        and    you’re    freaking    me    out    /    we    don’t    know    how    much    we’ve    lost    until    the    winter    thaws    /    it’s    close    to    your    bones    ,        it’s    far    from    your    shell    /    feel    it    away    ,        reason    it    out    .   

[mintychocolatechip]

In Your Eyes, I See Embers

Ao3 link

Chapters 1&2: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416478/chapters/46207252

Chapter 3: Blurring Reality

Here I am uwu

Back with another chapter ;)

Enjoy

Soft Jazz mellows in the background of a seemingly high class event. Tailor made suits, and dresses litter the mansion floor as men, and women of varying importance mingle with one another. Taking a sip of the white wine that filled her small glass, Beverly sighs in boredom. Even the alcohol tasted bland and boring. She takes a look upon her husband, smiling arrogantly among the other presumed doctors. No doubt in the midst of taking credit for a patient he himself didn't actually save.

Finishing off the last of her drink, Beverly searched around hoping to find the waiter so she could request another. However, due to the constant shuffling among the room she doubted finding one any time soon. Beverly had just given up her search when she heard the sound of a shrill voice headed in her direction.

"Oh my gosh, Bevvie!"

That fucking nickname...

"Greta, heeyyy." Beverly half hoped her mocking tone didn't slip through too much. There before her stood Greta Hocksetter, wife of the wealthy business owner Patrick Hocksetter. Her tall almost stick like frame made her a dead give away, and considering Patricks last two wives it was clear he had a type. Still, Beverly smiled and waved as the blonde approached instantly regretting not getting more wine.

"Oh my gosh, how have you been? Better than before I hope." She squealed. The grating pitch of her voice aggravating Beverly's nerves to seemingly no end. She nodded slightly, her forced smiled faltering a bit as Greta began to drone on about whatever petty drama she spyed into. Amidst Greta's constant chatter Beverly closed her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose. In that moment the posh fragrances of the mansion left her senses. They were then met with the smell of freshly grilled food in the air, she could taste the slightest hint of cold beer on her tongue, and the faintest sound of a gruff yet caring voice in her ears. Beverly chalked this all up to her imagination, a result of her wanting to be literally anywhere else.

"I sure do hope everything has been okay between you and Tom, you know especially since the 'incident'." Those words mercilessly ripped Beverly from her thoughts. The incident, of course she'd bring it up. In fact Beverly wouldn't be surprised if that was the topic of everyones discussion that night. It was honestly the very last thing she wanted to recall.

"You'll have to excuse me Greta I need to use the ladies room." She said hastily before practically running off. Once she was a safe distant from the gangling housewife, Beverly resumed her search for another glass of wine. She'd definitely need a few more if she was gonna survive tonight. After a bit of wandering she came across a door leading outside.

Entering the the mohogany wooden deck placed towards the back of the estate, she quickly made her way to one of the serving tables finally getting another drink. Relishing in the breeze of the cool night air, Beverly lifts her glass intending to take another sip. Yet to her immediate surprise it smells strangely familiar. The ginger's senses are once again flooded with foreign surroundings. Sounds of people chattering, laughter, and a general sense of comfort begins to wash over her. Taking a sip of the wine in her glass, she is instead welcomed to the buzz inducing taste of cold beer, something akin to Miller or Bud light. Beverly is still aware of where she is... Although for something she conjured up from her mind it seemed so real, almost too real.

Beverly closes her eyes, attempting to focus more on the strange feeling that's overcome her. The voices, and smells intensify. The feeling of it is so surreal that she almost believes she can see this lively location once she re opens her eyes. However in that very same moment it leaves her, briskly returning her to the quiet, and cool breeze, of the mansion's deck.

"What's got you all alone back here?" A voice calls, startling Beverly. The red head turns to see Kay McCall, her expression softening, giving way to a light hearted smile. She, and Kay had been fast friends ever since Beverly got to highschool, and had been a huge help to Bev through everything, even through the incident.

"Just needed a bit of air." Bev replied with a sigh.

"I hear ya, another minute stuck listening to Greta, and I would've lost it." Kay remarked, earning a small chuckle from the ginger beside her. A brief yet comfortable silence follows, the two standing peacefully among the breeze.

"Can I have everyones attention please?"

"Thats our cue." Kay sighs, and the two walk back into the fray of guests who were all scurrying around the podium which was now occupated by the host, Steve something. Beverly never bothered to remember his last name.

"Well ladies, and gentlemen first i want to thank you all for coming out tonight. Im sure-" His voiced seemingly droned on, and on causing Beverly to zone out a bit.

"So im sure this years profits will-" Bev had half heard him say something about profit margins...

When it hit her full force.

In that moment Beverly's feeling of familiarity was vioilently ripped from her. It being replaced with immediate panic. Her vision twisted and skewed, becoming blurrier by the second. Her breathing becomes labored as she attempts to take a step back, to calm down yet...

Her body isn't responding.

"Bev, are you ok?" Kay questions, taking notice of the panicked expression on her friends face. But Bev doesn't respond, instead lifting her arms up infront of her as if she was pushing some invisible object.

"Woah woah gentlemen, what seems to be the issue here?" The sound is peircing, intensifying the dull migrane forming directly on her scar. Through her torn and distorted vision, Beverly spots what looks to be a revolver in the corner of her eye. That feeling of panic growing stronger with each passing second. An overwhelming lightheadedness washes over her, and Bev begins to sync in and out of consciousness.

"You won't get a damn thing outta me!" From what she can recollect through the chaos in her mind, theres something about money, and from the looks of that gun, it was gonna get ugly. There's brief silence, followed by a whistle, and a door being slammed shut.

"So heres to our most profitable year yet, and many more to come." The host's speech ended with a toast, instantly snapping Beverly back to reality. She looks around cautiously, and sighs in relief when it seems no one noticed her little "episode". She then looks to Kay who's still looking slightly worried.

"Don't worry, i'm ok now." She reassures causing her raven haired friend to sigh as well. Beverly decides to head back out side to clear her head.

She turns around, taking a few steps before a sharp, intense pain hits the back of her head. She can somewhat hear the sounds of someone screaming before losing consciousness completely

"BEN!!!"

-----------

The sound of sirens flood Ben's ears, waking him from his injury induced slumber. Not a moment after the pain comes rushing to the back of his skull, and he screams in agony, only it isn't his voice that cries out. Fighting the pain, Ben opens his eyes for a brief flash seeing several mask covered faces staring down at him. Wait, why are there sirens if he's already at the hospital. The jagged scar on his fore head begins to throb forcing Ben to shut his eyes. Soon the blaring sirens dissipate, and he's left with the sound of Eddie's voice. He's panicking despite Richie's best efforts to calm him down.

"He's gonna be ok Eds, Ben's been through worse than this." Ben wants to say something, anything to let them know he's still alive. A needle gets stuck in his arm, the sting being the equivalent of a misquito bite compared to the intense pounding in his skull. He grits his teeth further, feeling whatever liquid they stuck him with enter his bloodstream. The pain steadily begins to subside leaving Ben completely numb. He slowly opens his eyes, stiffly turning his head to the right. He sees the relieved expression on Richie's face, and the misty look in Eddie's eyes. With all the strength he could muster, he gives them a weak but genuine smile.

"Thank goodness." Eddie says, releasing a breath he'd seemingly been holding. Ben tries to recall what happend that landed him injured in the back of what he assumed was a speeding ambulance. He can fuzzily remember difusing the situation with Henry, specifically having to give up 200 dollars to some drunk stranger with a gun. He tries to remember further but all he is met with is empty images, and the distinct taste of white wine.

"What- what happened to me?" Ben's voice came out low and hoarse, thankfully the two heard him. Richie's expression changed to one of anger as he clenched his left fist, the other hand tangled with Eddie's.

"That drunk bastard Henry came at you with a half empty beer mug." Richie replied through gritted teeth. Ben would've probably been just as seething as Richie if not for his current condition. Eddie gives Richie a comforting look, calming him down for the moment. Ben smiles as he looks upon them, they were lucky to have eachother, and he was sure as hell lucky to have them.

"Mike would've came with us, but he has to manage the bar, and clean up after that asshole." Eddie continues, Ben replying with a quiet "oh". Shifting his gaze to the left Ben expected to see a specialist of some sort, and the lack of one only raised more questions.

'Who was it that just stuck me?' Immediately after the thought, he begins to feel a buzz centering at his scar. His vision twists, and he is suddenly greeted with sounds of beeping machinery. The bright flouresent lights hurt his eyes, and he can't focus on much else. There are constraints wrapped around his head making it very difficult to move, and even as Ben tries to speak no sounds emerge save for a few breathless gasps, and whimpers. He looks to his left to his left to see a pale slightly freckled arm hooked to an IV, medicine flowing continuosly through the plastic pack. The arm couldn't be his it was too thin, and much paler than Ben's usually tanned skin tone. He hears several voices to his right, turning to see two doctors, one with a scowl like expression on his face. Then there is a woman with dark hair, and Ben can see tears cascading down her distressed features. He feels himself stir, but he isn't the one doing it. Suddenly he's back in the ambulance, Eddie had fallen asleep with his head resting in Richie's chest.

The buzzing in his head fades, leaving Ben feeling unexpectantly cold. However at this point the little strength Ben had has left him, and he closes his eyes once more falling unconcious as the ambulance speeds through the streets of Santa Fe.

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It's the dull ache in her head that pulls Beverly from unconsciousness. Slowly cracking open her eyes, the first thing she sees is Kay's face riddled with tears. Bev moves a hand to meet hers reassuring that she is indeed still alive. Kay looks down in surprise to see Beverly's tired yet happy expression, and returns the gesture with a small breathless laugh.

"You can't keep scaring me like this Bev." Kay says almost in a whisper. She gives Bev's hand a gentle squeeze, and the two sit in silence letting the calm atmosphere take over. Beverly looks over at the digital clock hanging on the opposite wall. It reading 1:30 am, causing a look of worry to pass over her features as she turns back to her hazel eyed friend.

"You should go home,don't worry about me... I'll be fine." Beverly croaks out. Kay sighs in response telling Bev that she isn't going anywhere, not when she's like this. Bev considered insisting, fearing for her friends health yet the dull ache in her head forces her to drop the subject. Her ears pickup the faintest sound of muffled sirens, and she begins to feel herself moving only she isnt going anywhere.

"C'mon Eddie we're there." Bev distinctly hears the voice yet she can't see anyone, its as if she's still closing her eyes, and can't seem to open them. There's some shuffling followed by shaky movement, but Bev is too exaughsted to try and focus on whats happening so she allows herself to fall back into unconsciousness.

Damn that was fun. I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Hopefully another one should be out before the end of next week but given my schedule, i cant make any promises.

As always Comments/Reviews are Highly appreciated... until next time

Kylo Out