#same water pressure but better pipes now

[astray-anomaly]

The first Chapter of Sea Level!!

TW: Hurt, character injury, violence, mention of death and experimentation

Here is the Ao3 link, if you rather not read it on Ao3 the chapter is below the cut!

Chapter 1: A Promise

12-5-25

13:42

For two days the whole Hadel Blacksite was drowned in complete darkness ever since the crystal was taken and with that all power was gone from the site, even the backup power was now offline. Meaning that small computer couldn’t work anymore, the same computer Sebastian was now wrapping up in a waterproof crate he had found in one of the storage units. Putting all of the extra wires and pieces in place along with a few classified documents he had left. He then covered them up with extra layers so they wouldn’t shuffle around as much to avoid any damage. Afterwards he shut and sealed the crate.

He swapped out the Scrambler on his back in favor of the crate, it was a bit heavier with all the extra equipment inside but he could carry it relatively easily. He quickly checked the radio he had on him, still no signal. He groaned and shoved it back in his jacket. He needed to get it, he did make a promise to get them out of here, he didn’t want to break it. True he had no intention of keeping it in the first place but damn it, he just had to get attached to this stupid old computer in only the two months they’ve known each other. Even if he still had doubts this was possible, he had to try to complete his promise, this was the one good thing he could do now with nothing else left.

It was worth a shot to get out of this forsaken hellhole then wait to get gunned down or probably die of starvation. He knew Urbanshade would soon send down groups of their guards again to clear out the place and start to repair it despite the multiple devastating damages to the site. Urbanshade would never just abandon this place, they would eventually get this place fully functioning again so he didn’t want to be there when they arrived. It was between the chance of seeing the sun again or death. Even if he was gonna die, he wanted to do it looking at the sky one last time.

He was hoping they would be able to reach Innovation Inc. once at the surface. It was one of the rival companies of Urbanshade he had been able to contact before all the radios were cut off, none of the others responded. Maybe he could finally get them both the help they needed if he had found that company, but he has to get out of the Hadel Blacksite first.

The only guide they had now was the dimly lit esca on Sebastian’s head and his poor night vision as he started his journey through the twisted and broken hallways of the facility. More and more water had begun to leak in as the outer pile system started to implode on themselves from the outside pressure. Even though the pressure here was the same as it would be just at the surface, the facility could only take so much after the power was gone and the pipe system was the first to collapse. So the whole facility will be flooded with water, leaving everything left to rust. But he knew Urbanshade wouldn’t let that happen so he had to get out quickly.

At least now there were more places to swim than having to slither through the cold hallways decorated in broken furniture, shattered glass, and sharp scraps. Sebastian had already caught his tail on a few pieces, even though most of them didn’t cut through the hard scales a few small parts managed to catch themselves in his flesh, making him bite back a painful hiss. Still he kept going forward.

All of the docks were blocked off by now so the plan was to find Z-317’s old containment cell and follow the passageway out to the ocean. The one that Sebastian had originally opened before when releasing Z-317 during the lockdown.

If only he could get there faster but his injured tail had to drag him down, yet it was better to be slow to not alarm the other creatures still roaming the facility. Even after releasing them they were still animals, they had to hunt, no doubt they would attack him on sight if they ended up spotting him. Even if he could fend for himself, that computer on his back was not as strong as he was, one slip up and it could possibly be over. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He had already been roaming around the dark facility for what felt like hours, at this point he was convinced he was going in circles, right, left, right- crash

Sebastian froze at hearing a loud noise behind him, screaming starting to echo through the halls. He’d been here for just long enough to recognize which entity was which just by their screeching alone and out of every single creature it just had to be this one.

Sebastian darted his way to find a side room or some sort of tunnel as quickly as possible as Pandemonium’s screaming drew nearer and nearer. When he couldn’t he just punched in one of the broken doors and pulled his way through, at least the mantis shrimp DNA was useful for something. He quickly curled into one of the corners as the room started to shake.

He held his breath as the creature’s roaring passed, it was silent for moments afterwards and Sebastian started to uncurl his tail from around himself and pull himself out the corner only for the screeching to start up again. Sebastian panicked, moving down the hallway as fast as he could. There was so much rubble scattered everywhere that he had to slither around, no wonder this hall was blocked off.

Sebastian growled in pain again as something else dug into his tail, he kept his shrimp claw holding onto the crate on his back as Pandemonium got nearer. He eventually spotted what looked like a way out, at least he hoped but he couldn’t escape that easily. Pandemonium was just behind him.

“That's it you ugly bastard!” He snarled angrily, swinging his tail back to hit the creature and basically ripping his shotgun out of the hostler. Shooting repeatedly at the mutated beast's face, managing to get the two main eyes, making the creature shriek in pain. Sebastian then took his chance to run for it, even with the two main eyes gone there were still many more staring at him.

At least the shock and pain from the creature gave him enough time to make his escape into the underwater tunnels, he didn’t stop to look back, not for one second.

Eventually everything was quiet again and Sebastian could relax a bit. However when the adrenaline died down he was hit with the agonizing pain in his tail from a big metal scrap impaled in his side,painting the water red. He bit his tongue as he held back tears. The salt water just made everything sting more, still he continued his way down the tunnel, trying his best despite the excruciating pain.

He finally got to the exit, dragging himself out of the water and crawled up the ramp. He laid down on the cold concrete floor, catching his breath and coughing up some blood. He had to sit up, pulling the crate off his back and pushing it to the side as he examined his tail that was dripping in blood. He still had a medkit left even if it wouldn’t help much, it was something.

He quickly scavenged through the small kit and pulled out the antibiotic ointment and bandages. He then looked back at his tail and saw just how badly the metal had stabbed itself in there, still it had to be taken out.

He bit down more on his tongue to the point of making it bleed as he gripped onto the metal tightly. Closing his eyes as he pulled, wailing as it was removed but was able to cover most of the noise. He couldn’t alarm any more monsters down here.

He threw the piece of metal back into the water, leaning back and holding his tail while also holding back tears. He reached for the antibiotics and started to apply them to the gaping wound, not even reacting to the cold sting anymore. He took whatever was left in the bottle and applied it to the more minor injuries, he didn’t want to waste bandages trying to wrap them up since they weren’t as severe. Once the bandages were applied to the large wound he laid down on the ground, catching his breath and closing his eyes. “..Fucking hell..” He groaned, knowing he had to get back up, after a bit he strapped the crate onto his back again and continued on his way.

Unfortunately now he was even more lost, not exactly sure where they ended up after having to make a quick escape from Pandemonium in a panic. So they could have been farther or closer to their destination, Sebastian prayed they were closer as he navigated through the dark corridors.

After an hour of mindlessly dragging himself around he noticed a familiar pair of large heavy doors, this was where the controls to the containment cells were, they were closer now.

He used the keycard he still kept from killing that one elite guardsman to unlock the door again. The door didn’t seem to open much with the mechanism damaged so he was forced to squeeze through. The inside was a complete mess, even the control console was torn apart by one of the creatures.

Sebastian continued his way through the labs and containment rooms. Keeping his gaze down on the floor so he didn’t have to see anything that could possibly trigger his memories. The smell here already made him feel nauseous.

He counted the doors until he finally saw the one that read Z-317. The room was taken up mostly by a large aquarium where the Eyefestian would originally be kept in. Now the glass was cracked and the tank was mostly drained with water spilling on the lab floor.

He debated on what to do for a moment, instead of picking carefully at the glass he decided to punch it in. Wasn’t the best choice but it was the quickest. He shook his hand off, his ears perked up when he heard the wailing sounds of another creature nearby, Frogger.

Sebastian carefully pulled himself through the glass and dropped into the water. Swimming down before the creature could bounce back to see him. Once at the bottom he let himself relax as the cold water completely engulfed him, releasing the tension in his body. He was no longer being chased, he could finally relax for a second. They were so close to the end now. He found the doors which lead the way out of here, they would finally get out to the ocean.

He slithered through the door and continued into the dark tunnel. What felt like an endless void with only his own esca to guide him which was getting dimmer with each passing minute, showing just as much energy he had left in him.

He swam through the tunnel for minutes with barely any light. His injured tail trying to push him along as much as possible. Until he finally saw a glimpse of light up ahead followed by the sound of rumbling footsteps. He had forgotten that the Trench Bleeders were still mobile because their power was separate from that of the Hadel Blacksite, they were still being controlled from somewhere else.

Sebastian darted to the light, swimming with all his strength until he heard the wretched sound of metal bending. “Shit-“ He cursed, noticing that the tunnel was closing in on itself. He swam faster even if it hurt to push himself, the water still stung. Hearing the creaking of the metal getting louder until finally-

He shot his way up through the exit and soon fell back onto the ocean floor as the tunnel crushed in on itself. Yet he wasn’t out of his troubles yet, he had to move, he had to get up. The Trench Bleeder was right over him, the lights from underneath the giant mechanism's foot blinded his already poor seeing eyes, he was about to be crushed if he didn’t move now.

He forced himself to get up, pushing his way through the water as the Bleeder’s foot came crashing down, shaking the whole place and making Sebastian’s entire head ring. After that everything went pitch black.

12-6-25

4:18

Everything was aching when Sebastian had opened his eyes again, he suddenly became aware of every part of his body that hurt, he could barely move to lift his head. His esca flickered on as he looked around to figure out his surroundings, his eyes taking a moment to adjust. He found himself in some small cave in the ground, he took a breather and rested his head back down on the smooth rock, he was still so, so tired.

He had to remember why he was here, he had to get out of here or both him and p.AI.nter would die, or worse, p.AI.nter would be forced back to roblux mining. He couldn’t let that happen, he had to make it to the surface, he had to make it to Innovation Inc. he couldn’t just give up now. There was no time to rest, no matter how tired he was, he already got the rest he needed. The hardest part of the journey was already over.

Sebastian forced his body to move, wincing at the pain in his tail and spine. The crate was weighing him down a bit from his body being weaker. He swam out of the cave into the open water, everything was dark, the Trench Bleeder looked to be long gone by now, how long had he been asleep?

He didn’t stop to think about it, starting to swim upwards.

“Where are you going?”

Sebastian suddenly paused at the familiar voice that echoed in his head. He turned around to be met with the bright green glow of multiple eyes staring right at him. He used his hand to shield his eyes from the shining light before slowly lowering it back down and looking back at the curious radioactive shark before him.

“Well?”

“I thought you had left a long time ago, there is no prey for you here, not anymore.” Sebastian replied, staring down the creature, meeting her gaze.

“Where else would there be for me to go?” The shark circled curiously around Sebastian, moving closer.

“The surface.” Sebastian answered. “That’s where we are going, to get help.” He paused. “To go back to my home.”

“The surface isn’t where I belong, that is where you come from. I have no home to return to.” The Eyefestian responded blankly.

“Do you not remember anything?” Sebastian looked curious.

“No. If there is a home for me I doubt it would be very welcoming now. These depths are now my home.”

“You know you could come with us, you don’t have to stay in this place, with all the bad memories.” Sebastian reached out his hand, offering.

“I know you want me to, but I know you’ll do just as fine without me. Plus I’ve made some good memories down here too.” Eyefestian gently pushed her snout into Sebastian’s hand. “Go see them again..”

Sebastian just nodded, gently petting Eyefestian. He had so much to thank her for, she was there ever since the start of his experiments. She was the only creature to know what he truly looked like before and he was the first one to be able to appreciate her beauty without dying.

No further words were exchanged before Sebastian watched Eyefestian disappear back down into the dark depths again.

He wiped his eyes before focusing back on his mission, firstly making sure the crate was still fully secured before continuing up. Swimming for minutes on end as his tail guided him through the water until he felt the sudden crushing feeling of the pressure shifting, feeling like his whole body just collapsed in on itself within a second. Trying to catch his breath as his throat was squeezing and his body froze.

He was no longer in the Let-Vand Zone, he was in the deep sea now.

It took him a moment to get used to the extreme pressure change until his body slowly began to relax and he could breathe at a stable pace again. He checked the crate on his back, nothing looked crushed. The crates were very reinforced but that didn’t mean they could last long, he had to get to a lesser pressure level quickly.

It was harder to tread through the dense water, but he forced his tail to push himself through with as much force and speed as possible. Even if he could breathe normally everything still felt suffocating, making him feel lightheaded. He wasn’t even sure how fast he was moving with the water crushing his whole body.

Everything was completely black, not even his vision helped, he wasn’t sure if he was even moving upwards anymore, he could have been moving in any direction and he wouldn’t know unless he ended up hitting something or managed to breach the surface. It made him paranoid of anything jumping out at him, it was too dark, anything could come from any direction.

All he could do was hope he would run into nothing, he had to keep pushing. He was determined to get to the surface, his determination being more powerful than his own exhaustion. The more he swam, the more the pressure seemed to lift off of his body and he could finally move faster. It felt so freeing to be able to stretch out and move around without having any more worries, he wasn’t entirely free yet but he was getting close.

He swam for another hour, his tail barely dragging him along, until finally he saw an actual light reflecting from off the ocean’s surface. Dashing up to it in his excitement and breaking through the water. The smell of fresh air filling his nose, the gentle wind blowing through his wet hair, sounds of seagulls flying overhead and the gentle waves moving. He made it, he actually did it.

Sebastian smiled happily as tears poured down his cheeks. He used his hand to shade his tired eyes as he looked in the distance at the rising sun that had come up to welcome him back to the surface.

[whatwooshkai]

for the smoke & mirrors ask - have you had 16 yet?

"You do it! You're the leader!"

"I am not asking! Boulder, you ask."

"Okay-"

"Actually, nevermind. This is stupid. I'll just use my hoses-"

"No! You are not spraying me in the face again, you almost broke my optics-"

"Oh shut up, you were fine!"

"Barely!"

"Blades is correct, that level of pressure-"

"Stay out of this, Chase!"

"Seriously, guys, I don't mind asking-"

Cody sighs, lowering the lift all the way down before the rescue bots break out into an all out brawl. Five minutes of listening to them bicker and yet he still has no idea what they want.

"Hey guys!" he announces, and every helm snaps over. Cody is suddenly aware of the size difference. "Whatcha talkin' 'bout?"

The rescue bots' gazes flit between Cody and each other, seemingly having a silent conversation before Boulder pipes up and says, "We want you to wash our faces."

"Huh?"

"Our faces," Chase repeats. "We would like you to wash them."

"Yeah, I heard," Cody says, giving them a lopsided smile. "I just wanna know why."

"Well, back on Cybertron you'd have to go to a detailer to get your face properly cleaned," Blades explains. "Lots of small seams, big servos, it's not exactly easy to do it yourself. But we figured, since your servos are so small...?"

None of the rescue bots are looking at him. Boulder is very interested in their hands, Blades is scuffing his feet, Heatwave is tapping a beat on his arm that makes Chase's finials flick in time.

Oh my god. Are they... embarrassed?

Cody coughs into his fist to stifle a laugh. His dad says it all the time: "For a race of advanced alien robots, they're just as bad as us."

"I can wash your faces!" Cody assures them. "Frankie'll be here soon, and she'll be happy to help too!"

There's clear embarrassment radiating off the bots, but Cody decides not to let them stew in it and runs to the storage closet to grab the supplies, fumbling with his comm link at the same time.

"Hey, Frankie," he says, pressing his cheek to his shoulder as he puts the car soap in a bucket with some sponges and towels. "How far are you?"

"Walking in now," her voice crackles over the comm line. "Why?"

"The bots asked for their faces washed, so we're doing that," he explains, grabbing a second bucket.

"Why...?"

Cody shrugs, then realizes she can't see him. "Because they asked. Isn't that a good enough reason?"

Frankie sighs, but there's a smile in her voice. "I guess so. Coming down the lift now."

"Don't get off, we'll need some height." Cody carries his supplies out of the closet, past the bots who are currently greeting Frankie, up onto the lift beside her. He sets down their supplies and they divide them between each other, and Heatwave fills their buckets when prompted.

Boulder and Blades come forward first, sitting down and letting Frankie adjust the lift so they're at the perfect height.

Cody has been close to the rescue bots before. He sits on their shoulders, they carry him around in their hands, sometimes they sit him atop their helms! But he realizes that he's never been this close to their faces, and now he understands why they wanted this.

Boulder's faceplate isn't perfectly smooth, there are small grooves and seams and scratches and scuffs, there's little divots under their optics that almost look like tear ducts. Cody dips the sponge into the soapy water and starts on Boulder's cheek, but nearly drops it when the rumbling starts up.

Blades had slumped over immediately, leaning his chin onto the railing of the lift, and while Boulder was doing a better job of keeping themselves upright, twin rumbling rises from their chests, the unmistakable purr of an engine.

Frankie and Cody exchange looks, not wanting to ruin the moment. Like cats! Frankie signs excitedly, and Cody can't help but grin, because they are.

There's a shocking amount of dirt on Boulder's face, so it takes almost two hours to get the towel to come out clean when he wipes it across their cheek. Blades has fully fallen asleep.

Heatwave's tapping his arm impatiently while Chase has busied himself with a book, but his tapping foot is giving him away as well.

"All done!" Cody announces, clapping his hands together, and Boulder blinks sleepily, before giving him a big smile.

"Thank you!" they say brightly, standing up shakily and picking up Blades with them, making room for the other two.

Chase takes a spot in front of Frankie as Heatwave sits in front of Cody. He leans onto his hands to brings his face close enough for Cody to reach it.

Heatwave looks exhausted already, and far worse for wear than Boulder did. It almost seems like there's dark circles under his optics, there's dirt crusted into the scar on his cheek and in the seams of his jaw, and there's a dent just below his left optic.

He's asleep in minutes.

All four rescue bots' engines purr in time.

[likeawildthing]

when i fnished grad school (which was actually 2022? new job was this year though!) my friends made me swear on a napkin to learn to relax and im happy to report the experiment has been a success and i have become a lesiure QUEEN.

what am i doing w/ my free time?

making miniatures! currently working on a dollhouse for my old coworker's daughters. will share pics! maybe i will finish a single project this year.

hanging out w/ my kids and their GFs because they're awesome. at the same time, trying to avoid becoming BFFs with said lovely GFs because i cannot take having another tragic breakup dollhouse rotting in my basement

i color in a coloring book every night which is not making my own art but it is relaxing w/out the pressure of making like work!

making friends in the most random places (mammogram screening, hospital emergency room, while white water rafting)

slowly watching my gardens die because my kids forgot to water them when i was out of town for two weeks and i've been sick for most of the summer (feeling MUCH BETTER now. who knew gallbladders could be such a nightmare!)

have been going to monthly craft meet ups with the old ladies at my library. they go multiple times a week and the tea is always piping (literally AND metaphorically)

at my prev WFH job the cat trained me to sit on the couch w/ him BUT at my new WFH job I need 2 screens so i've slowly been traning him to sit in a cat tree next to me. it's a WIP for sure. he s a king forever and i hate to ruin his life but mommy must have a job to pay the bills)

exercse? hahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa no. i did buy a stair stepper when i was on morphine in the hosptal tho because i thought it would be KEY TO MY RECOVERY? ma'am. no.

rewatching derry girls once a month becase yes?

have become a NYT games feind. morning: wordle, connections, i am 50/50 on strands but am giving it a try. 9pm sharp: sudoku, the mini, crossword. spelling bee enrages me.

learning my own WFH fashion

getting myself grocery store flowers every week, taking flowers to other poeple every other week

i am so angry about this but...doing laundry on a weekly basis is actually good for my mental health? so now i do laundry on a weekly basis instead of holding for weeks and doing 22 loads in a weekend once a month. (no fear, i am not and never will be the type of functional person who does a load of laundry a day, or, god forbid, pair socks. sock basket or bust for life). i did by a cordless shark vacuum and it's lifechanging.

reading again! have read two books this week which is more than the last several months so that feels nice <3

apparently trauma dumping on tumblr again

venmoing my kids so they'll run snack-based errands

[birgittesilverbae]

thinking of babea au and that first night with bea washing the blood out of her hair in cat’s cradle, listening to the hush of mary’s voice outside the shower room and its rows of empty yawning cubicles. how her father’s mouth let go a haze of blood as he fell, warm on her face and bea turning the water freezing cold, twisting the dial furiously and sitting hunched up against the wall watching red and pink water slip past her bare feet.

they find the smallest clothes they can but she’s still half-drowned and shivering in an overlarge t-shirt, mary brushing the gnarls out of her hair and braiding it almost without thinking. in mary’s apartment and bea waking from nightmares where she’s lying in the street and there’s so much blood it spills into her ears and her mouth and her eyes.

years later she’s asleep in lilith’s arms and she wakes up coughing and retching, scrambling to the edge of the bed. turning to see lilith watching her, tugging the blankets over as she joins bea on her side of the narrow bed they’re sharing. and sometimes this life doesn’t feel big enough for two. ghosts lingering in the light that crawls in from underneath the door.

lilith, who wraps them both in the blanket and pulls bea close, telling her that she used to wake up from nightmares in her mother’s house. no one to go looking for who wouldn’t tell her to grow up, to find her composure and her quiet.

‘i used to walk around the house with a candle and switch on the lights in my father’s study. then i’d go outside and sit down among the asphodels - did you know they’re supposed to be the flowers of the dead. a favourite of Hades?’

beatrice nodding and feeling lilith’s lips brush over the angle of her jaw. ‘of course you know that.’

sinking into lilith’s warmth as she continues. ‘i’d look up at that light and imagine him inside, stooped over his books. the smell of pipe tobacco and stale coffee. it felt like i was a ship lost out at sea and the light in the window was the shore.’

lilith gradually drawing her back down to their pillow, letting bea cling to her. in the morning they wake up slow in the same position and beatrice kisses lilith until her mouth is sore.

thinking of beatrice who hides her grief in cold water and then inside of lilith’s mouth. lilith going with her one day to lay asphodels on her parents’ grave and holding her hand. lilith standing in the shower with bea and washing blood out of her hair after a mission, noticing how bea starts to fall away towards her younger smaller helpless self. pulling her back with a kiss and the silent promise that lingers between them.

to be the light in each other’s darkness

mary, straddling the locker room bench, raises the brush, gestures towards her. "do you want help?"

anger prickling in her chest. she's not a child, she's not- she'd simply had a moment of weakness, in searching out mary's arms as blood dripped down her own. "i'm perfectly capable-"

"i didn't ask whether you needed help, beatrice. i asked if you wanted it." she raises the brush again, face open, welcoming. "i know i would have when i was your age. that's all."

beatrice's shoulders sag, and she plucks absently at the folds of shirt that balloon around her, her gaze solidly on the floor tiles. "i can do it," she repeats, reaching for the brush, and mary passes it to her.

she starts at the bottom of her hair, as her mother had taught her, working the tangles out with short strokes. there's a pressure on the back of her head, immaterial, tilting her forward to get better access to the nape of her neck. her mother gently working the brush free of the tangles that always formed there just out of beatrice's reach, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head when the pull turned unintentionally sharp and beatrice winced away from the motion.

the hair at the base of her skull is matted together, now, and her hands aren't as agile as her mother's had been, not yet. practice, she'd told her over piano keys and hair brush strokes and the awkward shape of her writing, you'll improve with practice.

but she hasn't had enough time to learn, and the brush is buried deep in her hair and any movement of it sends sharp pains through her scalp and- and tears are streaming down her face. her mother is never again going to carefully work knots from her hair when she comes in from the garden with her head as much leaf litter as hair.

a tissue is pressed into her palm, a careful hand uncurls her fingers from their tight grasp around the handle of the hair brush. beatrice's chest heaves and she's met with careful touches and a low rumble of soft words. her mother's hands had always been cool, had always felt such a balm on her forehead when she laid ill in bed. the hand on the back of her neck now is almost feverishly warm, but the care mary takes with the brush is the same as she works it loose from beatrice's hair.

"my first foster mother," mary says, voice as gentle as her hands, "didn't understand that she needed to treat my hair differently than her own. that caring for Black hair was a whole separate skill." she works the brush free, starts in carefully on beatrice's hair as beatrice scrubs the tissue across her face. "and i was too scared to speak up, even when she cut my hair with kitchen shears to make it easier for her to look after." her hand cups beatrice's shoulder, squeezes. "i want you to tell me what you want, what you need, okay?"

bestrice nods, stilted. "okay."

[formula-fun]

Did you sort out your beef with pacrim au? I'm soooooo excited for ch1!! 🧡 and how many chapters do you think it will be?

hiiiiii!!! im still beefing with it a little to be honest but i think im gonna have to just publish it soon either way hashsahash theres just a lot of exposition in the first two chapters and it was kind of pissing me off? i dont think theres any way around it tho in this situation, so im just gonna let it sit for a few days before i do the final proofread and see if it's really that clunky or if ive just been looking at it for too long. it means i can spend that time trying to get ahead on the rest of it, so it's all good <3 its lookin kind of long rn. 10 chapters and an epilogue?

idk if ive posted this already? but

“The thing about it,” Max is saying, “is it’s just dirty leaf water until you have a really good one, I think. I went my whole life without drinking it, I loved it while I was there, and now that I’m here it’s like, why even bother with it. I know it will just taste like grass.”

He’s sprawled across the battered sofa in Charles’ office that Charles sleeps on sometimes, the window cracked open above him to let the sounds of the waves filter through. With one hand, he gestures along to his own words; with the other he squeezes Charles’ rubber band ball in his fist, over and over.

“There is a lot of good tea in the world, Max,” Charles points out. He’s seated at his desk, trying desperately to get some work done, no thanks to Max and his unending monologue about anything and everything. Max is a lot more interesting than the data sheets currently clogging his inbox, but Charles would be loathe to let him know that—especially when Max probably already knows anyway.

Max lets out a dubious noise that sounds a bit like a sheep and throws the ball, narrowly catching it before it lands on his own nose. “Not in Australia, mate, it’s not the same type.”

“How do you know? Have you tried it?”

“Daniel told me that. He said it’s better in Japan. It’s like how I only like the sushi in Japan because it’s of course better there.”

Charles tears his eyes away from his holoscreen to point a pen in Max’s direction. “That’s not true, you were just trying it with my tastes this time. Of course you like it now.”

“It’s definitely better in Japan,” Max says with a laugh.

“Well, yes, I am sure. But you like it now because I like it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true. You hate fish. You always have,” Charles insists. “The only fish you like is the kind I like too. Obviously it is not a coincidence.”

Max grins at the ceiling, tossing the rubber band ball again. “Who says you didn’t get it from me, then?”

Charles splutters. “I did not,” he protests. “The only things I got from you were pork cravings and rock lyrics, you tasteless—”

Two raps sound against his doorframe, and then Ollie’s face is appearing in the gap. “Is now a bad time?” he asks softly, then blanches when he sees Max laying across the couch, still tossing the rubber band ball around.

For some reason Max grins even wider.

“No, come in, Ollie,” Charles says. He pushes his glasses up, rubbing the pressure point between his eyebrows. “What is it?”

The sheaf of papers in Ollie’s hands apparently forgotten, he takes a crisp step toward Max. “Commander, sir.”

“He’s off duty,” Charles tells him. “Actually, he’s not even supposed to be in here.”

“You can just call me Max,” Max says, ignoring him. “Nice to meet you. Ollie, was it?”

“Yes, sir, Oliver Bearman. I’m a cadet with the Faenza Academy.”

“Faenza,” Max repeats, shooting Charles a warm look. Charles ignores him.

Ollie hesitates, shooting Charles a look. “It’s…well, it’s an honor. Charles, Oscar thinks he found the issue with Item 46.”

Charles grimaces. “Ah.”

“What’s item 46?” Max pipes up.

“Confidential,” Charles says with an eye roll.

“Even to me?”

“Yes, even to you.” Switching to Dutch, he adds, “I’ll come find you tomorrow. We should spar.”

“Fine,” Max answers. He gets to his feet, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans before tossing the rubber band ball back onto Charles’ desk. It knocks his cup of pens over; Charles glares. “You owe me lunch. I haven’t forgotten. I want Thai food.”

“Not Bangkok Bistro. We went last week.”

“Fine, somewhere else, but I want pad see ew. Ollie,” he adds in English, “lovely to meet you.”

“Thank you. You too, sir.”

“Don’t let Charles give you any shit, okay?” And then he slips around the doorway and is gone before Charles can even come up with a suitable insult.

[lowlylux]

Silver Spoons (And Butterknives)

Chapter Four I Fear of Thievery

Rating: Mature

Warnings: mention of blood, violence, and self harm

Word Count: 8.6k

Ship: Jegulily/Wolfstar

Description:

For a moment he wishes Sirius was there.

He closes his eyes, allowing him to accept it even as his lungs scream for him to continue fighting. He hurts...so much. It is overtaking him, drowning out the voices that continue to berate his mind. But he still cannot bring himself to fight back. His mind goes fuzzy, his consciousness beginning to lessen its hold on his body.

Yet, for a moment, he swears the pressure of the water leaves him.

He swears that he is gasping for air and actually obtaining it. And, the thing that makes him fully realize that this is his mind's last attempt to give him peace, is the mirage of his brother staring down at him, eyes widened in shock.

And just like that, Regulus finally loses consciousness.

Or...

A simple loophole ensures the survival of Regulus Black, and he is about to make it everyone's problem.

Ao3 link

“I am not telling that arsehole to eat,” Lily mutters, her voice low but edged with familiar stubbornness. She shifts on the couch, her legs stretched out and draped lazily across James’ lap. One of his hands rests casually on her shin, thumb tracing idle circles against her skin, but it does nothing to soothe the tension tightening her shoulders.

She leans against the arm of the sofa, cheek pressed to the cool fabric as her fingers toy absentmindedly with a loose thread. Across the room, Regulus paces, arms folded tightly over his chest like he’s holding himself together by sheer force of will. His jaw is set, expression carved out of ice, and he’s been ignoring both of them for the better part of an hour.

James sighs, glancing from Lily to Regulus, then back again. His fingers pause their gentle motion on her leg. “You know he won’t listen to me,” he says quietly. “He’ll just tell me to bugger off.”

Lily huffs, a dry laugh escaping her lips. “And if I try, we’ll end up yelling at each other again.”

Her voice softens, though, betraying something closer to worry than frustration. She watches Regulus’ rigid posture from beneath her lashes, her thumb rubbing restlessly over the pad of her finger. It’s easier to pretend she’s annoyed. Easier to keep her voice sharp than admit concern.

James feels it too, she can tell by the way his hand tightens just a little on her calf, grounding them both in this quiet stalemate. But of course, that cannot ever last with James.

“You two were not fighting that—”

“Euphemia thought someone was being murdered, James.”

Yeah…that shuts up James fast. Lily loves him, she really does. Some days she just wants to hold him, squeezing the man in her arms until they simply become one. Perhaps then all of her worries will disappear, and the only thing that matters is them. But the war will never allow for it. Lily is quite sure of that.

“Hey, Reg?” James pipes up, seemingly deciding to take the risk and be the one to demand Regulus to take care of himself. “It’s time to eat.”

“Not hungry…” Regulus murmurs, almost to himself, the words so faint Lily barely catches them over the soft creak of floorboards under his restless pacing.

He moves like a caged thing, sharp and coiled, wearing a hole into the floor that will soon become a tunnel to the other side of the world with each tight turn. His fingers are at his forearms again, nails scraping against pale skin, worry-raw and red from hours of the same agitated picking. Lily’s frown deepens as she watches him, a sour twist settling low in her stomach. Every so often, his hand slips up to his throat, fingertips brushing the chain that vanishes beneath the collar of his jumper—the damned locket, always there now, burning against his skin like a brand.

They shouldn’t have given it back to him. She knows it. James knows it. They’d both looked at each other with the same tight-lipped regret the moment he’d slipped it over his head and pulled the chain taut like some grim lifeline. But he’d wanted it—no, needed it—and neither of them had been able to tell him no. Not when his voice had been so quiet, constantly begging for it as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.

And now he’s like this. Circling the room as if it’s a battlefield, muttering under his breath words they can’t quite catch. His expression flickers from concentration to confusion to quiet panic, the kind that twists behind his ribs where no one can see. But she sees. She always sees.

James shifts beside her on the couch, and she can feel the question on his lips before he speaks it. Should we do something? Should we stop him? But neither of them move. Not yet. Maybe they’re both hoping Regulus will stop himself. That he’ll sit down. That he’ll eat something.

But he doesn’t. His nails scrape again at the skin of his forearm—harder this time—and Lily winces.

“Regulus,” she says, her voice low but firm.

“No.”

“I am about five seconds from calling Effie in here and telling her that you haven’t eaten since yesterday. Do you want that?” Lily asks calmly, her face neutral as she observes the boy. She has grown past her anger toward him, at least she likes to think she has. Sure, it is still there. Any time she thinks of his friends she wants to strangle him, but it has subsided by quite a lot. It has to. She was the one who agreed to bring him here.

And Regulus just stares at her for a moment, dark eyes slowly blinking as he slowly takes in her words. He opens his mouth, a small noise escaping before closing it promptly. Regulus furrows his brows, glaring at her. “You’re insufferable.”

“And if you pace any harder, you’ll wear a hole through the floor,” Lily says, her tone dry, though her gaze tracks him with the kind of sharpness that’s hard to fake. She doesn’t sit up from her slouch on the couch, her legs stretched comfortably across James’ lap, but there’s a tension in the way her fingers curl around a cushion, knuckles pale.

Across the room, Regulus doesn’t pause. His socked feet make little sound as they slide and shift across the scuffed floorboards, but it’s the repetition that grates on her nerves. The endless, ceaseless back-and-forth, like a storm trapped in a bottle with no place to go.

“Good,” Regulus retorts, a sharp snort breaking the quiet, though it sounds brittle on his tongue. “Then I can throw myself in and save you both the effort.”

His words cut, but there’s no heat behind them. Just exhaustion. Still, Lily rolls her eyes with deliberate exaggeration, shifting slightly to nudge James’ thigh with her heel. “Oh, don’t tempt me,” she drawls, smoothing the fabric over her knee with absent fingers. “I might help you dig.”

That earns her a sideways glance as Regulus pivots at the far wall. His dark eyes flick toward her, sharp as shattered glass, but his mouth twists—not quite a smile, not quite a sneer. “And here I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be merciful.”

Lily lets out a soft scoff, pushing her fringe back from her face with the tips of her fingers. “You must be thinking of Hufflepuffs,” she says, lifting one brow in mock apology. “Easy mistake.”

Regulus exhales something like a laugh—if laughter could sound entirely humorless. His hands flex where they are clutched against his forearm, nails biting crescents into pale skin. “Clearly. I keep mistaking you for someone pleasant.”

Lily’s lips curve, slow and sharp. “And I keep mistaking you for someone who listens.”

He huffs through his nose, pacing back toward the fireplace like he might outwalk her patience. “We both live in disappointment.”

“Story of my life,” she mutters, but the bite has dulled. Her gaze follows him all the same, watching the tense line of his spine beneath the soft grey jumper, the way his shoulders stay high and tight as a drawn bowstring.

Regulus turns, not stopping this time, but his eyes catch her mid-stride. “No, my life,” he corrects smoothly. “You both just keep inserting yourselves into it.”

“If we didn’t, you’d be dead by now,” Lily says. It slips out before she can temper it, her voice sharper than she means, but there’s no room for regret now. The words hang in the air between them, heavy as stone. It is something that has been held above all three of them, the reality almost crushing. And the worst part? Regulus still has yet to tell them why he showed up to Sirius’ flat practically dead.

Regulus freezes mid-step. His hands twitch where they clutch his arms, his jaw clenched so tightly she can see the muscle jump beneath his skin. He’s still for a moment, utterly still, except for the rise and fall of his chest. Then he says, “maybe I’d prefer it that way.”

The silence after that is thick enough to choke on. Lily feels James’ hand, warm and steady on her shin, his thumb pausing its idle circles. She doesn’t look at him. Her eyes stay on Regulus, who stares back with something brittle and sharp in his gaze.

“Too bad,” Lily says softly, but there’s iron behind it. “We prefer you breathing.”

Regulus swallows Adam’s apple bobbing, but he doesn’t look away. There is a flicker of something—pain, defiance, maybe both—but he holds her gaze. “Define ‘we,’” he says, quieter this time. His voice scrapes low, frayed like the threads on his jumper.

James shifts under Lily’s legs. She feels him straighten a little, the weight of his attention shifting to the space between them all. Then, softly but firmly; “Regulus—”

Both Lily and Regulus whip their heads toward him in unison.

“Shut it,” they say together, the snap of their voices overlapping as if it were a well-practiced harmony of irritation. They both glare at James, who blinks once, clearly unimpressed, before lifting his hands in mock surrender. His palm stays anchored to Lily’s shin, grounding, steady. She exhales slowly through her nose.

“Define it.”

“James and I,” Lily clarifies, drawing Regulus’ attention back to her. Her voice is less sharp now, but steady. Sure. “That’s the we.”

Regulus stares at her, and for a heartbeat, she swears he might say something cutting. But the tension in his shoulders eases by a fraction. Just enough. He huffs a sound—too tired to be a laugh, but close.

“How heartwarming,” he mutters, dragging one socked foot over the floor as if considering another lap.

“Don’t get used to it,” Lily says. Her fingers drum once against James’ knee, a staccato beat. She narrows her eyes at Regulus.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, but the sting has dulled, worn thin by exhaustion and the weight of everything left unsaid.

Lily shifts forward, elbows resting on her knees as she fixes him with a familiar, dangerous stare. She jerks her chin toward the chair across from her. “Good. Now sit down and eat something before I hex you.”

He doesn’t move at first. Just stands there, arms folded, jaw tight. Considering. Measuring her. Then, with a slow roll of his eyes so dramatic Lily is tempted to clap, Regulus crosses to the chair and drops into it, his movements sharp but controlled.

“Empty threats, Evans,” he says as he stares at the bag of crisps James pushes toward him.

Lily leans back again, her wand already balanced casually between two fingers. “Try me.”

And, after a long pause, Regulus picks up the bag. His fingers shake, but he eats.

For now, that’s enough.

✧˚ · .

“Just cut right there…that’s it…”

Euphemia Potter’s voice can be heard from the kitchen, the soft sound of a randomized song from the radio almost fully drowned out. Lily finds herself at the doorway, resting her back on the frame out of sight as she just listens.

“Lils what are you—”

Lily immediately shushes James, clasping a hand over his mouth as she pulls him away from the door. She glances behind herself, sighing in relief before going back to focusing on James. “Regulus is in the kitchen with your Mum.”

“So?” James questions with furrowed brows, tilting his head in the adorable way that Lily has become used to. At one point, she happily compared it to a puppy—which is ironic if she truly wishes to think about it—but quickly stopped when he started whining about it. So now she only secretly continues to make those comparisons.

“He’s cooking with her.”

James opens his mouth, not even making a noise as he takes in her words. He glances at the kitchen, now further away since Lily dragged them further into the lounge. “Mum doesn't let people cook with her.”

“Well, they’re cooking together,” Lily says, her voice tinged with disbelief as she watches the scene unfold before her. She can hardly believe her own eyes.

It’s not that she doesn’t know how to cook, she’s prepared more than her fair share of meals in her time, but Euphemia has made it very clear that Lily is not welcome in the kitchen. Time and time again, Euphemia has politely but firmly stated that Lily is a guest, as if that single word should settle everything. It stings more than it should, yet Lily bites her tongue, never pushing the matter.

But it is almost as if there’s an unspoken rule she can’t quite crack, a line drawn in the sand that she’s too far on the wrong side of. And Regulus? He’s already crossed it without a second thought. And Lily cannot help but feel envious of that, even if she will never admit that out loud.

“Is she ill now?” James asks, exasperated, his gaze fixed on the open kitchen door, yet his eyes can't quite penetrate the space beyond. But the idea of them cooking together is seemingly just so odd to him.

Lily finds herself shaking her head, continuing to whisper as she gossips as if she were still at Hogwarts. “No…I think she genuinely likes cooking with him.”

“That's hard to believe.” James mutters, putting a hand to his chin as he thinks. Lily thinks it is absolutely adorable but decides not to mention it.

Lily leans back slightly, her eyes narrowing as she continues to watch the kitchen doorway, her arms folded across her chest in quiet contemplation. She can feel the weight of James' gaze on her as he stands beside her, still trying to process what she’s just told him.

“Well, think about it,” she says, her voice low and deliberate, her gaze still fixed ahead. “Has he been rude to her?” She raises an eyebrow, as if the answer is painfully obvious.

James blinks, a furrow appearing between his brows as he considers the question. “Well, no—” he begins, his tone uncertain.

Lily presses on, her voice sharp, as though the truth were just hanging there, ready to be uncovered. “He’s been obsessed with keeping up a good image with your Mum.” She says it with a touch of knowing, her words not just a statement but a revelation. She can almost hear the pieces clicking into place for James.

James, still caught off guard, nods slowly. “Yeah—” he mutters, trying to make sense of what Lily is saying. But the implications are still fuzzy in his mind, like something just out of reach.

Lily’s eyes soften as she turns her attention back to him. “I think she genuinely likes that,” she says, the hint of a smile in her voice, as if she’s just cracked a secret code. She’s not sure whether she means it for James or for herself.

There’s a long pause as James takes in her words, the realization slowly dawning on him. His face shifts, from confusion to something darker, more contemplative.

“Merlin…” he whispers, his voice wistful as he pretends to be upset. “Regulus stole my mum, didn’t he?”

Lily doesn't answer right away. Instead, she just gives him a look, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she regards him with an overdramatic frown. But when she finally does speak, it’s in mock pity, placing her hand on James’ shoulder. “I’m afraid so…” She can only hold the faux-sympathetic expression for so long before breaking out in a smile.

A sound echoing through the kitchen makes the both of them pause. Wanting to find out what happened, she places a finger to her lips, her expression playful yet serious, as if the covert operation they’re about to embark on requires the utmost stealth. With a subtle motion, she urges James forward, her eyes twinkling with mischief, ready to resume their spy game. They take a few quiet steps, trying to inch back into position without being noticed, but before they can even get halfway, the sound of soft footsteps halts them in their tracks.

They both freeze, their heads tilting upward as they slowly realize they're no longer alone. Regulus stands there, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe with an expression that could only be described as a mixture of mild disappointment and mild amusement. His dark eyes, usually sharp and calculating, are narrowed slightly in an almost exaggerated sense of disbelief.

A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth, and his posture—half relaxed, half bemused—gives him an air of unbothered annoyance.

He’s wearing an apron that, by all accounts, seems comically oversized for his frame. The fabric hangs off his shoulders in loose folds, almost swallowing him whole, and it looks as though it could fit two of him inside. His hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, a few strands escaping rebelliously to frame his face, giving him a slightly disheveled look. For a moment, he could almost be mistaken for a completely different person: a mix between someone who’s reluctantly adopted domesticity and someone who might be caught in an awkwardly cute moment, had the frown not been there to ruin it.

Lily and James exchange a brief, guilty glance before quickly turning back to Regulus, who is now watching them with a bemused but unmistakably unimpressed gaze. It’s clear they’ve been caught. And judging by the look on his face, he’s well aware of their little espionage mission and it has been entirely too obvious.

Regulus smirks for a heartbeat before turning his head, calling to Euphemia over his shoulder, “I think we’re being spied on, Mrs.—”

“Effie!”

“Right, Effie, I’m sorry.” Regulus quickly corrects himself, continuing to yell over his shoulder. “We have an audience.”

Euphemia Potter peeks her head out of the kitchen, dark curls escaping her bun as she levels a look at her son could curdle milk. Her expression sours the moment she catches sight of him standing by the door frame like a nosy child, despite being a grown man.

“James—” she warns, voice sharp as a knife’s edge.

“Mum, can’t we help?” James blurts, too quickly, too eagerly. His grin is reckless, hopeful in that way it always is when he’s scheming. It’s the same smile he wore when he tried to sneak a bowtruckle into Hogwarts disguised as a quill.

He’s always been hopeless at subtlety.

Euphemia doesn't answer at first. She steps forward instead, wiping her hands on the tea towel slung over her shoulder, and stares at him. A long, assessing stare.

James holds firm under the weight of it…for all of three seconds.

“Absolutely not!” she says finally, eyes narrowing.

“But Mum…” he tries, with all the tragic despair of a man denied his birthright.

“No!” she barks, and this time she comes out of the kitchen entirely, swatting at him with the tea towel. James ducks with a yelp. “The palak paneer will be ready in twenty minutes anyway. You can wait.”

James straightens, ruffled but not defeated. “You’re teaching him how to make…” His brow furrows as the words trail off. There's a brief, shimmering moment where he almost rallies, looks like he’s found his footing again…but then his face twists, confusion winning out.

Euphemia doesn’t blink. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, her bangles clinking softly together with the movement. Her face, so often warm and welcoming, is currently a masterclass in maternal judgment. “Regulus hasn’t tried to burn down my kitchen.”

James makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, something between a gasp and a groan. He presses a hand to his chest as if wounded. “I was eleven!” he protests, his voice climbing an octave on the last word, full of the kind of indignant disbelief only a childhood injustice can really summon.

Regulus hums thoughtfully from his spot at the door frame, looking paler by the second as he stands. Lily finds herself feeling worried for the boy, wanting to fuss over it. But she doesn't. That would be out of place for the carefully crafted rapport they have developed recently. “Old enough to know better,” Regulus says, teasing James with a grin.

James rounds on him with an expression of pure scandal, his mouth falling open as though Regulus has just insulted his Quidditch skills or, worse, his hair. “Why am I being ganged up on now?”

Euphemia tilts her head, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. She looks between the two boys, and something unspoken passes between her and Regulus—a look, a silent agreement that they’re very much enjoying themselves. Her smile curls, smug as a cat who’s just knocked something off a shelf. “Because you make it easy,” she replies.

There’s a pause. And then Euphemia lifts her brows, sharing another glance with Regulus before they both grin in tandem, practically co-conspirators. “And because,” she adds, her tone lilting, “I don’t trust you not to set the ghee on fire.”

James throws his hands up in surrender, his palms flashing in the warm light of the kitchen. “I set fire to the kitchen one time,” he insists, his voice pitched high in outrage.

“Twice,” Euphemia corrects smoothly, her arms still folded, completely unruffled.

“Once!” James shoots back. “The second time was—I don’t know—it was a misunderstanding.”

“It was a disaster,” Euphemia says, final and unmovable. The verdict has been delivered.

James groans loudly, dragging his feet in an exaggerated sulk as he slinks back toward the sitting room, but not before casting one last longing look at the stove where the palak paneer is bubbling gently. The smell of spices—cumin, turmeric, methi—curls through the air like an invitation he’s being cruelly denied.

“This is discrimination,” he mutters darkly.

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” Euphemia calls after him, already turning back to her kitchen as if this battle has long been won.

Regulus snorts, the sound quiet but genuine, before he slips back into the kitchen. Lily watches him go, catching the way his shoulder brushes lightly against Euphemia’s as she makes room for him at the counter. She doesn’t miss the way Euphemia’s hand lingers for half a second on his back—steadying, grounding—before she follows him into the room.

Lily hesitates. One breath. One beat. Then she follows. Her body moves as if of its own accord, feet carrying her forward before she’s even decided to follow. The words slip out before she’s had time to think them through, her mouth working faster than her mind.

“Regulus shouldn’t be standing for this long with the potions he’s on…”

She doesn’t quite register what she’s said until the sound of her own voice reaches her ears. And by then, she’s already stepped over the threshold. It hits her a second later, a dawning realization that makes her stop short. Her gaze sweeps over the kitchen in an instant, taking in the sight before her.

“Oh,” she murmurs, blinking once as the tension leaves her shoulders. “Never mind.”

Next to a worktop is Regulus, who is resting comfortably on a chair. The chair is an odd thing, with a broad back made of smooth wooden slats that fan out like a crest. It doesn’t quite match the rest of the kitchen, all warm tones and soft edges, but it fits in its own way. The dark wood gleams faintly in the low light, polished and cared for, with arms wide enough to rest tired elbows on and a seat that looks deeper than it needs to be.

Regulus had shifted, his movement causing the pendant of the locket to tumble out from beneath his jumper. The locket swings gently back and forth, its gleam catching the light in a way that makes her stomach churn. Lily despises it. That damned locket. But Euphemia does not seem worried about it, so she has to force herself to ignore it

For a moment after pondering over her initial concerns, Lily found herself forgetting herself. Euphemia would never overlook the needs of anyone in her house, Lily knows that. Yet she still finds herself fretting over a boy who shows no immediate need for it. She quickly decides to push away those thoughts, locking them away with a key that will never see the light of day again.

James appears behind her, putting a grounding hand on her waist as he gapes at the scene in front of him. “That’s my chair!”

“You haven't been using it,” Euphemia says with a careful shrug, regarding her son in playful annoyance. Her hands are firmly placed on the back of the aforementioned chair as she splits her attention on Regulus and James with admirable precision.

James’ eyes widen, nearly popping out of their sockets in disbelief. His mouth opens, frozen for a moment as shock spreads across his face. He blinks, clearly trying to process the words his mother just dropped, before shaking himself out of the stupor. “Because you—”

He is interrupted by Regulus nicking his hand.

Lily instinctively steps forward, immediately concerned for the boy. But Euphemia is already on top of it. Quick. Efficient. Far better than Lily could ever hope to be. Euphemia glances at both of them for a heartbeat, sending a knowing look toward Lily before fretting over Regulus. “We cannot focus on dinner with you two here.” Her voice is fast and desperate, as if begging them to listen for just a moment.

Lily knows, deep down, that this is the right thing to do. Her fingers wrap around James' arm, pulling him gently but firmly, urging him to leave the room. For a heartbeat, he stands frozen, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot, his gaze locked on the now-injured Regulus. The scene before them is a sharp contrast to the memory of that first night Regulus had arrived—a night that had stirred something deep within both of them. Lily can see it in James’ eyes, the flicker of that same raw emotion, but this moment is different. They both know it.

She frowns, her thoughts swirling with the weight of those memories, and she knows it’s the same for him. Still, she understands. With a quiet, unspoken understanding between them, James finally allows her to guide him away from the room, the tension in his body slowly giving way to the pull of her gentle insistence.

They make their way to the lounge, not a word spoken between them. But once it is safe, once they are both far away from the action, Lily brings James closer so that she can embrace him. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” James sighs out, melting into her embrace. He rests his chin on the top of her head, placing a chaste kiss on her temple before getting comfortable. “It’s just…he really did steal my Mum.”

Lily lets out a squawk of laughter, separating herself from the boy so that she can fully observe him. Taking his face in her hands—gladly accepting the immediate reaction from James who leans into her hold—she says, “Poor James…”

They kiss, and it’s simple, soft, a gentle meeting of lips that feels like it could last forever. The world fades, leaving only the warmth of his mouth on hers, the tenderness in the way they connect. When they pull apart, Lily smiles, a small, content curve of her lips, and lets the quiet joy of the moment wash over her. She leans her forehead against his, the contact grounding her in the stillness between them. Her breath mingles with his, soft and steady, as if nothing else matters in this small, quiet space.

There’s a comfort in the silence that envelops them, a peace that seems to fill the room with something almost sacred. She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing him in, savoring the calm of being here, in his arms. Then, her voice breaks through the quiet, barely a whisper, as if even the act of speaking might break the delicate spell that’s settled around them. "Do you want to cuddle until the food’s ready?" The words come out slow, like they’re a secret meant only for him, a quiet invitation to prolong the warmth they’ve found in each other.

“…that was an option?”

"Yes?" Lily's voice is light at first, but it quickly bursts into a soft laugh, her words spilling out in a joyful sound that fills the air around them. As James scoops her up, pulling her closer against him, the laughter grows, becoming louder and more infectious. She leans into him, feeling the steady strength of his arms around her, and a warmth spreads through her chest. His presence is a comfort, a feeling of safety that wraps around her like a warm blanket.

The familiar scent of him—something both earthy and uniquely James—settles in her senses, grounding her in the moment. Her heart beats a little faster, but not from anything frantic or rushed, just from the simple, undeniable joy of being close to him. It’s as if the world narrows down to just this—a shared moment of quiet happiness in each other’s company.

Euphemia has Regulus handled, that much Lily is sure of. The worries of the war and personal squabbles fall away as she stays here, with James. Because for this one, singular moment everyone is safe.

Safety…

Such a misleading thing in a war.

✧˚ · .

“Sirius!”

Lily cannot help the wide grin that spreads across her face as soon as James launches himself at Sirius the instant he steps through the door. There is no warning, no hesitation—just pure, reckless enthusiasm. Remus, clearly anticipating the ambush, wisely positioned himself well out of the line of fire before the door even creaked open.

Now James and Sirius are sprawled across the floor in a tangled heap, both laughing so hard it echoes throughout the room. James has an arm hooked around Sirius’ neck in a loose, ridiculous headlock, and Sirius, for his part, is doing absolutely nothing to escape—grinning like a fool as he wheezed out helpless chuckles.

Lily shakes her head, but the warmth in her chest is impossible to ignore. Merlin help her, she is fond of these idiots.

“Has Sirius—oh James get off of him,” Euphemia says, immediately fussing as she rushes toward Sirius. It only makes both men laugh harder as James starts to fill Sirius in on everything, rambling with no end in sight. With all of her musing about the situation, Lily is silently glad that they are at least sitting up now.

Remus has already slipped around the pile of limbs and laughter, carefully skirting the chaos with practiced ease—though it’s clear even that takes effort. He lingers on the other side of the doorway, leaning heavily on a simple cane as he steadies himself. For a moment, Lily thinks he’s made it through unscathed… until he nearly stumbles, his foot catching on the worn edge of the rug as he steps over James’ outstretched leg.

The cane catches his weight just in time. He grips it tightly, his knuckles pale against the dark wood, and exhales a slow breath through his nose. The fact that he’s using the cane at all makes Lily’s smile falter, just a little. He hadn’t needed it when she saw him last.

Her brow creases, worry creeping in around the edges of the warmth this reunion had brought. She files it away for now—something to ask him about later, when they aren’t all tangled up in laughter and old habits.

“You alright?” Her voice is a whisper as she speaks to Remus, not wanting to bring alarm to either of the two boys currently overjoyed to see each other. She could mention that they saw one another not too long ago, but that also would ruin the moment so Lily refrains. Regardless, her concern is more directed toward Remus either way.

“Full moon’s tomorrow.”

And simply, she doesn’t need to ask for more clarification. The understanding passes between them without a word, heavy but familiar. With a quiet, practiced ease, Lily steps closer and gently guides Remus toward one of the nearby sofa. Her hand finds his elbow—not forceful, just steady—and he lets her lead him without protest.

She’s careful to keep the movement subtle, unobtrusive. Nothing to draw attention. Nothing to break the easy warmth filling the room. James and Sirius are still laughing like schoolboys, tangled in a heap on the floor, and she has no intention of disrupting that.

It is Sirius’ birthday, after all. This moment belongs to them. Even Euphemia seems to acknowledge that, scurrying off to another room the moment she realizes her sons are not listening to her.

Both Lily and Remus watch in silence as James and Sirius lose themselves in conversation, their laughter bright and unrestrained, filling every corner of the room. It’s as if the world has narrowed to just the two of them—an orbit no one else can breach. Their words tumble over each other in half-finished thoughts, inside jokes, and knowing glances that need no explanation. They speak a language all their own, forged from years of reckless adventures and unshakable loyalty.

Lily can’t help but marvel at it. That’s always been the extraordinary thing about James and Sirius. When they’re together, it’s as if no one else exists—like nothing else could possibly matter. They become a world unto themselves, blinding and brilliant in their closeness. It’s the kind of bond that makes everything around them fade, even if just for a little while.

She casts a glance at Remus and finds him watching them too, his expression caught somewhere between fondness and something quieter, more difficult to name. They both know better than to interrupt.

“What was that…oh.”

For a heartbeat, the room stills. Not completely—James is still talking, animated as ever—but Sirius looks up. His eyes catch Regulus’, holding his stare with something unreadable, something braced. They stay like that for a moment, frozen in a quiet standoff that feels heavier than the room deserves.

But the shoe doesn’t drop.

Instead, Sirius shifts his focus back to James, nudging his friend with a grin that returns with an easy, familiar warmth. Whatever had passed between the brothers vanishes like smoke on a breeze.

Regulus watches for another breath, his expression schooled into neutrality, though Lily notices the way his fingers twitch at his side before he forces them still. Then, with a controlled exhale, he crosses into the room. He moves quietly, gliding to the sofa that holds Lily and Remus as if he’s always belonged there, though everything about his posture suggests he doesn’t quite believe it.

He sits with the kind of composure that looks effortless until you really pay attention. His back is straight, his hands resting neatly in his lap, as if he’s a guest in his own life. But his eyes remain fixed on Sirius and James, sharp and watchful. Not judging. Not exactly. Just…waiting. As if trying to decide whether he’s watching an old memory or something real.

Lily shifts, making room without thinking, and Regulus glances at her briefly, offering the smallest nod. It’s not thanks. It’s acknowledgment. And maybe that’s all he can give right now.

Beside her, Remus leans quietly on his cane, his gaze flitting to Regulus with quiet understanding. They don’t speak. There’s no need to.

Together, the three of them watch as James and Sirius tumble back into conversation like no time has passed at all, the world narrowing to just the two of them.

“So do you think they’re ever going to acknowledge that they're in the entryway or…” Regulus mutters, watching the duo in the most passive way. Not angry. Or amazed. Just…passive, a calm leaf that has somehow stayed on a branch after a storm.

Remus snorts, a small, almost unnoticed smile gracing his features. He leans backward, finally looking at peace for the first moment since he arrived. A small flutter enters Lily’s stomach, filling her with joy. She absolutely hates it when the phases of the moon affect Remus this much. “Maybe when the rest of us show up.”

“The rest of…” He stiffens, something sharp flickering behind his gaze. Like he’s just realized he’s missed something important. Again. Regulus’ gaze flicks to Lily, his body tensing as he stares at her intently. It almost makes her uncomfortable, his attention practically burning her. “Is this a party?”

“What, they didn't tell you?” Remus asks, lifting his head. His eyes dart towards Lily and Regulus, clearly unable to make a firm decision on who he should be focused on. “Lils, you should've told him.”

“Didn’t want to overwhelm him—he only just decided we’re not all unbearable.”

“Still debating on that one, actually,” Regulus retorts, his voice as smooth as ever but lacking its usual edge. He sinks further into the sofa cushions like he’s trying to disappear into them—shoulders folding in ever so slightly, hands now loosely clasped in his lap. It strikes Lily as strange, considering the only people in the room are James, Sirius, Remus, and herself. If there was ever a time to let the mask slip, it should be now. But old habits, she supposes, die hard.

Lily arches a brow, her grin creeping in before she can stop it. If Regulus Black was offering up dry sarcasm as a peace offering, well—she wasn’t about to squander the opportunity. “Next time I’ll send a formal invitation,” she says airily, giving her best impression of aristocratic indifference. “Wax-sealed, Black family crest, the whole affair.”

Regulus snorts—a quiet, genuine sound, though he attempts to bury it with a poorly timed cough. “That would send my mother into a coma,” he replies, dry as bone, but there’s a flicker of something lighter in his expression. “I fully endorse it actually.”

Lily chuckles, shaking her head. “If I’d known that was all it would take for your mother to kick it, I’d have sent the bloody thing ages ago.

This time, Regulus’ mouth twitches into what might be the beginning of a real smile. Not quite there yet, but close. Close enough.

“Ah well… Tell her one of her sons is dating a werewolf, and it might come sooner,” Regulus says nonchalantly, a sardonic twist to his voice as he leans back into the sofa, letting himself sink deeper into the cushions as if trying to disappear completely. The motion is deliberate, like he's shutting himself off from the world, but Lily can't help but notice the strange contradiction in it: he’s surrounded by people who know him, yet he might as well be alone.

Remus freezes. His eyes widen in shock for just a second, and before he can stop it, his cane slips from his grasp, hitting the floor with a sharp clack. The sound slices through the air, jarring and sudden, making the room pause for a heartbeat. James and Sirius both halt mid-sentence, their eyes turning in perfect synchrony to the source of the disruption. Their expressions, while still open and warm, are now edged with curiosity.

For a moment, the room hangs in the balance, the laughter fading into the backdrop like a distant hum.

Remus, caught between his surprise and the sudden weight of all eyes on him, lets out a short, almost sheepish sigh. He reaches down to pick up the fallen cane, his movements a little too stiff, like he’s trying to shrink in on himself. “Sorry,” he mutters, as though apologizing for something far more significant than the dropped cane. His voice, usually full of warmth and dry humor, now sounds small, an unexpected vulnerability creeping into his words.

James and Sirius, after a beat of confusion, return to their earlier conversation, their attention sliding back to each other with a fluid ease that seems almost effortless. But Regulus doesn't look away. He remains still, eyes now focused entirely on Remus, his gaze sharp and assessing, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

Remus doesn’t seem to notice the scrutiny at first. He’s too busy trying to settle back into the sofa without drawing attention to his discomfort. But then his gaze flicks back to Regulus, narrowing slightly. There’s a quiet tension in the air now, a wordless understanding that something deeper is at play here, something that has been left unsaid for too long.

“How did… when did you find out?” Remus asks, his voice tight, like he's trying to keep his composure. There's a quiet desperation in his words, an unspoken question hanging just beneath the surface—What else do you know about me?

Regulus doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised by the question. Instead, he leans forward slightly, his dark eyes flickering with a strange mixture of amusement and something else—perhaps a bit of pity, or maybe just the faintest touch of arrogance. He speaks with the same calm confidence he always does, but there’s a sharpness in his words that cuts through the room like a blade.

“My fourth year,” Regulus responds, as though the answer should be obvious to anyone who knows him. He closes his eyes briefly as if remembering, the barest sigh escaping him before he continues. “Snape wouldn’t tell me what happened after that prank my brother pulled. I knew it had to do something with Sirius, and he wouldn't tell me. So I slipped some Veritaserum in his pumpkin juice.” His voice is low, almost conspiratorial, the memory slipping through him like a secret, something only he could know.

For a moment, the room feels impossibly still, the tension from Regulus’s words hanging heavy in the air. Remus’s gaze hasn’t wavered, his expression unreadable, but his jaw tightens, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. He’s caught between disbelief and something else—an old, familiar wariness that seems to surface whenever his past is brought to light.

“I was the only one to find out, don’t worry.” Regulus cracks one eye open, his gaze flickering briefly to Remus before it shifts back toward James and Sirius. The room feels smaller now, quieter, the sounds of their conversation now muffled by the weight of the unspoken truths hanging in the air.

Lily watches the exchange with a mix of curiosity and concern. She’s never known Remus to shrink from anything—except his own history. And in this moment, she feels that old, unspoken divide between him and the others, the invisible wall he’s always kept in place. But she doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because Regulus’s words have left something else hanging—an unsaid challenge, something between him and Remus that neither of them have yet to acknowledge fully.

For a moment, it’s just the soft sounds of the laughter from James and Sirius, now a distant echo in the background. But Regulus’s eyes flicker back to Remus, and Lily notices the sharpness in his gaze again. It's not judgment. Not quite. But it’s something else entirely. Something colder. Something almost disappointed.

“I don't think I would have just taken him back after that stunt.”

“Yes well…” Remus trails off, body stiffening as he takes in the younger Black’s words. His grip tightens on his cane, his knuckles turning practically white in an instant. Lily finds herself worrying for a mere second, not wanting a fight to break out. “He apologized.”

“Yeah… I probably would've forgiven him too if he did that,” Regulus mumbles out lowly, his voice quiet, almost as if he’s speaking to himself more than anyone else. He lifts his legs, curling them under him as he sits on the sofa, his posture tense but somehow still controlled. He wraps his arms around his knees, pulling them closer, creating a barrier of sorts between himself and the rest of the room. His gaze, however, doesn’t waver. It’s fixed directly on Remus, as though trying to unravel something, or perhaps to make sense of the silence that hangs between them. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

For a moment, Remus doesn't respond, the air thick with unspoken understanding. Then, with a sudden shift in his posture, Remus turns toward Regulus. His brows furrow, eyes narrowing slightly in realization, as though something has just clicked in his mind. "No, it's..." He pauses, voice trailing off as if he's processing Regulus' words. "Wait, how much do you know?"

Regulus shifts, his expression unreadable for a moment as he takes in the question. He doesn’t flinch at the sudden curiosity in Remus’ voice. Instead, he lets out a small, almost dismissive sigh, leaning slightly forward as he speaks. His tone remains calm, but there’s a subtle tension in the way he moves—an effort to appear casual that only highlights his discomfort. “Er—Sirius convinced Snape to go to the Willow under a full moon. You turned. James saved him.” He pauses briefly, his eyes flicking to the side, contemplating. “Am I missing something?” His eyebrows furrow deeper, forming a slight crease in his forehead as if he’s genuinely puzzled.

The question hangs in the air, heavy and direct. There’s a strange stillness in the room as everyone seems to momentarily hold their breath. Regulus doesn’t look away, his gaze still fixed, searching Remus’ face for a reaction, trying to gauge if he’s hit on the truth or missed something entirely. It’s as if he’s waiting for the final piece of the puzzle to fall into place.

Lily shakes her head now that she is unable to be seen by Regulus, hoping for Remus to catch on. If she is being utterly honest with herself, she has enjoyed Regulus hanging around. But, if Regulus truly does not know that his brother learned ancient magic in order to transform into a dog, it is not their place to comment.

“No, that's everything.”

“Right…” Regulus trails off, his voice low, words dragging behind like an anchor he's not quite ready to drop. His dark eyes linger on Remus for a moment longer than they probably should, sharp and assessing, as if he’s turning over possibilities in his mind—some he’s sure of, others still elusive. There's a faint crease between his brows, barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it. Lily is.

But then, with a slow exhale, he lets it go. Or at least he seems to. He leans back into the sofa cushions again, his posture relaxing just enough to suggest retreat, though his hands remain clasped too tightly in his lap for it to be anything but deliberate. The faintest tension clings to his shoulders, as if he’s forcing himself to loosen a grip on something that might still be better held tight.

Lily watches him carefully, her gaze softening when his expression smooths into something closer to neutrality. It isn’t indifference—he’s never been indifferent, not really—but it’s as close as he seems willing to get. He’s choosing not to push, and that choice, quiet and restrained as it is, settles something in her chest.

Relief blooms slow and warm in her ribs, like the first rays of dawn slipping past curtains. She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, the tight coil of anticipation in her spine easing. Merlin knows there are enough sharp edges in this room without adding another fight to the pile.

She prefers this—Regulus choosing silence over confrontation, choosing stillness instead of dragging Remus through questions neither of them are ready to answer. It feels like a gift, in its own strange way. An offering of peace, however fragile.

And Lily is grateful for it.

A sharp crack echoes through the middle of the room, sudden and bright, like a snap of lightning without the storm. It leaves a faint ripple of displaced air in its wake, the kind of shift that makes the hairs on Lily’s arms stand on end. When the noise fades, two figures stand where moments before there had been empty space.

Dorcas Meadows appears first, steady and sure-footed, with the confident ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times. She’s holding two pairs of shoes in one hand—dangling by their laces—her other arm slung casually around Marlene’s shoulder as if they’ve only just strolled in from a pleasant walk rather than Apparated directly into the sitting room. There’s a gleam in her eyes, bright and mischievous, and the grin she wears is almost too big for her face as she glances around, immediately taking stock of the scene.

Her gaze skims over James and Sirius, still half-sprawled on the floor, then over Remus where he sits stiff-backed on the sofa. But when her eyes land on Regulus, she falters—just for a heartbeat, a hitch so slight Lily almost misses it. The grin dims, just at the edges, before Dorcas smooths it back into place like a card sharp hiding a losing hand. It’s not much, but Lily catches the shift. She always does.

There’s something about the way Dorcas’ fingers tighten fractionally around the shoes in her hand, how her shoulders straighten just a little more, tension flickering through her spine as if bracing for impact. Regulus, for his part, doesn’t move. He sits still and composed, his arms looped loosely around his knees, eyes sharp as ever as they meet Dorcas’ stare with a cool, unreadable expression. There’s no visible reaction—no flinch, no greeting—but Lily doesn’t miss the way his grip subtly flexes, knuckles briefly pale against the fabric of his sleeve.

“You’re alive?”

Regulus sniffs, the only emotional reaction he shows as he blankly stares at his friend. His face is schooled into something distant, practiced, like the world around him is something he no longer feels the need to participate in. At least, Lily assumes they were friends once. She doesn’t know what happened between Hogwarts and now, but she can guess. It wasn’t good.

“I am,” Regulus says, voice quiet but resolute. It’s not quite a lie, not quite the truth. It’s a survival tactic.

Dorcas blinks slowly, the motion deliberate, like she’s weighing every breath she takes. She glances at Marlene, something unspoken passing between them, before exhaling. It’s a shaky thing, thin and cracked at the edges.

“Good,” she says. And maybe it is, or maybe it’s just the only thing she knows how to say right now.

None of this clears up anything at all. But Lily has decided that it will be best not to question anything until later. Yes, that would be the best option.

03 << >> 05

Masterlist

[lightofraye]

Bonus Song

The Piano Guys - This Is Your Fight Song (Rachel Platten Cover)

There are no lyrics for this, as it's all strictly instrumental. However, I love what the Piano Guys wrote about this.

--

When we first heard Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song” we were inspired by its message. In a world where we too often talk about our differences, we have at least one thing in common. We all struggle. Not in the same way, nor at the same level, but we all want a fighting chance. And we all share in one gift: The will to make the most of our lives. To take what we’ve been given and turn it into something better could be considered the sentient measuring stick of success. But to do so seldom is simple and more often requires we fight. Not against each other. But against the current threatening to drown the ambition in us.

There is tremendous purpose in struggle. It is when the struggle becomes so fierce that we must fight to swim or sink. John Newton, who penned “Amazing Grace,” worked on a slave trader ship and condoned inhuman atrocities. It was when his ship was on the verge of being torn apart in a violent storm when he called out for Grace. When his feet were once again planted on firm soil he determined to change. His covenant was written into these words,

“I once was lost, but now I’m found; was blind, but now I see.”

Grace is the defining moment when we face and fight a monster poised to define us or destroy us.

This song and video for us was a struggle, but a beautifully defining one. We chose the Scottish culture to depict the dichotomy between Grace and struggle. Who else is tough enough and yet delicate enough to don a kilt in battle? And the Scottish pipe and drum are the ultimate conveyors of melody and cadence. One represents Grace, the other the indomitable fight. Our dream was to film one of the most iconic castles on the Earth, Eilean Donan Castle in Dornie, Scotland.

Grace somehow made this video possible. We had to postpone our trip to Scotland several times, and when we could no longer postpone we had to leap in faith because just before we left everything had fallen through. It wasn’t until we were in the moment and had to let go of our pride and anxiety when everything Gracefully came together. We want to give special props to Paul. When the drone capturing our aerial footage took a nose dive into the frigid waters surrounding Eilean Donan, he took one for the team and jumped in after it, heroically saving the scenes you are seeing today!

From our youth we’ve been taught that when faced with insurmountable, unthinkable odds, we cheerfully do all that lies within our power, and then stand still with the utmost assurance to let fate, destiny, karma, or to let God do the rest. It isn’t easy, but every time we have an opportunity to practice it we get a little better. We’ve found, as John Newton discovered, the closer we get to the furnace of the affliction the more our obstinance and pride burns off revealing the best way to win a fight in ourselves is to let Grace fight the battle instead.

We recognize that this video is far less important than a fight for one’s life. We hope this music will serve as an anthem for those that are in the fight of their lives. We have people close to us who inspire us every day with their grace in the face of such a struggle. This video is dedicated to them: The superheroes in our lives that don’t wear capes, but wear a smile under villainous pressure — those that have been through so many defining moments that they are intimately acquainted with Grace and know it be close cousins with hope. They know that when they can’t fully understand the purpose of a struggle, they instead recognize that knowing there is a purpose is enough. We pray that “Grace will bring them safety through.”

Finally, we feel grateful and we’d like to say, with John Newton, “When we’ve been [here] ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we’d first begun.”

[deke-rivers-1957]

Walter's Captaincy

Walter takes off his helmet as he sits down on the bench. Coach Wade comes up to him.

"Takin too many damn hits out there. I can't have ya gettin another concussion."

Walter takes a drink of water.

"Ah know coach. Ah gotta work on that."

Coach Wade pats his shoulder.

"Least ya showed all the runts how ya keep cool under pressure. Now ya just sit back and watch 'em try out to be your back up."

"Ok coach."

Coach Wade walks away and blows his whistle.

"Awright pipsqueaks line up! Now that ya watched our current starters practice it's time to show your own skills. Everybody tryin out for quarterback step forward. Everyone else start runnin laps."

Walter watches as two boys step up and follow coach Wade to a part of the football field.

"Reno! Front and center."

Clint moves so that he's right in front of coach Wade.

"Gimme 10 Hail Marys."

He hands Clint the first football and blows his whistle. Clint proceeds to throw the ball as far as he can 10 times. Walter watches each of Clint's throws and takes note of each result. Every throw is over 50 yards but it looks like the boy is straining himself and has no accuracy.

"Now gimme 10, 20 yard throws in that bin there."

Walter analyzes Clint's stance when he throws. While there were more successes, Clint still completely misses the bin a few times. Coach Wade blows his whistle.

"Awright stretch out. Wells you next."

Walter watches Rusty go through the same drills Clint did. Naturally that one extra year allowed him to have better accuracy given that he only missed his first 20 yard throw. The shocking part about Rusty's ability to Walter is that he doesn't have a high throwing distance. His Hail Mary throws were nowhere near as far as Clint's were. They consistently drop off after 40 yards.

"Line up!"

All the boys line up in front of coach Wade.

"Now we're gonna have a practice game. I wanna see these two's footwork."

Walter watches all the boys divide into two teams. Some of his own teammates join in so the teams are even.

"Wells you first. Reno hit the pine."

Clint looks a little confused so Walter pipes in.

"Here sit down next ta me."

Clint understands that and sits down next to Walter.

"Thanks. Ah thought coach was gonna yell at me."

"Nah. He'll only chew ya out if yer slackin or sassin him. There's a sophomore who ain't that smart Ah see in the weight room sometimes. Ah ain't ever seen coach talk ta someone the way he does wit that kid."

"Why?"

Walter takes a drink of water.

"Ah dunno. He probly knows how ta tell the difference between havin issues an jus bein an idiot. Tha's why he yells at Jodie all the time."

Walter and Clint sit back and watch the game until it's his turn.

"Awright Wells hit the pine."

Rusty sits down next to Walter.

"What do ya think of my game?"

Walter rubs his chin thinking.

"Honestly it can use some work. Ya don't move well in the pocket an ya gave up some pretty bad fumbles."

Rusty looks downcast.

"I see."

They watch Clint as he goes through the motions of the practice game.

"He's good in the pocket."

"Yeah. But he's missin a bit too many throws. Coach's gonna have a hard time pickin between the two a ya."

After try outs are over coach Wade comes up to Walter.

"I wanna hear your opinion on the boys."

Walter looks up at coach Wade and says his piece.

"Well coach it's hard ta say. Clint's got good footwork but he ain't very accurate. Rusty's got accuracy but he can't throw more than 40 yards an stands like a statue in the pocket."

"Who makes the team?"

Walter sighs as he understands that someone has to be able to step in for him when he graduates next year or when he gets injured. Footwork and accuracy are equally important so how can you weigh one over the other?

"Coach. Ah think Clint oughta make the team. Cause it's easier ta teach 'em how ta be accurate than it is ta teach somethin that oughta come natural like an instinct."

For once coach Wade gives a slight smile. It's as if Walter said exactly what he was thinking.

"Go on home Walter. I'll post who made the team next week."

"Ya got it coach."

Walter gets in his car and starts to drive home. His aunt Dolly just finished making dinner.

"How were try outs Walter?"

"They were good. Coach Wade had me sit out fer most of it. No point in havin me get hurt durin a practice game."

"That's nice. Now eat up. Dinner's on the table."

Walter sits down at the table and starts to eat. He remembers when he first tried out for the team. His uncle Willy told him he at to try out for at least sport team at the school during his freshman year. Walter didn't know which sport to try out for so he just followed his cousin Joey to the football field. Joey was the school's quarterback at the time and Walter liked watching him play. Coach Wade had him do the exact same drills and was amazed when Walter managed to nail a perfect 50 yard throw.

"Aunt Dolly Ah jus realized why coach picked me ta join the football team."

"Oh? And why's that dear?"

"Because even though mah footwork was bad Ah always managed ta make a play or keep it from bein a disaster. Even when Ah get tackled Ah almost never lose the football."

"I see. What brought this up?"

Walter puts his fork down.

"Ah coach asked me ta give mah opinion on which a the boys oughta be mah backup. Ah told 'em the freshman should make the team cause he never got sacked. He's so light on his feet it didn't seem to matter that he missed his throws. But Ah still feel a lil guilty. We had a sophomore try out too and he made all his throws, but he couldn't move well and dropped the football when people tackled 'em."

Aunt Dolly nods.

"Why do you feel guilty?"

"Ah only made the team cause mah throws were powerful an accurate. An here Ah'm tellin coach that accuracy don't matter."

She stands up and walks over to Walter.

"Don't go doubting yourself now. You know Mr. Wade wouldn't be giving you all this feedback if he didn't think you can get better. He would've given you longer drills if he thought you still needed to prove yourself."

Walter starts to smile.

"You're right. Thanks aunt Dolly."

She sits back down and the two start to eat again. Walter realizes that the only way he'll be off the team is if he's so injured he can't play football anymore. And that's something he hopes will never happen.

Tagging: @mercsandmonsters, @vintagepresley, @thetaoofzoe, @elvismylove04, @ashtag6887,

@tupelomiss, @thedaisymaisy, @richardslady121, @arrolyn1114, @theelviseffect,

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@phil2135561, @gayforelvis, @ash-omalley, @eptodaytommorowforever, @wildhorseinkansas,

@alienelvisobsession, @comebackep, @presley72elvis, @leopardandstuds, @ellie-24, 

@heart-of-ep, @thatbanditqueen, @starboybutler, @be-my-ally, @myradiaz, 

@jaqueline19997, @louisejoy86, @peskybedtime, @lookingforrainbows, @kiankiwi, 

@your-nanas-house, @januarypresley1969, @justrae9903, @codalysssssworld, @burnthheparaphilia,

@joshuntildawn13, @briefpandatimemachine, @sillybookmarks, @tacozebra051, @cattcb, 

@perfectpresley, @vintagegirl50s60s70s80s, @lett-them-eatt-cake, @precious-little-scoundrel, @j-v-9-2,

@almightybigbrain, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @miniaturerunawaykid, @msamarican, @hooked-on-elvis, and @doll-elvis.

[katarikitten]

The Firehose Faction

(I will continuously add on information to this post so frequently check back on it every time a new variant appears)

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

Confirmed Variants of the Firehose Faction

Firehoseman (Confirmed sighting)

Firehosewoman (Confirmed sighting)

Cheif Firehoseman (Confirmed sighting)

Elite Firehoseman (Confirmed sighting)

Tall Firehoseman (Unconfirmed sighting)

Brute Firehoseman (Unconfirmed sighting)

Titan Firehoseman (Unconfirmed sighting)

Firehose Strider (x2. Unconfirmed sighting)

Helicopter Firehose (x2. Unconfirmed sighting)

Large Plane Firehose (x2. Unconfirmed sighting)

General Information/Equipment Information

The Firehose Faction is now the only thing keeping battle fires from spreading and burning down entire cities. The same goes for the forests where wildfires commonly occur.

While they are small in numbers, they are mighty! They utilize varying water pressures to blast their enemies, or cut them up with such high pressure, some of the variants are able to sweep out entire areas by emptying their water tank, the best example of this occurring is a Firehose Strider flooding the area. Higher water pressures are difficult to utilize for some of the variants, such as Brute Firehoseman. But where they lack pressure, they make up for with brute force and range.

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

Their backpack tanks have an intake pump on the right that is constantly drawing in water from the air in small amounts once the water level in the tank has lowered a bit. So if the air is a bit dry, let them know, they'll be happy to cut off the pump for a while if water in the air, and the surrounding area, is scarce. The output pump pulls water from the bottom left and pumps it through a hose that connects a few inches down on the Firehose variant's back which connects through their clothes and the artificial layer of skin into an internal pipe system that runs up their spines, through their necks, and then is pushed out through their hose. Tall Firehoseman does not have the exterior intake pump that would connect to his head and only uses the output pump from his backpack tank since his ladder will extend from his backpack tank and extend over his head, so if there was an exterior hose he could risk damaging it and himself.

All Firehose variants can turn their heads 360 degrees and continue turning! Like a sprinkler that could just keep going around and around. The internal hose system is only used for more severe fires in which all around spray is needed, that's where their 360 degree or greater head turning comes into play! The internal system is only used when 360 degree head turning is needed as the hose that would normally connect to the back of their heads to their backpack tanks can prevent then from turning their heads all the way around to continue turning.

If the fire is small enough then they just use the hose that connects to the back of their head, which can be connected and disconnected as it can start becoming uncomfortable if attached too long, then they use the head connection since the water pumps up faster to their heads than through the internal hose system.

If you are chatting with a Firehose variant and they suddenly turn their head to the side to look at you with one eye, don't be alarmed, this is perfectly normal! They simply do this just to see what's in front of them better since their front vision is a bit limited by their hose being in the way.

Fun Facts

They can wear fire helmets! Though this is not preffered as this forces them to put their valve handle down which controls the water flow, so they can only where the helmets for asthetics when not fighting fires or in battle when their is water in their backpack tanks.

Their "eyes" share a similar grid-like look to a fire engine headlight, if you look close enough, they look almost exactly the same!

Their "eyes" can also display different colors and or shapes, this can be for battle use, communication, or just for fun!

The Firehose Faction communicate by pushing air through their hose which creates a sort of fssssh sound. They also use the dial just behind the front of their hose and their valve handle to break the air to make a clicking sound to communicate with each other outside of sign language.

They can also use the dial just behind the front of their hose to create whistling sounds! This also seconds as a siren and or alarm, whether its a fire engine siren, earthquake siren, tsunami siren, etc. Since their heads can turn more than 360 degrees around, the sound can go quite far!

They have medical knowledge! If you're hurt, they can help! For the most part.

Thank to Chief, they now go to the beach regularly to swim or play when things aren't burning down. And thanks to their mostly hollow interior and ballast tanks on their inner sides, they float for the most part.

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

Links to each individual variant

Firehoseman https://www.tumblr.com/katarikitten/746152879154397184/the-firehose-faction-has-begun

Firehosewoman https://www.tumblr.com/katarikitten/746783404130009088/firehosewoman-has-made-her-appearance-general

Chief Firehoseman https://www.tumblr.com/katarikitten/749960146628886528/the-head-honcho-is-here-chief-makes-his?source=share

Elite Firehoseman https://www.tumblr.com/katarikitten/756450697255550976/the-one-and-only-elite-has-arrived-general?source=share

[your-divine-ribs]

The Devil Next Door Part 6

Words: 2.6k

No warnings, just Van and Y/N in complete denial about how much they want each other!

The Devil Next Door Masterlist Main Masterlist

You didn't know what the hell had come over you, what had possessed you to act in the way that you did, tending to Van in the most unorthodox way. There were other, far more conventional and acceptable ways of stemming blood flow. You could have simply applied pressure. You could have made a makeshift bandage from a scrap of clothing. You could even have taken him to the bathroom to douse the injury in cold water. You could have done a lot of other things, but you didn't.

You sucked his fucking finger for gods sake...

The scarlet flush rises to your cheeks again in another wave of heat as your eyes dart across to where Van's sitting to find him looking back at you with that same expression he's been wearing since you came to your senses ten minutes ago. He looks like he wants to devour you.

You quickly look away, flustered, turning your attention towards the conversation that's flowing easily between Tom and Johnny and the other two band members who you've yet to formally meet. You can't follow what's being said though, all you can think of is Van's lustful expression, the low, guttural groan that had escaped him as you'd pursed your lips around his finger. You can't help but imagine what could happen if the two of you found yourselves alone right now, how it would feel if that same sound was uttered directly into your ear whilst he bent your prone body over the arm of the very sofa that he's currently occupying.

"Umm... Tom? I think... errr... I think maybe we ought to get going." You find yourself saying, keeping your eyes trained forward and away from Van.

Tom immediately breaks away from his conversation with Johnny, looking mildly surprised. "Oh... yeah sure," he replies, then his eyes dart to Van and back to you. "But didn't you want to go to the pub for a drink? Bondy was just saying that they're all heading there when they've packed up."

You look between Tom and Johnny and see their eager expressions whilst you agonise over your decision. You want to go with them, you really do, it's not even 10.30pm and the thought of sinking a few pints with Johnny, meeting the other band members properly and prolonging your night out with Tom is really tempting. It's just that you're not sure if you can handle spending more time with Van tonight after the finger-sucking incident. It's made you feel a certain kind of way and you're not quite sure how to handle it. It was all well and good when you could snipe at Van in public and then indulge in your secret little fantasies in the privacy of your bedroom, but the way he's looking at you now would suggest that he knows exactly what twisted path your thoughts are meandering down... and what's more... his are right there alongside yours. You can see it in the glint in his eye and the smirk on his lips as you glance at him quickly before turning to address Tom.

"I'd love to but maybe not tonight, hey? I mean look at the state of me..." You pull on the hem of your t-shirt, stretching it out to show the sticky rivulet of blood that's dripped there from Van's injury. "We can always arrange something else for another time."

"Yeah and I suppose we'd better get the patient home before he passes out or something too," Johnny chips in, and the teasing immediately starts up from the tall boy with a wild mop of curls who you'd seen playing bass on stage, much to Van's chagrin. He curses and he scowls before he gives in and eventually cracks a grin, telling his friends that he won't be joining them anyway and they should just go on without him.

Then Tom pipes up and you can't quite believe the words that are coming out of his mouth, your heart racing and sinking together simultaneously in a most confusing fashion.

"Hey... it's Van isn't it? If you wanna go back home I might as well give you a lift. I won't exactly be going out of my way if I'm dropping Y/N off will I, seeing as you live next door?”

"Yeah... err... yeah... that'd be good... thanks..."

Van accepts gratefully, the first time he's uttered a word to Tom since his arrival backstage, but he's looking straight at you when he speaks. That's until you finally break his gaze, turning to Johnny who makes a quick round of introductions to the other band members before you go. You smile graciously at Benji and Bob who greet you warmly with outstretched hands and huge grins. Bob even gives you special thanks for stepping in to help his friend but you insist it was nothing, that it's your job after all and helping people comes as naturally to you as breathing. You can barely concentrate on the conversation though, all you can think of is the stifling atmosphere there'll likely be in Tom's small car.

You don't think any of the other lads sensed it but you'd felt the atmosphere bristle between Van and Tom as soon as Van had clapped eyes on him, the way he'd glowered sullenly behind a forced smile and only given him the barest acknowledgment. His childish and frankly quite rude behaviour should irritate you and it does, but you can't help the contrasting smugness that it's sparked inside of you, a little seed planting itself in your mind at the notion that Van might actually be jealous of him which can only mean one thing... he wants you... just like you want him.

❤️‍🔥 Van's POV ❤️‍🔥

This really isn't how I envisaged the end of the night going down, sitting on the back seat of ‘Mr Nice Guy’ Tom's crappy little Ford Fiesta, forced to watch on whilst he fawns all over Y/N in the front. The guy has obviously got it bad, and whilst I can't really blame him he doesn't need to make it so bloody obvious whilst I'm sitting here as the captive audience. Being the third wheel has never been so excruciating.

They've been laughing about some private joke ever since we pulled out of the car park five minutes ago and I need to up my game and stop sulking on the back seat. If I'm not careful we'll be back on our road without me even saying a word and Tom'll be worming his way into Y/N's affections even more. I've never seen her like this before, giggly and blushing... soft. She's not showing Tom an ounce of the defensive disdain that she always seems to address me with.

I'm almost starting to regret my decision to accept a lift home. Almost but not quite. There's method in my madness, see. There's no way Y/N can give Tom her undivided attention with me lingering around. I can still picture that hungry expression she wore as she watched me on stage in my mind and I'm wholly relying on being able to distract her enough when we get back to hers so that she doesn't end up inviting Tom in.

I can certainly be very distracting when I put my mind to it. It's an art that I've perfected over the years and I'm going to pull out all the stops tonight. If I can just get her alone I know I can work a bit of the old McCann magic on her. I'm a natural flirt and I'm certainly not afraid of going after what I want.

"So... you two..." I lean forward, hooking my hands over the back of Y/N's seat, interrupting the flow of their conversation. She shifts awkwardly when I brush her shoulder in the process. "How do you know each other then?"

"We work together at the hospital," Tom replies into the back seat. "I'm a nurse too. I moved up here from London when I got made redundant from my last job and I was pretty lost to start with... I didn't really know anyone here or the area either. That's until Y/N offered to show me around. She did a great job of making me feel right at home. I guess you could say she's been looking after me ever since."

He glances at her in the passenger seat and I see them exchanging a warm smile. I can actually feel my hands involuntarily clenching into fists. What the fuck's wrong with me? I'm not used to feeling this kind of rivalry. I can't help but think back to moving day when I first met Y/N. The way she narrowed her eyes at me like her own personal nightmare was taking up residence next door. I'm pretty certain Tom didn't get that kind of treatment.

"Sounds very fucking cosy," I mutter under my breath, not intending for anyone else to hear over the car engine but Y/N twists her head around to give me a pointed glare. I really need to get this stupid jealously under control before I say something that's really going to fuck things up for me.

"Errr... that's err... great... she's very... welcoming, that's for sure." I quickly add louder, not meaning to sound in the least bit sarcastic, but of course Y/N doesn't see it that way. I can see the tightness in her jaw from this position and I can picture the accompanying sulky pout she's likely wearing on her lips.

Thankfully Tom doesn't notice the tension between the two of us, or if he does then he pretends that he doesn't. He tips his head back, making polite conversation in asking me when I first started to learn to play the guitar, and then from that he starts firing questions at me about the origins of the band and I almost feel like I'm being interviewed by a music journalist. The only difference is I can tell that he's genuinely interested in what I've got to say, heaping on the praise which I eagerly swallow down. I don't want to like him, I really don't, but it's impossible not to, there doesn't seem to be any side to him and before long we're chatting away like old friends. I really hadn't expected this.

Y/N's quiet for the most part, sitting there in the passenger seat with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the road ahead but occasionally turning to gaze out the passenger window. Anyone would think that she was completely disinterested, but I'm watching her carefully, looking for little tells. I notice the way she shifts in her seat when I mention writing our fan-favourite show-closer Tyrants at the age of 14, I see her jaw clench again when Tom asks about the inspiration behind some of my songs and I launch into detailed descriptions of some of the girls that I've dated. When Tom cracks a joke about how that kind of inspiration is probably plentiful these days judging by the number of adoring female fans at the gig, I can practically feel the heat of jealousy radiating off Y/N as she tenses in her seat and glares straight ahead. I know I'm not imagining it. It's the exact same reaction it evokes in me when I think of her with another guy. I immediately start to lay it on thick, entertaining Tom with stories of some of the smutty tweets propositioning me that I've received from admirers on the band account, just so I can watch Y/N's hands ball into fists in her lap. When I tell Tom about the gig last week where a pretty brunette on the front row chucked a pair of panties on stage I actually hear her audibly huff in distaste. Tom's in hysterics now and I'm on a roll. Much as I wanted to get into Y/N's good graces and impress her I'm finding it's actually much more fun winding her up. I know I'm a bad person but I can't help myself. There's just something about coaxing out that fiery side of her that I can't resist, and her obvious jealousy can only mean one thing... as much as I infuriate her, she wants me... just like I want her.

❤️‍🔥 Y/N’s POV ❤️‍🔥

You'd expected the car journey to be awkward but for very different reasons. You'd thought that Van would be obnoxious and rude, either blatantly ignoring Tom or firing out snide comments at him, but things have taken a totally unexpected turn. They're laughing and joking like a pair of bloody frat boys whilst you sit there fuming in the passenger seat.

Van's shamelessly bigging himself up like he's god's gift to all womankind and the worse thing is Tom seems to be lapping it up like he's some kind of comedian. You're not even trying to join in with the conversation. You don't trust yourself not to say something really rude and you don't want Tom to think you're a complete bitch.

Van's irritating you beyond belief. If you have to hear one more tale about his wannabe groupies throwing themselves at him you swear you're going to launch yourself into the back seat and slap him into silence!

The infuriating thing is you know damn well why he's getting under your skin so bad. You're jealous as hell, absolutely seething with it, and that realisation alone makes you feel even more inflamed. The thought of Van getting up close and personal with any of his female fans actually makes you feel sick with envy. It's just a good job you're sitting in the front so he can't see how much effort you're having to put into biting your tongue and the way that your fists are clenched so tight your fingernails are digging crescent shapes into your palms. If he knew then he'd be getting a kick out of it, you're sure of it.

It's a relief when you see the familiar sight of your street as Tom turns into it, and you concentrate on trying to calm yourself. When you turn to look Van in the eye next you want to be cool and collected, aloof even. You don't want him to know how worked up he's got you, in fact you don't want him to think that he has any kind of effect on you whatsoever.

So when Van scrambles to quickly exit the car as soon as Tom pulls up at the kerb, you breathe a huge sigh of relief, glad to have an extra few moments as Tom unfastens his seat belt and mumbles something about what a good night he's had so that you can surreptitiously take a deep breath and roll the tension out of your shoulders.

It completely throws you when you reach for the door handle only to find the door already cracking open and you look up quickly to see Van's piercing gaze and signature smirk as he pulls open the door fully to allow you to emerge.

"Y/N... I think we need to talk... just the two of us..."

His voice is low, muttered close to your ear as you rise up, a hand curling around the crook of your arm in an almost possessive kind of gesture that makes your belly flip in excitement and intrigue. You flounder, mouth agape as you try and fail to maintain the cool demeanour that you were aiming for.

And now here's Tom, emerging from the driver's side, eyes sparkling as he grins at you widely.

You need to make a choice.

[purrgilpawkins]

Merry + Christmas

Summary: The team spends their Christmas Day in Phoenix med. (Also available on AO3)

Pairings: Wilt Bozer & Jack Dalton & Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver

Part of the Whump Advent Calendar 2020 series Prompt: Christmas Celebrations / With Found Family

Warnings: n/a

Notable tags: fluff, Christmas fluff, H/C

Mac waved his casted arm and Jack weakly raised a hand in greeting as Bozer wheeled Riley in through the door.

“Hey, Jack,” Riley started softly, “how’re you feeling?” Jack gave a thumbs up and pointed a finger to Riley. “I’m fine, Jack, don’t worry,” she laughed, rubbing at the bandage on her abdomen.

Bozer parked Riley’s wheelchair on the side of the delta’s hospital bed opposite of Mac as Jack reached up to remove the oxygen mask on his face. “You should know by now…it’s my job to--” he gasped, “--to worry, Riles.”

“Hey, hey, you heard the doc, Jack. That pneumonia isn’t letting you breathe and neither is taking off that mask. So please, just this once, keep it on?” Mac asked, taking Jack’s hand into his own. Jack groaned in response which led to a rough coughing fit. The younger man gave the older one a sip of water from the cup sitting next to the bed, Jack giving Mac a look that roughly translated to an apology all the while. An apology more so for scaring them all at his close call with death rather than the mask removal.

Mac put the cup back down as Riley placed the four presents she was carrying in her lap at the end of Jack’s bed. Bozer moved them around to their respective receiver, coughing into his arm every now and again. The water boarding he’d received wasn’t nearly as bad as Jack’s but it was still hell on his lungs.

“Well!” Bozer clasped his hands together, “It’s a good thing we did Secret Santa this year. Makes this a whole lot easier on everyone after being…kidnapped and tortured for a week and a half,” Bozer grew quiet and everyone let the silence wash over them. “Little disappointing we have to spend our Christmas in Phoenix med though.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t see Agent Dalton leaving for the next few days, so I’d say better here than not at all,” one of the regular nurses, Sheldon, popped his head in the room, startling everyone. “And I don’t want to ruin the festivities but try not to go on too long. Jack needs his rest.”

Jack grunted, displeased.

Sheldon chuckled, “I expect you not to strain yourself, Jack.” He turned to Riley, “You neither, though I don’t see you getting up on that leg anytime soon.” Then to Bozer, “Get yourself an ice pack for that black eye, Boze.” At Bozer’s reluctant head nod, Sheldon turned to Mac, “And you don’t put too much pressure on that wrist. I know how important those hands are to you.” Mac nodded. “Okay, any painkillers needed?” Sheldon smiled at everyone’s muttered “no”.

“Did Matty send you down here, Hawkes?” Mac asked.

Sheldon nodded, “She seemed really worried about you all. Said she’s sorry she can’t say hello and check up on you in person yet. She also said ‘Merry Christmas’.”

“Well tell her we’re sad she can’t be here and a Merry Christmas to her too,” Riley piped up.

“Will do,” Sheldon smiled and walked out of the room, leaving the bruised and battered team to go about their celebrations.

Mac sat up straight in his uncomfortable seat, “Okay, who’s first?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Riley suggested.

“Flip a coin maybe?” Bozer recommended. Jack groaned his disapproval at that option.

“All at the same time then?” Mac proposed.

“Oh no way man, that completely ruins the magic!”

“Magic? What--”

“Ladies first…” Jack whispered hoarsely.

“I’m alright with that,” Riley said and immediately started ripping open her present before the argument could begin. The wrapping paper hit the floor and uncovered a small rectangular box. Riley opened the box and fondly rolled her eyes.

“What? What is it?” Bozer questioned, leaning in uncomfortably close to see what she got.

Riley pulled the object from the box, “It’s a knife.” Indeed it was, a folding knife with a pastel pink handle. “Hmm…I wonder who this is from.” She looked directly at Jack.

“For when a boy tries to talk to ya,” he said, words muffled behind the oxygen mask, “Keep it in your boot or backpack with your rig or something.”

“Okay, dad. I am a grown ass woman who doubles as a highly trained government agent, y’know.”

“Just in case.”

Riley laughed and reached as far as she could from her wheelchair to gently hug Jack, “Thank you, Jack. I love it.”

“Speaking of Jack,” Mac placed a wrapped gift in Jack’s lap, “you’re next, big guy.”

Jack unwrapped the present with shaky hands that no one wanted to acknowledge. He pulled a white ceramic mug from the paper.

“I’m, uh, not the best at gift giving so I went with something practical,” Mac said, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

Jack turned the mug in his hand to see the phrase “MIT Dad” stamped on the other side of it. His eyes started to dampen embarrassingly quick and if anyone asked he’d blame it on the drugs in his system. He looked to Mac who stared back in search of approval and Jack opened up his arms to give that approval. Mac reached out and hugged Jack almost as gently as Riley did.

“Love it, hoss,” Jack said.

Mac gave a shaky laugh, “Cool.”

Riley cut their moment short when she picked up the biggest present and gave it to Bozer.

“Oh for me? You shouldn’t have!” Bozer said as he ripped off the wrapping as fast as possible and opened the box in childlike excitement. He gasped, “Riley, you really shouldn’t have.”

“What is it, Boze?” Mac asked, taking a page out of Bozer’s book and leaning into his personal space to see his friend’s gift.

“It’s expensive looking kitchen utensils…and an even more expensive looking video camera…Riley how much did you spend on me?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just worry about how high quality your movies are gonna look now that you have the cheaper alternative to an actual professional film camera.” Riley smirked.

“And the cooking set?”

“If it helps make your food taste even better than it’s worth the price tag.”

“Aw, Riley!” Bozer suddenly engulfed Riley in a hug, sudden enough that she wasn’t able to reciprocate because he’d wrapped his arms around her arms.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome but could you let up on the vice grip, please?”

Bozer pulled back, “Right, sorry, that probably didn’t do those cuts on your stomach any favors.”

“Nah it’s all good. No damage done.”

“Sweet,” Bozer then pulled the camera out of his gift box and started turning it on.

“Bozer,” Jack uttered from his bed.

“Huh?”

Jack nodded his head to Mac.

“Oh! Of course. Almost forgot. Mac!” Bozer handed the last present laying on the bed to Mac, “Your present this year is courtesy of me. I mean, mostly me. Like, it was mostly my idea but it’s kinda from all of us.”

Mac took the gift in his good hand and placed his cast on it to take the paper off of it easier. Jack held out his hand as Mac struggled to remove the wrapping but brought it back when Mac stubbornly said, “I got it.” It took him a minute but he did eventually get some of the paper off his present. When he managed to uncover the front of it he stopped unwrapping.

“What is it, Mac? What’d you get?” Riley asked quietly.

Mac looked up at his friends and saw them all smiling at him and he smiled back. He looked back to his present, a framed picture of them all; himself, Jack, Bozer, Riley, and Matty, everyone he cared about in the picture.

“Thanks, guys. Really. It means a lot.”

Jack reached over and lightly gripped Mac’s forearm as Bozer rounded the bed to give Mac a hug. After all their hugs and continued thanks to one another for the gifts, the group spent the rest of their Christmas celebrations happily in each other’s presence.

[post-nuclear-sweetheart]

Some very short prompts I did with @taffee23 that are Fallout 4 centred, so I thought I’d post them! It was so fun to do a timed writing challenge, we have to do it again! (Please check them out, their stuff is AMAZING!)

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” (1)

The cold night air felt refreshing against your burning cheeks. Tears streamed down your face and you sniffled, clutching the pipe pistol close to your chest. Stars blurred together in the night sky.

You heard a knock against the metal door. You hollered behind you, “I don’t wanna talk!” you winced with just how hoarse your voice broke out.

The door creaked open, and a pair of large brown eyes peeked out, “Knight Lanen?”

You croaked, “I said I don’t wanna talk!” You sat hunched over your gun, legs dangling off the roof of the police station. You sniffled again, a gross, clogged sound coming from your nose.

Danse slipped past the door; no groans of metal followed in his wake, merely the soft footfalls of Brotherhood leather boots. You were surprised to see the Paladin, your superior, outside his power armour. He sat down beside you along the rooftop, feet dangling off the edge. You watched him with careful eyes that burned red, “What could you possibly want?”

Danse sighed. You were not his first Knight to break down beneath the pressure of the Brotherhood. Ordinarily a negotiation tactic was taken, but with a soldier out of time, he knew this was beyond the stress of murder, “I… I know why you left the Prydwen.”

“Yeah. Why the hell didn’t you tell me? That these things, these people-”

“Not-!” Danse huffed and bit his lip, “Not… people anymore,” he stressed, “They’re not the same. They’re not human, Knight. I need you to know this.”

“Not human?!” you cried, “Mrs. Harris was my neighbour! She watched my son!”

“Mrs. Harris is a ghoul now, and that was no fault of her own. I remember you telling me about your husband, and how he-” Danse stopped himself. It felt dirty to bring up your husband, but still he looked up into your bloodshot eyes, “He was a victim. Mrs. Harris was a victim, too. Victims deserve rest, not… not whatever ghouls are.”

“She recognized me!” you howled, “She looked me in the eyes! She hesitated! That was her locket around her neck- Those were her eyes, I saw them past the fog, she-!”

You fell into Danse, sobbing. He stiffened, feeling your body wrack itself with grief as you screamed into his shoulder.

“You look cute all pouty and sleep-deprived.” (2)

Your feet scuffed against the trodden ground of rock and cigarette butts. You yelped as you nearly fell but caught yourself, no thanks to your snickering companion.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ah, nothin’,” he turned his head, leaving you to your humility, “just admiring the clown show.”

“Hey! You agreed to be my guide!”

“Yeah,” he threw you a smug look from over his shoulder, “that don’t mean I can’t enjoy watching you stumble around the wastes at the ass crack of dawn. Wasn’t it you who wanted that cache anyway?,” Hancock laughed that deep, sultry laugh he knew you enjoyed. You huffed and puffed out your cheeks.

“N’aww, you look cute all pouty and sleep-deprived,” he cooed, “but those bags aren’t doing you any favours.”

“This is better than sex!” (3)

“No way!”

You bulldozed a poor scribe into the wall as you charged towards what looked to be stalls with suspicious knobs in the walls. Familiar plastic, albeit stained, curtains lined the little metal box, and when you spun a knob, water came rushing out.

“No way, no way, no way…!”

“Yes,” Danse confirmed uncomfortably, giving the disgruntled scribe a look, “this is the showers. They’re unisex.”

“I don’t really give a damn!” You threw off your belt and unzipped the skin-tight vault suit, revealing your pre-war lacey bra.

You nearly bust a gut at the astounding colour Danse turned, “Showers are scheduled, Knight! Put your clothes back on!” he barked, maintaining stiff eye contact with the roof.

“Paladin, I haven’t had a shower in over 200 years!” you moaned when the hot water hit your arm. You tore off your vault suit and jumped into the shower, barely covering your behind with the curtain as you jumped in. It was just you, Danse, and the steam. The disgruntled Scribe left minutes before.

“Maybe you’re embarrassed,” you teased from behind the curtain. Admittedly, Danse couldn’t help but stare at your silhouette, “but this is better than sex!”

[panurgyindusry]

Working Principle of a Chiller: A Beginner's Guide to Chiller Plant Operation

When it comes to efficient cooling solutions, chillers play a vital role in a wide range of industrial and commercial applications. From maintaining optimal temperatures in manufacturing processes to ensuring comfortable environments in office buildings, chillers are indispensable. In this guide, we’ll break down the working principle of a chiller, explore its different types, and discuss its applications, helping you better understand this essential cooling system.

What is a Chiller?

A chiller is a machine designed to remove heat from a liquid via a refrigeration cycle or absorption cycle. The chilled liquid is then used for cooling processes such as industrial equipment, air conditioning systems, or other applications requiring precise temperature control.

Chillers are categorized into two main types:

Air-Cooled Chillers

Water-Cooled Chillers

Both types serve the same purpose but operate differently and are used in distinct applications.

How Does a Chiller Work?

The working of a chiller is based on the principle of heat transfer. It removes heat from a liquid (usually water or glycol) and dissipates it to the environment. Here's a simplified breakdown of its operation:

Refrigerant Circulation The chiller uses a refrigerant that absorbs heat from the process liquid. The refrigerant circulates through four key components:

Evaporator: Heat is absorbed from the liquid, turning the refrigerant into a gas.

Compressor: The refrigerant gas is compressed, increasing its temperature and pressure.

Condenser: The heated refrigerant releases the absorbed heat into the surrounding air (air-cooled chiller) or water (water-cooled chiller).

Expansion Valve: The refrigerant is expanded, cooling it down for the next cycle.

Liquid Cooling The chilled liquid, now cooled to a desired temperature, is circulated through pipes to cool machinery, spaces, or processes.

Heat Dissipation For air-cooled chillers, heat is expelled into the air via fans. For water-cooled chillers, the heat is removed through cooling towers.

Types of Chillers

1. Air-Cooled Chiller

Air-cooled chillers use fans to expel heat into the atmosphere. They are ideal for applications where water resources are limited, making them a popular choice for small to medium-sized facilities. These chillers are low maintenance and easy to install.

2. Water-Cooled Chiller

Water-cooled chillers use water and cooling towers to dissipate heat. These chillers are more energy-efficient and suited for larger facilities and industries with high cooling demands. However, they require more maintenance and infrastructure, such as a cooling tower and water supply system.

3. Process Chiller

A process chiller is designed to provide precise temperature control for industrial processes. These are commonly used in manufacturing, chemical production, and medical equipment cooling.

4. Industrial Chiller

An industrial chiller is built to handle large-scale cooling for industries like food processing, plastics, and power plants. These systems are robust and capable of cooling heavy-duty equipment.

Choosing the Right Chiller

When deciding between an air-cooled chiller and a water-cooled chiller, it’s important to consider your application requirements. Here are some key factors:

Space Availability: Air-cooled chillers require less infrastructure, making them suitable for smaller spaces.

Energy Efficiency: Water-cooled chillers are more energy-efficient and cost-effective for long-term, high-capacity operations.

Initial Investment: Air-cooled chillers have a lower upfront cost, while water-cooled chillers may involve higher setup costs due to cooling towers.

Maintenance Needs: Water-cooled chillers require more maintenance due to water treatment and additional components.

Applications of Chillers

Chillers are widely used in various industries, including:

HVAC Systems: Cooling office buildings, malls, and hospitals.

Manufacturing: Precise cooling for machinery and processes.

Food & Beverage Industry: Maintaining optimal temperatures during production and storage.

Medical Equipment: Cooling MRI machines, CT scanners, and lab equipment.

Why Choose Panurgy Industries for Your Chiller Needs?

At Panurgy Industries, we are one of the leading water chiller manufacturers and water chiller suppliers in India. Our range of chillers includes high-quality air-cooled chillers, water-cooled chillers, process chillers, and industrial chillers, tailored to meet the diverse cooling needs of our clients.

We provide durable, energy-efficient solutions designed to enhance your operations and reduce costs. Whether you’re looking for chillers for HVAC systems or industrial processes, Panurgy Industries has the expertise and products to meet your requirements.

Download Our Catalogue

To explore our complete range of chillers and other cooling solutions, please download our product catalogue or contact us directly for more information. https://www.panurgy.in/air-cooled-water-chillers.php

By understanding the working principle of chillers and selecting the right type for your application, you can ensure efficient cooling and optimized performance. For all your cooling requirements, trust Panurgy Industries, your trusted partner for industrial cooling solutions.

[bookmybuddy1]

The Role of Smart Technology in Washing Machine Plumbing

The evolution of smart technology has transformed the way we manage our homes, making things more efficient and hassle-free. One such area where this transformation is evident is in Washing Machine Plumbing Installation. Integrating smart technology into this essential aspect of home maintenance not only improves functionality but also enhances convenience and safety.

Simplified Installation Processes Smart technology has changed the face of washing machine plumbing installation. Most installations involve manual adjustments and complicated settings. With smart systems equipped with automated sensors and intuitive configurations, the whole process is now made easy and smooth. For example, smart valves and connectors can self-adjust to ensure that the water pressure is at its best, making installations faster and more precise.

Leak Detection and Prevention Leaks are a common problem with washing machine plumbing, which may lead to water damage and high costs for repairs. Smart plumbing systems are designed with superior leak detection sensors that warn the homeowner of any early signs of trouble. Even the water supply can automatically be shut off to prevent damage. This feature is sure to be a game-changer for modern households, ensuring peace of mind.

Water Usage Monitoring The most important advantage of integrated smart technology in washing machine piping is the ability to have water usage monitored. Water usage by your washing machine can be tracked, thus giving insights on how the same can be optimized to reduce water waste while using less utility.

Compatability with Smart House Systems Smart washing machine plumbing systems often integrate with larger smart home ecosystems. This means you can control and monitor your washing machine plumbing from a mobile app or voice assistant. You can get real-time updates, schedule maintenance, and even be alerted of potential problems before they turn into an issue.

Better Durability and Lifespan Smart technology not only upgrades functionality but also prolongs the life of plumbing. Features such as pressure regulation, automated cleaning, and diagnostic tools help maintain health in your plumbing setup. Regular maintenance reminders from smart systems ensure that your washing machine plumbing stays in top shape for years to come.

Energy Efficiency Smart plumbing technology helps in conserving energy, with efficient flow of water and less wastage. In combination with energy-efficient washing machines, it creates a sustainable and eco-friendly home. Some systems even advise the best washing cycles depending on load size, thereby maximizing efficiency.

Future-Proofing Your Home As technology continues to advance, incorporating smart systems into your washing machine plumbing makes your home future-ready. It ensures compatibility with upcoming innovations and enhances the overall value of your property. For homeowners planning renovations or upgrades, investing in smart plumbing technology is a forward-thinking choice.

Why Choose Professional Installation? While smart technology has made washing machine plumbing easier, professional installation is very crucial to ensure optimal performance. At BookMyBuddy, our experts specialize in washing machine plumbing installation. We ensure seamless integration of the smart systems. From the right technology selection to accurate installations, we make your smart plumbing investment worthwhile.

Conclusion Smart technology is revolutionizing the way we look at washing machine plumbing. With unmatched convenience, efficiency, and reliability, it promises to change everything about it. Whether you are replacing your old setup or installing a new one, embracing smart plumbing solutions is a step toward a modern, sustainable home. Trust BookMyBuddy to guide you through this transformation with expert solutions tailored to your needs.

[studyingfor2k1]

2k1

Lecture 1

To start;

This is a place to 'regurgitate' knowledge that have been stuffed down my throat for the past semester... So enjoy....

Power is the key to everything, yes, everything. Through understanding the laws of conservation of Energy (J, joules), we can better grasp how important Power (W, Watts) is in our everyday lives. You might be asking yourself. okay, energy and power are different things tho? Right? Ehhhh... Energy is literally just power with respect to time. or in other words... Energy is the rate at which energy is being used. So lets say you are running 13 Watts of power for 30 seconds... its literally just (13 W) x (30 S) = 390 Watts seconds, which is also the same unit as Joules... so 390 J. Same goes for if you have the energy of 390 J over the time of 30 s and you wanna solve for power.

E = Pt

Okay cool, we know about power and energy. What now? We're actually gonna dive even further into our knowledge of Power. Power as we know is Voltage x Current or V x I. What is current and voltage?

Voltage ( V, volts) and Current (A , Amps)

Voltage is basically 'pressure' or potential charge

Current is the flow of charge

Lets make a metaphor for it. Think of energy as water. Voltage would be the pressure in a water pipe, while current is that flow of water, or how fast the charge is moving though the circuit.

P= VI

If P = VI is positive, this means it is a load, If it is negative, this means it is a source.

Think about a restaurant. In a restaurant, there are three components to the business. The chef, the waiter and the customer. The food would be the positive charge... and the plate would be the negative charge.

A Source takes the negative charge and transforms and delivers a positive charge... Think of a source as a Chef. the chef takes the plate (neg charge) and then makes food (pos charge). The food (pos charge) is then delivered to the customer through the waiter( the waiter in this scenario would just be a wire).

A load consumes (uses up) positive charges and transforms and delivers a negative charge. Think of the customer dining in. The customer wants to eat the food (pos) , then returns a dirty plate (neg).

To put it plainly.

Source = Chef

Load = Eater

What are examples of sources? Those can be voltage or current! What about Loads? Resistors!

A few things to note before this lecture is over... Sign and direction matter significantly to a circuit. For example If there is an increase of +5v , it would be equal to a decrease in -5v. We will touch up on this in the next blog

If it is positive... the element is consuming power (like a resistor), while negative means it is supply power (like a battery)

These are the first few building blocks to 2k1. You're taking the first step into growing your knowledge of 2k1!!!

End note: I'm preparing for my second midterm for 2k1 at Purdue University and am panicking. I've never used Tumblr before, and heard that this could be an excellent study method. If there's any feedback feel free to lmk. (although if its grammer I couldnt care less tbh)

[tumdare]

2k1 Lecture 1

To start;

This is a place to 'regurgitate' knowledge that have been stuffed down my throat for the past semester... So enjoy....

Power is the key to everything, yes, everything. Through understanding the laws of conservation of Energy (J, joules), we can better grasp how important Power (W, Watts) is in our everyday lives. You might be asking yourself. okay, energy and power are different things tho? Right? Ehhhh... Energy is literally just power with respect to time. or in other words... Energy is the rate at which energy is being used. So lets say you are running 13 Watts of power for 30 seconds... its literally just (13 W) x (30 S) = 390 Watts seconds, which is also the same unit as Joules... so 390 J. Same goes for if you have the energy of 390 J over the time of 30 s and you wanna solve for power.

E = Pt

Okay cool, we know about power and energy. What now? We're actually gonna dive even further into our knowledge of Power. Power as we know is Voltage x Current or V x I. What is current and voltage?

Voltage ( V, volts) and Current (A , Amps)

Voltage is basically 'pressure' or potential charge

Current is the flow of charge

Lets make a metaphor for it. Think of energy as water. Voltage would be the pressure in a water pipe, while current is that flow of water, or how fast the charge is moving though the circuit.

P= VI

If P = VI is positive, this means it is a load, If it is negative, this means it is a source.

Think about a restaurant. In a restaurant, there are three components to the business. The chef, the waiter and the customer. The food would be the positive charge... and the plate would be the negative charge.

A Source takes the negative charge and transforms and delivers a positive charge... Think of a source as a Chef. the chef takes the plate (neg charge) and then makes food (pos charge). The food (pos charge) is then delivered to the customer through the waiter( the waiter in this scenario would just be a wire).

A load consumes (uses up) positive charges and transforms and delivers a negative charge. Think of the customer dining in. The customer wants to eat the food (pos) , then returns a dirty plate (neg).

To put it plainly.

Source = Chef

Load = Eater

What are examples of sources? Those can be voltage or current! What about Loads? Resistors!

A few things to note before this lecture is over... Sign and direction matter significantly to a circuit. For example If there is an increase of +5v , it would be equal to a decrease in -5v. We will touch up on this in the next blog

If it is positive... the element is consuming power (like a resistor), while negative means it is supply power (like a battery)

These are the first few building blocks to 2k1. You're taking the first step into growing your knowledge of 2k1!!!

End note: I'm preparing for my second midterm for 2k1 at Purdue University and am panicking. I've never used Tumblr before, and heard that this could be an excellent study method. If there's any feedback feel free to lmk. (although if its grammer I couldnt care less tbh)