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thegryffindorprincess · 4 years ago

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Unforgettable//Draco Malfoy x Reader (SMUT)

A/N: Hi Lovelies! Working through my requests and stuff one at a time and love this one! Draco’s a little OOC, but it’s saucy and smutty and that’s all you Draco whores are here for, also including some platonic hermione x reader, enjoy x

Set: Golden Trio Era

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: smut, drinking, swearing, choking

“It’s not good enough for me, since I’ve been with you”

“One fire whiskey on ice for you my love.” Draco grinned, passing Astoria the plastic cup from the table he’d just filled with her favourite drink, producing the ice from the tip of his wand. She giggled and settled into his side, letting his arm fall around her shoulders lazily. He would’ve like to say the way they stood, pressed together felt right, but it didn’t. Her bones didn’t quite slot into his properly and he stood a little awkwardly under her touch. Never the less, Draco placed a kiss to her forehead and observed the scene. Slytherin always held the best parties, that was common knowledge, especially for celebrations like OWLs. The room was decorated in silver, the streamers and balloons glistening in the pale light that always glowed from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Every student from the fifth and fourth year was attending, not wanting to miss out on a chance to celebrate properly before school and life became much more serious. As Draco and Astoria took their seats on one of the emerald green sofa’s, students began to dance, Blaise tapping his wand to the speaker positioned above the fire place, letting muggle music boom around the room. He attempted to shake off the longing looks coming from some other girls in the room, Pansy attempting to catch his gaze from the dance floor, Sally-Ann twirling her fingers in her hair at the drinks table and Tracy who was trying hard, too hard, to make eye contact with him from the sofa opposite. Draco simply kept his eyes pinned to the entrance way to the common room, as a distraction. Astoria was pining over him at his side, drawing his eyes away from the door to pull him into a kiss. As she did so, he heard the door open and most of the chat that had been filling the room stop suddenly. He glanced up to see Y/N, Hermione, Harry and Ron enter the common room, laughing amungst themselves. Everyone began to whisper or discuss in hushed voices how incredible Y/N Y/L/N looked tonight, as the four of them stepped in confidently, smiling at each other at their impression.

“Wow.” Tracy Davis exclaimed spinning back round in her seat to face Draco and his gang who were all looking over at her, “she looks incredible.” Draco simply hummed through his lips, face blank. He watched closely as the golden foursome walked over to the drinks table, pouring their chosen beverage into plastic cups, Hermione making the ice swirl into intricate patterns in their drinks. The chat soon returned to normal, giggles errupting from corners of the room every few minutes. Draco sat with his hands pressed together, finger tips resting on his chin, watching Y/N’s every move. You see, the reason all of this was pissing him off, causing his face to knit into a scowl was because it had only been two months since they’d stopped seeing eachother, Y/N spinning him some bullshit about how she needed to focus on the golden trio and not him. And well, nobody rejects Draco Malfoy. He’d tried in the beginning to win her back, leaving her expensive gifts outside her door, persuading some first year minions to send her letters on his behalf, all of which she’d rejected. Then it turned nasty. Draco ended up fucking half of the girls in slytherin, attempting to make her come and talk to him, even if it turned into an argument. But she didn’t, she simply scoffed when Goyle would shout about loud Draco and Pansy’s sex was in their dorm room, roll at eyes at the hickeys adorning Sally-Ann’s neck and laugh with Hermione about his persuit of Tracy. What pissed him off the most though was how completely unbothered Y/N was acting, as if they’d never even spoken before.

“Draco what’re you staring at?” Astoria asked, Draco suddenly becoming aware that his eyes were burning holes in Y/N, his gaze unbreaking.

“Nothing.” He responded blankly. “Nothing important at all.”

XXX

Y/N held Hermione’s hands in hers as they danced on the floor together, being some of the only students who recognised the muggle songs that were playing. She loved when Hermione got drunk, her usual up-tight personality disappearing revealing a very care free one instead. Y/N herself could feel the alcohol rushing to her head as she twirled her best friend round in a circle below her, Hermione bursting into a fit of giggles when their hands became twisted and got stuck in an awkward position.

“I am going to go to the toilet.” Hermione suddenly announced, unlinking her arms from Y/N’s and staggering away towards the stairs.

“Hang on a minute,” Y/N said, following her giggling, “I’ll accompany you.” Hermione nodded quickly, holding Y/N’s hand as they climbed the marble staircase up towards the girls toilets.

“Such a good friend to me.” Hermione slurred as Y/N opened the toilet door for her, promising to hold it closed from outside for her. She laughed at Hermione’s drunk clinginess, listening to her babbling’s from the hallway. Just as she got comfortable a hand holding the door firmly shut, she heard footsteps coming in her direction.

“Sorry, the toilets occupied, you might have to wait.” She called out. To her slight shock, Draco appeared at the top of the stair case, gaze magnetic, jaw clenched. “Oh.” Y/N murmmered, awkwardly looking down towards her feet, the music from the common room still pounding the walls of the hallway.

“That’s not a very polite way to greet me Y/L/N” Draco smirked, watching how Y/N still crumbled a little under his stare. “Problem?”

“Not at all, just wondering what you want with me.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, unbothered. He stepped closer.

“Just wanted a chat.” She swallowed as he moved increasingly closer, his cologne already making her throat close.

“Thought you were a bit busy for a chat.” Y/N grimaced, moving closer to the wall and further from him. “You know, you look a bit busy chatting with Astoria,” She sent him a warning look “and Pansy and Tracy and Sally-Ann.” Draco chuckled at her feisty tone.

“Jealous?” He teased, twirling his family ring around on his finger, looking darkly at her through his eyelashes.

“Hardly.” She scoffed. But he could tell she was lying from the way she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Well you might be pleased to know,” Draco began closing the gap between them with a few large strides, one of his pale hands coming up to stroke her cheek, “It’s not good enough for me, since I’ve been with you.” Just as Y/N went to respond, Hermione ermerged from the bathroom. She awkwardly glanced at the situation, mouth opening and closing like a fish before walking back wards towards the stairs.

“I-I’m gonna go,” She stammered, turning and running down the staircase, “I think I heard Ron calling for me.” Both Draco and Y/N watched her leave, Y/N cursing her best friend for not taking her with her.

“Where were we?” Draco began again, his hand returning to her cheek. “Oh yes,” He moved his head closer towards hers, her breath getting caught in her throat, “and it’s not going to work for you either, this stupid arrangement.” Y/N scoffed again, this time rolling her eyes.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” This time, Draco’s hand trailed it’s way from her cheek to her throat, squeezing just gently enough that she began to squirm.

“Because nobody can equal me.” Then he closed the gap, his lips pushing against hers, causing her to moan slightly as his teeth bit on her bottom lip. “No more games princess,” he cooed, “tell me what you want.” Y/N grabbed onto his back needily, moving closer to his ear so that she could whisper in it.

“Just fuck me Malfoy, you know it’s what we both need.” He growled then, attacking her neck with his mouth, carrying her on his front down the hallway to his dorm room, opening the door effortlessly with his free hand. He barged into the room, striding straight to his bed, laying her down roughly, so that her legs were dangling off of the edge and she was on her back. Draco growled again when her dress rode up just high enough so that her panties poked out underneath, his dick hardening with every new inch of flesh he got to see.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, watching how she squirmed every time his finger tip touched a new part of her body. He took off her dress, discarding it carelessly to the floor, unbothered about where it went. Then, he hooked his fingers in her thong and yanked it down, watching how she gasped when the cold air from the room hit her. He grinned as he stroked her slit with his fingers, making her let out a string of profantities and his name. “God, say my name again princess.” He hissed as he inserted a finger inside of her, pumping it in and out roughly.

“Draco!” Y/N exclaimed, eyes squished closed as he inserted a second finger into her pussy, She moaned loudly as he sped up, his other hand coming up to her clit, rubbing it in a way that made her hands shoot to his hair, pulling at it. “Don’t stop,” She cooed, making eye contact with him finally, “please don’t let it stop.” He grinned at her pleading but complied, continuing his movements until her shaking legs gave way, her cum wetting his fingers. He pulled them out after her climax before placing them into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Sweeter than honey.” He announced, standing up and pulling her so that he was above her. She simply whined as he undid his belt swiftly, pulling out his cock, letting it spring free. “God,” He whispered as he lined himself up with her entrance, “nobody takes this cock like you do.” Draco pushed himself in, making her hiss with pleasure as she took him. He began to thrust into her, the slight curve of his dick hitting the spot inside of her that made her writhe in pure pleasure. “None of those stupid little whores take this cock as good as you princess.” He muttered into her ear as one of his hands came up to snake around her throat, his mouth peppering kisses on her forehead. “Whose my best girl?”

“Me!” Y/N moaned out, feeling his dick reach places that nobody else could, no matter how hard they tried. “I’m yours Draco, I’m yours.” He grunted out at her words, never so pleased to hear the phrase. He continued to hit her G spot over and over again causing her legs to start shaking again. “Dray I’m gonna-”

“I know, I know, let it princess.” He cooed at her gently, moving a strand of hair out of her face as it contorted into an “O” shape. Her legs began to vigorously shake then and Draco could feel her walls tightening around him. “Oh shit, I love you Dray, I love you.” She cried as he felt her cum. He growled into her ear at her tightness, letting his thrusts become sloppy inside of her.

“I love you too.” He moaned into her ear as she felt his cum release inside of her all at once, causing him to collapse on top of her in exhaustion. Y/N sighed happily as he moved off of her to fall at her side. “Can’t believe you spent two months ignoring me just to tell me you love me.” He smirked, fake gasping when she began swatting his arm.

“You said it back after fucking half of slytherin.” Y/N replied defensively, melting into his arms as Draco pulled the covers over them, snaking his arms around her waist, pulling her into him, kissing her neck gently.

“Yes but nobody compares to you Y/N, never will.” Draco whispered gently, feeling any tension in Y/N’s body melt underneath him. “You are absolutely unforgettable.”

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

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masquerade (part four) (d.m.)

prompt: draco malfoy was your rival in slytherin house. both of you ambitious, bold, and daring. as one of the few pureblood slytherin families left, you promised yourself that you would continue your lineage, but not with scum like malfoy. instead, you would meet a suitor at the annual masquerade ball hosted by the malfoys each year. but what if your prospective suitor is someone you didn’t expect…

warnings: language, mentions of sex, anxiety, tension, nausea, injury (snapping bones)

pairing: draco malfoy x fem! pureblood reader

word count: 7.4k

author note: thank you so much for all the love and support on this series! this is the final part! i hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! i love you!

Things were over between you and Malfoy. Whatever it was that happened between you two was done with. The ordeal of trying to pretend like there wasn’t chemistry between you two while also hating the other’s guts all while maintaining excellent grades and completing your prefect duties was exhausting. Not to mention the confession that had slipped from your glossed lips that day in the library and Draco not reciprocating feelings was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

That day in the library haunted you. Whenever you closed your eyes you saw the scene unfold. Lips pressed to sensitive skin, muffled moans ringing in your ears, the sensation of his cold, calloused hands running up your thighs as your nails dug into his shoulders. And then it came crashing down. The uncertainty and guilt that clouded his voice and his cold grey eyes empty as they stared at yours, warm and ripe and full of hope. The feeling of bile rising in your throat as he admitted his intentions as hot tears pricked up behind your eyes. For a moment, he looked sorry. But then it was washed away with a shake of his head as you ran away as fast as your legs could take you.

You felt foolish, letting yourself get so carried away with a childish fantasy that someone as evil and cruel as him would soften for someone else. You were destined to be rivals with Draco. It was foolish of you to try and derail that course. Foolish of you to surrender and admit what you were feeling. It told him that he was your weakness and now he could exploit that. Draco Malfoy was your Achilles Heel.

Your friends immediately took note of your change in behavior after that day in the library. How you quietly sulked around the room for an hour, reading and writing in your small leather journal that your mother had gifted you. It was times like this where you needed her guidance most, but you were still scared to tell her what really happened at the ball that night. Instead, you plunged yourself in work to distract you from thinking about him and your feelings. Daphne encouraged you to talk out your feelings; that it wasn’t healthy to keep it all bottled in. You thanked her, but insisted that you rather write your feelings down for now rather than talk about them. In an odd way, seeing your thoughts laid out on a sheet of parchment was more satisfying than talking about it. The way the quill glided over the paper as you wrote down the inner workings of your mind. It was satisfying.

The days trudged by and more time passed, but it was still so difficult to even look at Draco. Even if you had snuck a glance, your heart would sting and your stomach would feel queasy. Your mouth ran dry, your face flushed, and your palms were sweating. And somehow, each time you looked at him, Draco was always looking back. His eyes were cold and dry and empty. He had gone back to the way things normally were between you; hateful and bored with the other. You would instantly look away and shake your head, pushing the intrusive thoughts of him out of your head.

Being in class with him was hard, but completing prefect duties was harder. Soon enough, you couldn’t take it anymore. Being on the same prefect schedule with him was torture, completing your rounds side by side, not a word spoken as you busied yourself with walking ahead of him or walking behind him. His presence made you too self-aware and too nervous to say anything. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. You walked up to Pansy, another Slytherin prefect, and asked if you could switch shifts with her. She happily obliged, “Who’s your partner?”

Swallowing hard and sighing, you responded, “Malfoy” his name like poison in your mouth again. A familiar sensation. You once again hated his guts. It was a familiar, welcoming feeling.

Pansy twisted her brows together, “Oh. Well, I don’t think so anymore. Draco got promoted to Head Boy. Professor Snape came in here weeks ago and gave him the position. I’m filling in for Draco’s position as prefect now. So it looks like we’ll be together regardless doing prefect duties.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Wait, wait, hold on. Snape promoted Malfoy to Head Boy?” you spoke in disbelief. First of all, Draco was a horrific prefect, he wasn’t good with the first years like you were, he often used his position to take points away from houses and give points to Slytherin, and not to mention, doled out detentions if he was looked at the wrong way. “There were so many other choices for Head Boy and they chose him? What about Ernie Macmillan? Merlin’s sake, Ron Weasley is a better choice than that! If Granger is Head Girl, you think Malfoy is going to pay attention?” you ranted on and on, completely enraged that Draco had won at something yet again. You understood why Granger got Head Girl instead of you. She was the top student in the class as well as the favorite of Professor McGonagall. But Draco? That made no sense. It was like the universe knew you needed yet another reason to despise him.

Pansy observed your fuming nature as you paced back and forth around the Slytherin common room, biting at your nails as you groaned in frustration. Gently, she reached out and touched your arm. You stopped in your tracks and looked at her concerned eyes for you. You sighed and spoke, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

She gave you a sad half smile. “I may not be as bright as you, (Y/N), but I know when something is bothering my best friend. You’ve been in this mood for weeks. Spending more hours in the library, keeping yourself up with studies, writing in that journal so often, stealing looks at Malfoy when you can, the way you tense up when his name is mentioned...” she speaks as you surrender, giving her hand a squeeze. “I don’t know all the details and I don’t have to, (Y/N). But just know that whatever he did or is doing...he’s a fool. A selfish, cowardly fool. You are so much better than him and you deserve much better than him.”

Her words make your heart warm as small tears form in your eyes. You had been so absent in your friend’s lives recently and yet they were so warm and loving and welcoming when you needed them most. Without saying a word, you pull Pansy into a warm hug as she hugs you tight. “I love you, Pans. Thank you.”

Pansy smiled into your neck as you hugged. “No need to thank me. I love you more.”

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

The days continued on and you were feeling better. Seeing Draco in the halls became easier, you no longer tightened your shoulders at the sight of him or held your breath when his name was mentioned in passing conversations. Instead, you made like he wasn’t there. It was much easier that way.

What wasn’t easy was seeing Tracy Davis follow Draco around in the halls like a lovesick puppy. She would link her arm through his, giggling loudly at something he had spoken, dramatically throwing her head back. Part of you knew she was doing this for show, but part of you wondered if she was really happy, if Draco was really happy. Or was this just an alliance they had made against you in order to keep you down and make you feel worse about yourself.

You suppressed those feelings down and jotted in all into your notebook. However, a part of you still felt guilty doing this, especially when your mother asked you in her letters to you how you were, you lied and said you were great and enjoying your seventh year just fine. Lying to your mother felt like you were keeping the dirtiest secret from her. It was eating away at you.

You hovered over your desk in your dormitory as Daphne and Pansy both sat on their beds, doing homework or reading. Daphne noticed you nervously bouncing your leg and playing with the quill in your hand as you stared at the parchment in front of you.

Daphne sat up and spoke, “Is it to your mum?” Without even turning to face her, you shake your head and bite your lip, trying to figure out where to start and how to tell her. “You don’t have to tell her everything, (Y/N). Tell her what you are comfortable sharing.”

Spinning around in the chair you say, “That’s the thing, Daph. I don’t even know what I’m comfortable sharing.” She gives you a sad look as Pansy closes her book and focuses her attention onto the conversation. “My family hates the Malfoy's. If I tell her that I was secretly seeing him here and there sporadically, I don’t know how she’ll react, nevertheless how my father will react...” you trail off. It wasn’t that your parents would loathe you or do anything rash to you. It was the threat of scandal amongst the other pureblood families that scared you. How would other families react to news of a (Y/L/N) having relations with a Malfoy? The threat was enough to keep your silence. You sigh, “I told Draco that day in the library that I was falling in love with him...” Your friends’ eyes widen. “I know, it’s a lot, but it was happening all so quickly and I blurted it out. But it was honest. There’s something about Malfoy that makes me tell him the truth. He’s like a magnet and he pulls it all out of me in one go. I think that’s one of the reasons I can’t stand to look at him. I’m afraid it’ll happen again,” you huff at Daphne and Pansy watch you sadly. “But back on the topic of my parents, I don’t know where to start. There’s so much to tell them.”

And that’s when it hits you. Your leather journal. You had been cataloging everything since the ball in there. There was no need to write a letter to your mother when you could just send her the pages of your journal. You spring to your feet and run to your bedside table, opening your drawer, and ripping out the pages that spoke of you and Draco. Pansy’s eyes widen in shock, “Woah, what’s that for?”

You run back to your desk and grab an envelope and seal it with wax and the stamp of your family’s crest. “No need to write it all down,” you walk to the window where your family’s owl, Athena, is perched, “when it’s already written down, is there?” You flash a smile to Pansy and Daphne, reassuring them that this was exactly what you needed. “Right to Mother, Athena. No time to waste,” you pet her head before she flaps her wings and takes off.

Daphne and Pansy look at you quizzically as you smile. “It’s all written on those pages. Every thought. Every feeling. I want her to know. I need her guidance,” you tell them as they nod. Your mother always gave you the best advice and guidance whenever you needed it most. It always came from a place of fierce love and protection. Her rationale always made you feel better. And right now, you needed that more than ever.

It didn’t take long for your mother to receive your notebook pages and immediately write back to you. In fact, it took less than a day for Athena to be right back on your window sill, perched there with a content look on her face. Hopefully a good omen.

You sat on Daphne’s bed with her and Pansy, all chatting and eating sweets from Daphne’s mum’s care package from a while back. You all turned your heads to Athena and your stomach dropped. Her letter was here.

Springing from the bed, you walk to Athena and gently pluck the note from her beak. “Thank you, Athena,” you stroke her head as she gently coos at you. You walk back to Daphne’s bed and plop down, peeling the wax from the envelope as your heart thumps in your chest.

What could your mother have written? Was she cross about the fact that it was Draco? Was she surprise? Was she scared? Did your father have something to say about this?

Slowly, you unfolded the note and took a deep breath as Pansy placed a reassuring hand on your knee. “Dearest, (Y/N),” you start as you read out...

I knew the instant we got back from the ball that the situation was one that had hurt you deeply. I couldn’t imagine what it could have been; you looked like you were having such fun on the dance floor and with the suitor that you had been talking to. And then it dawned on your father and I that the only reason you would be upset was the suitor was not who you thought it was. It would have been someone you dreaded and there is only one person in the world you feel that way towards.

I didn’t want to say anything to upset you or press you into telling me the details of a conversation you didn’t want to have or were uncomfortable sharing. But I do want you to know that your father and I are not angry at you in any way shape or form. It’s alright that your suitor was Draco and that you felt some connection with him at the ball.

Instantly, you let out a breath and relaxed. She wasn’t cross. You let out a light laugh and continue to read the letter out loud.

What I am surprised over is the fact that you continued to pursue something with him whether you realized it or not. But I should have know. Similar to your father, when you have your eyes on something, you do not give up easily. You fight for what you want until you know you can’t have it. And even then, you don’t back down. You always loved a challenge, something I have always admired about you.

The one thing that scares me, however, about this trait of yours is your liability to get hurt. Like you have. When you do see something you want, my dear child, you put everything on the line. Your feelings, your thoughts, and your heart. It’s such a beautiful thing, to be vulnerable about your feelings, and open to the suggestion of sharing your thoughts and feelings. But someone can take advantage of that as it seems Mr. Malfoy may have.

Here’s what you need to know, my darling. Even though you have laid your thoughts and feelings and heart on the line to Mr. Malfoy, you don’t have to keep them on the line. He doesn’t not control you or your thoughts or your feelings or your heart. You are in control of those things. He cannot tell you how to think or feel or live. You are the one to make those decisions for yourself. Take back your control, darling. I know you can because I have seen you do it time and time again.

I’ve told you this many times and I will say it more and more times until your heart beats to the rhythm of the sentence. You have divine feminine energy within you. Use this to your ability. You have the energy of a thousand suns blazing in your eyes. Use this to your ability. Don’t melt yourself. Melt others with it. I know you can because I taught you how.

(Y/N), I know you are brilliant in every way brilliance can take form. This is a mere set back in the grand life that you have ahead of yourself. I know you will push through this, it is just a matter of are you going to allow yourself to push through it?

As for your relationship with Mr. Malfoy, that is up to you. I can’t tell you how to think, feel, or live, just like he can’t tell you. But if you still find yourself longing for him after more time, then I think you have unsettled business. If he finds himself wanting the same thing...well, darling, I think you have your answer.

And for the record, may I just say, I have never seen you talk or write with such passion about someone like Draco Malfoy regardless of your standing with him at the time. You notice things about him, (Y/N). Just read your own journal. You notice the smallest details about him, the colors in his eyes, the way he talks, the sounds of his footsteps, the canter of his laugh. It’s all written down in those pages. The only time I have experienced passion like that is when your father wrote love letters to me when we were engaged.

Now, my child, I leave you with this. What do you want to do?

If you need me, I am an owl away.

I love you most,

Mum

You close the note before you and just sigh, closing your eyes. Your mother has given you guidance, alright, but somehow you ended up more confused than before. You pull the note again and scan over her words as Pansy and Daphne wait for you to break the silence. Instead of speaking, you throw your head back and groan, flopping onto Daphne’s bed.

The two girls both lightly laugh before Daphne says, “I’ve always loved your mum.”

You playfully slap her with the letter. “Not funny.”

Pansy starts in, “But hear her out, (Y/N). She has a point. About the way you talk about Draco...” She holds up the pages from your journal that your mum sent back as she flips through them. “May I?” she asks, seeing if she can read them out to you and Daphne as you nod your head. “His eyes are ones I can’t forget. To most they are blue. But they’re not just blue. Around his pupils are silver shards that dance around, like ice caps in the ocean. His eyes are cold, but hold so much potential. They melt when he looks into mine. But they don’t just melt for anyone, they melt for me; he melts for me.”

Your two best friends look at you knowingly as you stare at them clueless with a shrug. “That’s poetic as all hell,” Daphne laughs, looking at the journal entries. “Look here! When he speaks to me, the words fall from his parted pink lips either the sweetest nectar or the most bitter poison. Either way, I still listen to him, hanging on every last word to ensure that I absorb it all before I can spit back a response just as witty and charming as his.” Daphne shakes her head. “And you mean to tell me that the two of aren’t smitten?”

You pull yourself up from laying down. “Okay, sure, I write about him nicely, but regardless. He told me he didn’t know what his feelings were towards me weeks ago. I haven’t spoken to him since. And it’s beside the point. He’s moved on with Tracy Davis now. The window of opportunity has slammed shut,” you inform them.

Daphne lets out a wild laugh as you furrow your brows in complete confusion. “Tracy Davis?” she cackles. “Are you daft? He can’t stand Tracy Davis!” she exclaims as you remain confused. “Sure, he and Davis danced with each other at that party and she’s around him, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. He’s been telling her to piss off since she tried spreading a rumor that he kissed her in the library!” she tells you as your eyes widen. This was news to you. “You’re forgetting that I’m also best friends with the dumb blonde bloke,” Daphne smirks. “I have intel.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me!” you smack her arm.

She holds up her hands in defense. “Hey, hey!” she exclaims, “Not anything revolutionary. Draco doesn’t talk about his feelings like that, so I don’t know exactly what he’s feeling,” she says as you groan and Pansy hits her over the head with a pillow. “Ouch! Merlin’s sake! You guys are bitches, you know that?” she rubs her head. “All I know is that he was hoping to find a certain someone in the stands of the quidditch match tomorrow...” she trails off and looks away with a smile on her face.

Your heart starts to flutter and your stomach does a flip as you swallow hard. He wanted you to come to the quidditch game tomorrow. Was he planning on telling you something? An apology of sorts? That was to be suspected after the way he acted weeks ago. “How do I know that he’s not going to be cruel to me again?” you speak wearily look to Pansy and Daphne for support. “I can’t just forget that he quite literally left me high and dry after the incident in the restricted section of the library.”

Pansy furrows her eyebrows in confusion and then her eyes widen. “You didn’t tell me that!”

Daphne hits Pansy in the arm, earning a sharp Ow! from her. “Oh, can it, Parkinson,” she huffs. “I’m not saying you should forgive him right away, (Y/N). He’d be asking for too much. But I’m saying this as both of your friends and for both of your sake’s...hear him out. Listen to what he has to say. And you can move from there. How does that sound?” she asks. You gulp and slowly nod. She was right. You didn’t need to forgive Draco for what he had done, but you did want to hear what he had to say for himself.

“Brilliant,” Pansy smiled. “Now can you please tell me the tiny detail of the two of you banging in the library!” she yells as you laugh.

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

You stood in the mirror and looked at yourself, nibbling on your bottom lip, nervous to leave your dormitory and head out to the quidditch stands. The Slytherin scarf draped across your neck felt tight as you loosened it to breathe freely. You flopped your hair to one shoulder as you thought about what was going on happen at the game. But you couldn’t think anymore or else you’d get sick.

“It’s just a quidditch match,” you speak out loud so Daphne and Pansy can hear your thoughts. “It’s just a regular quidditch match.”

Daphne and Pansy look at you with a smile on their face. “Exactly. We’re gonna watch Slytherin kick some major Gryffindor ass and after we will, we’re going to celebrate with loads of fire whiskey and good music. Plus, Jamie sent me a care package with lots of Daisyroot Draught that we can part take in,” Pansy tells you, walking over to the mirror that you stare at, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You look adorable,” she tells you. “Come on,” she giggles. “We wanna get good seats.”

The three of you walk through the castle, chatting about the game, making your predictions of what will happen, who’s going to score first, and making bets on plays. “If the Gryffindor stands chant Weasley at any point in the game, you owe me ten galleons and a chocolate frog,” Daphne tells Pansy.

You laugh, “Yeah, right. In his dreams. If they start chanting his name, I’ll give you fifteen galleons and three chocolate frogs.”

Daphne smiles and extends her hand, “Deal.”

The three of you are too distracted to realize that you are passing the Slytherin locker room before you halt in your tracks when someone crossed your path. The three of you stop in your tracks as your fiery eyes meet his icy ones. You look at his eyes, expecting them to stay still like they have for weeks. But contrary to what you thought, they crack under your heat and gently start to puddle and melt under yours.

Daphne breaks the silence first, “Good luck out there, Malfoy. Don’t let us down.” She smiles at him as Draco meets her gaze and he reciprocates.

“No need to worry, we’ve got a game plan for victory,” Draco tells her as Daphne high fives him. Draco slowly looks back at you as you watch him intently for his next move. “I’m glad you guys came,” he speaks, but his eyes don’t leave yours. They remain on you the whole time monitoring your reaction as you inhale quietly at his words. A small smile plays on his lips before he speaks, “I should get out there. Game is starting soon.”

With a small wave goodbye, he scurries off, catching up to the rest of his teammates as you three continue to walk to the stands. Pansy hits your shoulder teasingly. “Someone looked happy to see you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” you laugh at her.

You and your friends make it to the Slytherin section of the quidditch stands, students of all years gathering to watch the game, hooting and hollering for their house. The excitement in the air was palpable and you couldn’t help but smile. Quidditch matches were always great fun.

Surveying the stands, you try to find other faces that you recognized. That’s when you stumble upon Tracy Davis with #03 drawn in green make up on her cheek. That was Draco’s number. You tap Daphne on the shoulder and nod in her direction. “What the fuck is that?” you ask, genuinely curious. Daph said there was nothing between Tracy and Draco, but this could prove otherwise.

Daphne groans, “You’re bloody kidding me.”

Daphne, with no sense of control, stands up on the the bench and yells out over the crowd. “Oi! Davis!” she screams, drawing everyone’s eyes to Daphne and then to Tracy. “Get Malfoy’s number off your cheek, eh?! He’s got his eyes on someone else and he’s told you he’s not interested! Need I remind you of the little conversation we had three days ago, yeah?” she threatens as Tracy’s eyes go wide before wiping the number off of her cheek with her scarf. “That’s more like it.”

She hops down from the bench as the crowd around her laughs and you blush wildly. “What was that for? And what conversation did you have with Davis that gave her that reaction?”

Daphne smirks, “Let’s just say that if I catch David flirting with Malfoy, she’ll have bigger problems to worry about then me calling her out in front of the student body.” Madam Hooch’s whistle blows. “Alright, now, pay attention, the game is starting.”

Within seconds, the Slytherin quidditch team and Gryffindor quidditch team fly out on their brooms onto the field as everyone begins to cheer. You could feel the adrenaline in the stands. As you clapped, you watched as Draco flew out smoothly on his broom, running his fingers through his platinum hair as you saw his eyes search the stands for someone. His blue eyes scanned the stands quickly before they found yours as you looked back at him. Sighing, you let a small smile creep up onto your lips before a smile appeared on Draco’s. A rosy blush appeared on his cheeks before he looked away quickly and refocusing on the game. Slowly, the same rosy hue appeared on yours and you smiled to yourself.

“Did I just see that right?” Pansy teases as you roll your eyes.

“Oh, would you focus on the game, Parkinson!” you laugh, pushing her arm jokingly as she laughs.

And soon enough, they are off. Draco immediately off to catch the snitch against Harry, the rest of the teams on the field, zooming past on their brooms. Draco flies around the arena on his broom and you can’t help but watch in awe. As much as you hated to admit it, the boy was good. He knew exactly how to maneuver himself in a manner that would get him just ahead of Harry, flying just underneath him before dying upwards to abruptly cut him off. He was a skilled seeker.

The game was going on for quite sometime now and people were biting their nails. There were so many close calls of where the snitch had almost been caught but was just out of reach for Draco or Potter.

You watched intently as green uniforms zipped past maroon ones as the crowd cheered as their beloved quidditch team zoomed by them. “Come on, Malfoy,” you whisper to yourself, watching him as he and Harry bump into each other and push past to catch the snitch.

That was the thing that you noticed about Draco whenever he was doing something that required patience. He would get frustrated. You could see it now as he contorted his face and scrunched up his nose as his eyes darted between the snitch and Potter. The grip on his broom was iron as he continued to soar through the the arena, desperately reaching for the snitch before it zipped another way.

As the game kept on, you nervously danced in your stance. “I don’t know if I can watch,” Pansy nibbled on her painted black nails. “It’s driving me nuts.”

You would agree with Pansy, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the field as Draco continued to zoom back and forth and back and forth, your head growing dizzy by how intently you watched him.

Draco was growing more irritable by the second, you could tell by his body language. His mind was elsewhere as he looked around the field, losing track of the snitch. He wasn’t in the game.

His eyes darted around, but before he could realize, the bludger was hurling towards him at lightning speed. With a hit to the gut, Draco fell off his broom and right onto the grassy ground as the crowd gasped. Your heart sunk and your mind instantly yelled for you to go to him. “Oh, shit,” you whisper as you look at the ground worriedly as Draco held onto his side, writhing in pain, eyes sealed shut. “I have to go to him,” you say without much thought.

Before anyone can protest, you are running down from the stands and to the field as you can hear Madam Hooch blow the whistle and pause the game due to an injury. Draco is immediately taken to the infirmary as you watch him be carried off the field.

You follow the group of mediwitches as they bring Draco to Madam Pomfrey, a few of his teammates alongside him, trying to ease his mind. You could hear Draco speak about how they should put the alternate Seeker in and finish the game. He spoke about how they needed the win, but Zabini kept saying that the game would still be paused until Madam Pomfrey knew he was alright and didn’t break any bones. Draco groaned, insisting that he was fine and that he even thought he could finish the game, but it just earned him laughs.

As they put Draco in a hospital bed, you waited to go in, instead standing outside, biting your nails nervously. He would be just fine, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

You intently listen in on the conversation happening inside with Madam Pomfrey, Draco, Zabini, and Goyle. You hear Draco groan in pain and Madam Pomfrey state, “Two broken ribs. Nothing too serious, but enough to keep you out for the rest of the game.” Draco tries to convince Pomfrey to let him play, but she just shakes her head and speaks, “Absolutely not, my dear. Can’t risk it. Anyway, boys, hold down, Mr. Malfoy’s arms. This may cause him a bit of pain...Ferula!” she chants as you hear bones snap back into place and Draco cry out in pain which makes you wince at his voice. “There we go. You can let him go, boys, thank you,” she tells him. “Drink this. It’ll help you feel better,” she instructs. “Now, rest. You boys tell Madam Hooch that Mr. Malfoy will be just fine. The game can go on if you see fit.”

Draco sighs and starts devising, “Put Harper in. He’ll be just fine. Keep doing what we’re doing and tell Harper no matter what Potter does to throw him off balance, push through. At the end of the day, Potter doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.” You hear Goyle and Zabini exchange a few words with Draco, making chatter.

Taking a deep breathe, you decide that now was the time to make your presence know. Slowly, you walk into the entrance of the hospital wing and watch as Draco is laid in his hospital bed, Goyle and Zabini at the edge of the bed. Other students are in other hospital beds, either resting or chatting to their visitors. You softly smile as your eyes land on Draco as you see him sitting up, wincing in pain. He tells his friends that he’s fine, but he clutches onto his side and winces. Poor boy.

Slowly, Draco scans the room and his eyes fall on you as they widen. He’s shocked to see you are there to say the least. “Um,” Draco stutters. “You guys should get back onto the field. Remember, play the offensive. Defense will fall back if we need to,” he directs before Goyle and Zabini walk away.

Zabini looks at Goyle knowingly before he looks at you, “(Y/L/N).” He smirks.

You nod, “Goyle, Zabini.”

Goyle smiles, “Have fun.”

You gulp a little before making your way to Draco’s bed and stand by him. “You took a pretty nasty blow, yeah?” you chuckle.

Draco sighs with a small smile, “Nothing I can’t handle.” You just look at him for a moment, the two of you just looking at each other, typical. You look around and spot the chair next to his bed as you point to it, questioning if you can sit with your eyes. “Please,” he tells you.

You sit in the chair beside his bed and clear your throat awkwardly.

It’s silent for a while, neither of you knowing how to start this conversation.

Draco is the first to speak, “I’m glad you came to the game. Even though you left now to come see me, I’m still glad you came.”

“Of course,” you nod your head. “I love watching you play quidditch. W-Well, I mean, everyone I suppose,” you stutter over your words as Draco smiles gently at you.

It’s silent again. This was painful.

Draco sighs, “I obviously wanted to do this in a different setting, but I’m still going to say it.” You swallow hard as you bite down on your lip, waiting to hear what Draco has to say. “I’m a coward, (Y/N). I am. You’ve always been braver than me and I admit it. In everything. You’ve always been bolder, more confident, and more unapologetic than I have been and I’ve always envied you for it in more ways than one,” he speaks. “I’m a coward to not saying anything to you after the ball. I’m a coward for not giving you an explanation for my behaviors. And most of all I’m a coward and a dick for treating you the way I did in the library weeks ago.”

“Draco, I-”

“Please,” he begs you. “Don’t make excuses for me. I know we’ve had it out for each other for years and I guess the night we shared at the ball made me question everything I’ve ever known about our relationship at that scared the hell out of me,” he confesses. He felt that same way that you did, but it was comforting to know that you were both in the same boat. “You were trying to be upfront with me about things and I only played games with you and I’m sorry. The thought of being with someone that I was supposed to hate with every cell inside my body was something that made me sick. I tried to avoid you at all costs, but at the end of the day...I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart beats hard against your ribs and your stomach is doing flips. Your mouth is dry and your mind is mush. Was this real? Draco was confessing his feelings?

“I know our families have vendettas against each other, but I can’t live that that when I know how I feel about you,” he confesses.

A shaky smile appears on your face as you deeply inhale. “And...how is it you feel about me?” you lean in closer, resting your elbows on your knees, propping your head up with your hands teasingly.

This makes Draco chuckle. “Well,” he clears his throat. “I hate the way that you always seem to show up at the most inconvenient times,” he jokes as you giggle. “I hate the way that we get along like a house on fire when we least want to, I hate the way that you know exactly how to push my buttons, but I know exactly how to push them back, I hate the way you can just give me a look and you can have me thinking about that look for weeks,” he breathes as you blush. “I hate the way that I didn’t recognize your beautiful eyes the moment I looked at them in that bloody ballroom,” he tells you. “I hate the way that I didn’t kiss you that night,” he speaks as your heart starts beating faster and harder, you can hear it in your ears. “I hate the way that I didn’t tell you how I felt about you that day in the library.”

You sit up straight and speak with all sincerity in your voice. “Tell me now, Draco,” you speak just above a whisper. “Please.”

He sighs, “I’m not falling in love with you, (Y/N).”

Your heart stops. It sinks into your stomach. The room starts to spin. What?

“Because I’m already in love with you.”

You let out a shaky breath as you chuckle. “Merlin, Malfoy,” you breathe out and shake your head. “I’ll break your ribs again, don’t tempt me.”

Draco laughs, “I’m sure you would, princess.” Your heart flutters at his nickname for you that he had given you weeks ago in the library. “But I do. I’m in love with you. I just didn’t realize it at the time, but it’s true. And I don’t expect you to complete forgive and forget everything that went down between us. But I just want to know that we still have a chance together.” You smile and hold his hand in yours giving it a squeeze, letting him know that this was quite alright. “I don’t believe in fate or destiny,” he tells you, referring back to that first conversation that you had in the gardens at the ball, “But I do believe that night happened for a reason. And you and I are supposed to be here. Together. Now.”

Without saying another word, you lean in and kiss him. Your lips are gentle on his, not nearly as rough or desperate as your other kisses have been. It’s sweet and it’s soft and it’s just as passionate as your others have been. His other hand cups your face and draws you closer to him as he inhales deeply, savoring this moment between the two of you. Slowly, you draw away from each other and press your foreheads against each other, resting there for a moment.

You slowly smile and let out a breathy laugh, “You really drive me mad.”

Draco smiles, “Get used to it. Because I’m not stopping anytime soon, my love.”

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

Months have passed. Graduation was complete, you graduated second in the class right behind Granger and Draco not too far behind you. It was something you would hold over his head for the rest of his life and something he would grow to hate (but secretly love how competitive you still were).

It was the summer now, the grass was lush and green in the countryside and white and yellow flowers erupted all over the gardens of the Malfoy Manor. You admired each one as you went for your morning stroll, book in hand as you quietly read to yourself, flipping the pages every so often.

You let the fresh summer air fill your lungs as you smiled to yourself happily. The gentle breeze made the skirt of your sundress dance as you walked through the gardens, letting your finger tips brush the lush brush underneath you. The manor was beautiful in the early afternoon.

As you continued to stroll, you heard, “Love?”

“By the roses, darling!” you called out with a smile in your voice as you heard Draco call out for you.

Soon enough, there he was, dressed in fresh pressed tan trousers and a crisp white shirt. His platinum blonde hair was swept back perfectly as he ran his hands through it. “Hello, gorgeous,” he smirks as he walks up to you, arms wrapping around your waist and ducking his head down to place a sweet kiss to your lips as you smile.

Draco lips danced with a smirk as you furrowed your brows, knowing he was up to something. “What did you do?” you giggle.

He scoffs, “What? I can’t look at you and smile?” He teasingly pokes at your side as you knock his bicep with your book. Draco looks next to him as the erupting rose bush and with a snap of his fingers, a white rose finds its way his hands. “For you, my dear.” Just like he did months ago at the ball. Your heart flutters.

You smile and accept the rose with a kiss on his lips swiftly. “Thank you,” you laugh. Draco links his arm with yours, continuing to stroll through the gardens with you.

“You know the drill,” he sighs. “Rose, bud, thorn. Hit me with it.” Smiling, you think, “Rose. It’s really a perfect day outside. I’m delighted to spend the day out here. Bud. I’m looking forward to my parents’ arrival at the manor today. And I don’t think there is a thorn today. So far, so good.” Draco smiles at you and kisses your temple. “Your turn.”

He thinks. “No thorn for me either. Rose is spending the day with your parents. Bud is only two more weeks until I get to call you Mrs. Draco Malfoy,” he pulls you closer to his side. He holds your left hand up so he can see the ring that he had placed on your ring finger just three months before. The ring glimmered in the sunshine as he inspected it. “I did quite a bloody good job, didn’t I?” he praises himself as you roll your eyes.

But he was right. The ring was beautiful (and large). A beautiful diamond set in the middle of two emeralds. Draco had gotten the ring custom made for you. He had taken the mask that you had worn to the masquerade ball and had the ring made from the jewels on the mask. The sentiment was enough to have you a crying, babbling mess when he told you after he had proposed.

Draco had proposed right after you graduated. He wanted to get married and start your lives together as soon as possible. He had proposed in a very subtle way, but you couldn’t ask for anything more. Draco had taken you to a beautiful flat in the heart of London. It overlooked the city and had copious amounts of space. That’s when he told you that he had bought it for the two of you. It was close enough to Healer School and St. Mungo’s so you could both study and then work couldn’t be too far. It had a large master bedroom, a guest room, an office, and another smaller bedroom that Draco suggested could be a nursery. And that’s when he got on one knee and asked you to be his forever.

You smiled at your fiancé. “You did a lovely job, darling,” you smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “Good Godric, I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more than that,” he challenged as you rolled your eyes. “Forever and always, my love.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought. Forever and always with Draco Malfoy. If you had told yourself at the beginning of the year that you would be engaged to your sworn rival, you would have laughed in your own face. But the now, you couldn’t imagine doing life without him.

If this wasn’t proof that destiny or fate existed, you didn’t know what did.

------

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shefanispeculator · 3 years ago

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Blake Shelton was worried about the headline.

Following the first 10 songs of his final "Friends & Heroes" tour stop at Fiserv Forum in Milwaukee Saturday, Shelton stepped offstage, and country music veteran John Anderson emerged from below it. There was an instant surge of energy from the near-capacity crowd, as Anderson, with Shelton's seven-piece backing band, crooned through a soft "Seminole Wind," followed by a boisterous "Money in the Bank" and the boot-scootin' "Swingin'," all huge country hits in the '80s and '90s.

And Shelton, half-jokingly, was just a touch jealous.

"Why do you all act so different for John Anderson?" Shelton asked. "I've been out here for 40 minutes, and all of a sudden John Anderson comes out here and the whole damn crowd … is line-dancing and (expletive). How do you line-dance in your seats?"

"The last thing I need is to wake up tomorrow morning and read the Wisconsin Post or whatever you have here, and the headline says something like 'John Anderson steals the show,'" Shelton continued.

Here at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, we don't take headline suggestions from people we're writing about. But that wouldn't have been an appropriate headline anyway — because Anderson wasn't the only one to steal the spotlight from Shelton.

And that's the beauty of the concept of Shelton's "Friends & Heroes" tour, which has been around for a few years but stopped in Milwaukee for the first time Saturday.

It gives Shelton a chance to share his sharp band and packed houses with veteran country stars who prove they've still got the goods, and are still beloved.

On Saturday, that included Martina McBride, who with her sparkling voice, brightened the night with the self-assuring gems "My Baby Loves Me" and "This One's for the Girls," before closing out with the shattering, and soaring, "A Broken Wing."

And the show also included Tracy Byrd, who actually got the strongest reaction of the three "Friends & Heroes" Saturday. He took full advantage of the runway, tipping his black cowboy hat and high-fiving any fans he could reach, hyping up the crowd with his magnetic stage presence and '90s and early-aughts party-starters "Ten Rounds With Jose Cuervo," "I'm From the Country" and "Watermelon Crawl."

"Over and over again tonight, I have had my ass handed to me by these other singers coming," Shelton said near the show's end.

Shelton was, of course, selling himself short.

While the three guests were indisputable highlights Saturday, they performed for only 10 minutes each. Shelton, on the other hand, was on stage for the show's remaining two hours and 30 minutes, striving to fulfill an early evening promise to play "the longest country concert." (Eric Church routinely does three-hour sets, but this was an impressive marathon nonetheless.)

With the charm and charisma that's made him such a winning personality on NBC's "The Voice" for 21 seasons, Shelton handily slipped into various personas Saturday night, for the raucous "Boys 'Round Here," the moon-eyed duet "Nobody But You" (which he sang facing footage of his new wife Gwen Stefani singing back to him), or the outlaw-flavored "God's Country" and the George Jones classic "Ol' Red."

There were plenty of fun interactions with the crowd, too. Locking eyes with a guy in the front row for the love ballad "Sure Be Cool If You Did," Shelton chuckled mid-song, telling him, "Sing to her, not to me," gesturing to the man's date. And for "Hillbilly Bone," Shelton let himself get upstaged yet again, this time for a fiery duel between guitarist Beau Tackett and fiddle player Jenee Fleenor, the first woman to win the CMA Award for musician of the year.

Shelton was happy to share the spotlight, but after the performance, he feigned a bruised ego, and for the night's greatest moment, invited Anderson, Byrd and McBride to join him for a songwriter's circle session to see which of them had the greatest country song. (He also suggested George Strait, Garth Brooks, Luke Bryan and Luke Combs were going to be the judges … although they were going to stay backstage.)

"How many of y'all think if this was the 'Who talks the most (expletive) of the Friends & Heroes' tour competition, we'd already have our winner?" Byrd said, gesturing to Shelton, another case of the headliner being upstaged Saturday, for funniest line of the night.

Shelton did his rendition of "Who Are You When I'm Not Looking" solo on acoustic guitar, suggesting the lines "When you undress, do you leave a path/Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath" were about Anderson.

After the performance, Shelton did a little moonwalk victory dance, then playfully suggested they end the competition. But Byrd wouldn't have it, sparking a big singalong for a beaming "The Keeper of the Stars," followed by Anderson performing "Straight Tequila Night" (both with support from Shelton's band members). But it was clear, from fans and musicians alike, that McBride won this little competition with "Independence Day."

As they all left the stage, Shelton put an end to the jealousy act, saying some kind words about how much those three musicians inspired Shelton as he made his own ascent in the country music world.

"Those are Hall of Famers … you're never going to see something like that ever again," Shelton said. "My heroes, man, your heroes, man. Those are country music icons, all of them."

And Saturday's show suggested there was one headline Shelton will wake up to one day: "Blake Shelton inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame

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praphit · 3 years ago

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F9: What does Absurdity even mean anymore?

Due to COVID, I thought that my last movie theater experience was going to be "Bad Boys For Life". I'm happy to say that if I died today, I would be telling souls in Heaven that "F9" was the last movie I saw on the big screen (I'm sure that films are big talking points in the after life).

There weren't too many people there:

There was a woman coughing in the corner; I barely looked at her. I imagined that COVID was mugging her, and I didn't want to be a witness, and so have COVID come after me next. I'm vaxxed, but still I was thinking of ways to distract COVID, so I could enjoy the film. There was an old couple sitting up front (like REALLY OLD... sitting UP FRONT... Ha! that's awesome). Awesome or not, I was going to point them out if COVID came after me. There were two obese kids sitting a few rows behind me that I could also point out, as well as my friend that I was sitting next to... what?? Look, they would ALL want me to escape, so I could bring my "F9" review to the people!

WHAT??!

Let's not talk about my survival skills, let's talk some Vin & the Fam - that's why we're here!

It took a while for me to remember what was going on:

Dom (Vin), Letty (M. Rod), and their... kid? Oh, right, they have a kid, and they moved on to start a new life together.

Didn't the real mom die or something?? Idk. You've got the British lady from "GOT" still hanging out with Luda and Tyrese.

(they so crazy)

"Hobbs and Shaw" are still gone

(making their own money, cuz bleep family!).

Brian (Paul Walker's character - rip) is apparently, now everyone's babysitter. So, if anyone in this gang, who could die on any of these missions, ever have kids, they can just send them off to Nanny Brian's.

There's a dude named Mr. Nobody who sometimes sends the gang on secret spy missions.

Oh, and people in the gang keep coming back from the dead. Boom! We're caught up with this absurdity. That's actually what I asked for when I got to the movies

"Give me one ticket for Absurdity please."

In this batch of the absurd, we find out that Dom has a brother, and he's John Cena (Jakob).

Charlize Theron is back! That must have been the worst bet that she has ever lost. I consider her to be one of the most underrated and underappreciated actors we've got, but movies like these ain't helping that case.

And who's idea was it to give her that haircut? - part of the bet she lost, I suppose.

It was reported that the gang goes into space (at least two of them do).

Annnnd the X-Men Jet is back!

(it really does look like that - Wolverine included)

Seriously, after the X-Men's last two movies (which were turrrible), I was expecting them to crossover for a fresh start. Why not?? They're a spy team now, that goes to space! - nothing should be off the table.

They're looking for two halves of some... war sphere?? If put back together with some key... idk... John Cena rules the world.

Remember when Vin and the gang were all about street racing, money, survival, and brown booty? - those were simpler times!

But, why discuss the plot? Seriously, why? None of it makes any sense. From Dom and Letty living like Amish people (which is an ending worse than death for action heroes)

to their convoluted explanation for bringing the latest person back from the dead (which reminds me of a married couple, when the husband or wife get caught watching porn, and try to explain that it was just a pop-up that came out of nowhere. The other spouse gulps their glass of wine and plows forward - that was me with this - gulping my soda (with a lil Henny) saying "whatever guys, let's please just move on".

and what's going on with the two brother's is a thin thread at best. AND the villain's motivation...

But, it's foolish to get into that., and take points off. I LOVE THESE MOVIES, but it ain't for the story. Let's grade "F9" by its own standards:

Racing, Action, and Family (they graduated from booty to family):

Racing

They've done the racing in a small city thing before, but this time it's with magnets! - SUPER MAGNETS!

YES!

I loved this! Cars are getting sucked into magnets. They're using them to make people fly away and explode. Which btw, they did my man Francis Ngannou wrong (an mma fighter). There's a fight scene with a giant white dude on top of a speeding vehicle. That giant white dude could have and should have been the role for Francis, instead he's just here to say high, and then blow up. As much as I loved these scenes, they were too quick in some areas. I think if they had slowed some of the magnet stuff down a bit, we could appreciate more what's happening.

Action

M.Rod is legit.

She needs her own franchise. The only action star I enjoyed more than her was Vin, and that's really due to the absurdity of one scene. Do y'all remember the "Civil War" scene when Captain America has one hand on a building and another pulling back a helicopter??

It's the same level of strength needed for what Vin does in some underground chambers. You can see a bit of it in the trailer. He pulls the whole place down, and then, just like in "Civil War", he ends up in the water (but unconscious). Oh, and he does this after beating up like 50 people at once. Ha! I love it! Then, how he is rescued (cuz c'mon, he can't die) is splendidly preposterous, and I mean that is a complimentary way. That scene is perfection.

The only action that bothers me comes from Dom's sister (mia).

She just doesn't sell being a fighter, but whatever. No disrespect... she’s beautiful, but... her hair might weigh more than the rest of her body.

Apparently, the highest trained fighters (agents) in the world (who have GUNS) never trained for a unskilled, unprepared, 110 lb woman in her 40's with a frying pan.

Family & Corona

Tyrese and Luda are always funny, but their act is growing a bit thin. It actually felt like an act this time around. I think it's time to add another black man in the mix; perhaps one who's older than they are... TRACY MORGAN?

Throw an OG in there and it'll freshen things up again. I do like though how Tyrese is starting to suspect that they might be immortals. I think they should test that theory out in the next movie; maybe have Tyrese break the fourth wall, kinda like Deadpool, as he realizes this is just a dumbass movie.

Dom and Letty's kid... terrible. I'm sorry! This is a bias of mine, but kids normally suck at acting. This one is no exception. Just get an older actor to play the young kid. I'm thinking Ryan Reynolds would have been a good choice.

You may be saying "that's absurd!" - I'm glad that y'all can still tell what that word means, cuz I can't.

The rest of the chemistry family magic is great!

Oh, and Cardi is here, but... barely (for like 30 seconds, if that).

No rapping, no wapping, no cursing... kind of a waste of Cardi B, if you ask me.

John Cena aka Jakob with a K!

Meh. JC def has charisma, just not in this movie. He doesn't stand out at all. You know?? - The Rock, Jason Statham, Charlize Theron, etc all have a presence about them in this franchise. Cena?! what happened, buddy?

There are certain music artists whom you'd think would have a great personality based off their music and how they dress. But, then you meet them, and you realize that they're just normal bozos like you and I (only rich and famous). And normal bozos like you and I, AT TIMES can be boring. You gotta have some flair if you're not going to have personality. Give my man some pink glittery highlights, a face tat, some vampire teeth, and maybe a chainsaw for his left arm or something.

Grade: Good action. The absurdities were funny. I was entertained! Production was great! BUT it's getting tired, my friends. It's the same formula that I've mentioned and then, like always, they're grilling and drinking Corona's in the sun. After nine movies (with at least two more on the way)... I never thought I'd say this, but it's actually not absurd enough. Wait... I seriously can't believe I just said that.

I need to say that again to know it's real.

This movie wasn't absurd.. enough? ENOUGH. IT WASN'T! They're going to need to step it up for the next two.

They were in space, but not for long. They raced for the most part in regular cars (regular for them). . You only brought ONE person back from the dead??! C'mon! We can do better.

I'm giving it an entertaining C+

I like that we saw different younger Dom's (during flashbacks) through time. I think that the next type of vehicle they bust out should be a DeLorean.

Y'all feel me?? TIME TRAVEL, baby!

Vin and the gang race through time! They can have Tracy Morgan. They'll each have a younger version (or older) of themselves join the group. Cardi B will actually do something this time - maybe turn into a car!

And maybe Cable shows up as they tie it to Marvel.

Think bigger, Vin!

#f9 #john praphit #praphitproductions.com #action movies #movie reviews #marvel #praphit #vin diesel #michelle rodriguez #racing #fast and furious #cardi b

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tracybirds · 4 years ago

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Bad Things Happen Bingo #1 Alan and Virgil - Stranger in a Familiar Land

Prompted by @neuroticphysiologist - thank you!! :D Loved the combo, it inspired me for sureee!

The boys return to their Kansas high school for the opening of a new building.

Notes: Don’t query me about the timeline, just pretend Gordon is like... 8 years older than Alan in this lol...

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

Alan’s seen Scott’s broad, celebrity smile a thousand times before, but there’s something riveting about this afternoon’s performance in front of the crowd gathered in his old high school. Relaxed shoulders, open expression and a magician’s misdirection away from the troublesome knee injury that had left him grounded. Students and guests of the school alike were lapping it up.

The invitation to the opening of the newest building on the long established campus had been flagged quickly by Tracy Industries and it wasn’t long before John had persuaded Scott to attend with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. Relief swept across the island with the promise of a new project to keep Scott busy and lift his foul mood, and it wasn’t long before they’d all been roped into a visit home to Kansas soil.

Scott always had been good at persuading his brothers to follow his lead.

Scott’s little speech was the pinnacle of the official events and raucous laughter and scattered applause filled the auditorium as he ended with a flourish. He glanced over at them with a triumphant grin, before turning his attention to the flock of admirers that still wanted more from him.

“Come on, let’s go,” said Virgil, with a look of amused exasperation. “He’ll want to catch up with half the town before we head on back.”

Alan watched in bemusement. He’d always preferred the town to their visits to the big cities, no need for caution or carefully planned itineraries, appreciating the simple lives the people led and the ordinary way they interacted with him and his brothers. Seeing Scott mobbed like he was on a red carpet was a novel experience in this place.

“Should we help him out?”

Gordon snorted. “Nah, Allie, he’s fine. Mr Popular was always like this, I remember having to wait hours after school when he’d promised to drive me home.”

“At least he drove you in the end,” said John. “My first day of high school, he just shoved me on the bus so he could spend more time with that girl. Ann? Pamela?”

“Erica,” said Virgil. “You both know I could have driven you, right?”

“No thanks,” said the pair quickly.

Alan laughed at the affronted look on Virgil’s face.

“I can’t believe Virgil was that bad a driver.”

“It wasn’t the driving,” said Gordon, pulling a face. “Parker straightened that out pretty quickly.”

“It was Lizzy,” said John.

“Lizzy was a great car,” protested Virgil. “I fixed her up just fine.”

“You fixed her up every day for a year before Dad finally made you sell her for parts,” declared Gordon. “She broke down more than a Fischler project.”

Virgil huffed a little, but Alan could see the grin he was trying to bite back.

“Wasn’t all bad though.” Gordon kick at one of the lockers that lined the long corridor away from the auditorium. A loud clang echoed through the school and Alan instinctively ducked away from the death glare Scott shot at them through the open doorway.

“Speak for yourself,” said John. “You weren’t missing much, Alan.”

“Aw, don’t be like that Johnny,” said Gordon. He shoved him to one side and posed dramatically. “Here’s where I had my first kiss.” He raced to a forlorn looking table, and patted it gently. “Here’s where I wrote all my homework during study hall, look you can still see my initials.” He tapped the carved letters with a look of pride.

“There’s where you got detention,” muttered John. “Oh, and over there too, and that’s were you got suspended for vandalism, real nice, Gordon.”

“I left my mark, that’s all that counts,” said Gordon airily.

He came to a halt in front of the library, staring at the double doors with a delighted grin.

“You can’t tell me you hated everything, when this place existed.”

“I only liked it because it was the one place that had the good sense to ban you.”

Gordon only smiled wider as he flung the doors open and dragged John inside, Alan and Virgil trailing behind.

“Look any different, John?”

“Be quiet,” hissed John. He was backed by an infuriated shush that seemed to surround them.

Gordon started, fear creeping into his eyes, and then relaxed as he caught sight of an elderly lady who looked like she could go toe to toe with Colonel Casey and not break a sweat.

“Sorry, Mrs B,” he said, cheerily.

The old woman pointed at the wall with a huff, and Alan grinned at the photo pinned to the wall; A fourteen year old Gordon, freckled and bright-eyed and a cheeky smile mirrored by the man himself.

“You kept my photo? After all these years? I’m touched, Mrs B, want me to sign it for you?”

“Out.”

Gordon lifted his hands in defeat, still laughing.

“She really means it when she says lifelong ban, Allie, watch yourself,” he said in an undertone.

He raised his voice to address the formidable Mrs B.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he called, shoving John back through the doors he had barrelled through. “I remember the rules, don’t worry.”

“Hmph,” she said, eyeing Alan closely as he made to follow his brothers. Their voices echoed as they walked away, secure in the familiarity of these halls.

He stilled, hand on the doorknob at the display in the corner that caught his eye. Two sparkling glass trophy cases, and class photos that spanned generations. He wandered over, peering at the names and faces of the hundreds of students that had walked the same corridors as his brothers.

Once, he might have been one of them. If things had gone differently, he’d be here right now. It might have been someone else making today’s speech.

The Tracy name spun together with the history of this place.

John’s, engraved on a number of academic awards, four years in a row.

Gordon’s, taking a place of pride in a variety of sporting shields and a clear favourite for sportsmanship awards as well.

He flipped through the digital archive, selecting the old yearbooks, and there was Virgil, grinning out of the holoscreen at him. He held a trophy of his own, with a young John staring adoringly up at him. Alan blinked, reading the caption that described the school’s first victory in a robotics tournament thanks to the duo.

There was Scott, class president and valedictorian of his year, presenting a speech at graduation. Scott’s name seemed to be almost everywhere he looked, every award, every prize, every photograph of the era. His magnetic brother had thrived here.

The more he looked, the more he found.

He looked up at the photographs, searching for the familiar faces in the crowds. Searching for traces of a past he couldn’t remember and had never been a part of.

A hand fell heavy on his shoulder and he jumped.

“I can’t believe they still have all these old photos,” said Virgil, looking intently into each frame.

Alan didn’t reply, switching his focus instead to his brother. He could read recognition in his brother’s eyes.

“Look,” said Virgil suddenly, “there’s Dad.”

“What?” Alan surged forward, looking back at the photos Virgil pointed to, long before his birth. “Dad went here?”

He could see for himself that it was true – his teenage father looked just like his memories of Scott and Virgil at that age – and he couldn’t help stifling a laugh at the dated haircut.

“Mom too,” said Virgil, pointing at the young girl sitting next to him.

Alan froze, his breath catching in his throat. She smiled up at him with Scott’s dimples and a light in her deep, brown eyes that he recognised in Gordon. He had her hair, he’d always known that, but he’d never seen her with freckles just like his.

“I didn’t know she wore glasses.”

The words came out in a hoarse whisper, squeaking past the lump that had settled in his chest.

Virgil looked surprised.

“You haven’t seen them in our baby photos? She switched to contacts after Gordon was born, he kept grabbing at them.”

Alan just shook his head, not sure if he could speak. He didn’t think he’d ever seen his brothers’ baby photos. It wasn’t the sort of thing they shared, sitting down and searching through the past. There was too much pain there, and when he was feeling disconnected from his mom, it was always his own photos they reached for.

Always, there was the reassurance that their mom had loved him.

Never an indication of the life his brothers had lived before him. A hometown, the same high school, people who called out to them on the street just to say how much they’d grown. People who wanted to tell them they’d done this place he barely knew proud.

“You okay, Allie?”

A tight smile betrayed his thoughts.

“She was really pretty,” he said softly, drawing a finger across the glass.

Virgil nodded slowly. For a moment, Alan thought he might say something and he desperately willed him not to, unsure he’d be able to speak. The moment soon passed and he stepped forward again, to point out more people intertwined with their life before Alan.

He nodded and hummed along, trying to feign interest as best he could, but he could feel the disappointment radiating from Virgil. He wanted to share this with him, but there were consequences to their father whisking them to a new home before Alan could take root here.

An island home suited him, adrift in a lonely sea and isolated from the stability that connected his family to their own homeland.

“Come on,” said Virgil, a soft look in his eye. “Scott’s done, and we want to show you something before we go.”

Curious, Alan followed his brother outside to see his family gathered together, joking and laughing in the courtyard.

“Hey, Alan!” called Gordon, wide grin on his face. “Remember this?”

Behind them, he could see a mural painted over the concrete. The colours were faded and the paint was chipped, the significance of the artwork paid little attention to by students across the years, hurrying and late to class.

As he approached, he could recognise the section they were gathered in front as one of Virgil’s works – a landscape image of the school building just replaced and reopened, living on only in his painting. A sketch of the new building lay next to it, waiting for a new artist to bring the newest period in the school’s history to life.

He looked back through the past images in fascination, from the simple, single roomed wooden building to the magnificent architecture of glass and masonry that stood in front of him today. All the images were true to life, he assumed, painted over as time went by and yet another testament to the proud history to which he couldn’t belong.

Virgil’s own mural stood out from the rest, and not just because he recognised his brother’s bold strokes. It was marred by impulsive streaks of colour, pure blues and bright reds, and in these areas, a technical drawing of the school had been painted in contrast with the realism of the rest of the image.

Two handprints – one large and one small – lay bright in the corner.

“By Virgil and Alan Tracy,” he murmured, reading the small print beside them. “I did this?”

“Let’s just say you wanted to ‘help’,” said Scott with a wicked grin at Virgil.

“I was babysitting you,” said Virgil, crouching down next to the painting. “Biggest project I’d ever been given at the time.”

“And boy, did we hear about it when you painted over it,” said Scott.

“We could hear him yelling from the other side of town,” added Gordon, laughing. “He wouldn’t speak to you for a week. Have you ever seen a teenager trying to ignore a six year old? Funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“”In my defence, I thought the school would pull me from the project. I’d spent months planning it in my spare time, I was terrified I’d lose it.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Alan, his ears hot.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Al,” said John, squeezing his shoulder. “Dad straightened him out in the end, you really can’t ignore an upset six year old for long.”

“Besides, it turned out better than before.” Virgil tapped the image lightly. “You covered up all my lighting mistakes on the front staircase.”

Alan laughed, a warm glow in his chest. He hadn’t expected to find a trace of himself at this school everyone else seemed to belong to. He hadn’t expected to care, but his brothers did and maybe that was how his history could be made. He’d never gone to this school, but he’d left his mark all the same. He didn’t recognise the people, couldn’t walk the halls blindfolded, but he shared a past with the place all the same, shared between him and his brothers.

Maybe, he thought, spirits soaring high as he laughed easily with them. Maybe he didn’t have to live in a town for it to feel like home.

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

#alan tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #bthb card #this is where you all discover that I don't like bad things happening xDD #and my primary goal is to FIX IT

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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Another favourite scene

I’m writing more Kermadec fic and had to read back to fact check what I had written before and came across this scene. It had me smiling, so I thought I’d post it here in the hope it would cause a few more smiles.

There’s a little shippyness in this, so if that is not your thing...

Five brothers, camped on a rocky beach on Macauley Island (photo above, though by 2060, the vegetation has returned, so add pokey trees to the picture) at sunset of Day Two in their voyage home. Brothers will be brothers :D

-o-o-o-

It was a very satisfied group of brothers who watched the sun dip below the horizon sometime later. The cube temperature had been lowered, but not entirely extinguished. They weren’t in tropical latitudes yet and although the days were warm, the nights got chilly. The sea breeze was gentle and the ocean only mumbled against the rocks.

Virgil had slipped into bit of a stupor, his body determined to digest and removing resources from his brain to do it. Consequently, he missed the beginning of the conversation between his brothers while he stared after the disappearing sun.

“So how long has this been going on?”

“It is just a bit of friendly recreation, Alan.”

A Gordon snort. “Yeah, John, but how friendly and what kind of recreation?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Gordon.”

“I’m only following yours, spacebro.”

“There is nothing untoward occurring between Captain O’Bannon and myself.”

“Ooh, ‘untoward’ no, but there are two lonely space souls stuck up there together, none other than each other’s company.”

This time it was Scott’s snort. “Oh, only the resident AI who sees and hears all, and about twenty-odd GDF specialists.”

“Oh, yes, Eos!” Virgil arched an eyebrow as he realised his fishbrother was tapping his collar comms. “Hey, Eos, are you willing to share the goss on your Dad and Captain Ridley O’Bannon.”

“Hello, Gordon. What would you like to know?”

“Does John have a ‘thing’ for the girl next door?”

“Most definitely.”

“Eos!” John shot up ramrod straight in his seat as Gordon cracked up laughing.

“It is true, John. You have sixteen processors, four electronic clipboards and twenty-three bottles of moisturiser set aside for Captain O’Bannon. These are all things you have for the girl next door.”

Virgil couldn’t help himself and had to smother a laugh.

The expression on Gordon’s face was a mixture of confusion and incredulity. “Twenty-three bottles of moisturiser?”

“It is her favourite brand and she was unable to purchase it before beginning her last rotation, so I acquired some for her.” He glared at his aquanaut brother. “Just like friends do.”

“But twenty-three bottles?” Even Scott was staring at John as if he was a little weirded out.

“You obviously like her. Why don’t you ask her out?” Trust Gordon to poke the issue further.

John shrugged. “Hasn’t come up.”

Gordon groaned. “Really?” His hands dropped to his knees. “I thought it would be obvious.”

John’s glare was acidic. “I can’t see why you can talk. How long did it take you to ask Penny out? Hmm, let me think, oh, yes, that’s right. You didn’t. She asked you.”

“Hey, I was bedridden!”

“Excuses, excuses...”

“Well, at least I’m making progress. Please tell me at least one of you guys has a possibility in your back pocket. Hell, we’re all tough and buff and saving people. Hasn’t anyone swooned for any of you?” Gordon’s eyes raked around the circle and to Virgil’s horror landed on him. “What about you, Virg. You and Tin have a bit of thing happening, don’t you?”

His heart missed a beat. “What? No!”

“Virg and Kayo? Are you kidding me?” Alan was glaring at Gordon, but then seemed to second guess himself and turned that glare on Virgil. “She’s our sister, bro.”

Virgil held up his hands. “Hey, it wasn’t me who postulated the idea.”

“Postulated? Really, Virg? Me thinks you be hiding behind a dictionary.”

“Shut up, Gordon.��

“I think he doth protest too much.”

“I think you should look into the fact she is spending the next month with Wayne Rigby and not entirely for mission related reasons.”

There was no satisfaction in seeing Gordon freeze like that, or Scott’s “What?”

“She’s with us for New Years, but then it is onto Siberia on the third of January. Something about the possibility of a Chaos Crew tech lab infiltration.” Virgil grabbed the carafe of hot chocolate off the heat cube and poured himself a good dose. He ignored the voice in the back of his head that wished it was something ever so much stronger.

“She hasn’t told me about any mission.” Scott was frowning at him.

Virgil hid behind his mug. “Only just came in apparently. She only mentioned it in passing while she was saying goodbye. I have no doubt she will brief you when we get home.”

Gordon was staring at him. He opened his mouth but failed to say anything.

Virgil took another sip and just stared straight back. It took a moment, but eventually Gordon appeared to shake it off, frowning just a little before turning to Scott. “What about you, bro? You’ve always been our leader in the girlfriend department. What’s the count now?”

“Thirty-two.” John was smug behind his own mug of hot chocolate.

His eldest brother shifted in his seat as if suddenly uncomfortable. “Okay, I’m with Virgil on this - shut up, Gordon.”

Gordon held up his hands in all his innocent glory. “Hey, I’m just brotherly bonding around the fire.”

“Go bond with the volcano.” John’s voice was dry. “Or a whale, I hear a few pass through on occasion.”

“Hey, you were the one keeping count.”

“I can’t help it, I’m good with numbers.”

Virgil snorted. “Not good enough. You’re at least two out.”

The glare Scott shot him could have scorched his hair off.

“Don’t worry, Scott, I’m not going to tell them about Petunia.”

“Virgil!”

“What?”

“Shut it or lose it.”

“Hey, I said I wasn’t going to tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Both Alan and Gordon were about ready to fall off their chairs with glee.

John just rolled his eyes.

“About Petunia.”

“Who is Petunia?”

“You’re an idiot, Virg.” Scott’s glare was becoming more resigned and flatter by the second. “I am so gonna let them know about Gertrude now.”

Virgil snorted. “As if I’d care. She really wanted you anyway.”

“Not true, you were her favourite.”

“Yeah, sure, she’d turn to anyone who would give her what she wanted. I just had it more often than you.”

“You planned it that way.”

“I thought you of all people would appreciate a few tactics. With you around, I need all the help I can get.”

“What?”

Okay, so that had come out a little too serious for Petunia talk, but then Virgil’s count was far smaller than thirty-two or thirty-four depending on how you counted. Early on he had tried to get out and about like his eldest brother, but honestly it wasn’t in him. He wasn’t a one-nighter like Scott. Besides standing next to the heir of Tracy Industries, tall and female magnet was like trying to catch moths while standing next to a bug zapper.

“Virgil?”

“Petunia was a goose.”

“What?!” It was choral from both Alan and Gordon and quickly followed by a “Virgil!” from Scott.

“She used to follow him around everywhere about the farm. It was hilarious.

“Yeah, well, Gertrude was goat and she once ate Virgil’s pants. He’s lucky he didn’t lose more.”

Scott and Virgil glared at each other across the heat cube while Gordon and Alan played eyeball tennis between them.

John just drank his chocolate, a vaguely amused expression on his face.

Virgil held his brother’s furious gaze as long as he could, but he had to bite his lip. The moment he realised Scott was doing the same, it became oh so much harder.

Two seconds later he cracked up laughing. Scott followed not a moment after and both of them laughed even harder when they caught sight of the expressions on Gordon and Alan’s faces.

Virgil laughed so hard he had to hold his stitches in place.

Which of course Scott saw and it drew the night to a close as big brother shifted gears into smother brother.

They cleared off the island leaving no mark behind. Gordon clucking like a hen and claiming death threats from Melissa Fisher if they left anything behind.

Making it back to the boat in the dark was easily done, but awkward and a little painful for Virgil and by the time he made it to his bed, he was worn out.

Regardless, he didn’t fall asleep immediately, despite the gentle rocking of the boat. Thoughts of what could be, what could have been and what he actually wanted bounced around the inside of his skull.

It took a long time for them to fall quiet.

-o-o-o-

We’ll be home for Christmas

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #kermadec fic

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uaklauslovesdave · 4 years ago

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4, 8, 12, 14, 16 and 17 for the TUA asks!!

buckle up folks because this got long! it is my nature to be overly thorough about the wrong things and now i’m making it your problem. i’m gonna indulge and i’m gonna indulge hard.

4. What do you think all the siblings’ favorite bands are?

luther: his tastes are elcectic! the boy just likes music and is open to trying pretty much anything!

diego: maybe some like industrial or post-hardcore stuff like nine inch nails or fugazi, or perhaps something like public enemy or wu-tang clan. and don’t tell anyone but he will secretly listen to joni mitchell and other sad lady with guitar music.

allison: she likes motown and 60s girl groups! and she will also listen to some stuff like the fugees and tracy chapman. and when she wants to get amped she’ll listen to bikini kill or something.

klaus: he’s gonna be listening to some gothy dark wave music like the cure or siouxsie and the banshees. he also probably likes gals like debbie harry and kate bush and patti smith. but then there’s also that interest in nina simone and i think he would also be into 60s girl groups.

five: a hard one! i don’t think he has much individual music taste what with his apocalypse stay, and when luther finds this out he makes it his personal mission to give five a music education. eventually he ends up liking tom waits or something.

ben: ben would need smart lyrics and something kind of arty and low key depressing. like the talking heads or magnetic fields. but also let us not forget that he’s a secret pop music fan and remembered backstreet boys lyrics like 20 years after the song came out.

vanya: she’s got her interest in classical, orchestral type music of course, but she’s also into some folks like fiona apple or sharon van etten. and sometimes she’ll let loose to sleater-kinney and the like.

8. Let’s say all the siblings lived in apartments that allowed pets. What would all their pets be? (Bonus: What would they name the pets?)

ok so it is my personal feeling that all of the hargreeves are Cat People, and for reasons unknown to me it is a very strong personal feeling. in fact you might say that this is my hill 689... because it is the hill i will die on. sorry i’ll see myself out.

luther: i know it’s popular to give luther a tiny kitten, but please consider luther with a big ol’ maine coon named Toffee who he treats like a tiny baby. she sleeps on his chest and they slow blink at each other and luther bought her a Cat Stroller and takes her for walks around the neighborhood.

diego: a tiny gray cat he found crying in the alley behind the gym. he doesn’t want to appear too attached so she is just ‘the cat’ and he refuses to acknowledge that he increasingly thinks of her as My Cat and would stab anyone who looks at her wrong

allison: a large long-haired cat who hangs out in a basket in a spare room and hisses any time someone other than allison so much as looks at the room. he tolerates claire, who named him pancake.

klaus: black cat, obviously. he and dave name her jimmy because they are saps and will always remember that jim morrison was playing when they first got together.

five: is it a sin to deny five mr. pennycrumb the dog? well i’m gonna because it’s time for mr. pennycrumb the cat, who is a chaotic, cross-eyed, Head Empty Nothing There cat. Five unapologetically loves and would kill for mr. pennycrumb the cat and no one understands it.

ben: he has a ghost cat named adelaide who likes to sit on high surfaces with him. is ben perching on the counter again? watching klaus and allison smoke in the alley from above on the fire escape? well there’s adelaide the ghost cat loafing right next to ben.

vanya: enormous orange cat living out his senior years with vanya. he has sad eyes and likes to spoon and will let her know loudly when he wants tuna. his name is louie.

12. What sort of games do you think they played as kids?

pretty much anything they did was bound to get competitive and overly tactical. like they played hide and seek and it turned into a day-long high-stakes battle of wits and stealth. but also allison convinced reginald to buy them some classic 90s games like mall madness or something. they all went hard playing this even though they’d never been to a mall in their life.

14. If you could give the siblings’ middle names, what would they be?

i thought about this question and i decided that they would all be weirded out by the concept of middle names! like it felt like a special gift when grace gave them their names and they never even thought to want a second name on top of that. later they meet people with middle names and they’re like hmm seems fake but ok.

16. If instagram or twitter existed in the UA universe, what would all their handles be?

luther: he’s nothing if not earnest so it’s a straight-up @LutherH

diego: yeah he’s gonna be something like @XXkNivES_ouTxX

allison: she’s got her celeb status so she’s @allisonhargreeves

klaus: something very random and nonsensical like @bedazzledhamsandwhich

five: does not fuck with social media

ben: @readmoretalkless which klaus found dull and tried to get him to change to @thewhorer

vanya: she’s keepin it simple and is @vanyaviolin

17. What celebrities do you think the siblings’ have crushes on?

i’m gonna say that none of them have celebrity crushes, for a variety of reasons, but mostly because they are just tuned out of that whole scene. they grew up in the public eye and probably interacted with folks with a certain level of fame, and have since wanted to distance themselves from that. allison of course has had to continue to be part of that world for her work and could absolutely fake niceness and interest as she needed to, but i don’t think she genuinely enjoyed it. especially now after the media completely dragged her for the patrick situation.

#thank you for the ask and for providing me with the opportunity to go off #i am always happy to share thoughts about the hargreeves #the umbrella academy #an ask and an answer #knifecatklaus

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darkestwolfx · 5 years ago

Text

Brains VS. Brawns - Re-Review #52

Look at MAX with his weapon of choice!

Right, now I’ve got that desperate exclamation out of the way, let’s get to the proper part of the review.

This is the final episode of series 2. Goodness grief, I cannot believe we’ve made it this far already. But we have, and so once again, I will give out one of my massive thank you’s to you all for supporting the Re-Review Series (even though the author has been massively busy in lockdown [ironic, right?] and so has given you some rather poor ones some days).

But, let’s begin with this shot of the desert, which somehow reminds me of TOS ‘The Uninvited’. What was it Scott said in that episode about unfriendly places?

Yeah, Thunderbird One got shot down in that episode... and in this episode, someone is also shooting at it, but with a giant, very dangerous - if you remember Brains trying to tell us all the possibilities back in ‘Power Play’ (or Battle of the Bad Guys Volume 1, as I like to remember it) - very powerful laser!

Yes, the desert is a very unfriendly spot.

So yes, this episode if where we get to see Project sentinel, a weapon that was beyond The Hood’s realm of conscience. Personally, I think The Hood would have definitely used that laser.

I thought this shot from ‘The Uninvited’ was relevant to show what I meant about the desert. See, unfriendly place. And I officially respect Adam Wilkin of the interweb for making this! It fits perfectly with my current line of conversation and really looks like it could have been a TAG episode.

Anyhow, moving on from my line of thought from the title card, let’s get down to business. And by that I mean the rescue business!

And let’s just casually take Thunderbird One out to the desert - even after everything we’ve just been discussing and looking at? Yeah, the desert and Thunderbird One aren’t friends, but folks, be reassured, we don’t get to see it shot down today! Live in reassurance that TB1 is fine. I couldn’t have a certain someone holding their breath all the way through the review to hear that nugget of knowledge.

“I’m tracking the source... oh no! We have a situation. A really, really big one. A massive laser satellite just showed up on scanners. Guys, I think The Mechanic’s Project Sentinel is online.”

Because these bad guys have really been quiet since ‘Home on the Range’ so what else could we expect for the series final? And if there was ever a time for the “we have a situation line” it was now.

“That laser blast revealed a hidden underground facility. my scans show one life sign trapped inside.”

Hmm... the cogs in my brain were already turning at this. An underground facility with no records available to John?

“John, where am I exactly?”

“I can’t find any record of it. Whoever built that place didn’t want anyone to find it.”

“Well, The Mechanic found it.”

Yeah, I was suspicious.

“Losing those power cells didn’t stop The Mechanic. He’s using the sun to power it now!”

Why would The Mechanic want to fire at the Sahara? Yeah, I was doubly suspicious.

Yep, and we’ve yet to find a way to stop solar power - especially if you’ve got your solar panels up in space right near the source. Let’s power the world environmentally and take a leaf out of The Mechanic’s books.

“Scott, the Sentinel is firing!”

Warnings are useful given in advance Brains!

I sort of felt that. It looked and sounded like it hurt... It’s always Scott isn’t it? I bet they’ll be more prompts going up after this reminder... I’m still working on the rockfall, they don’t give us (or Scott) much chance to recover here).

“That was way too close.”

Yeah, you’re telling me!

“It looks like the longer the Sentinel charges, the more powerful it’s laser.”

Basic solar energy principles, right there.

Throw back to Friday - you know, hypercars, Tycho, David Tennant - “he will knock four times”, remember that line (different fandom I know, but go with it).

* Knock knock *

And we only get two. Shame. See where my mind wanders?

“This is International Rescue. Open up. I’ve come to get you out of here.”

“Ah, Scott Tracy. It took you long enough.”

“The Hood!”

Bet no one saw that coming.

Oh, wait, me! I did!

Cue obligatory gasps.

*Gasp*

“The Hood!”

“What are you up to Hood?”

Punch him, Scott, please punch someone for once.

(Reminder that this show is universally rated).

Or not.

Just let The Hood walk right past you.

Universal rating.

There’s a parallel world somewhere - I like to think - where Scott does punch that smug face.

“Isn’t it obvious? The Mechanic is trying to fry me with a space laser.”

I know he’s the bad guy, I know we’re not meant to like him, but that line was humour central, I laughed massively. I’d forgotten it completely!

“I’m waiting for you to rescue me.”

“Us rescue you?”

“You are International Rescue, are you not?”

Sorry, you must have dialed the wrong number, this is International Gardening, supported by the one and only Ned Tedford. The only thing we rescue is geranium’s, definitely not super villains. Just imagine that world for a second.

But uh, no, this is International Rescue, reporting for duty.

“And that makes you think we’ll rescue you?”

“I’m counting on it.”

Remember that quality of Scott’s we love? The calm thinking, forward pushing, forgiving;

“Who you are and what you’ve done doesn’t matter.”

Yeah, well here it wavers, because it matters. This is the one (possibly there’s more on Scott’s bad list, but I think The Hood is probably the one he really can’t see past - I mean, he forgives Fuse, but I’m saying no more because we’ll get there later) person that Scott cannot treat with the same attitude he faces the rest of life and their rescues with. Everyone has their limits and for Scott, I think forgiving and saving the person who killed their Dad is just a step too far. And I don’t blame his lapse, it’s completely understandable. Put in his position, I think I would have been the same.

“Scott he has a point. We have a duty to protect people from harm. We don’t get to choose who that is.”

“Grandma...”

“But- just because we have to save him, doesn’t mean he’ll like it.”

I like her thinking.

“International Rescue, my life is in your hands.”

“Just make sure you remember that.”

Yeah, and then take shots at them again in Series 3.

Right, so summarizing up until here;

Let’s save The Hood - because morals demand it, rightly so - but that doesn’t mean we can’t imprison him at the same time! See, Scott is kinda getting what he wants.

“To The Hood. You can hide no more. Give me what you want or be destroyed.”

The Hood is controlling The Mechanic! But he’s refusing! I love it when someone overcomes challenges. So the whole controlling thing, definitely changes the playing board.

“I don’t think International Rescue will let that happen.”

“He’s right, Mechanic. Stand down.”

“I’m not after you International Rescue. I only want The Hood. Step aside.”

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t do that.”

“Then go down with him.”

He’s not actually a bad guy deep down. I knew there was more to this guy than we ever saw in ‘Earthbreaker’. And now, for one of my favourite events - the TAG game of Catch The Hood.

“Thunderbird One is about to be toast.”

“Maybe Thunderbird Shadow could carry the weight for a while.”

“What are you doing?”

“This is where you get off.”

Ding. Going down.

“Where are you going?”

“To Thunderbird Three. I’m going to take out Sentinel and The Mechanic before he takes out a Tracy.”

Got to love this boys spirit. That, and he hates to be left out.

“Alan, that’s a terrible plan. Firstly, The Mechanic will be operating the Sentinel remotely, so we don’t know where he is. Secondly, it’s a giant laser. Thunderbird Three would be shot clean out of the sky.”

Brains’ practically really is a good at being crushing. But it is practical.

“Let Thunderbird Four take the package for a while. I hope you don’t get seasick Hood, because we’re going all the way down.”

“John, this isn’t working. We’re in hot water down here.”

“Don’t worry, Thunderbird Four help is on the way.”

“Our turn to play pass the parcel. Parker, active the magnetic bumpers.

“Yes, M’Lady.”

“Here that Hood. You’re going for a nice drive in the country. He’s all yours, Lady Penelope.”

“Parcel received.”

Honestly, there’s no better way to document this scene really, save the scene itself, so I’m trying my best here.

“The magnets locked hon but gaw hit’s ‘eavy. hI do ‘ope hit will ‘old.”

“Parker, that magnet could hold a tractor if it had to.”

“We know that M’Lady, but The ‘ood doesn’t.”

Loved that laugh, Parker!

Meanwhile, on the chase;

“Can’t we just ditch The ‘ood? Better him than hus.”

“That’s not very International Rescue now, is it Parker?”

“No, M’Lady.”

But I’m with him.

“Thunderbird Two couldn’t sit by and let you have all the fun.”

No, and Alan tagged along. Virgil probably - wisely - pulled him off the island before he exploded.

“Magnetic coupling detached.”

“Got it.”

“This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

I’m honestly not sure the being chased by a giant laser part is fun... playing catch with The Hood? Yes, that’s fun. Better with no fear of being blown up!

Sorry, the game of catch distracted me, let’s get to the Brains part of the episode. Little bit of jumping around to be had.

“I wonder what it is The Mechanic wants exactly...”

Well, why don’t you go and find out.

There’s was a full Brains and MAX gear up sequence. About time.

“No, MAX. This laser’s far too dangerous for anyone to be on board. Rockets disengaged. That should let us slip through undetected.”

And they’re nearly detected! Contradiction number 1.

“Quiet MAX. There’s no one here, but we don’t know what kind of alarms there are.”

You know, the amount of times Brains has very definitely said (I think we’re on three) that The Mechanic couldn’t possibly be here, is really making me think The Mechanic is actually going to be here. Any one else?

Remember what you were saying to Alan and MAX about remote operating? That looks like The Mechanic to me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well?”

“I asked first?”

“It’s my satellite.”

“Yes. Good point.”

Adored MAX, head turning, not sure where to look. These two were meant to be besties. It’s the joint speaking that gives it away.

“What could The Hood possibly have that you want so badly?”

Yes, let’s get to the point.

“It’s not what he has. It’s what he does. What he makes me do.”

“His cybernetic eye! The Hood is controlling you!”

Well done! It’s only taken 26 episodes! I mean, I guessed by around 13, but okay...

“Not always. I’ve learnt to fight it. That’s much easier up here. But I can’t fight him forever.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this. International Rescue can help you. I can help you.”

“No one can help me.”

Why does no one ever take the help first off! Trust in Brains mate! Sorry, Mr Mechanic, Sir.

“Maximum power!”

Yeah, Brains, I’m with John.

“The Mechanic is powering up for a single shot that will take out everything in the vicinity of The Hood. Brains, it’s now or never.”

MAX being such a hero fighting the Meccas.

“There! I’ve shut down his controls.”

“You’ve ruined everything! now I’ll never be rid of him.”

“Mechanic, trust me, as Chief Engineer of International Rescue, we will find a way to make sure The Hood never has control over you again. You’re coming with me.”

“You want to arrest me that much.”

“I’m not arresting you. I’m saving you.”

This is the start to a beautiful friendship. Just wait another twenty-odd episodes for it. Sit back, kick your feet up,

“The Mechanic is not fully responsible for his actions. He must be protected from The Hood. International Rescue will be in touch, I promise. Engineer to engineer.”

All’s well that ends well.

Speaking of;

“Hood, you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, please! Just get me away from International Rescue!”

I know they’ve just thrown him here, there and everywhere, but somehow I don’t think The Hood would ever take to arrest that easy. Not without a plan... and let’s face it, he had one in ‘Legacy’, what’s the bet he pulls the same trick?

“It seems like we can’t say it enough. Thank you, International Rescue.”

Yes, because not seem rude, but you would probably have lost the world ten times over with what we’ve seen of the GDF’s ‘show of force’ so far. They didn’t even notice when Captain Foster wasn’t Captain Foster! Really, The Hood should have set his sights higher and tried to play Colonel Casey. International Rescue might have been the only ones to notice.

“With those two in custody, all of you might just get a break.”

“Well, to be honest, I’m looking forward to some good old fashioned rescues for a change.”

“Sea quakes.”

“Rock slides.”

“Runaway asteroids.”

“Petty thieves stealing classified technology.”

“Unruly Ambassadors.”

“Dog sitting.”

“And fused power relays.”

And there you have it. What International Rescue call a normal Tuesday.

And we’ve reached the end Series 2!

Oh, wait, it’s like a post credit scene (only before the credits) and look!

Handcuffs on the floor and tied up GDF officers? Well, here we go again.

I mean, is anyone surprised that he found a way out? I’m not. And look at these people in purple! We haven’t had much purple yet in this show - besides the fact Grandma Tracy wears it all the time, so I feel a little like they’re stealing her signature colour. Couldn’t they have gone for black like every other bad guy in TAG? Apparently not.

“Everything has gone according to plan. The Tracy’s have taken care of The Mechanic and now, nothing to stop us causing global chaos.”

Is that a hint dropped there, you know like an easter egg?

But that is the end of Series 2. New bad guys to be introduced properly in tomorrows re-review!

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fallenfurther · 5 years ago

Text

FabFiveFeb - Alan

Stayed up to bash this out. I’ve been in need of a whump having written so much fluff, but having no ideas for the former. Sorry Alan, you’re the first, but I’m planning to whump your brothers too. This one is going to have to go under the indent.

Thank you @gumnut-logic for the prompts.

Prompts: “No! You can’t.”, I wish and ball (if marbles counts)

Warning: Character death (You decide. Possible TBC?)

“No! You can’t!” Scott’s hologram yelled, “Come back, Alan.”

“S-Scott’s right, Alan. Thunderbird 3 won’t make it. You have to come back.” The worried look on Brains’ face made Alan hesitate, but only for a second.

“No. We’re International Rescue and we don’t give up. I have to try and rescue them.”

“No, Alan. Come back.” Scott commanded.

“No. You listen to me, Scott. I’m going to try and rescue these people. I’m the only hope they’ve got. I have to stay and try.”

“Alan! You can’t do this. Come back, Alan. No one is going to blame you. We can’t save…” Alan cut the feed and disabled the com. He could hear the worry in Scott’s voice, but he had to rescue those people. He was International Rescue. Alan placed his hands on the controls and guided Thunderbird 3 towards the other ship, his face a picture of determination.

***

Brains had been right, Alan thought as the back end of the transport ship exploded and sent him flying into the wall. He floated there as his eyes fell on the three crew members. Two were in their seats while one was just floating. They’d reported a hull breach on the distress call, they had said it was contained, that they were okay. Something had gone wrong, and the cabin had lost oxygen before they could put on their helmets. There had been no atmosphere on the ship for a while and Alan was had a feeling they had died not long after he’d left Earth’s atmosphere. John had lost contact with them at that point. Another smaller explosion brought Alan out of his daze, and he pushed off the wall. He made haste to the airlock and slipped his board beneath his feet. He pointed it towards Three and set off as the next explosion sent blinding light his way. Out the corner of his eye, Alan could see Thunderbird Three’s engines, the ones he’d damaged while trying to get close to the spiralling ship, but he also saw the shrapnel flying fast in his direction. Alan bent his knee and sped up, crashing through the hatch and pulling it closed as he heard the metal hit the side of his ship.

If burnt out engines weren’t enough trouble, he was going to be giving her a new paint job! Alan pushed himself over to his seat, strapped in and pulled up his ship’s readings. His eyes looked over the sensors, all were in normal range, bar one. The fuel temperature sensor was out. Alan had never seen it without a reading before, but more banging on the side of Three was enough warning to Alan to get away. He started up the engine and set a course from home. Three responded to his commands and lurched forward.

It was thirty second later that Alan heard the bang and felt the vibrations through the chair. He barely had time to register what was happening as Thunderbird Three’s engines exploded and ripped the ship open. He was plunged into darkness as the display died. Time slowed for Alan. He pushed himself out the harness and opened the hatch. Popping his head out he looked down his red ship and gasped at the mangled shredded end that had contained her engines. He blinked. Alan could hear Scott’s voice in his head.

“Stay calm. Think it through.”

Alan took a deep slow breath and searched the wreckage in front of him. The body of his ‘bird had been split open and as his eyes scoured the wreckage, he saw the gear for the space pod. A quick look around and he could see red pod tumbling away from the ship. Alan ducked back inside and grabbed his board. He made haste and caught up with it. He grabbed the magnets from his side and jumped at the pod, bracing himself as he joined in its tumble. Alan’s hands slowly moved the magnets round until he was at the hatch, which opened easily. He slipped into the seat and closed it behind him. He fired up the small engine and fired the thrusters, slowing the spin to a halt.

Alan took a deep breath and tapped the coms button. Nothing happened. He tried again, and still nothing. He booted up the pods systems and felt his heart rate increase. Half the systems on the pod were not functioning! They must have been damaged when the engine exploded, he thought. Alan looked at what was functioning. Oxygen level indicator, fuel indicator, propulsion, temperature sensor, and harness sensor. Alan looked at the communicator on his wrist and sighed. It had broken when he’d been thrown against the wall in the ship. He suddenly felt very alone. Taking a few deep breaths, he pulled the tube out of the wall and connected it to his helmet. No point wasting oxygen filling the entire pod with air.

Alan placed his hands on the controls and looked out the window. He angled the pod using the thrusters and then headed in the direction he believed would take him home.

****

Alan forced his eyes open, only to face the red warning light. He wished he could get it to go away! He didn’t need reminding that his oxygen was low. Alan had lost track of time, but the amber light told him he was running low on fuel. Not that he had to worry about that. He’d run out of oxygen first. He was already feeling sleepy.

Alan tightened his grip on the controls, trying to force himself to stay awake. He tried to take slow deep breathes and keep his respiration rate low. Like he was trained to. Don’t panic. Alan wished he’d listened to Scott and Brains. How he wished he was back home, on the island, with Thunderbird Three safely sat ready for launch. He wished to hear his brother’s voices again. Their laughter, their sighs and even their shouting. He even wanted Grandma’s cooking. At least he knew he was home when faced with Grandma’s cooking. He couldn’t wipe away the tears that slipped down his face, nor could he stop the sob. He wanted to go home. He wanted his brothers, his sister, his family.

Alan looked up, through the warning signs, at the multi-coloured marble ahead. He set his eyes on it, on home. He tried to focus on keeping his shaking hands steady as another tear fell. The pod continued forward, though home appeared no closer. Alan fought against the draw of sleep, his Tracy stubbornness shining through. But as he finally succumbed, and as his eyes closed, his last wish was for his brothers.

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #thunderbirds are go #alan tracy #scott tracy #rescue #thunderbird three #stranded in space

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grilledcheeseandguavajelly · 5 years ago

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iced coffee, sparkling water and iced lemon tea!!!

Hi lovely!! Thank you so much for your ask!!! Alright, here we go –

Iced Coffee: Do you like reading? If so, what’s your favorite book?

I love to read! Although now that my schoolwork is getting more concentrated I don’t have as much free time as I would like so it takes me forever to finish a book. (Example A - I’ve been reading The Goldfinch for three weeks and I’m only about halfway through.) I don’t think I have a favorite book though?? Ohhhh gosh I hate making decisions like this! Here are my tops that I always recommend: Trigger Warning or Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman, The Color Master by Aimee Bender, The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer, ANY Harry Potter except Cursed Child, The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister by *cough* Anne Lister, August: Osage County by Tracy Letts. (I also have a very nice anthology of Emily Dickinson poetry that is WORN but I don’t know if that necessarily counts as a book...?)

Sparkling Water: Describe what qualities you look for in a person

In a person or in a partner? In a person (friend), I’m attracted to people who make me laugh. People who can challenge me intellectually but never make me feel less significant than I am. People who are unabashedly themselves, no matter who that is. And typically I gravitate towards more social people, as I consider myself to be social and need to be around people who feel comfortable in large social situations.

In a partner, it’s all of the above. PLUS: Someone who is patient with me. Someone who is reassuring, but who never makes me doubt myself (OR their love for me). I look for someone who is easy to be around, easy to talk to. I know it sounds cliché, but I look for that thing. The thing that just makes everything click. Communication is key. And my partner should and will always be, first and foremost, my friend.

Iced Lemon Tea: Favorite song/band?

AGH I don’t have one oh gosh I really don’t. Here, because I’m indecisive, have a tiny playlist of my current favorites:

Stevie Nicks - I love literally everything that she’s done, but right now I’m especially obsessed with Sleeping Angel, Seven Wonders, Leather and Lace, Landslide, Gypsy, and Rooms on Fire

The Frozen II soundtrack. All of it. Period.

The Color Purple - Our Prayer, I'm Here

Hadestown, of course

Delta Rae - Dance in the Graveyards, Bottom of the River, Hey Hey Hey

Morgan James - Memphis Magnetic album (also her version of Dream On - WOW???)

OH MY GOSH IN THE HEIGHTS

Celine Dion - It’s All Coming Back to Me Now

Cher - Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves (and obviously If I Could Turn Back Time)

Panic! at the Disco - Death of a Bachelor. The whole damn album yes please

Ana Gasteyer - One Mint Julep

Avatar soundtrack - Bioluminescence of Night *drools*

Helena Bonham Carter - Both Sides Now

And I could go on and on. Honestly I have such a weirdly vast taste in music and I won’t bore you with all of the crazy stuff I like!! But I hope that was an okay answer!!!

#ask me anything #asks #asks and replies #asks and answers #ask answered

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uncloseted · 5 years ago

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Back again with the costume designer talk -- Yes, I agree with the mischaracterization of all the characters in s6. It felt like last series' plots and endings had been thrown out the window. While watching s6, it felt like a different show all together. Everything that made every character unique was gone. Was there any reason as to why Edward was gone? Also, you stated that Matty likes Victorian and gothic culture. What are other characters' interests? I know Alo's are nature/punk; Rich: metal

Totally. I think series 5 got a lot of backlash from older fans who no longer felt like the characters were relatable and were very vocal about that fact on Twitter, and so they decided to go completely in the opposite direction because maybe people would like that instead. And I think that’s a real shame, because like I’ve said before, I think series 5 is some of the best, tightest writing that Skins ever did. As far as Edward goes, I think he left to work on Secret Diary of a Call Girl. My impression is that he was trying to balance both jobs in 2010 and then felt like it was too much. Katie Newham, who took over, was Edward’s assistant costumer, so I think he assumed that she would be able to just pick up where he left off, which ended up totally not being the case (and which is what makes me think she comes from a styling/costume construction background as opposed to a costume design one).

Canonically in terms of interests, here’s what the characters like:

Franky likes “making stuff,” The Catcher in the Rye, The Little Prince, Clockwork Orange, Graphic Novels – Dark Knight, Manga - The Rose of Versailles, Arcade Fire, Burial, Crystal Castles, Nirvana, Corpse Bride, Seven Samurai, Let Me In, Bad Santa, Spirited Away, Vertigo, Harold Lloyd!, Dexter, The Walking Dead, Battlestar Galactica, and taking photos.

Alo likes his weed, his van, his dog, Youth in Revolt, The Dharma Bums, The Velveteen Rabbit, Blitzen Trapper, Wolf Parade, Dog is Dead, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero's, Fruit Bats AND Filthy filthy filthy filthy filth. Borgore, Excision, DatSikk, Funtcase, 16 Bit, Into the Wild, Grizzly Man, Where the Wild Things Are, East of Eden, The Jungle Book, Backdoor Sluts 9, The Hangover, Ninja Warrior, Party Down. Summer Heights High. Babestation. South Park. Family Guy, Lookwell, porn, and Victorian porn.

Rich is mostly defined by what he doesn’t like: he doesn’t like pop music, Simon Cowell, beautiful people, Radio 1, ITV, rapping, beatboxing, middle-class wankers, racism, sexism, Death Cab For Cutie, The Smiths, religion, Downton Abby, Tracy Chevalier, nu-metal, Empire magazine, Kerrang (wankers), drum machines (except when carefully used in Grindcore or Cybergrind – see Cutting Pink With Knives and Noism), synthesizers, Beth Ditto, public displays of affection, the city centre at the weekend, trance, techno, house, dubstep or any music made by skinny white people with computers, Kanye West, JLS, any show about fucking cooking or cooks, townies, chavs, narcissistic politicians, teachers, the song ‘Wait and Bleed’, the second solo on ‘Master Of Puppets’, artichokes, JK Rowling, any film or tv show with fucking vampires or zombies made after 1986, Glee, Glee, Glee, Glee, Glee, Glee, Glee. He does like metal (”ugly, angry music which you’d probably hate because you don’t understand it”), Atlas Shrugged, American Psycho, The Illuminatus Trilogy, Slayer, Napalm Death, Black Sabbath, Raging Speedhorn, Noism, Atari Teenage Riot, Venetian Snares, Behold The Arctopus, Godflesh, Cathedral, Sleep, Sepultura, Pantera, Soul Fly, Slipknot (2nd album only), PPK, Anal Cunt, Pig Destroyer, Jesu, Sunn 0))), James Plotkin, Earth, Brain Donor, Chrome Hoof, Hair Police, Mayhem, Wolves In The Throne Room, Burzum, Wolf Eyes, Ec8or, Dark City, Split Second, Blade Runner, Near Dark, Braindead, Halloween, The Thing, The Fly, and Alien.

Mini likes “Shopping. Shoes. Sushi. Sex. (”yes, always in that order.”) Sour apple martinis, putting effort into her appearance, Diana, Princess of Wales, Marilyn Monroe, Madonna, yoga, Pilates, fashion, fragrances, dubstep, Katy Perry, Harry Potter, Twilight, Dreamgirls, Grease, Dirty Dancing, Pretty Woman, The Hot Chick, Legally Blonde, Clueless, Mean Girls, Crossroads, Inbetweeners, Misfits, Come Dine With Me, Party Wars, True Blood, Gossip Girl, 90210, The Hills, and ANTM.

Liv likes dancing, HST, Philip K Dick, The Animals of Farthing Wood, Only Forward, Dubstep, Hard DnB, Die Antwoord, Kids, A Scanner Darkly, Dazed and Confused, Bright Young Things, Anchorman, Blades of Glory, The Other Guys, anything in which Mel Gibson dies, Banged Up Abroad, BSG, Firefly, South Park, Twin Peaks, Hollyoaks, The Gilmore Girls.

Nick likes Rugby, Sex, Winning, Drinking, being awesome, “all sorts” of music, R’n’B, Mumford and Sons, Rocky, Bourne, Borat, and anything with action or the funny, Sport and Friday Night Lights.

Matty likes absurdity, Friedrich Nietzsche, William S. Burroughs, Clive Barker, Hakim Bey, Splatterpunk, Maurice G. Dantec, Anton LaVey, Robert Walser, H.P. Lovecraft, Antonin Artaud, Raymond Abellio, The Art of War, everything Edgar Allen Poe would have listened to if the synthesizer was created before 1964, David Lynch, My Own Private Idaho, What's Eating Gilbert Grape, and Shortbus.

Grace likes so many things. Jane Austen, ballet, theater, lucid dreaming, not having to wear a school uniform, collecting pennies, making wishes on things, animals, vanilla ice cream, The Big Book of Fairytales, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, Northanger Abby, Mansfield Park, Persuasion, Emma, Lolita, Jane Eyre, Little Women, Ballet Shoes, Alice Through the Looking Glass, Great Expectations, Tess of The D’Urbervilles, A Little Princess, The Secret Garden, Tom’s Midnight Garden. The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe, The Wizard of Oz, Tales From The Brothers Grimm, Matilda, Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Romeo and Juliet, Much Ado About Nothing, Death of a Salesman, Cyrano de Bergerac, Macbeth, Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, A Streetcar Named Desire, Cymbeline, Twelfth Night, The Tempest, The Winter's Tale, music that moves her, Casablanca. Sabrina. 42nd Street. Meet Me In St. Louis. A Star Is Born. The Wizard of Oz. An American In Paris. Mary Poppins. The Sound of Music. Annie. Singing In The Rain. Top Hat. The Gay Divorce. My Fair Lady. West Side Story. The Red Shoes. Grease. Fame. Dirty Dancing. Moulin Rouge. Chicago. Cleopatra. The Philadelphia Story. The Shop Around The Corner. An Affair To Remember. Some Like It Hot. Roman Holiday. Meet John Doe. La Belle Et La Bete. Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Romeo and Juliet. Disney films, Jeeves and Wooster. The One Show. Strictly Come Dancing. Anything on the Disney Channel. So You Think You Can Dance. Downton Abbey. Agatha Christie’s Poirot. The Forsythe Saga. Any Human Heart. Upstairs, Downstairs.

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tightropenuzlocke · 5 years ago

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Chapter Five: Light Your Candle To My Raging Fire

Aisling was back the next day with almost as much punch and panache as the day they met—almost because she didn’t have quite the same spring in her step, because she stopped to admire the mosaics that gave the the Jardin de Tuiles its name, because she looked wistfully after the wild Vivillon that held nothing for her the day before. But judging by the way Serena’s eyebrows loomed low on her forehead, didn’t notice these subtleties. Instead she was confounded and bemused by Aisling’s liveliness, and Xoana could practically see the remorse of last night evaporate like dew in the warm morning sun. Then any remaining sympathy vanished in a flash of red as Aisling sent out a queen Combee—apparently caught yesterday in the same gardens they were currently passing through.

The new catch wasn’t quite as rare as a shiny, but still warranted the explanation Serena demanded. Aisling offered only the predictable “I got lucky” with what might have been the slightest undertone of irony. Serena steamed but not her tongue. “So Finley,” Aisling called to her latest acquisition, “got any friends here you want to join your hive?” The Combee swiveled to attention, and her wings stopped beating for a second in shock as Bree repeated the question. Aisling laughed. “You’ll be evolving soon now that you’re with us. We can find you a mating partner if you’d rather lay your own, but I wanted to make sure we didn’t leave anyone behind if you wanted a sorority hive. We won’t be back this way for a long time.” Finley was visibly flustered considering all of this, but eventually she just shook her head. “It might be a bit much for her to think about right now,” said Serena. She couldn’t well resist all this bug-type talk no matter how jealous she might be. “Queen Combee never form the bond with their parent hive. She might not understand until she evolves.” “Well, You’ve got some time to think about it,” Aisling told her pokemon. “Just keep it in mind, yeah?” Finley nodded and went back to visiting flowers as they drew ever closer to their destination. The heights were already looming above them and the distant hum of traffic carried on the breeze. Aisling underwent yet another transformation as they all passed through the shadow and stone of Illumis’s south gate. By the time Xoana’s eyes had adjusted, light had broken over her again, and a grin parted her lips, threatening to split her face wide open. There was glee and hunger in her eyes. She’d never been to the city before. “Welcome to Illumis!” Xoana hopped into Aisling’s view to frame the vista with fluttering hands. A chuckle! “Wowee!” Somehow it wasn’t even that corny coming from her. Maybe it was just the genuine radiance of her expression that made it so charming. This light played wonderfully on her freckled skin and the cloud of natural she had wrestled into a gold hair tie. It was even better than the Gym photo somehow—so much so that it took Xoana a moment to notice Aisling was staring right back at her. “Wait until you see the center!” said Tierney. “I’m gonna see it all!” Aisling declared, releasing Xoana from her hold. But they had to report to the lab first and withdrew their pokemon to take up less space in the city streets. Serena was impatient and always a little ahead as they threaded their way west, but stopped short of hurrying them since there was plenty of time. Aisling, meanwhile, lingered at the back, pausing now and again to take it all in, but never asked them to stop for anything. Her nose lifted as they passed a cafe and she saluted a passing Gogoat shuttle, who blinked at her in return. She almost bumped into Tracie when they stopped she was so distracted, but recovered smoothly. “This is a lab?” The disbelief was justifiable. Sycamore Labs was situated in one of the only remaining distinguished hôtel particulier that once lined Boulevard Méridionale. The Professor had inherited it from his aunt through an unbroken line of nobles older than the house itself—because money couldn’t buy a building like this, not anymore. “One of the original interiors is in the Musée des Arts Décoratifs.” “Now that I believe,” said Aisling. “What a façade! That cartouche above the door is positively emblematic of Kalosienne Renaissance classicism.” Xoana’s stomach did a little flip and she swallowed dryly. Was Aisling a secret architecture nerd, or had she looked that up because Xoana had mentioned being somewhat versed in the subject exactly once? Then Aisling winked at her—winked—and Xoana’s brain short circuited. She shouldn’t be allowed to do that! It was simply unconscionable! Before Xoana could properly address the legality of the situation, Aisling had bounded up to the door. The entrance hall had been carefully maintained and restored and still boasted the incredible style of its heyday complete with parquet flooring, a coffered ceiling, mixed sculptural and painted decoration, and caryatids on either side of a far more recent but nonetheless antique elevator on the far end. Xoana knew that one of the doors must lead to the only original parlor—the grander sister of the one she had seen herself—which had been kept as a venue for the lab’s small fundraisers. She sorely wished she had time to look for it. Xoana felt there must be at least two perfectly serviceable stairwells in a building this august, but they were waved into the elevator by the woman who had met them at the door. Strictly speaking there wasn’t space enough for five, but that didn’t stop the woman from sliding in after them and pressing Xoana right up against Aisling’s chest so that she had enough elbow room to work the lever. Xoana smiled apologetically up at Aisling’s exceedingly proximate face and glimpsed what may have been the beginnings of a blush coming to her cheeks before the elevator halted and they piled back out. Prof. Sycamore’s office was on the top floor in what was once a grand bedroom, and it still retained an oddly intimate vibe post-conversion. Tall windows overlooked the lawn and gardens below and warm, late-morning light flooded the room, starkly highlighting the man sitting behind a grand sycamore desk—the distinctive ray fleck was unmistakable. Xoana stifled a giggle. The professor rose languidly from his plush office chair. “You must be the new interns for the trainer magnet program. At last we meet!” He went down the line shaking each of their hands in turn. “Such a pleasure! Are you all getting along with your starters?” He nodded at their chorus of assent. “Wonderful! My report says you all earned your first badge already, is that correct?” “Yes, Professeur!” “Please, call me Sycamore.” He waited for at least one of them to amend themselves before continuing. “That’s excellent, just fantastic! This evaluation should be nothing for you then. What say we get on with it?” Aisling’s enthusiasm buoyed up the more nervous murmurs of agreement and Sycamore led them down a flight of stairs and out into the garden, chattering all the way. The lawn beyond the flowerbeds was bordered by roses and topiary. Ancient sycamores stood at each corner and there was a sizable fountain at the middle back where some young Froakie and Squirtle played. There were a good number of pokemon sprawled out in the sun, including a hulking metallic species Xoana didn’t know the name of. The burnished silver and gold was too bright for Xoana to focus on, but Aisling stared with wide eyes. “A shiny Metagross,” Tracie murmured. “Bessemer!” Sycamore called to it. “Would you clear a little space for us?” It couldn’t be his pokemon. Xoana would have heard about it. The Metagross rose, gave them a nod, and then floated under one of the trees. Xoana gasped as a Garchomp stepped out from the shade to make room. Serena had talked about it enough for Xoana to know who she was. She was Sycamore’s starter and a pioneer of mega evolution. Xoana had watched some of her exhibition matches as a child. She surveyed them all with cold yellow eyes, then growled so low it shook the ground. Several Bulbasaur, Squirtle and Charmander came running, gathering by Sycamore to await the call to battle. The Bulbasaurs were pale with dense markings and bright bulbs, the Squitles had pointed shells and strong jaws, and the Charmanders glowed with intense color and sported a row of dots down each side. Even Xoana could tell they were no run-of-the-mill variants. “Send out your teams,” Sycamore commanded. Froabble, Bree, and Félicité greeted Sycamore’s Garchomp and she nodded to them while the others looked up at her in awe. Xoana found both her legs embraced by furry bodies. One by Tessa, who was standing in front to protect her despite being terrified. The other was Emer, who could almost reach around now and peeked out curiously. “Each of you will battle a balanced trio and can use up to three pokemon of your own. I may be a little rusty, but don’t let your guard down.” Sycamore winked, but it was far less affecting than the one Aisling had given her earlier. “Who wants to go first?” Aisling was quicker on the draw. Serena pretended to be gracious. One of the Bulbasaurs trundled forward and wiggled in readiness. To the surprise of all, Aisling sent in the Combee she’d had on her team less than twenty-four hours. Finley kept her distance and dodged the Bulbasaur’s reaching vines as best she could until her Gusts wore him down. Next was a Charmander, lean and sharp-eyed. Aisling switched for Emer—the only sensible counter at her disposal. The Charmander surveyed Aisling and her team and gave a derisive snort that blew steam from her nostrils. Her claws flashed the moment the attack order was given and Emer squeaked in surprise at her ferocity. The Marill was forced to bounce, roll, and bide her time until the Charmander became frustrated enough to use Ember. A well-timed Water Gun doused it and left the Charmander spluttering long enough to get in a double Tail Whip across her face. The Charmander knocked her away with a lunge, but another sustained Water Gun blast brought her down. A blithe Squirtle stepped up to replace her and Bree cracked her knuckles. The turtle’s Withdraw and ridged shell gave the Chespin some trouble, but she shrugged off the Tackles with her woody plates, and once she got a firm grip, it was over. The Squirtle held out for a while, but the combination of nausea from being slung around and repeated violent meetings with the ground were eventually too much for him. Bree flexed like Aisling had shown her and evolved on the spot. The burst of light and wind jolted Xoana back to herself and even drew the attention of the Metagross from across the lawn. Sycamore smiled to himself while Serena tried not to look pissed. Xoana and the others offered their congratulations to cover for her. Meanwhile, the Quilladin marveled over her her new bulk, armor, and needles. “Nice battling, Bree! You look awesome!” Her ears perked at Aisling’s words of praise and she chittered back at a lower register. They performed their now signature fist bump and Aisling made a big show of how much the Quilladin’s hardened knuckles hurt. Bree gasped but it turned into a giggle as she realized the joke. Serena went next of course and Félicité dispatched her Bulbasaur in a single fiery blaze. Justine had disguised herself as a Marill right out of her ball to intimidate the Charmander. The trick let her get close enough to land two good hits without getting singed, and Sycamore was thoroughly surprised and appreciative when the jig was up. Serena was pleased, but Justine looked to Félicité for approval and received no reaction at all. She tried her best against the Squirtle, getting up once more than she should have so that Félicité wouldn’t have to face her weakness all to no avail. The Fennekin brushed past her fallen teammate and wore the Squirtle the rest of the way down with her superior agility. Xoana didn’t mean to go last, but Tierney was jittery with nerves by the time Serena was through. Valériane, Laoch, and Aiden made fairly short work of it, but by then Spark was getting very bored and Tracie had her battle before the Pikachu fell asleep. Bulbasaur was a rough start typing-wise but Tracie and Spark had long since solved that puzzle: paralyze, weaken, spam Quick Attack. Charmander went down faster and Squirtle only took one sustained shock before keeling over. “Ready, Mme Bellamy?” Xoana jolted back to herself and sent in Tessa. Once again she needed some prompting, but the Bulbasaur they were up against was quite obliging in that department and did a quick warm-up with his vines while Tessa sized him up. He was focused and confident when they got to it though, keeping Tessa at bay with his vines until she grabbed on and reeled him in. Even then he held his own, claws shredding turf down to the last inch. But Tessa hit hard and tenaciously once committed and he surrendered when she somehow hoisted him by the bulb after a thorough pummeling. Tessa eagerly tapped out when Froabble croaked his willingness to take over. “Thanks, Froabble,” Xoana whispered to him as he hopped forward. “Use Bubble!” “Ember!” For an instant, Xoana thought it would be over right then—after all, that was how Emer had beaten her Charmander—but while Bubble had superior concussive force when it landed, there wasn’t enough actual water to power through the flames. Instead the move burst into a thick cloud of steam that the Charmander came barreling through, claws raised and ready to Scratch. “B-Bubble!” Xoana stammered. “But get behind first!” Despite her stumbling, Froabble was quick on the uptake and dodged the scratch, zig-zagging until the Charmander unbalanced himself and stumbled long enough for Froabble to get behind. The bursting bubbles sent the Charmander spiraling and he shook his head in momentary disorientation. Froabble sucked in another breath and shot out an even denser cloud of bubbles as the Charmander scrambled back to his feet. He swiped furiously, popping a few on his claws, but he couldn’t stop others from bursting on his face, and he toppled once more. Froabble returned to position, ready to face the final pokemon, but Xoana didn’t like his chances against Squirtle’s high defences and sent Tessa back in. The Teddiursa was ready this time, but her claws bounced off the Squirtle’s carapace. Tackle did almost as little since he seemed happy enough to bounce around in his shell. Grappling it proved to difficult and when Tessa paused for breath, the Squirtle slapped her across the jaw with Tail Whip. He wet the ground beneath her and tackled her with his shell. She slipped and went down in a great groaning huff. Tessa was too tired from her first battle. Xoana had no choice but to overturn her doubts with the surety Froabble displayed as he leapt back in. Speed was everything now. It was all they had since the Squirtle could take a hit that would lay Froabble out and deal almost as good. She focused on every movement, trying to stay with him as he hopped, flipped and sprinted. The Squirtle’s shell was more hazard than target, so Xoana gambled for the legs. They were short, low, and difficult to hit, but Froabble enjoyed the challenge. Despite his frankly incredible agility, the proximity necessitated by this strategy earned him two consecutive Tail Whips. The telltale shimmer of his magic defense being ripped away set Xoana’s heart hammering in her chest, and it near skipped a beat when the Squirtle dove at him, but he slid smoothly underneath across the slick grass and landed a solid kick to his intended target. For a moment, Xoana thought they might win—the Squirtle was becoming unsteady on his feet—but it was not to be. A full body Tackle with that brutal shell knocked Froabble flat on his back. She heard the wind forcibly eject from his lungs with each consecutive impact as he skidded to a stop in front of her. But she also saw what the relieved Squirtle did not: Froabble dig a hand into the grass. And she couldn’t give up on him, not after the promise she’d never even voiced. “Froabble, use Lick!” His tongue shot out and wrapped the Squirtle’s head. The pokemon was too distressed by the lavender flames to rally and Froabble used his prone but anchored position to yank the Squirtle forward. “Pound!” Froabble released his hold, flipped, and kicked the stumbling Squirtle with both legs. The force sent the Squirtle right over Sycamore’s head. Everyone’s gaze followed the arc and came to rest on his spinning shell—all but Froabble, who regathered his legs into his customary squat. “You alright, Froabble?” He nodded. “Thanks for the boost. That was a good kick.” “That was an awesome kick!” She almost laughed and gathered him up in her lap to check his chest. “You all did very well!” Sycamore congratulated them. “I’m pleased and excited to keep working with all of you. Mme Quinn, you expressed an interest in the Mega Evolution program and that battle showed me exactly what I want to see in a prospective candidate. Therefore, I’m going to move you over right away, which means you can choose one of the pokemon specially bred for the program!” “Thank you, Sycamore!” said Aisling, voice a mix of excitement and triumph. “Not at all! It is I who am grateful!” The professor waved airily, but his lips twitched, and he continued with less ease. “Now, I was rather hoping you might consider taking the Charmander you battled. She’s a prodigy but may take… confidence to handle.” “She’s just the one I wanted.” “Excellent!” Sycamore’s relief was palpable and that was concerning, but Aisling grinned from ear to ear as she shook his hand. Xoana glanced at Serena, but she was too eaten up by jealousy to notice anything amiss. He jaw was taught and Xoana could almost hear her teeth grind. As for the Charmander, she looked between the professor and her new trainer in disbelief before appealing to Sycamore’s Garchomp. The huge pokemon’s lip peeled back, revealing her saw-like teeth and she growled low. The Charmander snorted steam and sulked over to Aisling’s side, ignoring Bree’s offered paw. She certainly seemed like a handful. “And Mme Pascal, you wanted to be in the mega evolution program as well, correct?” “Yes, Professeur.” “And so you shall be!” Thank the gods. “Choose any that you want.” Xoana wasn’t surprised when she picked a Squirtle. He reached up to shake his trainer’s hand and waved at his new teammates. “Mme Bellamy.” She looked up at the professor. “You did not express interest in the mega evolution program on your application, but I would love for you to participate.” Xoana gaped at him. “I think you’d make an excellent fit.” “I—b-but we barely won that battle!” “But you did win, when by all rights you should have lost.” Now that was a backhanded compliment if she ever heard— “Your Froakie was finished, but you gave him the energy needed to continue and execute one of the best critical hits I’ve seen in a long time. That demonstrates a remarkably strong connection for a trainer so green and impressive inner power.” Viola had something similar but— “He’s right,” Froabble croaked. She looked down into his eyes. “That’s why I thanked you.” “You… really think I can?” “Of course!” Sycamore answered her warmly, though she hadn’t meant to ask him. Froabble gave her a quick nod. “Alright then—I mean, thank you! It’s such an honour! I’m very excited to—I accept—” “Very good!” Sycamore interrupted before she could spew any more nonsense. “Select your new companion.” Xoana considered carefully, but it wasn’t a difficult choice. Bulbasaur were the cutest and the one she had battled seemed mellow enough to get along with. He shuffled over when she pointed and used a vine to greet her and his new teammates. “Mme Chastain, I notice you have no additional pokemon yet, which is understandable given the nature of your research, but I believe I have a solution for you. And Mme Fitzroy, I can’t tell you how delighted I was by your idea for a project! Very thoughtful and creative! One of my graduate students may have some interesting information to impart with regards to your chosen topic.” “What did I tell you?” Aisling asked softly while Sycamore’s attention was elsewhere. She tried to smirk but it fell apart when Xoana beamed back at her. “Congratulations, Marquise.” She offered her hand and pulled Xoana in for a shoulder bump. Something like a giggle escaped Xoana and she clasped Aisling’s arm for a moment to steady herself after. Serena was right there waiting and Xoana turned expecting a handshake and was swept up in a hug instead. “That was awesome, Xo. I’m so glad,” Serena said in her ear. Moments like this had become rare—Serena had never been the touchy-feely sort and they no longer had quite the same casual intimacy as a year ago. Xoana hadn’t even realized how empty she’d been until the embrace filled her to the brim. And Serena wasn’t tense in her hold, instead squeezing with genuine fondness. She held on tightly. Maybe she couldn’t have everything, but she could have this. ... Maybe there was something there. Xoana seemed the type to hug with her entire being, but the quiet gasp and clinging fingers said more. The tension between them might be more than that of longtime friends drifting apart. Perhaps something felt but not yet spoken. “Ah, there you are!” Aisling turned to see who Sycamore was greeting and found a young man in a nice linen suit walking out of the lab towards them. His hair was silver at the root fading into light blue and tied in a neat bun at the back, leaving a few loose curls to frame his face. “Bonjour!” He greeted them with a wave and brilliant smile. “Bes told me you had some new mega evo candidates.” Aisling couldn’t place his accent other than that it was foreign. “Yes indeed! This is one of the senior program members, Steven Stone. He researches the mega stones and keystones themselves and what properties allow them to unlock a pokemon’s true potential! He and his partner Bessemer recently achieved mega evolution!” So this was the guy with the shiny Metagross. Aisling offered her hand. Steven greeted each of them with warm interest and impeccable manners. Wherever he was from, his family had money. Aisling wondered about his age. To be working here, he must have his license at the very least, but four or five years older seemed too many. “Steven’s father owns a fossil revival facility, so he may be able to connect you with the proper resources, Mme Chastain.” “I’d be delighted,” he declared. “Always happy to help out a fellow fossil enthusiast!” Tracie could only nod and Spark bounded into her arms to press up against her chest. Steven patted his Metagross’s leg to give her space and they gave him an appreciative rumble in return before they all headed back inside for the tour. Science wasn’t Aisling’s aim and she let herself fall to the back by Steven while Tracie pressed forward to listen to Sycamore’s explanations as they entered each lab room in turn. “So where are you from?” Aisling asked. “Rustboro City, Hoenn.” That explained the accent. “Forgive me for saying anything rude or strange. I’m still learning the language.” “Oh, but you speak so well!” That made him laugh. “I know I butcher my vowels! But you are very kind, thank you.” “Don’t listen to the central Kalos folk! They tell us provincials we don’t speak the language right either.” They entered a new room and she let their conversation lull for a moment while Sycamore turned to them. This place was quite an interesting mix of old and new, art and science. The humming machinery was sleek and chrome with holographic touch screens while the walls were covered in ornate wallpaper and bordered by fanciful moldings. “How did you meet your partner?” Aisling asked when she was at liberty to. “My father acquired Bessemer for me when I was a child,” Steven answered quietly. “I have always been—” he paused, grasping for the right word, “a gigantic nerd of rocks and metal-type pokemon.” He held up his hand to show the titanium cuff and assorted rings that adorned it. He also had a single earring set with a rainbow stone. Aisling could hang with this guy. Their banter carried them through the rest of the tour. The current earring was ammolite, but he also had bismuth and opal ones he wore regularly. His hair had gone silver as a teen, and he had finally scraped together the confidence to stop dyeing it blue, resulting in the dual tone while he waited for it to grow out. He was twenty-two and had all ten badges in his home region. He was raised by his father like she had been raised by her mother. He returned her interest and took her playful jabs with good humor, further cementing her decision to befriend him. “I like to look good,” he said of his tailoring. “And that’s not a very suitable comment from someone sporting a jacket as interesting as yours. Why Lord Jirachi?” “Diádh is my patron,” she answered honestly, momentarily disarmed by the pun and teasing. Xoana looked back at the mention of the luck god. She had never asked about the design, but perhaps she was curious. Aisling left her with that one tidbit of information and steered the conversation away. When they arrived back in Sycamore’s office, a pair of scientists were waiting for them. The man was tall with a mop of golden curls, while the woman was quite short but looked as though she could and would snap the man clean in half over her knee. She slid off the desk and tossed her dark cascade of hair like she was reenacting a shampoo commercial. “This is Sina. She’s researching the energy released by mega evolution.” She lacked the definition and sculpting of a bodybuilder, and her exceptionally firm handshake suggested strength training as the source of her physique. “Dexio is looking into the enhanced bond between trainer and pokemon while the mega form is active.” Everyone here was a regulation hottie. Dexio was by far the least attractive of all the lab employees she’d seen, but he was still a twink adonis if one was into that sort of thing. And other than Steven and Sycamore himself, he was the only man. Aisling was beginning to suspect some bias in the hiring process. A knock came at the door and Steven opened it to let another man in. Forget Dexio, this asshole was towering. He would have had to duck through a standard door frame. His outfit was too fashionable not to be custom and must have therefore cost a fortune. Though to be fair, there couldn’t be many places that stocked his size. He also sported an elaborate and immaculate mane of red hair, as if he needed to strike a more imposing figure. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, Arsène,” he said, though he obviously was. “Not at all Thierry!” Sycamore said warmly, weaving through them all to be closer. “But you’ll be pleased to hear the Mega Evolution program has three new trainers.” The giant looked them over and Aisling evaluated him right back. He stank of privilege—or maybe that was perfume. “May I introduce Thierry Lysandre, esteemed entrepreneur and philanthropist.” The looks on her friends faces showed that they knew who he was and were awed simply to be in his presence. The name seemed vaguely familiar to Aisling, but stirred none of the same emotions. But he was clearly very wealthy, close to Sycamore, and perhaps directly involved in the program, so she decided to behave. Sycamore introduced them all, and once the pleasantries were dispensed with, Lysandre launched into a speech so tiresome it almost made Aisling break her good behavior right them. They were “the future” and “had the power to change the world”. It was like being at her lycée graduation all over again. So of course she didn’t listen to much of what he said, just kept her mouth shut and nodded when it seemed appropriate. Steven shifted to obscure himself from Lysandre and looked very much as though he was tuning it out as well. Xoana’s smile had turned hollow. Sina and Dexio were either good at faking it or at least somewhat invested. Tracie and Tierney were getting bored. Serena, on the other hand, hung on every word and Sycamore displayed a frankly embarrassing level of adoration. He knew they weren’t alone, right? At last Dexio offered to take Lysandre to see whatever he was actually there for and they left, allowing the rest to talk about their projects and fill out the forms that needed doing. Aisling tried to talk to Steven while Serena all but interrogated Sycamore, but he was already engaged with Tracie and she let them be. Sina saw to the rest of them, switching back and forth from Tierney to Aisling and Xoana. Besides the timeline, there wasn’t a ton to absorb, so Aisling continued to watch the others out of the corner of her eye. Evidently Steven had divined that Tracie didn’t like eye contact and repositioned himself shoulder to shoulder facing her screen to take the pressure off. Luckily Sycamore was charmed by Serena’s intensity and gladly answered all her questions. Aisling had to admit she could be engaging, even if she was a stuck-up asshole. She noted Xoana ogling Sina’s impressive bod with amusement and Tierney coloring every time the scientist focused on her with mild surprise and satisfaction. She kept finding ways to obscure her face and could barely string a sentence together. It occurred to Aisling that Tierney might be sensitive about her appearance. She was quite heavyset and vitiligo was rare and stark against skin as dark as hers. Something to keep in mind going forward. “If that’s all taken care of, perhaps it’s time to—” “Arrange for your accommodations while you are in the city,” Sina finished for him. Sycamore gave an embarrassed half-chuckle. “Exactly so.” “Well,” Xoana began. “We were hoping to stay at the Hotel—” “That won’t be necessary.” Everyone looked at Tracie, which made her look down. “Everyone can stay at my house.” “Tracie, are you sure?” Tierney asked in a careful tone. “My parents are out of town, but they extended an invitation to you all and there is plenty of space.” A beat of silence followed. “Excellent! Well, if that’s settled you are free to go.” They delivered their various farewells and meandered out into the hall. Steven gave Tracie his number, which Aisling was tempted to ask for as well, and Sina gave hers to a blushing Tierney. After that, she took off while Steven remained in Sycamore’s office. “Aisling,” Serena said tentatively. Aisling ignored her. “My Queen?” she tried, though it pained her. “Yes?” “I was hoping you might agree to accompany me to the Café Soleil for some coffee and pastries? On me?” If Aisling didn’t know better it rather sounded as though Serena was asking her out. Too bad she didn’t care. “Naw, I’ve got an appointment. Y’all go on without me. I’ll catch up later. Just text me your address okay, Baronne?” Serena’s barely concealed rage was almost worth Xoana’s disappointment. She grabbed Serena’s arm and pulled her away before she could blow. Aisling waved. She leaned back against the wall by the door and pulled out her holocaster to look at a map. “A somewhat rude and invasive personal question, if I may?” Steven’s voice floated out of the crack in the door. “Of course!” Sycamore said warmly. “You know they’re my favorite.” “Have you slept with all of your friends?” So she wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Maybe she would ask Tracie for Steven’s number. Sycamore laughed. “Hoenn must be so uptight! Loosen up, mon ami. You are in Illumis, City of Love!” “I’m fairly certain Illumis is the City of Light,” Steven muttered. “Nonsense. Only tourists say that.” ... “Where the hell is she?” Serena asked for the third time that evening. “I thought you said it was a hair appointment. It’s been hours! What could possibly be taking so long?” “A lot of things!” Xoana didn’t mean to sound so huffy, but she wasn’t in the mood to address Serena’s ignorance politely. She didn’t have time to explain hair texture to her. She was too busy worrying if Aisling would notice, how they would all handle the subject if it came up, how Aisling would react. Tracie hadn’t said anything—Tierney was doing a good job of distracting her with video games—but Xoana had to think she was just a little nervous under there. Then again, they had the house to themselves, so maybe she was getting all worked up for nothing. The bell rang downstairs and they all poured out of Tracie’s room. Joffrey, the Chastain family’s Gothitelle had already answered the door and Aisling stood in the grand vestibule, hair transformed from barely contained cloud to a cascade of ropey strands pinned neatly back. Locks looked good on her—right even. But where the hell had she gone that they finished in just one sitting? Their eyes met across the double staircase and Aisling’s face took a moment to go from gaping but understandable awe to that too-big grin of hers. “I really cocked up the nicknames, Baronne. You’re clearly the Queen of this group.” Tracie shifted her hands behind her back so Aisling wouldn’t see her wring them. “Why didn’t you tell me you were filthy rich? Like damn! Look at this fucking house!” She was laughing now. Tierney chuckled too. “You should see the estate!” Xoana and Serena gave her reproachful looks, but she ignored them. “Of course you have an estate. No one could have this kind of house in the middle of the capital without having a country estate. It’s only natural!” Aisling laughed again. “This is awesome!” she declared, throwing up her arms, not the least bit caring that Joffrey was still standing there. “Ya gotta show me around your pad!” That shattered the tension and Tracie started down the stairs. Then the doors opened. There was no bell this time and Joffrey jumped to assist Tracie’s parents as they entered. They piled their coats into his arms which he ran to the closet before hefting their suitcases with psychokinesis and floating upstairs. Everyone remained frozen where they were as he passed. “Théo darling!” her mother called and all four of them winced. How was it the woman never noticed? “What on earth are you wearing? Did you girls dress him up again?” “We went shopping!” Xoana said with all the excitement she could muster, nearly jumping down the steps between them to be by Tracie’s side. “We haven’t been in the city in so long!” Tierney nodded vigorously to back her up. She already had a hand on Tracie’s shoulder. “Well, that’s what you get for having only female friends,” said Tracie’s father. “So sweet of you to always indulge them,” her mother added. “Oh, but you haven’t even introduced us to your new friend!” She turned to Aisling. “You’re in Prof. Sycamore’s program too, correct?” “Yes!” Aisling stepped up and offered her hand. “Aisling Quinn. Wonderful to meet you.” They both seemed pleased by her politeness and firm handshake. “I thought you were supposed to be in Flusselles until the end of the month?” Tracie ventured. “Yes, well, Antoine called because there’s some big issue with the supplier so your father had to come back to town to sort it out. We’ll just have to take the trip next week or whenever this blows over.” Silence again. “We had a long journey and I need to recover for a bit. You all have fun. We’ll see you at dinner!” They all stayed where they were while Tracie’s parents climbed the other side of the staircase to their wing of the house. Tracie turned back and Aisling waited at the foot of the stairs until Xoana beckoned her to come with. Aisling spoke to Tracie as they went down the hall. “Can I ask you something?” Fuck. Tracie nodded. “Do your parents know you’re a girl?” Oh… That was good. Tracie shook her head. “Do you want me to correct them?” Tracie shook her head again. “Okay.” There was a palpable sigh of relief from the group. “Can I still call you Baronne around them?” Tracie smiled just a little. “Yes.” Aisling let out a rather loud expletive as they entered Tracie’s room. She kicked off her boots and dove onto the king-sized four-poster, rolling back and forth before settling on her side with one knee crooked and her head propped up by her elbow. “Is this where we’re sleeping?” Then she had the gall to wiggle her eyebrows. “You’ll have Timothée’s room,” Tracie answered, going to her night table for the remote. Aisling’s exaggerated disappointment was cut short when the enormous screen descended from the ceiling so that Tracie and Tierney could continue their game. “Awesome! What are we playing?” “Super Pokken Ultimate.” “Nice! I’ve only ever played Royale.” Aisling sent out her team to hang with the rest of the pokemon while they got set up to play. Xoana and Serena sat up on the bed, and the other three sunk into bean bag chairs. Spark retrieved her extra small controller and arranged her own mini bean bag beside Tracie’s. Aisling was crap at Pokken. “I can’t believe I’m getting beaten by a Pikachu!” She cried after yet another sound defeat. Spark leaned around Tracie and chattered. “Is she shit-talking me?” Tracie didn’t answer but her face must have given it away. Aisling laughed. “You’re going down, rodent!” Spark then proceeded to utterly thrash her for the next few rounds. Aisling yelled and laughed and fought her hardest all to no avail. When she got KOed early for the fourth time in a row, she put down her controller and rocked out of her seat. “Fuck this noise. I’m gonna play some real Pokken!” Spark’s cheeks sparked. “Come here, Bree!” The Quilladin came over and Aisling tackled her. Bree was confused at first but caught on quick and giggled and snorted as she and Aisling rolled around on the floor trying to pin each other. The ruckus was too much to play over and they all turned to spectate. Aisling threw her jacket to Xoana as sweat began to bead across her brow and Xoana clutched it tightly despite herself. Aisling held out surprisingly well as the two alternated between competitive and silly. Spark cheered shamelessly for Bree and even Serena had to stifle a laugh. It was almost enough to forget about the dinner looming ahead. ... They reconvened in Tracie’s room after they were all clean and changed into their pajamas. Tracie’s parents had taken the nickname thing in stride. Her mother even found it cute. Sharing a meal with them was so much easier when Xoana and her friends could counter every instance of “Théo” with something she’d chosen, assure her that she was a girl even if her parents didn’t realize it. Xoana wished she’d thought of it a long time ago. The pokemon had been served their evening meal separately but were now allowed out to nap or play at their own choosing. Xoana had filled up the tub in Tracie’s bathroom and Froabble was in there now along with Serena’s new Squirtle. Sprout was getting along like he’d always been there. The only one who didn’t seem the least bit interested in socializing was Aisling’s Charmander. Once it was made clear to her there were no battles allowed in the house, she installed herself in the windowsill and sharpened her claws with her teeth. “Hey, Tracie, do you have DDR?” Aisling asked. “Yes.” “Tierney!” She jumped. “I challenge you to a dance off!” It took her a few moments, but she smiled. “You’re on!” They cleared the floor and rolled the bean bags to the other side of the room. Aisling might have expected mercy when Tierney selected a lower difficulty, but Xoana and the others knew that meant she was about to show off. At the higher difficulties there wasn’t any room for flourish. At a low rank one could dance and that was exactly what Tierney did. She was good in recitals but always best when she was freestyling her own thing—at least in Xoana’s opinion. All that mildness melted away as she hopped and spun and swung her hips. Aisling cheered and lycan-whistled even as she tried desperately to keep up. Xoana was surprised when she managed a halfway respectable score. “Best two out of three!” she yelled like she had a better chance than a Durant against a Heatmor. Usually Xoana was happy to watch, but something moved her and she hopped off the bed into the game. Aisling grinned and Valériane shuffled over as well now that it was no longer a one-on-one. They moved down so the Hawlucha could be next to her trainer and played on medium. Valériane got a few laughs flapping her wings, wagging her tail, and flaring her crest in her own version of dance moves. It goaded all of them to let loose a little more, which meant Xoana and Aisling sacrificed their scores to bop while Tierney continued to mercilessly flex on them. It wasn’t long before Aisling demanded hard mode and Xoana bowed out to make room for Serena. She was no dancer, but precision, tenacity and practice made her pretty good at DDR. Good enough to beat Aisling’s score anyway, which was all that mattered. That victory was enough to dispel the last of her irritation and ease that last bit of tension between them all. Tracie jumped into a round, as did Loach and Bree after Valériane explained it to them. The Riolu did well enough all things considered, but even the easiest setting was too much for Bree. She laughed along anyway and Aisling helped her through. Emer, Aiden, and Justine couldn’t play but bounced around in solidarity. The rounds flew by one after another and their limbs grew heavy while their minds became more and more awake. When the rest of them were finished, Tierney and Valériane did one last duel on expert. What the Hawlucha lacked in grace, she more than made up for in speed and rhythm and she came out on top to cheers and applause. By then it was late, but they were all far from sleep, so Tracie put on one of her favorite movies and they all sat on the bed to watch. Xoana barely noticed when Aisling lay her head in her lap—that is until she reached out to braid the hair and found it wasn’t Serena’s. Suddenly the contact sent a violent tingle up her spine. But was it really all that different? Despite all Xoana’s fretting and the little power struggles, Aisling had slid near seamlessly into their midst. It was like she’d been there since the beginning. It was like it had always been but maybe just a little bit better because she brought something to the group that they lacked—filled a hole they didn’t even know was there. Aisling rolled to look up at Xoana and threw a cheeky grin at the blush that was no doubt suffusing her face. But this time it wasn’t overwhelming. It just felt good. Really, really good. “So, I know the plan was to stay here for a while, but should we really still be doing that?” It took Xoana a moment to realize Aisling was addressing the room and not just her. “Don’t get me wrong, this is great but…” Things had changed. “None of the other gyms are close,” said Tracie. “And none of us are going to be ready for our second badge soon,” Aisling gently insisted. “I don’t wanna make you stay with your parents that long.” The warm fluttering in Xoana's gut returned in force. “It doesn’t matter what order we go in,” Tierney assured, lifting her head from the pillow snuggled under her. “Let’s just pick a direction.” “How about west?” Aisling suggested, stretching luxuriantly. She settled even further into Xoana’s lap and rested her legs across Tierney’s back. “We could hit the beach before summer’s over.” Now that was an idea. “We could do Relifac-le-Haut Gym next. That’s right on the water,” said Serena. Xoana would have to call Clément—he was expecting them—but she couldn’t say she was sorry to push that particular Gym battle down further down the line. In fact, she began to feel something heavy lift off her shoulders, that last bit of weight she hadn’t remembered she was carrying after everything else. “It’s settled then! We’ll leave in the morning!”

#nuzlocke #storylocke #pokemon xy #wlw #Tightrope #chapter

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primatechnosynthpop · 5 years ago

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Ok so basically I am become angst gremlin. Blame this on @adaav because they encouraged me.

He can't remember exactly where he is, or how he got there--the last few hours are a blur--but Peter is flying, and Sylar is floating next to him, with one hand firmly gripping his shoulder. As Peter's mind regains its lucidity, the sound of Sylar repeatedly saying his name echoes through his mind. That voice, and the weight of his touch, pulls Peter out of whatever trance he's been under.

"Peter," Sylar says again, relief entering his voice as Peter meets his wide-eyed gaze. "Peter, can you hear me?"

Slowly, Peter nods. His heart is hammering in his chest, and there's this unpleasant buzzing in his head, like a magnet trying to pull him toward something. Sylar sighs, his expression soberingly grim. A knot forms in Peter's gut as he gets the dawning impression that he's done something bad.

"What's the last thing you can remember?"

Peter stops to think. The last thing he remembers... he remembers Sylar teaching him to fix watches (he still goes by Sylar now, not Gabriel; he says it fits him better). It was fun, learning to do a new thing. And then... he remembers getting into an argument with Angela. An argument about Sylar, and then a different argument. Something about old documents from the Company resurfacing... experiments they had done on Nathan--that Peter's parents had played a part in. Anger surfaces in his mind as he recalls learning about it. He remembers going to confront Angela, and her telling him about a troubling dream she'd had... Sylar was going to turn evil again, she'd told him. He remembers being furious that she would even suggest that, on top of being furious at her for so many other reasons. At the same time, he remembers stepping toward her and feeling a tug in the back of his mind, drawing him toward some action he would otherwise never take.

And then he doesn't really remember much of anything. It's like at some point during that confrontation he was taken over; he can't quite recall how it resolved. But now, as Sylar stares him down with that horribly somber expression, Peter realizes that whatever happened, it couldn't have been good.

"Sylar, I didn't..." Peter begins, his throat as dry as bone. "I didn't hurt Ma, did I?"

Sylar doesn't say anything, but he gives this slight, hesitatant half-nod, half-shake of his head. Everything about his face right now tells Peter, You didn't just hurt Angela. You did so much worse than that.

"What did I do?" Peter whispers, terrified of the answer. For the first time, he picks up on the stench of blood hanging thick in the crisp evening air.

Sylar's grip on his shoulder tightens. "I can explain later," he says. "Now, let's get out of here. And, Peter... don't look down."

As soon as he says this, Peter looks down, and as soon as he does he desperately wishes he didn't.

The first thing--the first person he lays eyes on is Claire. He's too high up to make out her expression very well, but he can instantly tell from the way her body trembles that she's beyond distraught. As he lowers his altitude and floats down toward her, he notices a smear of blood across her forehead, and that her clothes are tattered. He also realizes, with a pang of concern, that she's crying--and that she looks furious. At him. She has a gun in her hand, and Peter wonders who gave her a gun, and why she's pointing it up at him.

Then his gaze lands on Noah. He's laying motionless at Claire's feet. Since he has no power to take, his head is intact, but his neck is twisted at an unnatural angle. That's when Peter realizes where Claire got her gun: she took it off the body of her father. Horror washes over him, and he's about to ask her who did this. Then he looks around, and he sees... oh, God, he sees...

Mohinder, his body charred and blackened--maybe by an explosion, maybe by electricity--it doesn't matter. Matt, slumped against a traffic pole, riddled with bullets. Tracy, splayed out in a pile of half-melted, blood-soaked slush. Hiro and Ando, lying one on top of the other, skewered by Hiro's sword. Angela--his own mother--laying on her back with vacant eyes fixed on the sky.

All of their heads have been sliced open.

Tears welling up in his eyes, Peter clamps his hands over his mouth. He tastes blood against his tongue as he does this, and his stomach roils. He can't tear his gaze away from the horrific scene before him. Who... who did this? Who killed his friends?!

Even as he thinks this, he already knows the answer: he did.

"Oh, God," he sobs, "what have I done?"

Down on the ground, Claire lets go of the gun. It falls to the ground with a clatter next to Noah's limp hand. She stares up at Peter, not saying anything, but just... fixing him with her gaze. The look of sheer misery and betrayal in her eyes shatters Peter's heart almost as much as the sight of... of everyone else. He wants to fly down to her, to wrap his arms around her and hold her close to his chest, but he knows she'll push him away if he tries. Maybe she'll even shoot him. Either way, he would deserve it.

"The hunger reemerged in you," Sylar explains, his voice low and calm despite everything, despite the mangled bodies on the street below, despite the blood on Peter's hands. "Claire and I figured out what was going on, and we tried to stop you, but..."

"...You were too late," Peter supplies hoarsely. Grimly, Sylar nods. "I... I killed them."

"Peter, I--" Sylar begins. Then, almost immediately, he trails off. "Come here."

Somewhat clumsily, he pulls Peter into a midair embrace. Peter sobs into his shoulder, clutching at his coat with bloodstained hands. Sylar doesn't try to offer consolation, because it's not okay, and they both know it. It will never be okay again. He just holds him, and that's all Peter can ask of him, even though it's not enough. It will never be enough.

#heroes #primatech #hey did you know that i write stuff sometimes?

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tracybirds · 5 years ago

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:DD I finished!! Part 2!! of my Man from TB5 AU!! yay!!! A reminder for those who don’t recall last week let alone last month, this is based on a prompt by @kenzie-running-free :

A 'what-if' story based on "The Man From TB5" where the Hood recognized John in the scene when he makes himself known (instead of John stuttering).

Uh and so I did that and then John got kidnapped. Full backstory here: [Part 1]

Super many thanks to @gumnut-logic and @plantmuffin for reading parts and chatting plotting with me :D You’re both lovely!

Enjoy!!

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The silence that followed John’s dramatic exit was the hardest part. No one spoke, the only sound the roaring of the wind and the faint beeping in John’s ear that told him the connection had not yet been re-established. Perhaps, it wouldn’t. The Hood had intended for Penelope to call his brothers to her, and crucially away from him, so it followed that the frequency disrupter was concealed on his person.

If it were him in his ‘bird, he knew how to trace the dead air that a comm jam inevitably created. There was a trail that would follow, maintenance reports and upgrades listed. There was sudden news spreading online of short, unexplained communication failures, a flurry of online activity that burst into life the moment the disruption ended.

He wasn’t in his ‘bird. He didn’t have access to a vast network of datastreams and information caches and statistical modelling programmes. He had a radio that was only connected to a single network and magnetic socks for all the good they would do him. And he had thrown away the one item that might have been useful as a weapon.

After that impulsive choice, he wasn’t certain he could claim his brain as an asset.

One problem at a time. He knew how to calm a racing mind, knew how to create order out of apparent chaos.

Three goons.

One mastermind.

No control over the mechanism strapped to his body.

Wind chill.

No way to contact his family and make his position known.

Yet.

The steady beeping of an unconnected comm was replaced by crackling static. A stationary frequency disruptor then, not on the Hood’s personage at all. It would make things harder for Penelope and Parker to get out of the mess they were in, if they needed to destroy the jamming technology themselves, but it gave John a chance. He twisted slightly in his harness, the unforgiving metal tugging at his skin.

“You won’t get out, boy,” sneered the Hood. “And where would you go? Fall to your death like your mother? Like your friends back at the hotel will?”

John ignored him. His arm snaked higher, feeling underneath the lapel of his suit. He shuddered at the bite of metallic thread, the icy burn spreading outwards from his fingers.

His hands were clumsy and the cold already beginning to muddle his mind as he worked, fighting his instincts to curl up and preserve heat instead of picking at frozen circuitry.

The static dropped into the familiar, faint beeping as they flew through another patch of destructive signal interference. He worked through it, twisting at the threads to create a receiver that would remain open and linked into the iR comm line. To hack into his own network was no mean feat and more than once John had to abruptly shift from fiddling with the electrical components to scratching his chin as the Hood or his men peered back at him. A quiet Tracy was a dangerous Tracy. The Hood had learnt that lesson long ago.

He couldn’t allow more than a sharp inhale of excitement as the radio receiver caught the first snatches of conversation on the air.

“It’s been nearly an hour.”

“And he hasn’t called any of us?”

“EOS, you’re sure this isn’t you?”

“Positive!”

He couldn’t leave a transmission line open, not without creating a signal of his own that would draw attention to himself from unwanted parties. Especially as he couldn’t guarantee it would attract his brothers’ attention. Better to wait.

A new voice broke through.

“Calling International Rescue, we have urgent need of assistance.”

“Lady Penelope?” Scott and Gordon’s voices intertwined, although one displayed considerably more anxiety than the other.

“Lady Penelope, what’s happened to John?” demanded Scott. John could almost see the withering glare he gave their younger brother, almost daring him to speak.

“John’s not… he’s been…”

“Kidnapped by the ‘ood,” cut in Parker. “Begging your pardon, m’lady.”

A loud thump.

“I told you we should take it seriously,” hissed Alan.

“How was I to know it wasn’t his stupid AI being the devil incarnate again?”

“I said it wasn’t me!”

“What information can you give us?” Virgil’s voice was low and calm. John could almost feel his warm hand dropping on his shoulder, his eyes intent and serious.

“I don’t know where John is,” said Penelope, letting out a shaky breath. “But we’ve just destroyed a frequency jammer that was affecting all our communications, and there are three devices slowly cutting through the cables holding up the infrastructure of the hotel. We have nearly 300 civilians that need help now.”

A splutter of outrage came through the earpiece.

“John–”

“Don’t argue with me, Scott Tracy,” Penelope snapped. “Do not think for a second I don’t care about your brother because I do. The Hood wants something from him specifically, he’s not in any immediate danger. But we have experienced altitude shifts from a loss of tension twice in the last forty-five minutes, and we cannot afford to wait much longer.”

“She’s right,” murmured Virgil.

There was an awful silence. John held his breath.

“Thunderbird One and Thunderbird Shadow are our fastest planes,” said Scott. “Kayo, let’s move. Gordon, you and Alan, get up the hotel specs up in the comm sphere, start running timeframe simulations. We need to get those people out of that building.”

“I’ve forward you boys all the information I can.”

“Virgil, can you–”

His stomach in his mouth.

Wind whistling in his ears, drowning out the words.

A drop in altitude, a spike in terror.

He groaned as his body jolted in the harness, the fall abruptly ended with cruel laughter from above. Slowly the mechanical wings retracted and again gravity overcame him. A numb jolt shot up his legs and he crumpled to the hard tarmac. The fall was only a few feet high, but it was enough to cause serious ground shock which slammed through his nerves like a lightning bolt.

John looked up, squinting in the harsh sunlight.

Above him, the Hood and his henchmen circled like vultures, almost lazy in their descent. They would never be able to reach him if he could make a break for it.

‘If’ very much being the operative word.

John looked around him. The mountainous landscape cut off any obvious escape routes. There was a car nearby, evidently left for them to use as a getaway for the next phase of transport. Black, hard top, driver’s seat on the left. He noted the make and model before checking over the sprained wrist he’d sustained as he’d fallen forwards. He grimaced as he tested its range of motion, thanking his lucky stars he was right handed. Gingerly, he dabbed at scrapes beneath his torn dress trousers, doing his best to clean them.

He risked a glance upwards to see how many more precious few moments alone he would be given.

Hunched over his wounds, it was time to make a signal disruptor of his own. He needed a device that would draw attention not only to his existence, but his location. He huffed on his hands, his fingers still stiff and clumsy from the cold. A localised disturbance in the comms network would do it, he knew the precise frequencies that the comms would be operating on and would be able to target a destructive pattern much more efficiently that the broad spectral disruption that the Hood’s device had used. And if he could code a message into the pattern of disruption, all the better.

‘If they can find it.’ He pushed the thought away. His brothers were still chattering in his ear, their focus on the rescue at hand and unaware of his eavesdropping. He knew they were close by, close enough that the comms would record the disruption even if they weren’t looking for it. He just had to hope someone would at least note the regularity of the anomaly when they reviewed the mission logs. He tried not to think about the fact that that someone was usually him.

He had to trust his brothers.

The binary of Morse code made it easy to incorporate, able to be read through the on/off of the signal disruption. They could all recognise a simple SOS message, it had been one of the first rescue lessons their father had drilled into them from childhood. He set the signal to repeat.

Rough hands pulled John upright and he stood on shaky legs that struggled to hold his weight. His adrenaline level was decreasing rapidly, and the resulting shock was beginning to crash his system.

“Get him in the car,” said the Hood, barely glancing at John. “Move quickly, International Rescue will fly over this region soon enough and I want us long gone before they get a sniff of this place.”

“Yes boss.”

John was frogmarched to the back seat and strapped into place. He hadn’t sat in a middle seat since before his first growth spurt and he shifted uncomfortably with his knees around his ears.

“I want something from you, John Tracy.” The Hood sounded bored, merely reciting a daily script with a stranger. “It is a mistake to say I need it. All I want is for you not to have it.”

A soft click drew John’s attention. The cold impression of a barrel against his ribs left him certain of the Hood’s intent. The blood pounded in his ears, the mental instructions he sent to calm his heart rate unheeded by his body.

“I am not concerned how I get it.” John could see the man’s cold, glittering eyes in the rear view mirror. “Do we understand each other, John?”

John licked at his dry lips. His voice was merely a rasp and he hated himself for betraying such an obvious physical reaction.

“We do,” he whispered.

“Excellent.”

John was feeling dizzy. The reality of his situation flashed through his mind, sudden images of being thrown from the hotel, forced out of the sky, the gun that was pressed into his side. He closed his eyes. Faintly, he thought he could hear Alan’s excited voice, his words indistinct as hysteria threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t give that level of satisfaction to his worst enemy.

He wouldn’t allow his emotions to control his responses.

He needed a cool head and all his wits about him if he were to get out of this mess.

The car was speeding along the mountain road, isolated with nobody nearby for miles.

He opened his eyes. Alan was still talking into his ear.

“Guys, I know that’s John.”

“What, so the comm signal drops off nearby and you immediately assume it’s John?” scoffed Gordon. “It happens, alpine regions are always sketchy. It’s back now anyway.”

“Exactly,” said Alan. “Signals that drop off don’t just come back. It’s not random noise either, look at this projection of signal strength. And it’s moving.”

“Kayo, go check it out,” ordered Scott. “It may be nothing, but let’s not take chances. Virgil and I can finish up here, we’re almost done.”

“FAB Scott.”

“Alan, try to make contact. If it is John, I want confirmation of his situation.”

A high pitched frequency assaulted him. Audio feedback, a misplaced connection in the radio receiver and John yelped, bringing his hands up to protect his ears.

He froze, eyes watering.

“Pull. over.”

The Hood’s voice was as silk, a smooth, low, furious sound that demanded obedience.

John didn’t move, didn’t dare draw attention to the radio embedded in his jacket. He could lose the earpiece, despite the anguish it would cause to lose a stable connection to his family. Without the radio itself, their link to him would be destroyed.

Rough hands grabbed at his arm, ignoring the sharp cry as his injured wrist bore his weight as he was hauled from the car.

A hard shove sent him sprawling.

“Get him up,” said the Hood. “Stop wasting my time.”

Revulsion rose from John’s stomach as the Hood stepped closer. His head jerked away, only to be captured in the Hood’s other hand, yanking his ear down to eye level.

“A speaker,” he muttered, plucking the earpiece from its place. He lifted it to his own ear, cocking an eyebrow at the voices that emanated from it.

“So, you’re in contact with them. Clever. And yet you haven’t alerted them to your whereabouts?”

John said nothing.

“There must be a receiving unit. Presumably a transmitter as well – ah! A textile radio, how delightful. Did Brains cook this up for you? But of course he did.”

The jacket was ripped from his body, leaving John shivering in the mountain air.

“How does this work, John? No, don’t tell me. Brains’ inventions are always so intuitive. Very convenient in an emergency, wouldn’t you say John?”

He threw the earpiece back at one of the henchmen holding him in place.

“Best give this part back, we don’t need it.”

The man hesitated.

“Get a move on,” growled the Hood.

John flinched as the earpiece was replaced, his head filled again with the sounds of his family calling to each other back and forth.

The Hood fingered the lapel thoughtfully.

“I can open a transmission to them. Should I do that John? Let them know how helpless you are? How helpless they are?”

“Thunderbird Five calling unknown operator, come in please.”

“They’ll find me. They won’t stop searching.”

“Such faith in family.” The Hood peered into John’s eyes. “Do you really believe that? Surely you recall their past failures. Their prejudices. Their arrogance.”

“We have received an SOS from your location. Please respond.”

He leaned closer.

“John, if you’re out there, give us a sign. Anything. Please.”

Alan’s voice broke. John could hear the shuffling motion of a brother pulling another close. Gordon’s calm, steady voice took over the call.

“You’re about to find out what I learnt long ago. Family lets us down. Family leaves us behind. Family don’t look forever.”

John’s heart thudded in his chest. The Hood’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, a knife twisting in the wound he’d just dealt.

“Of course, you already know that.”

>>>“Dad, we need you.”

>>> “Dad, we won’t stop looking.”

>>> “Dad, please.”

>>> “…”

>>> “Dad, they need me. They need Thunderbird Five.”

>>> “Scott says we have to stop.”

>>>“Dad, I think he’s right.”

John knew. John remembered.

The Hood opened the channel.

“Wait, wait Scott, we have a connection.”

“Can he hear us?”

“John? John?!”

“Anything you’d like me to pass on, John?”

The Hood smiled, a triumphant figure.

“Last chance.”

“Go to hell.”

He laughed, fingers playing on the edge of the jacket lapel.

Twenty-two thousand miles above them, his laugh echoed across a suddenly silent space station.

[Part 3]

#john tracy #the hood #we have a theme tonight folks lol #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #i should do the bedtime thing now maybe ahaha #maybe #kenzie-running-free #nobody come for me about the audio feedback thing i know that's not how it works #if the show can fudge physics then so can I

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