#then boom! he was hiding in plain sight

[moondyad]

idk what i was expecting when going into The Acolyte. i didn't really look into promotional material, just waited to watch the show blind, like i do with most media. Mae and Osha were very compelling characters to me. i loved watching a "twins are not the same person" story where as they grow up, even people with the same DNA can choose different paths. which kind of became ironic with the reveal at the end of the season haha. i'm actually so intrigued by Mae and Osha being the exact same person. i desperately want to know how that happened and why Mother Aniseya created/summoned them. that part of the story makes sense and is great to follow along with for me.

my one gripe remains the same. i still can't quite take Qimir seriously. it stems from my understanding of Star Wars. Sith are never portrayed as morally grey in Star Wars. that's a specific request from George Lucas. the Sith were always evil and selfish while the Jedi were always good and selfless. Lucas always despised "grey Jedi" in the legends canon and didn't consider them true to the major canon. interjecting before someone gets mad, i love morally grey characters! i love people taking Lucas's characters and amplifying their grey qualities! however, as i understood it, no Star Wars media would ever show Sith or Jedi as morally grey (unless they were in the process of changing sides or something) due to it conflicting with the core values of those groups and Lucas's vision for them. so, when the goofball side character was revealed to be the big bad Sith i was ??? because it was to my understanding that Sith don't act like comic relief characters or show mercy. apparently this reveal only blindsided me, because i saw a lot of people who claimed to have picked up on it after his first or second scene. blinded by my understanding of the lore, I wrote Qimir off and was waiting for someone darker, more sinister to show their hand. i don't mind this series being the first to show morally grey Jedi and Sith. i love that Sol was so blinded by his righteousness that he could only see a path forward in which he removed one or both girls from their family and way of life. that's crazy! Sol was either on a path to becoming a Sith or staying light enough that he might have lead a splinter group from the Jedi Order, and either option would have been fascinating to watch. i feel like we haven't learned enough about Qimir yet to have his reveal felt earned. Sol's devastating past actions were earned! we got to know him how he is now and the absolute love he holds for Osha despite it being his biggest weakness. all we know is Qimir now. so i guess that's why the goof to Sith feels so sudden and the morally grey actions don't feel earned. i think Osha joining him was super fast-paced and didn't really feel earned either. i feel like he didn't challenge her beliefs enough. Mae did a better job at that than Qimir did. why didn't she just run off with Mae and not choose either side? she got a sick scene where she bled a kyber crystal and the blade turned red, but that alone doesn't make you a Sith. especially since this seems to be the morally grey Sith/Jedi series. what i need from the second season, if there is one, is way more of a focus on Qimir. i need his morality to have felt earned, just like how Osha's and Sol's were.

also insane how Vernestra just swept everything under the rug. another morally grey Jedi to add to the collection.

[forthechubbies]

Mafia! BTS! x Wife! Chubby Reader

Being Korea's deadliest kingpins made seven men into untouchable demons, yet their little wife is made out of sugar and spice?

Our little Wife . V

Sex Sells.

Strong language; Jimin’s a drunk asshole, fat shaming, Intense name-calling, sexual assault, puking, violence, man-handling, and bondage. I did say spicy

Jimin’s Past. IV

How else would the brothel remain untouched by the ever-growing society we live in today? Hiding in the dense shadows of Busan, The Brothel’s sign ominously blazed in a firey feisty crimson tint. Yes, for tonight, their god has returned as a return to bless their dreams once more.

Jimin.

Feeling numb through the high alcohol consumption, He smiled for the first time tonight. At what? Himself. He felt foolish for falling hard for a slut like you.

He snickered.

Jimin detests the persistent feeling of worrying about you. Unbelievable, Right? Not really, The sweetness of your warm squishy skin ghosted over his cold limbs due to the building's poor condition.

Autumn’s chill rattled the windows. You love autumn; He fell in love with you genuinely in the autumn-That day, the temperature played in his favor causing you to cuddle up to him as the orangish leaves crunch under their shoes. A plain walk through the park to the outsider but to Jimin, it was pure bliss.

Now, Look at him, Miserable, Heartbroken, ... Bitter.

May how far Jimin has fallen.

Bringing the pint glass to his puffy pink lips tilting his all the back to realize it's bonedry.

Jimin scoffed. “Tapped out.” sitting the glass bottoms up, He gently slides the glass to his collection on his table. “ Three.Four?....Eight! Come on, baby!... 13!-Damn..” His excitement died down at coming to realize a minor yet annoying error.

“That's an odd number...I wouldn't say I like odd numbers...I w-will have just one more.”

Jimin rushed to the stairs leaving in nothing short of pajama pants and its matching top open for the world to see...He forgot to button up after taking his shower.

Freezing mid-sip, Jimin focused solely on you- your shy and flushed expression made his eyebrow twitch-

“ You are by far the prettiest woman I have sight ever.” She leaned in. “You should work here. You would make a gold mine.” She laughed at your bewildered innocence. “ Yep, Korean men secretly worship chubby women like you. There's this young pervert who always comes in asking our chubby girls to sit on his face.”

Your mind is anywhere except on earth. How did your night end up like this? You should be at home in a hot bubble bath melting away the stress of today. Instead, your god knows where with women who have a one-track mind.

Fuck.

Jimin crept several steps over towards you. You looked healthy and as plump as a peach. He found it humorous how much you looked like an actual businesswoman. Slutty tight skirts and blouses ready to be ripped off, and those high heels that would look perfect in two places, and neither of them is walking, at least not straight.

Jimin clicked his tongue. Calm down. Calm down. It's probably what she fucking wants..She’s just an attention whore. Old habits die hard, they say.

The feeling of unknown eyes tracing your figure made you squirm in discomfort.

Ping

Whether it was your desperate need to excuse yourself or your phone pinging off the hook; had Jimin seeing red. Who the hell were you so eager to run off to? Sure as hell wasn't any of your husbands!?

Then who?! Who!

A face full of boiling rage fueled by a dangerously drunken state was a recipe for disaster. Jimin slammed his pint on the bar shattering the glass entirely; he followed you out front and was hot on your heels.

“Yah!” His voice boomed through the quiet red, lit streets.

Startled, You spun on your heels, and the shock of seeing Jimin made the blood in your veins run cold. “J-Jiminie?” You shuddered at his death glare.

Jimin scoffed, tucking any blonde stragglers behind his ears. “ You don't get to call me that after what you did to us!” His chest heaved with sorrow. “You threw away the only people willing to love you forever; what an ungrateful little whore you are. or Are you doing this for attention?” He truly got a kick out of that one.

You stood silent on the brink of tears; He wasn't worth your tears or your time. You turn on your heels only to take two steps before being manhandled by your arm.

“Yah! Don't walk away from me like I'm not fucking talking to you!” Jimin's anger took the physical form of tears. His throat burned so did his nose from the chilly early morning air.

Morning air? Is this correct? 5 am was rapidly approaching, and you had yet to close your eyes to start a new chapter the following day. You want to go home- Your real home; maybe you were stupid for creating this strike. Perhaps you should go back home.

“Your right, Jimin.” Your tears fall onto your ivory blouse. “I'm sorry for being selfish.”

Jimin froze. “No-No, your not getting off that easy. You don't get to get off that easy!” He yanked your skirt, bringing you closer into his arms. “ I want you to take responsibility...You hurt me bad, Chimmy.”

It wasn't until Jimin’s hands started to wander, You recognized the libidinous tone in his voice. He wouldn't dare ravish his own wife, Right?

“Now, Jimine, Let's talk this-”

Jimin shook his head. “There you go, Using that honey voice of yourself. Fuck. You know how to piss me off.” He stole your lips in an instant, biting and pulling at your swollen lips.

Your face pinged at his highly flammable breath. He's drunk. “Jimin-Wa-Wait a min.” You put up a good fight attempting to crease his assault, but even though you're around the same height, his strength trumps yours.

You hissed at the freezing brick wall; Jimin slammed you against- “Jimin! Stop it! This isn't funny!” One of your little hits landed on Jimin’s face.

He froze. You did the same, desperately catching your breath. Jimin’s sweaty blonde locks blocked his eyes; his tongue glazed his irritated lips.

“I can get rough too, Cow.” Jimin lowly chuckled, untying his pajama’s silk belt. “Be a good girl and face the fucking wall!” Jimin spat, gritting his teeth. He yanks you around to face the wall by the roots of your hair.

You gasped in pain.“Ow! Jimin! Please-”

“Please?! Did you just ‘Please’ me?! I hadn't done shit to you yet, and you're already begging.” He groans, taking big steps forward to sandwich you between him and the wall. "Since you're so eager - I guess I should at least tease you..but first- "

You squeaked in pain as his brutally bondage your hands behind your back; you could feel the silk cutting off your circulation. "You're a despicable little monster, Park Jimin!” You spat in his eye when he give you a window. " and you always have been."

Your word choice was an additional shot to his manhood and the end result was a harsh smack sending you to the ground. "Pretty bold words for tied-up cattle-” He flashed an eat shit-grin. “-In a woman's clothing.” The cheeky bondage method Jimin displayed is one of his favorites, a technique used for his clients who seek thrill and lore as much as insane pleasure.

Yn’s arms were kept tight behind your back with no wiggle room.

“You talk big but look at you...at my mercy” He looks at you in amusement as he squats beside you. “You're ours, Yn! When you met that demonic bunny, you sealed your fate. You don't even know what a real monster he can be-

Your heart stopped an ink-like figure crept out of the darkness, inching closer. “Jimin! Turn around!” Jimin failed to heed in time, costing him a stone punch to the jaw, followed by the figure’s heavy black boot to his abdomen.

You were expecting Jimin to be in somewhat pain; however, He chuckled, signaling for a timeout between the figure. Lacking, Your extra set of eyes, thanks to Jimin; you couldn't get a good look at him.

“Come on. I barely touch her yet. You can't be that mad.” Jimin swiped the blood caked up in the corners of his mouth. “ Aish, Don't you think you hit me a little too hard-”

The figure remained silent but waited no time to send Jimin to the ground again.

“Ah! Fuck!” He coughed up the dirt in his lungs before finally puking up the ungodly amount of poisonous liquid he had consumed.

Your sniffs and whimpers didn't go unnoticed. You squeeze your eyes shut as its heavy boots stop at your shuddering body. You've managed to set up and have knees to your chest.

The figure had a great view of standing above you like this. You heard his shoes glide on the gravel; Is he gone? Oh please, please, god, please, please. You swallowed your fear and opened your eyes; you quickly learned how much of a mistake you had made.

He rudely had no disregard for your personal space. The tip of his nose grazed yours, and his eyes bored into-

Those big eyes...Jungkook? But his build is different; he's larger than my Kookie...It hasn't been that long, right?

He leaned into your lips to have you reject him. “ What are you crazy?! I'm married!” You extended your leg to his chest to keep him a bay. It worked until the bastard started feeling up your leg; he kissed your ankle.

The touch-starved stranger dragged his gloved hand down your battered stockings and tarnished soft skin. He clicks his tongue, pushing your foot off his chest.

Did he just roll his eyes at me?

He stood up before snatching you up by your silky bonds. “ Eep!” You felt nausea after being treated like a ragdoll for the past hour.

The last thing you heard was Jimin’s voice before blacking out.

...

The warm sunlight overwhelmed your sleepy eyes. Once your eyes adjust to the sunlight, The horror settles in-

You were cleaned, dressed, patched up, and placed in your princess room.

[t0ast-ghost]

S3 EP17 (That Which Survives) ME! CAUSE I WON FINALS RAGHH

On with it:

- A GHOST PLANET?!?

- “A planet even Spock can’t explain.” McCoy smiles

- okay that was a weird omen- I mean woman

- Uh oh they’re stranded now Spock’s gotta search for them

- STOP BEING MEAN TO SULU

- Awe he spends so much time with Chekov he picks up pieces of information

- Fuck off, Kirk

- OMG M’BENGA

- “I’ll sit on the warp engines and nurse them.” Spock is appalled by this statement

- Sulu is so pretty

- Sulu’s little run <3

- D’Amato is our stand in red shirt flag this episode. He lets them know there is danger

- “I wish you would be more precise.” Spock’s grumpy because he misses his boyfriends

- “The ship feels wrong.” Tf is this supposed to mean Scotty?

- …

- Those lights look wrong (I’m an engineer)

- SCOTTY RAN RIGHT PAST HER?!? Hiding in plain sight wins again

- “Do you know what he died of, Mr. Scott?” ‘Aye have ye heard of ligma?’

- WAIT. Bisexual lighting planet I know you!

- hiii Sulu Hiiii

- Sleepy

- Spock is such a bitch (lovingly) in this episode “My guess, Doctor, would be valueless. I suggest we refrain from guessing and focus on facts. Spock out.” Calm your tits babygirl you’ll find them

- NO STAY AWAY FROM SULU

- “I want.. to touch you.” *vine boom sound* (not joking that’s what it sounds like in the show)

- OWIE! Oh no he tripped :(

- YEAHBB WHOOO ITS THE LINE!!!! !!!

- Hey if I went to your party and did this, wyd?

- “And she’s so… so beautiful.” Me when a woman almost kills me

- Uhura understands Spock does not want to calculate the chances of McCoy and Kirk’s survival because he does not want to think they’re dead

- The bisexual lighting behind Kirk and McCoy is silly

- Spock and McCoy saying things and the crew being like, ‘why are you saying this, this is a serious situation.’ But they’re little nerds

- Spock is really ready to die in any given circumstance where a sacrifice is required

- Spock is in a better mood now

- McCoy <3

- they just threw Scotty into the tube

- FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING (careful showing to friends)

- Spock does not want to hear about bad sensory experiences

- “Keep behind us Jim!” McCoy is protecting his boyfriend

- Her makeup is majestic

- “Are you lonely?” Kirk don’t do it

- Do I understand what’s happening on the ship? No. Does it seem intense? Yes.

- She just wants a hug!

- When another one comes forward and claims to come for McCoy Kirk shoves him behind his back to protect him 🥺

- YEAHHH SPOCK!

- Jim and Spock immediately start flirting. Like there’s nothing else I can call it

- We get it. You’re all attracted to the woman who tried to kill you.

Masterpost

Teleplay by John Meredyth Lucas

Story by Michael Richards

[cosmogyros]

Billy Come Home

Songwriting is so wild. I woke up this morning thinking about the Animals’ cover of “House of the Rising Sun” and how they did such a damn good job of turning a traditional folk song into a nice heavy rock ballad. And then I thought, hey, it could be fun to write my own “old folk tune with the potential to be covered as a rock song”. What a delightful challenge!

While I was making breakfast, the chorus spontaneously came to me: “Billy, come home / Don’t you stay away so long / Billy, come home / Don’t you leave me no more.” I quickly sat down and recorded that bit so I wouldn’t forget it.

My musical concept for this song was clear right away: I wanted to write something in the tradition of the Scottish folk ballads, a genre that greatly influenced me in my youth. That meant it should have a solid sing-along chorus and be comparatively “plain”, lyrically speaking.

Now it was time to write the verses… but that required some thought.

I decided that, despite the lyrics of the chorus, the song overall would be from the point of view of a man going away, and the chorus is the part that’s sung from the point of view of his girlfriend back at home. What do men go away for? Traditionally, war. So I decided this would be a song sung by a soldier missing his lady at home.

Next question: where is he going away from? I have a soft spot for Canada, so this would be a song about a Canadian soldier. I wrote the classic line with which to start this type of song – “I had a girl back in [blank]” – and then sat there wondering what “blank” should be. I looked up various historically significant Canadian port cities, but none of their names felt quite right.

I wanted it to sound kind of generic. I wanted it to be a song that Canadians would instantly recognize as being about Canada, but people of other nationalities might easily mistake for a song about their own country instead. One of those conveniently vague lyrics that all different kinds of people can relate to.

From researching Canadian cities of historical import, I somehow shifted to reading about Canadian participation in the World Wars. Since I wanted this to be an old song, obviously World War I was the way to go. I read about some famous Canadians who’d fought in the Great War. Scrolling through black-and-white photos of young men in their military attire and mustaches, I was stopped in my tracks by this dashing fellow and the caption: “Billy Bishop is one of Canada’s most famous aviators, claiming 72 victories across the First World War.”

Boom. Serendipity. There was my Billy. I’d never known before this moment that he even existed, but now it was clear what my song was about.

From that point, it was easy. I opened up Billy Bishop’s Wikipedia article and eagerly read about his entire life. He was quite a dandy in his youth: well-dressed, spoke with a lisp, attended dancing classes with the girls, and didn’t care for team sports, preferring solitary activities such as riding and shooting. Naturally this made him a target of teasing by the other boys, but Billy was quite a scrapper and had no qualms about getting into fights to defend himself. He was also very good-looking and popular with the ladies, but unfortunately both a slacker and a cheater in his schoolwork. And aspired to fly from a young age…

From Wikipedia: “In 1910, at the age of 16, after reading a newspaper article, Bishop built a glider out of cardboard, wooden crates, bedsheets, and twine, and made an attempt to fly off the roof of his three-story house. He was dug, unharmed, out of the wreckage by his sister Louise. After she helped him hide the wreckage, she insisted he owed her a favor, and insisted he date her girlfriend Margaret Burden.”

It was love at first sight for Billy and Margaret, but he had to leave her behind when he enlisted on his 17th birthday. He was then transferred from Kingston to London, Ontario for cavalry training before boarding the ship Caledonia and starting off across the ocean (but not without first slipping away to propose to Margaret and give her his military academy ring, to hold her over until he could charm her parents enough to be allowed to offer her a real one).

The Canada-to-England journey was hellish – everyone was terrifically seasick, man and beast alike. Many of the horses on board died during the crossing and their corpses had to be thrown overboard. Additionally, the ship was attacked by a German submarine near the end of its voyage, resulting in 300 Canadian casualties.

Billy Bishop survived, however, and was rewarded with more horrific conditions: undergoing further training in an absolute swamp of mud and horse manure in England. Eventually he got so sick and tired of being on the disgusting, dirty ground that he applied to the Royal Flying Corps instead – after having observed to a friend one day, while watching an airplane land: "You don't get any mud or horseshit on you up there. If you died, it would be a clean death."

It may have been cleaner, but it wasn’t necessarily more enjoyable. He crashed, was shot down, and suffered various injuries (including, on one long flight, frostbite so severe that it split his cheek open). But during all this time, he started familiarizing himself with the concept of planes that could shoot at the enemy from the air – brand new technology back then.

On medical leave, he finally convinced Margaret Burden’s parents that he was a suitable match for their daughter, and gave her a proper engagement ring at last. Then it was back to Europe a few months later, where, stationed in France, he began shooting down German planes with so much success that the Germans nicknamed him “Hell’s Handmaiden”. In his blue-nosed plane, Bishop was a fearless flyer – after one flight he landed with 210 bullet holes in his fuselage. Some say he exaggerated his successes, but whether it was all based in truth or not, he was considered the top flying ace for the Allies.

And eventually, in 1917, he got another opportunity to return home to Canada, welcomed as a hero – and finally married his beloved Margaret, after a years-long engagement.

I learned all of this and completed the majority of the song in about 45 minutes. Most of the verses practically wrote themselves. One minute, I’d been idly singing the words “Billy, come home” to myself, with no context or connotation and no idea who “Billy” might be; an hour later, I knew all this history and had all-but-finished a song about his life.

One line was still missing, so I texted some friends about it, asking for creative assistance. One informed me that fighter planes were sometimes referred to as “kites” back then, and that gave me the inspiration I needed to finish up the song.

(I intentionally took a few mild creative liberties with the historical facts, but hey, that’s something else that old folk songs traditionally do. Despite that, most of the lyric is still true!)

Anyway, if you want to hear the tune, I made a rough demo of it:

[spaceshipsoutthepool]

Sulk in the Sun🍹

Ao3 link

While it’s quite out of character to do so; Penny loses her cool and storms off. Although it isn’t ladylike to admit that. Brains comes to join her by the pool. And of all people, is the one to try and talk her out of potential leaving International Rescue.

Boom! last fic of the year bay-beeee. Happy 2024

Story under the cut for those who prefer to read here

Lady Penelope was never a sun chaser. Or comfort­able in great heat. Much as she was trying to relax. Forcing herself to relax might be the more operative term.

"Oh, I'd much rather be wrapped up in layers. With a walk on the heath any day.” she thought moodily, looking out over the ocean again. rather than facing the sunlight like the fellow tourists topping up their tans. “Bring on winter. It's probably a lovely chilly autumn day back home!”

Around the pool (but not actually in it), holiday makers and expats alike were turning over and over for an even bronze. Penelope privately thought most were cooking themselves to walnuts; all oiled brown and wrinkly. She decided she probably looked silly; sat in the near shade wearing a cover wrap and a large sun hat. And then decided she didn't care. Not particularly. Just like she didn’t care for this resort. And she didn’t care about International Rescue. No, not at all.

Penelope again tried to put ‘the day job’ from her mind. And tried to focus on just the sea breeze coming over the cliff side. The blue ocean. and blue almost cloudless sky stretching on for ever and ever. And somewhere out there, just beyond the horizon and further hidden by several clever mirage devices, hidden in plain sight was Tracy Island…

Drat.

"Your drink, M’Lady?"

Penelope did not jump. She refused to. Parker was now hovering at her side again, ever the faithful English butler. Even in his holiday cream chinos.

"Parker. You're on holiday too.” she scolded. “Do desist bullying the resort staff out of their jobs!"

"Begging your pardon milady. But they can't make a mixer or -pardon me language- a blooming cup of tea right.” He explained. “Not to your particular way of liking, at any rate."

Penelope sighed. He had a point.

"I do appreciate it, Parker. But you are fussing.”

“Sorry, milady.”

“Really. The world won't end just because of a little spilt milk or life providing lemons for the lemonade..." she said, taking the drink from the tray. then added with a rather viscous look back out to sea. "Despite what our American friends think."

"Quite? Erm...” Parker hesitated. It seemed he was not, for all their year's together, sure how to address a Ladyship whose pride had been wounded. Discussing Common enemies or wrong uns sure. Not catty remarks about ol’ pals and friendships possibly soured.

“Well… I’ll be off then? if you say so milady?"

"I do. Please Parker, go off and enjoy yourself?" She said, then added, “Preferably without a casino in sight?”

Parker sighed.

“No more gambling wot I ain’t got m’lady. You have my word on that. But.” Again, Parker hesitated. Then cleared his throat.

"If I might be so bold as to say so, milady-?"

"No. You may not." Penelope snubbed. And stubbornly turned back to the picture esc view.

“…Very good, m’lady.” Parker snubbed right back. Penelope sat tense, purposely ignoring him as he departed. then cursed her bad temper as even Parker left her too sit and stew.

Villains and hazards she could handle with ease. Emotions, or more unpleasant feelings, she’d always rather hated facing. Creighton-Wards don’t do very good at that. Especially without something constructive or some engagement to throw herself into.

“I wasn’t made for relaxing on sunbeds.” She thought. “That clearly skipped a generation.”

She did persevere, however, between sipping the fruity drink and reading the awful bad romance thriller book she’d brought with her.

(she’d initially brought the new hit bestseller to hide the history journal she had actually been reading. It wouldn’t do for the British tabloid press to think she wasn’t such a blonde. But then Diane had said the Book was so awful, it was actually good. So, Penelope had tried to read it for real. Then decided while she could trust Diane one many things, life and death things even; book recommendations was not one of them.)

The book, however bad, wasn't exciting enough to take her mind off things. Not properly. But She absolutely was not going to lose her temper, again or spend the whole holiday shut up in her room. Nor was she going to cry or shed one single tear over Jeff bloody Tracy. Or Scott for that matter. She hadn’t so far and was not about to start. Certainly not in public, thank you very much.

Lady Penelope was just debating if she should give it up? And see what the on-site gym had to offer, hoping to physically run away from her troubles. But when she went to sit up her ribs to remind her why she was on a ‘relaxing holiday’ in the first place. Trying not to wince was extra hard when she heard Parker’s heavy footsteps. (The ex-cat burglar was deliberately making himself heard and not sneak up on her again.) Instead, Penelope repressed a groan. not even forty minutes had gone past since she’d asked to be left in peace!

"Begging your pardon again ma'am. but there’s a gentleman wishing to speak to you?"

"If it’s anyone with the surname Tracy on the telephone I do not wish to speak to them." She snapped, not looking up from the book.

"Good thing it ain’t on the phone, then." Parker cut back, rather brutishly. then asked, "What can I get you to drink, young sir?"

"J-Just a c- cold soft drink please, Parker."

"Brains?!"

"H-hi Lady Penelope.”

Penelope bolted up (ouch) and lifted her sunglasses. Sure enough, there was International Rescues resident genius. He gave a little wave, as Parker gave a little nod and left. "My dear boy, how splendid to see you! What on earth are you doing here?"

“I’m dropping in on you, a-apparently. If that’s okay?" Brains smiled, sitting on the sun lounger next to hers. The young man stuck out like a sore thumb in his vest, shirt and tie. But despite the heat and the awkward way he held himself, (as if the lounger would bite him if he were to put his feet up,) Brains didn't seem to mind. Mind, Penelope supposed he was used to the heat of the southern hemisphere.

“I-I hope, I'm not interrupting anything?”

“Only my own ruminating. How did you know where I was?" She asked, astonished, putting down the rubbish paperback. Then narrowed her eyes at him. "And why are you here, even? Did someone put you up to this?"

Brains’ hands went up sharpish in surrender, like she’d levelled a pistol at him.

"N-no. no one! I came of my own accord.” He said. Then amended, putting his arms down. “Well a-actually, no. That's not true. I was coming here. Solo. then l-lost my nerve? and Tin-tin bullied me into actually going through with this. And then flew me here!"

Penelope whipped around. (Her ribs didn’t like that.) Tin-tin sat at the outdoor bar, looking resplendent in tangerine. with a drink to match. seeing she’d been spotted, Miss Kyrano saluted her.

"Tin-Tin said if you like, she's up for a trip out into town. but she’s also said to tell you she’s not coming over until she knows you definitely won’t judo throw her over the cliff. or be cross with her for bringing me over.” Brains explained.

“I would never-!” Penelope said aghast. Then remembered the rather vicious exchanging of words that had led to her checking into the resort rather than staying on Tracy Island. “…Not the first option at least.”

“T-that’s fair. And as for the how, John tracked the heli-jet to the mainland, and locating your communications was very simple. That and this is one of the nearest luxury adults only resorts to the airport. Tracy Industries has a gold card- “

"Oh of course he does." Penelope scoffed. And then felt a teensy bit bad for throwing Brains off his track.

Brains nervously cleared his throat. and continued. "Yes. to a suite? We stay here if the weather is too bad to get back across from supplies runs with the jet or the Ladybird. so, we simply walked onto site, dropped off our bags; Tin-tin got changed and then we came looking for you."

“Right. Well Brains, you’ve found me. Congratulations…”

Brains shifted nervously as she scrutinised him. Then turned away, pulling back down her sunglasses.

"A-a Penny for them, Lady Penelope?" Brains tried when the silence stretched a little too long.

"Right now, my thoughts do not make for good company." Penelope said coolly, not accolading the pun on her name, intentional or not.

Then sighed, rubbing her temple.

"My apologies. You are a pip for coming out to see me. I shouldn't take it out on you. Or dear old Parker, either for that matter."

"Less of the old." She thought she heard. Penelope glanced back to the bar where her butler was taking an awfully long time to fetch Brains his pop.

Penelope took off her sunglasses, folding them neatly back into their case.

"But Brains? Dear if you've come to apologise on their behalf or ask me to come back to the island, don’t bother. and I’m not apologising either, so don’t waste your time asking me too!" She said, feeling rather childish. Then added. “Even if it is bad form."

"No, I didn’t. And-and I'm not going to do that. I-I c c ccc.”

Brains paused and took a breath before continuing.

“I came on my behalf. Admittedly with a push. No one bar John was informed where we were heading. Just off base. And as for saying sorry-?”

“What about it?”

“Well, I think you’re both in the wrong? if it matters, Lady Penelope.” He said sincerely.

Penelope shot him a look that sent ‘stronger men’ running normally. This time Brains wasn’t affected.

“However, you came to Tracy Island for r-rest and recovery. And I’m sorry you fell out with Scott and Mr Tracy. That I will a-a-pp-p. That I am sorry for.” He continued. “I wanted to make sure you're okay. Really?"

"That, that is very sweet of you. I'm …fine, thank you." She said. Then teased just a little. "How many times do I have to say you’re free to call me Penny. or at least Penelope?"

"I don't think I could manage ‘Penny’." Brains shook his head. "It doesn't sound right from me."

“Alright.” She said, “But I mean it. And it is sweet, but I hate to think I’ve put you out. you could have just called?"

"W-would you have answered? "

"From you, yes.” Penelope said truthfully. “But then again I guess there's no way of screening calls outside of the home video phone and FAB One.”

"No. That is something I’ve been looking into? Assimilating a ringtone, different coloured lights for items. Or a caller id like on telly phones. It’s been simple enough to roll out on the vehicles so far. But on the watches and-!”

Brains stopped. “… Lady Penelope, you're letting me t-talk e-electronics again."

"You call it techno babble; I find it interesting." She shrugged. It might have sounded like false flattery to or from someone else, but she did genuinely enjoy listening to Brains. Even the bits that went over her head.

"Yes, but y-you're avoiding an awkward conversation." Brains frowned. "Where was I?"

"Television phone lines?" Penelope tried. Brains frown grew a little exasperated. "Oh, it was worth a shot. I said I would have answered. if it was you."

"Right. Well as I said I wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried about you. So, were Tin-tin a-and the fellas? And we’re all missing you and had been looking forward to you visiting. Really. I hope I’m not wrong when I say I see you as a very good ‘pal’, Lady Penelope? even outside of work.”

Brains was not a great fan of spontaneous physical affection. or else Penelope might have reached over and squeezed his hand. She herself wasn’t one for mushy sentiments without substance.

“You aren’t wrong. Although I'm not using the term ‘pal’ , thank you. but You’re a dear friend of mine too Brains. One Whom I’m lucky to have I might add.”

“The gadgetry upgrades are an a-added bonus.”

He said it in his normal tone but punctuated it with a very over top wink. Ah a joke.

Parker did not bring Brains his cola. But allowed the automatic waiter to bring it to him instead. It was a shiny chirping dustbin looking thing with a flat tray head, running on wheels and a track. Nothing as sophisticated as Braman. Although someone had gone to great trouble to put a smiley face on its front using its order lights as eyes. Penelope glared at it all the same for intruding.

Brains took the drink, thanked the robot; And continued.

“And it was somewhat selfish of me too. Coming to see you I mean. I wanted to get off the island for a little while. or at least away from the house.”

“Oh? Brains, is something wrong?” Penelope wasn’t going to admit she was worried no. not at all.

Alright, perhaps a smidgen.

“hm. it isn't a nice atmosphere.” Brains said, plucking out the umbrella from the drink and rolling it in his fingers. “And the others are trying to hide in my lab which is-?”

The near splutter of giggle from her startled them both.

“Terribly sorry, Brains.” Penelope apologised. “I wasn’t laughing at you. I just got the ridiculous image of one or more of the boys physically hiding under your work bench like a game of sardines!”

“Ah. no. That would be funny! And that has happened before! Not with the work bench but the storage cupboard. I do have to remind them sometimes it is a working lab and workshop." Brains said with a chuckle. Then more seriously, "If they were working on their own projects, I wouldn’t mind. It would be simply a case of just being there at the same time? but it was more they all keep coming in rather than face one another. if that makes sense? to see how whatever it is I’m working on is going and small talk."

“Ah. No, I quite agree that it is quite bothersome when people do that. One moment.”

Penelope reached into her bag. And pulled out an anti-listening device, ironically disguised as a compartment pocket disc and radio player. While the one in her compact and Brain’s watch were probably more than adequate for any electronic bugs; this one packed a little more juice that’d allow them a little more privacy. Beaming white noise up out of its antennae, the gadget then echoed surrounding noise back outward, creating a barrier around in up to a five-metre radius. Both eves’ droppers and recording devices alike wouldn’t hear them now. Even Parker and Tin-tin’s own IR devices would struggle against it. Parker wouldn’t even hear what she was saying even if he hid in a nearby decorative pot plant.

“There. Then we speak a little more freely about your lab and the Tracy’s.” Penelope smiled, setting it on the table between their sun loungers. “You can never guarantee secrecy in these places. As you’ve proven!”

Only Brains was more focused on the not-a-radio. “Is the new synth mechanism working well for output you need it too outside of the testing conditions? I wasn’t certain it could generate the continuous voltage without compensating the battery life.”

“Now who’s talking shop to avoid discussions?” Penelope pointed out. Brains sighed and swirled the cola as if it might help.

"It isn’t a nice atmosphere.” He said eventually. “In any of the villas. But other than seeing you’re okay? I'm staying out of the actual argument please. So are Tin-Tin, Gordon and John. "

“That’s only two out of five brothers." Penelope said quietly.

“Alan is heading to Thunderbird Five two days earlier than he was meant to. John changed his mind and was going to let Alan owe him another week seeing as you weren’t there anymore? but I think Alan’s trying to escape too. " Brains said. “And his, Alan’s I mean. His stance is ‘I told you so’. but I'm not sure which side of the argument. Although John asked you to call him, and you can tell him your side of the story.”

“Our own little ‘bitch sesh’.” Penelope said, sipping her drink to avoid pursing her lips. “And Virgil's?"

Penelope wished she hadn’t asked. Brains’ face fell.

“Virgil isn't speaking to anyone." He said sadly. "Last time I saw him he was holed up in Thunderbird Two making adjustments to the starboard’s main averting b-six aid access. And he had been for nearly ninety minutes!"

"Which bit is that? That he’s repairing."

"Oh. On the hatch in the cockpit, for storage." Brains corrected. "It keeps sticking."

“What a nuisance that must be." Penelope frowned. “Especially as Two’s pilot.”

“Quite. But. It shouldn’t take all that long to fix. And… I’m not sure I should say this?”

“And?” Penelope prompted anyway.

“And Virgil is not even acting as Scott’s confidant." Brains said.

“Oh…goodness, that is troubling."

“Hmm. Yeah.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment or few.

There was a splash, which served as a fitting distraction as any.

Tin-tin had at some point put on her cap and stripped down to her swimsuit. making use of the pool she’d hopped in for a dip and started doing steady lengths. Parker was looking h’after her stuff. He sat watching the sunbathers like a guard dog, daring any dirty old men to ogle or approach the young lady. It was quite sweet how protective he was of Tin-tin. Parker had acted much the same in Paradise Peaks, despite them being on assignment.

Deciding they’d be alright, Penelope sighed again and turned back to Brains.

"It wasn't in my itinerary, you know? To upset Virgil. I didn’t set out to do so on purpose.”

“I know.”

“Or Jeff actually. Certainly not to anger him. or Scott. or any of you for that matter-."

“don't.” Brains frowned interrupting. “I know that. With what was said, I believe it was needed, giving the operation. but the way it was put, it wasn't right.”

“That's rather the crux of the matter. rather than quite what was said itself.” Penelope admitted. Brains nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Does he often do that with the rest of you?”

“No, not a lot. Although sometimes Mr Tracy says things in that tone without meaning too. But He does it to even Kranyo? I don’t like it when he does that.”

“I doubt Kryano does either. Well, thank you for your honesty… I knew I was in for a lecture. Or possibly at worst a telling off. I just hadn’t expected it levelled at me quite so bluntly or on a personal level.” Penelope complained. “Oh dear. But you are right. And I shouldn’t have shot back either. At Jeff. I'm afraid my own father was a ‘give them as good as back, son’ sort of approach too.”

“Mine tried.” Brains agreed. “So did the professor.”

“Oh?”

Brains very very rarely ever talked about his family life before the Tracy’s. Adopted or otherwise. But he was slightly more casual here, just for a brief moment.

“It didn’t take. Sending me to boxing classes to t-toughen me up just gave the school bully an easier target. Especially if I couldn’t see them in the ring without my glasses.” He said. And waved off any sympathy.

“H-how did your parents find it?” Brains asked and at her questioning look clarified, “Not following the life they’d planned for you? If that’s not too personal?”

“From you, no, not at all. Hmm. I think switching from scouts to the guides helped? But it was being made head girl and going to finishing school that finally won mater over.” Penelope shrugged. Something her old tutor would have struck her with a ruler for, speaking of. “As for my father? In his own words better a strong daughter then another waste of an heir like his brother was. Yours?”

“The professor didn’t really mind what I wore or what I changed, so long as I didn’t miss any classes.”

Brains didn’t elaborate any further. Penelope picked up the thread of conversation before the silence became awkward.

“I'm afraid I’ve made papa sound a brute. He wasn’t. He was a good man in most respects. although I don’t think he and Jeff would have gotten on at all.” She said. But the augment was still playing on her mind. and the subject circled back and reared its ugly head. “But speaking of Jeff and fathers. This isn’t a case of simply being grounded or getting into trouble with a local constable, is it?”

Brains shook his head, and Penelope continued. “And yet Jeff spoke to me like a child.”

“But what you did was incredibly risky? He’s right to think that.” Brains replied.

“I don’t need to hear any more of his Opinions.” Penelope said curtly. “…or his mothers.”

"If it helps Mrs Tracy called him and Scott foolish. For speaking to you like that. Individually. and idiots collectively " Brains put in.

"It does actually." Penelope said, a little cattily. "Given Grandmama Tracy cannot stand me, she must really be quite galled to be on my side."

“y-yeah. Well partly on your side.”

"Was she very rude about me?" Penelope grinned. Brains thought for a moment reanalysing.

“Urm…you do know Mrs Tracy says your name odd. Like it’s an insult?” He said warily.

“Oh, she always does that. That's why I call her Grandmama.”

“Oh. But Mrs Tracy hates that?”

“I know. She pretends to flirt with Parker, and she knows we all hate that.”

“I'm not certain it is pretend. Wait, is that why she called you a snob?”

“Is that all? Well, I am. That’s not terribly rude. if it’s true.” Penelope smiled sweetly. “She also thinks I'm a bad influence on you Tin-tin and the boys. And Jeff to boot.”

“Really? I don’t believe it.”

“She told me that herself. And you’ve my word it’s the truth.”

"I don’t understand why you find that funny?” Brains said, “Oh well. Other than that Mrs Tracy wasn't so rude as to call you anything but ‘her majesty!’ behind your back… But that was before the fight."

“It was hardly a fight! Nothing was broken or hit." Penelope disagreed.

"Well, what would yo-you call it then?"

Penelope thought. "A mild skirmish.” She said, “Or perhaps the start of a rift."

"I- I’m not going to call it that first one. But Mrs Tracy is being very vocal about everything being ’bang out of order’. And that she ‘raised you boys better’.” Brains said, with air quotations. “And she keeps dishing out chores. The villa is spotless. And Mrs Tracy is hand washing the dishes despite having the dishwasher. She only does that when she’s cross.”

Brains then smiled and lowered his voice unnecessarily, "Can you keep a secret, Lady Penelope?"

"Always dear.” Penelope whispered back, conspiring for juicy gossip. “Go on?"

"Mr Tracy even got middle named!" Brains chuckled. "He was complaining about Virgil’s hiding. And Mrs Tracy told him to pull his own socks up. Metaphorically. B-but he doesn’t know Gordon and I heard him."

"Oh my!” Penelope tittered. “Although if Gordon heard? then it will go around the island like wildfire."

“T-true True.” Brains smiled.

But then that smile slipped somewhat.

"I-I'm afraid there’s no way to avoid Scott’s fussing or temper by the way. He gets very worried about any of us getting hurt. You and me? We might not be one of his brothers but Scott? He's always trying to look out for everyone."

"I know." Penelope conceded. "I know. But the hypocrisy? He cannot throw himself into ridiculous scrapes himself then join in with berating me like a child!"

"I know.” Brains echoed. “He does it a lot. Even worse since that accident with the ‘dish Monte Bianco? the others call him smother hen.”

Virgil had called it that and some several more rather expletive things, she knew.

“Gordon says it’s a compliment?” Brains continued. “Too you I mean. That Scott cares for you. As one of the team”

“It didn’t feel like a compliment.” Penelope pouted. Not that she’d admit that. “He didn't have to jump in and agree with Jeff quite so eagerly either. And the dressing down from Mr Jeff Tracy? I maintain; it really felt like I was being spoken to like a child!”

“Hmm.”

Brains paused tapping his shoe nervously.

"I I do respect Mr Tracy, a great deal. But sometimes..."

Brains took a deep breath.

“Sometimes Jeff can be a little frustrating to deal with.” Penelope suggested. “And it feels like he doesn’t take one seriously.”

“You hit the pr-pro p. you’ve hit the nail on the head there as it were, Lady Penelope.” Brains paused again. “I wish sometimes…”

Penelope gave him a moment. But Brains changed tack.

"You were worried about him. Last April? so you insisted Mr Tracy took a holiday, correct?" he said, placing the cola on the table next to hers and the fake radio.

"I did.” She said, curious to see where he was going with this. “After a very insistent message from a little thunderbird-ie prompted it. But they were right."

"Oh. I didn't know that bit… but You still had Mr Tracy’s best interests at heart, right?"

" I hoped so."

Jeff had been very against it…

"But then Scott burnt out trying to be in charge?" Brains said. "Even before the seascape called in. And Mr Tracy came back only to the island."

"I remember." Penelope said. This time it was her turn to pause before speaking. “I felt like I was being blamed without him saying so.”

"Hmm. he doesn’t like it. not being in charge?” Brains said. Penelope agreed. “But at the same time, he’s never given Scott any training or expertise into stepping up. He just expects Scott to ‘know’ what to do. Same with Tracy industries. And it isn’t just Scott. It’s all five of them. I know they had a say in the matter of making the operations. But not so much in how it’s run sometimes. Or how it’ll run in the future.”

“Hmm.” Penelope smiled and put her shades back on. “And that makes it all alright, doesn’t it?”

“Lady Penelope?”

“Yes?”

"Your jaw is doing that thing it does on missions where you’re really angry but pretending to be helpless."

“Good grief Brains! Remind me never to play poker with you.”

“You can count cards!” Brains shot back. "I prefer chess anyway. Scott was right in the lounge though, w-with what he said.”

“Scott was rude.”

“But correct. You don’t have to prove that you’re indestructible. We know you aren’t, even if you act like it!”

Penelope did not hide her scowl this time. “I can manage, you know? I'm aware this latest ‘favour’ I’ve done for Jeff is more of a blot on my record than a gold star. But I’ve been living this lifestyle for longer than they have.”

“I k-know that! We all do. We were all worried!” Brains said and put his head in his hands. He didn’t look up when spoke.

“He was right. So was Mr Tracy. but the way it was put wasn't. He does it to his brothers all the time! even when they’re out on a rescue. And sometimes Mr Tracy? He speaks to them as their dad when they’re running through protocols. or as a commander when they need their father?”

"That's the trouble with a family business I suppose." Penelope sighed. She drew out a cigarette case and her holder. At exactly the right moment Parker just happened to be walking past to light it for her with just a flip of his zippo. Barely breaking his stride. Remarkable talent of that man.

"I get I am essentially an employee in a family run enterprise. Albeit a rather extravagant one. As well as a friend of said family." Penelope continued, exhaling smoke out. "But to get a dressing down so publicly? With the lot of you in earshot, and Scott as his second jumping in and backing him up? Call me spoiled but I'm not used to it. I wouldn't do that to anyone who works in my home or working under me invited to the house. it's unseemly!"

That last bit came out a little loud and had it not been for the anti-eavesdropping device then heads may have turned.

Brains stifled a cough through his nose. And Penelope made sure to blow smoke the other way.

"What about your err... previous employment?" he asked, waving smoke away from his face. “Did You never get in this sort of trouble with them?”

“Oh goodness all the time. Not so much in journalism, but I’ve had some HORRID directors and horrible bosses. Far worse than Jeff. Especially within the fashion industry. thank goodness for houses like François Lemaire!” Penelope sighed again. "But I can get away with kicking up a fuss right back if needs be behind the catwalk and cameras if something is wrong. especially on behalf of the newer or younger models. Brands don't want the press of being outed as underpaying or cutting corners... That wasn't what you meant, was it dear?”

Brains shook his head. “Not really. But was there much difference? With modelling, interviews and being an agent.”

“The extortionate pay and more weapons pointed at my head.” Penelope quipped. Then really thought about it. “And bizarrely less sexism interestingly enough? Things were said to my face more, granted, but I could actively use that to an advantage.”

“Gee. T-that’s socially fascinating to observe. But I would not like to step into either of those worlds. With the exception of consulting and inventions.” Brains said. Then laughed. “Wait? You know those tacky souvenirs that say things like ‘you don’t have to be mad to work here-?

“But it helps.” Penelope said. “Yes, I know the ones you mean.”

“Well, I think we don’t have to be mad where we work?”

Penelope chuckled right back. “But it helps. True, very true.”

“I b-believe I might know what I'm contributing to the Secret Santa.” Brains said, making a note in his pocketbook. “”

“That’s very apt. regardless of whose name you pull out.” Penelope agreed. “What’s the limit this year by the way?”

The worst-best present was a Tracy Tradition. Had been since the boys had been pocket money age. save buying four presents each. And Grandma receiving five of the same mug or tea towel. The categories had become more wilder but if anything, the price limit had come down, to maintain the challenge.

“Gordon says up it to twenty dollars. but Alan wants to be extra hard and say ten.”

“I could be a bounder and include the postage then.” Penelope said, not meaning it really. “You get that slogan. I’ll contribute something with Alice in Wonderland. We're all mad here!”

“I'm sensing a theme.” Brains stammered.

“Let’s see if they notice. Mind I suppose Tracy Island is a wonderland somewhat.” Penelope smiled. “All your brilliant ideas? the bravery, the secrets.”

Brains however wasn’t laughing.

“Will you stay? In the organisation.” He said, suddenly serious and switching topics. It threw her, just a little.

“Why should I?!” Penelope retorted. She hadn’t thought of quitting. Not really. But she could!

“I can give you a list of reasons if that wasn’t rhetorical.” Brains replied.

“I don’t need a list.” She frowned. Penelope went to take another drag of her cigarette only to find it had burnt up.

“Can I ask why you don’t just fly back to England then?” Brains asked as she stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“No.”

The voice didn’t normally allow for any argument to bode. But Penelope wasn’t having much luck in being intimidating. Must be something with the factor seventy sunscreen.

“I m-maybe wrong but I think you were hoping someone would come. Here, from the island. To find you.” Brains challenged. “I like to think you’re giving them a chance to get their act t-together.

“Think what you like!” Penelope said. And in Trying to Give him the brush off, she snatched up her book again. She even started reading it again to ignore him. Unfortunately, she had it Upside down. And didn’t realise for a beat too long she was so annoyed. Still Penelope Powered through it. even tuning the pages. Brains in turn turned in his seat. and looked out over the same spot as she’d spent most of the day doing. He sipped his cola, politely ignoring her ignoring him.

“G-good book?” he asked eventually.

“Awful.” Penelope said, calmer. Brains was annoyingly very good at being a good influence. “And not in a way so bad it’s entertaining.”

“Ah. S-shame. Not even if it’s read the wrong way r-round upside down and back to front?”

“Not even then, darling.” She said, putting it back down. And steeled her courage to the sticking place. “And… going back to your question. admittedly I couldn’t face the flight. Home. Or Back to the island.”

Brains frowned. “Do you mean physically or psychologically?”

“Both-.”

“Lady Penelope-!” Brains interrupted.

“well-!” she interrupted right back. Goodness, this felt horribly vulnerable! “I just wasn’t in the mood for another argument. And a long-haul flight, even in a Fireflash, sounded extremely inadvisable at this point.”

“Are you in pain?” Brains asked. Then eyed her glass suspiciously. “Should you be drinking that on medication?”

“Now you sound like a Tracy. It’s a mocktail. I’m not so foolish to get white girl brit-abroad wasted, thank you! Not with bruises.” Penelope said, stirring it for emphasis. And gave a little scowl. “It's mostly fruity and syrup. Parker was right, this isn’t even close to a cocktail.”

“So, if you aren’t drinking a-alcohol, does that mean you are taking pain relief?”

“Yes, Brains I am.”

“The full prescribed dosage?”

Penelope didn’t dignify that with a straight answer. Brains pushed his glasses back up his nose and continued to stare incredulously at her till Penelope explained.

“I didn’t want to take them. They’re so strong. They make me woozy, and I cannot stand how at odds with my own limbs they make me feel.” She grumbled. “I came here to relax, not to be comatose.”

“You came to the island to relax. You went to recover enough to get out of any questions from the press.” Brains corrected. And sighed,

“Mr Tracy’s really gotten to you, hasn’t he?”

“I meant it when I said think what you like.” Lady Penelope said coolly. “I'm here and he’s there. And he’ll still be behind his desk when I get home.”

“Is that your solution for dealing with uncomfortable situations?” Brains accused. “j-just run away and hide.”

“Better to hide in plain sight then get caught." Penelope sniffed.

“That's not denying running away.” Brains retorted.

“It was hardly a run. Given how long it took to repack my bags.” Penelope said, Losing her temper with another old friend. It wasn’t a burning fiery thing this time; this burnt like ice. “And don’t act as if he has never upset you either? Or that you’ve never buried yourself in work to avoid Jeff. Scott told me about the smashed models.”

That last bit she added Rather unfairly. Beastly even. Penelope regretted it the instant she said it. Brains regarded her for a moment, and she thought he might get up and leave that time. She wouldn’t blame him.

Instead, he grumbled, "You’re all very alike y-you know? In that you're all sorry about how you spoke to each other but too stubborn to a-actually apologise. Plus, you’re British and not going to admit he up­set you. Really upset you."

"For someone who just said he'd rather watch from the side-lines, you know a lot about how people tick Brains.”

“For someone who’s so cool under pressure she frustrates the Hood? you can be one heck of a hot head sometimes, Lady Penelope!”

Penelope considered he had a point. But didn’t verbally say so.

“What was in your cola to make you so direct today?” she said instead.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” he replied instead.

“Because I do not always need to be rescued.” Penelope stated. “I’m not a damsel in some story. For every concern Parker or I have called the boys in, there must be a dozen or so missions I handle. sometimes without most of you even being aware of until afterwards.”

“I know.” Brains said quietly. “But you did need rescuing in that situation. Or should have been? And you didn’t ask for help.”

“I am aware, Brains. Hindsight is a marvellous thing.” She snipped. “Unfortunately, I was too late in my decision making.”

“P-Penelope? You were hurt.”

Maybe it was the fact he’d dropped the title? Or it was the unsaid parallels to another tragedy. but Penelope didn’t interrupt.

“In an avalanche of all things. And at one point even missing? And knocked unconscious. Enough to scare us all.” Brains said. “That might be the reason Mr Tracy was, either consciously or not, hard on you. But… It is frustrating that we’re an organisation that helps people; but we’re bad at looking out for each other. Especially to how everyone is feeling, e-emotionally.”

“…Brains, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Or brought up the Thunderbird Six planning.” She said in a hush. “I'm sorry.”

“Thanks.” Brains nodded. Then added, “A -also how much did he tell you? About the model I broke?”

Penelope was Not glad to change the subject as such. But certainly, latching on to it.

“So, it was on purpose then?” Penelope asked.

“no.” Brains defected. “Frustration? yeah…Failure isn’t an option. Even just demonstrations and trials.”

“He said it was more than one.”

Brains looked up at that, worried.

“S-Scott knew about the other models?”

“No. You just told me.” Penelope pointed out. Brains’ mouth opened and closed twice before just settling on silently frowning. “Scott said they’d been other pitches…and then even after repurposing Alan’s biplane, you seemed to lose confidence in yourself for a little while. That was clear even to Parker and myself.”

“wouldn’t you? nothing was good enough.” Brains frowned. “Nothing I made was what Mr Tracy had in mind.”

This time Lady Penelope did reach across the gap to squeeze his arm. It was more on his sleeve if anything. She didn’t wish to overwhelm the poor fellow.

“There’s no shame in wanting to work to a specification.” She tried.

“Or wanting to stick to the mission.” Brains countered in agreement. “Just please have ah- an extra b- backup plan next time, Lady Penelope? And be more careful around missions with snow.”

Lady Penelope promised she would.

“Annoyingly, I'm normally rather good at them. And please don’t be cross about the models? Scott didn’t tell me a lot. Virgil and John filled me in a little more. It wasn’t gossip, they were worried for you, dear boy.” She continued. “But they told me enough to make me wish you’d gotten to be on board your airship’s maiden voyage. Even if it did get sabotaged and end up a rather dangerous affair.”

“Me too. I’d have liked to see the Sky Ship launch at least. Even if it had just been from inside a Thunderbird.” Brains said, a little wistfully. “Maybe if they ever build a second one? Ah-although I doubt it after the cost of the damage I caused-”

“You get that idea out of your head this instant!” Penelope scolded. Brains looked up at her, shocked. Whether it was her Tone of voice, or he hadn’t meant to say that bit aloud, she didn’t care.

“You didn’t cause Skyship’s nosedive into a controversial missile base.” She reminded him. “Those villains who killed the crew and then one another did. You saved us. The shoot-out caused the crash. None of the blame rests on your shoulders.”

“I know but it was my design-?” he tried.

“Absolutely none of the events are your fault and the blame does not rest on your shoulders. If anyone has said otherwise, then they are exceptionally stupid.” Penelope challenged. “And if you argue that it is your fault even out of misplaced guilt or the like, I will personally throw you in that pool, in what you are wearing right now!”

“You y-you’re not meant to lift anything heavy or do anything strenuous for at least two weeks?!”

“Then I will get Parkers and Tin-tin’s assistance. Don’t think I won’t!”

Brains gulped.

“…I-I don’t think I’ve ever known you so cross.”

“Likewise!”

“First at Mr Tracy, then me.”

“Jeff was being, pardon my language, an arse. you dear are listening to your insecurities. No one gets to make you feel small, Brains. not even your own thoughts.” Penelope said stubbornly.

Brains nodded slowly. And sighed, “I know the actions of others weren’t my fault. And no one said t-they were. The opposite in fact. But like you said earlier? About being blamed. It wasn’t in my control what happened. But I still feel bad?”

“And that was only after it crashed. I felt bad about being laughed at and I think that reflected in everything else I worked on for a while. And how I was with the Tracy’s.” Brains admitted. “I can design incredible machines. I know that. but having no brief made it e-extra challenging when its s-shouldn’t have been. And then the answer had been under our noses the entire time.”

“isn’t it just like that sometimes?”

“Hmm…also I’ve never heard you swear before? That’s t-twice in an hour now.”

“I blame the heat. It’s clearly getting to me.”

“If Mr Tracy apologises, Will you forgive him? and stay?”

Penny withdrew her hand.

“And if he doesn’t?” she suggested.

No one had called her. No one had stopped her leaving Tracy Island in the first place.

“Well, then my analyzation of the situation would be wrong. But I very much doubt Tin-tin and the Tracy brothers would let you leave without a fight. especially if you called Virgil. Middle brother and chief peacekeeper.”

“Why should I be the one to extend the olive branch?”

“Would I be here if you h-had? Because they're trying to give you space and also they are g-genuinely terrified of upsetting you further.” Brains said. “Scott will say he’s sorry the moment you get him on a private call. He’s admitted aloud he messed up.”

“If he messed up, then so did I. Disastrously so.” Penelope admitted. “With such an abysmal rookie mistake too. I'm surprised I wasn’t let go of on the spot.”

Brains had unfortunately taken a swig of his drink and nearly choked on it.

“Let Go!? You a-are our top agent!”

“That, I doubt.” Penelope said. “I failed a mission, old boy. Regardless of the weather and the results. The only reason that microfilm was recovered was sheer dumb luck. I didn’t even complete the task, Parker did it for me. All for what? a twisted ankle, bruised ribs and the whole island laughing at or scolding me!”

“We weren’t laughing!”

“It certainly felt like it.”

“w-what did you just tell me about not listening to your own thoughts?” he tried. “I c-could throw you in the pool!”

“Could you? Try it. Dear.” Penelope challenged, with an eyebrow.

Brains slowly backed down. Not without a complaint.

“Why is throwing people and t-things in the pool the biggest threat in my life recently?”

“You are a gentleman.”

“I mean it though. You’re both our friend and the best agent.” Brains insisted. “You go across the world for us, not just London. You’re the only agent he trusts to have a direct link too. And your portrait hangs on the wall. The only one of our networks. Alongside his own sons.”

“…And what if I’m sick of hiding in plain sight?”

It was very quietly asked. She wasn’t sure Brains had heard it. Penelope was about to pretend she hadn’t said it at all and carry on when he spoke again.

“Can you go without? The trills and the subterfuge.” Brains asked. “Sometimes I'm sick of being an inventor. But if I didn’t create? I’d die!”

“Spoke like a true artist…No. I doubt I could retire even if I needed to. And it has been the only enterprise I’ve been in in my life with some moral backbone.” Penelope admitted. “But I know one thing.”

“What’s t-that?”

“I definitely wasn’t made for relaxing when forced too.”

“M-most definitely a Tracy trait.”

“Tosh. I told you, I'm a bad influence on them, remember? But truly, shall we get out of here?” Penelope suggested. “I believe you said our favourite technician mentioned a trip out?”

“I b-believe I did. That's a good idea.” Brains grinned. “So long as this m-means you’re not cross with me for coming out here.”

“No. I'm rather glad you did.” Penelope smiled. “Give me time to change and arrange the car with Parker.”

“I’ll go let Tin-tin know.” Brains agreed getting up. “When will you be back?”

“Will you be coming with us?” Penelope asked with a frown.

“Hmm, no. not s-shopping at least. But I might come for the drive.” He said, “There's also p-plenty of galleries and museums in the town. and a rather fun shooting range just outside of it. Most of us prefer it to the island one even.”

“Oh darling, you love dressing room montage, and you know it.” Penelope teased. “Here. A toast?”

Brains was bemused. But raised his glass anyway. “T-to what?”

“To the whims of Jeff Tracy.” Lady Penelope joked, “And what we put up with sometimes for international rescue.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He beamed. And clinked his glass to hers.

“Oh, and Brains?” She asked. The scientist turned back.

“Y-yes, Penelope?”

“Thank you. For this.” she said sincerely. “I think a ‘little chat’ was long overdue. And far more needed than a holiday.”

[fineprintedsunsets]

FREAK SHOW

circus au

Synopsis: Even the strongest people need a bit of comfort

Word Count: 680

!Trigger Warnings! - (this was so fucking last minute, likeeee.) mentions of trauma. short asf. comfort. kidnapping? Forced into an evil circus? (That's a warning you don't see every day.) (this one been sitting in the drafts, but i had to post for #hauntedhoedown)

I notice him the second he steps foot in the limelight. He looks like a man carved out of stone, his features beautifully symmetrical. His muscled arms, his bare torso.

Why is he here though? With the rest of the oddities we call “freaks?” He turns toward the crowd, his eyes piercing and unforgiving. I see it then, his left arm is replaced with a hunk of metal, painted to match the big-tops colors.

“Who is that?” I seem to ask, looking over at my companions, my two best friends. They chew on their own snacks, not hearing me over the loud circus music.

Clowns juggle in front of me, but my attention isn't on them. It’s not on the obnoxious crowd either. It’s on the man holding up a car with a single arm, all five fingers splayed under the metal framing.

His eyes are distant, never focussing on the roaring people. The ringer master's voice booms through the speakers, the performers continuing their acts.

“Welcome, Welcome!” The man utters, his voice loud and proud. Amaris and Baird smile, looking at me with proud laughs.

“Ladies and Gentleman, Clowns and Bears. Freaks alike! Welcome to the Big Top!”

The crowd echoes, shouting their encouragement as the man tips his hat in response. I stay still, still focused on the man holding up the broken-down car.

“We have plenty of freakish acts for you tonight, featuring our dancing bears, our tightrope walkers, our contortionist, and last but not least, Our strong man!”.

I sigh sinking further into our bleacher seats. Something about this is odd, and I don’t like it. The feeling of something in the air, the wisp of something sinister. I have to sit and watch for now, but believe me,

I will find out who he is.

My popcorn is running low. Not that any of the acts these “freaks” engage in are entertaining, but I needed something to crunch on to prevent my screaming. I’ve never liked circus acts, and I’m not sure why my friends thought I would, but here we are.

Here I am, anyway. At the popcorn booth, being told to ‘hold on a moment’ while they gave me another scoop of butter, per my request, It was far too dry last time.

A loud sniffling pulls my attention away, I can see inside a large tent stationed next to the snack stand, the sound of the repeating noises brings my attention away from the back of my accessor completely.

I’m far too curious now. The loud call of the crowd races behind me, but I slip into the tent, my breath is taken away but the sight in front of me.

The same man from earlier.

“The Strong Man”

I reach forward, almost on impulse running my hands through his shoulder-length hair. His eyes stay in their place, staring forward, looking distant. I gasped when his metal fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping my touching.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice cold.

“I-” I’m speechless, maybe because of shock, or perhaps it’s due to the fact the strong man is cutting off my circulation.

“I heard you.”

“You heard nothing.” He bites, swiping at his cheeks. I know he’s trying to hide his tears, it only breaks my heart that much more.

I smile as he lets my wrist go, blood pumping through my veins again.

“That’s condescending”. I respond, taking my time to look around the big-top tent. It’s plain, with a small couch and some boxes of circus props. The crowd bellows from outside as the ringmaster shouts orders.

“No, it’s not.” He bites, his stone eyes roaming my features. He sniffles, making it that much more obvious he’s upset. I don’t think, I just act. I reach my arms around the strong man, my breath heaving as nervousness sets in.

What if he pushes me away?

Except he doesn't, he wraps his metal arm around my waist, bringing my body to his. The circus melts away as I melt into him.

Even the strongest people need comfort.

[steelbluehome]

"For the first hour of the film, Stan’s Trump is, deliberately, not the man we know today: his voice has a slight Queens bray, but he avoids all the caricaturist’s tics, murmurs softly and almost tenderly at times, even when describing his ambitious. Stan plays him as he’s written, nervous and unformed and frankly sympathetic"

Little White Lies (click for article)

Mark Asch

The Apprentice – first-look review

Ali Abbasi's attempted takedown of America's previous (and perhaps next) President of the United States, charting his early years under the mentorship of Roy Cohn, lacks the killer instinct.

Did you know Donald Trump is in Paris Is Burning? No, really: in Jennie Livingston’s seismic documentary on New York’s queer ballroom scene, an independent film about people at the margins, there’s an insert shot of a Forbes magazine cover: “What I Learned in the 80s” is the cover feature, and right underneath it, back row center in an illustration of various one-percenters luminaries, there he is, in between check-ins with Willi Ninja and Venus Xtravaganza.

When Trump was elected President of the United States in 2016, so much of American culture became retrospectively seeded with Easter eggs foreshadowing his eventual ascent to the seat of power; future generations, unlike mine, will have no trouble imagining how this could possibly have happened. For so long Trump was present within discourses on business, crime, race, and politics; he was in Home Alone 2 and had a show on NBC; he was a late-night talk-show punchline and appeared at Wrestlemania. He was so ubiquitous, for so long — how could he not have become President?

The point I want to make here is that there is very little we don’t know about Donald Trump; his rise to the White House was accompanied and indeed fueled by wall-to-wall coverage across all forms of media, which during his (first) term as President enjoyed a boom in readership and revenues — there was always another article breaking another new scandal, or unearthing another embarrassing episode from his past that had been hiding in plain sight all along.

It is, then, very difficult to make a movie that has something new to say about Donald Trump, that tells a new story or shows a new side of the most famous person — probably — you’re not supposed to say this — but they’re saying — many people are saying — he’s the most famous person, frankly, that we’ve ever seen, and we’re seeing him more and more. The task before The Apprentice — a biopic telling the story of Trump’s rise in the New York real estate world in the 70s and 80s, abetted by the notorious fixer Roy Cohn — is therefore a formidable one, and it’s not a task to which director Ali Abbasi and screenwriter Gabriel Sherman prove remotely equal.

The film begins in New York City, in the 70s, at an exclusive members’ club where Trump (Sebastian Stan), the twentysomething son of outerboro slumlord Fred (an unrecognizable Martin Donovan), restlessly narrates the power players in the room to his bored date; Trump is an outsider, a striver, palpably uncomfortable — but there, through a doorway, doing the Kubrick Stare, is Roy Cohn, former Joe McCarthy aide during the the Red Scare of the 1950s and infamous lawyer for mobsters and other power players, publicly revealed after his death from AIDS to be a closeted gay man. Cohn takes an interest in Trump, and smooths the wheels for his first big deal, the overhaul of the old Commodore on Manhattan’s then-decrepit 42nd Street.

Trump’s relationship with Cohn was widely reported on during his presidency, so much so that Cohn — a figure notorious enough to have been played by James Woods in a TV movie in the 1990s, and Al Pacino in the HBO miniseries of the Pulitzer-winning Angels in America — has been retconned as primarily Trump’s mentor; a feature-length documentary about him is titled Where’s My Roy Cohn?, after an Oval Office lament. So it’s not exactly newsworthy that the film credits Cohn with teaching Trump to affect a brashness and flair and to learn to attack, deny, and dominate the narrative — nor are these particular novel insights into Trump.

For the first hour of the film, Stan’s Trump is, deliberately, not the man we know today: his voice has a slight Queens bray, but he avoids all the caricaturist’s tics, murmurs softly and almost tenderly at times, even when describing his ambitious. Stan plays him as he’s written, nervous and unformed and frankly sympathetic, genuinely drawn to Ivana (Maria Bakalova) for her ambitions, a finicky and unschooled naïf wandering around Cohn’s decadent parties avoiding the drugs and gay sex. He’s a would-be shark so doughy and vague as to be almost sympathetic, like the budding young Nazi collaborator of Louis Malle’s Lacombe, Lucien.

The almost sympathetic cast of the film’s first hour is, I suppose, a fresh perspective, but equally an offensive and shallow one, driven less by any particular insight into the perverse incentives of American society — the film is remarkably insular, shot largely on soundstage recreations of the Trump home in Jamaica Estates, the penthouse in Trump Tower, the backs of various limos and the offices of various power brokers — than by the dictates of a character arc in which Cohn and Fred are obviously posited as polar opposite father figures, demanding and competitive men after whom Donald models himself and whose approval he seeks.

A number of things change at the film’s halfway mark. The film switches from a celluloid to a digital look — throughout, Abassi and cinematographer Kasper Tuxen ape the period of the action, from seamy red-tinted narrow-gauge for the gritty 70s to a bleary pixelated look that improves throughout the 80s—a gesture that would give the film an appealing momentum and raw texture were the narrative not so wedded to the historical record, with cutesy cameos from Warhol and Rupert Murdoch, and knowing references to the Trump Tower elevators, MAGA, and other future features of American life. Stock-footage montages exposit the eras’ historical context via potted histories of New York City, with an unclear point of view on the cycle of urban decline and rebirth in the postwar era: though lightly in quotation marks, they also seem objective accounts of a general historical record that gives credence to the narrative of White Flight–era NYC as “Fear City” (an image of lawlessness Trump long exploited, first as a developer and then as a demagogue), and of the go-go Reagan 80s, the decade in which Trump applied all of what he learned in the 70s, and of which he became an avatar.

At this point in the film, Stan’s dialogue takes on the familiar turns of phrase, the verbal and physical mannerisms: the diet pill— the pursed lips, the overenunciation and theatrical hand gestures, the addled mile-a-minute grandiose rants and flippant dismissals and breathtaking glibness and oddly matronly cattiness. It’s funny, but hardly virgin territory the years we’ve spent enjoying the work of comedians like James Austin Johnson and that one friend of yours who sends you voice memos in the Trump voice talking about the discourses of the day, impersonators who reshape the news by pushing the man’s implicit grotesquery and absurdity to the fore.

This Trump gets more flagrantly cruel to Ivana, delusional, thin-skinned and aggressive. It’s the kind of charismatic antihero’s journey that might fly in a Scorsese film — arguably the ultimate Trump film is The Wolf of Wall Street — but Abassi and Sherman’s take on the material is largely dutiful. The soundtrack aspires to an incongruously feel-good high-energy looseness that the film doesn’t back up. I’ve never been unhappier to hear Suicide, Pet Shop Boys or New Order, and the smash cut and needle drop that takes us out of after Trump’s rape of Ivana (a scene from her divorce deposition, staged as literally and luridly as you’d expect from the director of Holy Spider) is especially egregious.

Maybe there’s supposed to be a larger point about Trump’s political movement in the way that he’s shown to abandon Cohn as his former mentor’s legal aides and health woes pile up, but Cohn recedes from the narrative in the second half of the film, which is much less grounded in their relationship; though as Cohn weakens from a virus he steadfastly denied, the second hour is his turn to be portrayed more sympathetically than he deserves.

Strong has the same problem in his performance as Stan, in that Cohn is almost as media-saturated a figure as Trump. Strong gives Cohn a low, aggressive voice, slightly nasal and rounded, with casual and cruel inflections tossed out at a Succession-trained tempo; he bobs his neck up and down like a turtle on each syllable, but holds it forward tentatively as if the muscles are atrophying, as Cohn becomes frailer. It’s a credible performance, not remotely campy, but not really anything — there’s nothing here like the perspective on the role as interpreted by, say, the underground theater legend Ron Vawter in his performance piece Roy Cohn/Jack Smith, in which he gave Cohn a shrill, mincing Jewish voice, flaunting the traits most concealed and loathed by his recently deceased subject.

Recognizable figures are a fun challenge for actors, as well as for the hair, makeup, and wardrobe departments tasked with recreating iconic looks that everyone remembers from recent history. This year, election season is also Oscar-movie season, and you can expect some attention from the crafts teams on The Apprentice and maybe Strong or Sherman (one of the many glossy-magazine journalists to enjoy an elevated profile since the Trump years). I’m sure their acceptance speeches will be full of righteous anger directed at the new administration.

PUBLISHED 21 MAY 2024

[rainbow-pop-arts]

WA-CHAAA, we can talk about Trigun Maximum vol 1 now, baby!! This is part 1!

Some thoughts about TriMax chap 1-2 under the cut!

Here comes the The Punisher!!

Here comes Va- I mean, Eriks and Lina!

Okay…so, when I saw this in the anime I was like “Wait, is he actually gonna strip?” then BOOM, I saw his butt. (⁄ ⁄>⁄ _ ⁄<⁄ ⁄) He also acted like a dog and oh how much I screamed in cringe (Oh my, Wolfwood saw him naked ¬‿¬)

Epic plant healing ability. Man, I wonder what other cool plant ability he can do…that I don’t know of yet?

Aaaaaaw, Vash missed Wolfwood

Aaaaaaw, Wolfwood missed Vash

Oh yeah, someone told me that Vash retiring as Eriks is unhealthy coping. Here’s what they said:

“more like he doesnt want to cause the same amount of pain and suffering and since hes the cause of it all he goes “off-grid” (hiding in plain sight) 

"changing his name and way of life is apart of that”

“hes not taking accountability for his actions or even trying to stop the root cause”

“he just gave up there”

I guess that make sense? I dunno, what do you guys think?

I wanna…I wanna wrap him up in a blanket and hug him 🥺

Badass grandma. Don’t mess with a grandma who would grab a gun to save someone she cares about >:)

Here goes The Punisher and his epic machine gun that looks like a cross (truly a badass priest)

Oh woah guys, It’s Hamilton from act 2 of Hamilton the Musical!! Y'know, where he had a duel with Aaron burr

Just Vash and Wolfwood fighting for food (sorry for the bad manners, Granny Sheryl)

Real footage of grown man getting kicked by a 12-yr-old 2

Anyways, Vash being epic (see, Wolfwood thinks so too! :D)

Can we just…can we just appreciate these bits of moments that Vash had with Lina and Sheryl throughout 2 years??? 🥹

I wonder why part of his hair is black? (Damn, Lina sure is good at cutting hair, maybe she should cut mine if it gets a bit long)

Vash is best big bro

Welp, there they go leaving Lina and Sheryl (I hope we’ll see them again)

That's all for part 1! ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ"

Bonus thoughts: So I read a fanfic where reader was being taken care of by a dependent plant but that plant's more sentient than the other dependants. So cuz of that I have this silly imagination of a kid who's in the ship where Vash grew up on and that kid befriended that kind of dependent plant. (This is TriStamp-coded btw) Then it gets sillier, cuz then the dependent somehow have the ability to become tiny and the kid has container for the dependent. How does the dependent survive? Because of the special water it was in! ๑(◕‿◕)๑ .....I'm not sure if that would be possible but anything can be possible in the fanfic world

[tinyinvadr]

I got bored waiting for my tire to be fixed and wrote a G/t Rui and Mizuki one-shot. The idea came from a conversation we were having in a Discord server I’m in.

TW: suicide attempt

Rui was invisible.

It was a defense mechanism that kept him hidden from society. All giants have this power. They learned to hide in plain sight, otherwise they’d risk being seen as monsters and chased away.

Not a sound is heard from their booming voices and thundering footsteps, and not a single sign of their existence is visible to humanity. It’s a lonely existence, but it keeps them safe.

Of course, there is one way for a giant to be seen by a human: if they touch a human. But it’s not worth the risk. There’s no way to tell how someone would react to such a massive being. So it’s best to remain in hiding.

But Rui was never one to follow the rules. Sure, he didn’t reveal himself to anyone, but he still liked to go out into town and observe the day-to-day lives of the humans. He found them to be rather fascinating little creatures, with such odd and unusual habits.

His favorite place to go was Kamiyama Junior High School. He’d sit himself down outside the building, and watch the students in the courtyard during their lunch break.

It amazed him to see so many people his own age together in one place, all such close friends and having fun together, and though he would never admit it to his family, he wondered what it would be like to spend time with them.

There was one student in particular that caught his attention, though. They never went out to the courtyard with the other kids, and instead spent their lunch breaks alone on the roof. It was hard to ignore, partially because they were right at eye level with Rui, but also because they always seemed so distraught.

Though he didn’t really know them, he felt for this student. Even among the giant community, Rui was considered a weirdo. No one understood his interest in humans, or his passion for inventing. He didn’t have anyone that he could truly call a friend, and seemingly, neither did this human. But he knew he couldn’t risk showing himself.

That is, until one day, when he had no choice.

He was sitting outside the school as he usually did, but when the human came out onto the roof, they were crying.

They wiped their tears on the sleeve of their school uniform, and ripped the cute bow out of their short, light pink hair.

“I… can’t take it anymore.” They said. “Why can’t everyone just leave me alone!?”

Rui watched in horror as they threw the bow down and walked dangerously close to the edge of the roof. Deep down, he knew what they were considering, but he didn’t want to admit it.

The human gazed down at the long drop below them, entranced by it. Rui placed his hand inches away from them, as if to try and stop them from going any further, but he knew they couldn’t see him. There was nothing he could do.

But as the human shut their eyes and started to take a step forward, the giant couldn’t just sit there and watch anymore, and he did the unthinkable.

Rui swiftly grabbed them, hearing a startled yelp from the tiny being in his hand. He looked at them in terror as he saw their eyes widen, it becoming apparent that he was visible to this human now.

Both of them were at a loss for words, and the tension was unbearable as neither of them were sure what to do.

Finally, Rui managed to speak up.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t let you do that…”

The human continued to stare endlessly at him, each breath they took heavier than the last. They were visibly terrified, but also looked sort of awestruck.

“I’m going to put you down now. Please don’t try to jump again.”

Rui carefully set them back down on the roof, and they continued to look up at him in wonder.

“W-Why did you stop me?” They finally asked.

The giant sighed, his warm breath blowing through the human’s hair. “I did what anyone would do.”

The human glanced down at their feet, avoiding his gaze. “I doubt that.”

Rui startled them once again when he placed his hands on the edge of the roof. “No, don’t say that.”

He noticed how they jumped back in fear as he got closer, and moved his hands away, creating as much of a distance as he could while still remaining close enough to intervene again if necessary.

“I’m sorry… it’s just… I know what it’s like to feel alone. But this isn’t the answer. I think you know that already.”

The human sighed. “Yeah… but I just can’t stand the way they all treat me. Why is it anyone’s business what I like or how I dress? I don’t get it.”

Rui paused. Was there a chance that they might actually understand?

“People… they tend to be against the things they don’t understand. They get scared, but instead of giving you a chance and trying to get to know you, they automatically assume you’re the bad guy and push you away. It’s awful, but you just have to keep up hope that someday, you’ll find someone who likes you for who you really are.”

The human shed another tear, but this time, they had the slightest smile on their face. “Thank you.”

For the first time, they looked at Rui, unafraid. Then, they let out a chuckle.

“I guess I’m no better than anyone else. You really scared me when you just appeared out of thin air and grabbed me like that.”

Rui smiled. “It’s okay. Most humans are afraid of us. But the fact that you didn’t immediately run away proves that you’re a lot more open-minded than the people that other giants have encountered in the past. Oh… You won’t tell anyone about me, right?”

“Heh, of course not. Nobody’d believe me, anyway.”

With a nod, the giant stood up to his full height, the human looking on as he towered above them even more so than before.

“I should probably get going. It was nice to meet you…”

“Akiyama. Mizuki Akiyama.”

They suddenly ran towards the edge of the roof again, Rui getting closer in case he needed to catch them again, but they stopped before getting too close.

“Will I see you again?” They asked.

Rui was… surprised, to say the least. He didn’t know what would happen if he ever revealed himself, but he certainly didn’t expect any human to ever WANT to see him again.

“Of course.” He replied with a smile. “I come here every day.”

Mizuki laughed. “Good, ‘cause I have SO many questions. Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”

The giant laughed along. He wasn’t used to seeing the human happy, but he hoped to see more of it. “I’m Rui Kamishiro.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you around, Rui. Oh- I mean, Kamishiro, sorry.”

“Heheh, it’s alright, you can call me Rui if you want to. I don’t mind.”

Mizuki smirked. “Okay then, Rui. Then that means you can call me Mizuki.”

The giant chuckled. “I’ll remember that, Mizuki. See you tomorrow.”

With that, he walked away with pride in his step. He met a human and it actually went well. Not only that, it seemed like they wanted to be friends with him. It felt so wrong, but this was what he’d always wanted. Something impossible finally seemed possible. He’d just have to keep this on the down low. He didn’t want his family to worry about him. But this was so important. He finally made a connection with someone, and it felt amazing.

[hopeamarsu]

Whumptober Day 17: Hanging By a Thread

Whumptober masterlist

King Arthur (King Arthur: The Legend of the Sword) x f!reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 884

Warnings: Reluctant caretaker, wounds, magical healing, witches, imprisonment, prison cells

Summary: You tried to peer into the darkness to find the man you had been tasked with healing. 

Breaking Point | Stress Positions | Reluctant Caretaker

The cell was dank and smelled like death. Your nose wrinkled involuntarily as you took in your surroundings and shivered when the coldness struck your bones. While the cell wasn’t big, maybe the length of three men lying one after the other, something about the darkness within the cell made it seem larger than life. 

You tried to peer into the darkness to find the man you had been tasked with healing. 

“Tasked with” was a slight exaggeration over the way how the King’s guards had dragged you out of your bed in the middle of the night. The Born King needs to look his best for his execution, witch, the guards had laughed while pulling you through the dark halls and down the slippery steps until you had reached the dungeon. How they knew of your skills was shrouded in mystery, but as reluctant as you were, you wanted to do this and get away soon as possible. 

The more time you spent hiding in plain sight and hanging by a proverbial thread, the more risk you were in. You would deal with the soldiers later, discreetly and hopefully keep your secret contained. 

“You’ve come to read me my final rights? Father, I believe you have no use for any soul of mine.”

The words echoed off the walls, the dark and strong baritone booming in the enclosed space. You twisted on your heels towards the sound and finally saw the figure of a man behind the shadows. Pulling off your hood, you brought the tiny lamp closer to him. The flame provided some light as it illuminated a man sitting on the floor, his back to the wet wall. 

“I’m no Father, but I have been brought here to help with your ailments. Wheter they are for your body or for your soul, you’ll need to tell me that.” 

“My apologies. An angel then.” His eyes, beautiful shade of blue sparkling even in the darkness, widened when they caught sight of your face. They roamed your features while you did the same, allowing time pass leisurely as both of you took in the other. 

The Born King as the guards had called him had a gorgeous face, even under all the blood and bruises. A strong nose over lush lips and strong jaw that made him look far more beautiful for his otherwise rugged features. He had a light beard and mustache, trimmed neatly, and a full head of hair a shade darker than the rest of his body. The hair was pulled back from what you could see in the dim light.

“What ails you, Born King?” You spoke, kneeling by his side. 

“Arthur.”

“Hmm?”

“My name is Arthur, angel. Not a Born King, just Arthur.” His voice was deep, low and powerful. It vibrated pleasantly in your chest as you repeated his words and nodded, smiling softly. “Arthur then. Can you tell me, where it hurts?” 

You could tell by the way his lips twitched he had an automatic response to that, a dirty one perhaps, but the pain that pulled at his sides made his features twist uncomfortably. Your eyes honed on his ribs thoughtfully and you reached out your hand. “May I?” You murmured and he gave a jerky nod, breathing heavily through his nose. 

You pulled on the white fabric of his shirt, unable to hide your gasp when his black and blue midsection came into view. The muscles twitched and rippled underneath the welts and not all the movement was due to the coldness of the night air. He was seriously hurt and judging by the way the dark shapes kept evolving in front of your eyes, it was getting worse by the second. 

Not wasting any more precious time, you placed your fingertips on his flesh, ignoring his sharp intake of breath at the contact. The words your aunts had taught you came to you easily and you mumbled them fast, focusing all your energy on the broken vessels underneath his skin and muscle. You closed your eyes, knowing he must be shocked as your hand began to glow and tendrils of gold surrounded his body. 

You knew it was dangerous, pushing through your limits but as images of his body repairing itself made you keep your hand on his skin. Something ancient joined your efforts and whispered encouragements to you, telling you he was important and he had to be in fighting shape tomorrow. It wasn’t until dark spots began to swim in your vision and cutting off your air supply that you released your hold on him, gasping for air in tandem with him. 

“How…” Arthur looked at his body in bewilderment. “What was that?”

The same ancient voice boomed inside you, warning you to not tell him anything more yet. All will become clear soon and you two will be reunited once more, it told you. Now leave him quickly. The power in the voice held a command you didn’t dare to question it. You got to your feet quickly, shuffling closer to the door of the cell. Ignoring all his questions, you clamped up and banged at the cell bars to rouse the guards.  

You needed to get out of here and Londonium immediately and to the forests to find The Mage.

[deans-writing]

Car Battery! (AGAIN?!)

Characters: (Roblox) Dean King, Kitberry, Adam, Anthony

Warnings: None

Notes: i hate this FUCKING GAME/SILLY

The crowd clapped as the show host moved across the stage, his smug grin plastered on his face. Dean glared as he approached with his fists clenched just out of sight. It took every bit of self control he had not to grab at the sentient banana now. To rip it apart, sinking his teeth into the fruits skin to yank like a dog with a new toy.

Kitberry had managed to convince him just earlier that before Dean went through with his plan, they should at least play another game. Two other contestants had joined them upon the stage, although he'd barely taken the time to really get a good look at them. They seemed connected at the hip. Although Dean had noticed the stare the shorter of the two gave to the host, strange.

"Say... Do I know you from somewhere?"

Dean didn't hide the low growl that crept out from his throat. His body leaned forward, he could feel a burning sensation pumping through his veins up into his mind. The stare he received back was one that didn't seem to mind Dean's own, no matter how piercing it was. "Well, doesn't matter."

With a dismissive wave, it held the microphone closer to its mouth and spoke. "You're here now. Pick a category!" Its smile grew wider while its arm extended to the screen just behind it. Dean forced his eyes away. He already had to hold back the violent bile building in his shaky fists.

He inspected his options closely, none of them appealing. Artistic Integrity, I Don't Like That, and Math Zone. Dean groaned. The only one he had even a bit of confidence in was math, and he knew better than anyone else that he was downright atrocious at it. He'd never paid attention in high school, much less in math.

"Math Zone." King grumbled, using a curled index finger to gesture to the category. The banana gave a nod, before stepping back. The announcer's voice boomed as he spoke. Dean still wondered just where he was.

As he spoke, rambling on before he gave the actual question, Dean glanced over to the other contestants he'd only given a brief glance over before. His eyes narrowed while he studied them. Neither looked like they belonged next to each other, their aesthetics clashing as if in a fight for their life. Similar to himself and Kit.

He read the names on their respective podiums. Adam. Dean couldn't describe their fashion style, only able to think; fuck, aren't you cold? He brushed the thought off, his attention quickly moving to the other, who leaned in close to Adams ear. Very obviously, he was whispering answers. Dean quickly glanced at Kitberry. If only his own duo was smart enough to be that helpful. He looked back.

Anthony. King shuddered upon reading it, the familiarity of it bringing back memories of training and too dark conversations. He looked Anthony up and down. He dressed with simplicity, one that Dean actually found quite nice. He of all people knew that a basic, plain-jane fashion sense could absolutely be rocked. The guy seemed to do alright with it, he figured.

"Psst..." Kitberry hissed, drawing Dean's attention back. "What's the answer?"

Son of a bitch. He hadn't been paying attention. His head snapped up, taking in both the fact that he was on a timer- and that he had four possible answers- with the information presenting itself on the screen. The question itself was simple, if he were a smarter man, at least. After getting his head knocked around for over a decade, he certainly wasn't.

What kind of triangle has one angle that measures precisely 90 degrees? He felt his blood boil with the realization he had no fucking clue, and that he didn't have time to try and dig around in his brain for an answer. Kitberry was just as lost as him, evident by the fact she seemed to just stare off into the distance.

"Dunno, guess." Dean murmured back. Almost instantly, he heard the button for Kits answer buzz. A very act first, think later kind of person. He couldn't believe he'd be following that example.

Obtuse Angle. He slammed down on the button that correlated with his answer with the side of his fist, and his head snapped back up. The host took a step back in front of him, holding the microphone up to the podium. A moment or two went by, and the announcers voice came back.

"I give up." He almost sighed, and Dean set his head in his hands. Just as he could hear the buzzer at his podium go off, signifying his dumbassery to everyone else. And as if salt in the wound, he could hear the other podiums ring out with a soft ding.

There was silence for nothing more than a few seconds. Dean felt as though he was being silently humiliated by both the host and the announcer, he would prefer that kind of pain over a- "Car battery!"

The announcer spoke all too cheerily. Dean's heart sank, and he didn't even have the time to look up before a familiar pain roared through his nerves once more. Like an old wound reopened through surgery, in this case, it felt closer to a dirty needle doing the cutting. He'd been lucky enough to not have it crack his skull open this time. A win, no matter how small.

Dean's back had taken the strike this time, and he wailed out while slumping against the podium. His hands clutched the top in a struggle to keep himself standing on now weak legs. He could hear a soft "ssss" from one of the other contestants, the vision of ones shoulders rising with a wince in response to his agony becoming clear in his foggy mind.

"Again?" Kitberry couldn't help but laugh at it. She was lucky he liked her, otherwise he would've gone for her throat. Dean felt the cold- but still searing hot- urge to strike. Once more, he pulled himself upright. Adrenaline helped with ignoring the fact he could practically feel a part of his spine get shattered upon impact. The corners of his vision revealed that the first stranger he'd looked at, Adam, had leaned over a little bit. Their expression read one of internal debating, for what? He shut the thought down.

Directly in his sightlines was the host. It's smile, wide as ever. It almost looked proud. That could've also been him twisting the situation a bit to make it look worse, although he truly didn't care if that was actually the case. "You... FUCKING-" He raised one foot up, using it to boost himself up to the top of the podium.

Kitberrys ecstatic tone cut through the rage in his mind while she cheered. "Get his ass, girlie!" She called. Her smile was clear despite the mask.

Dean launched himself forward. Lunging towards the host, his arms spread out wide. There was a loud shout from behind him, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" He cared little to find out just who was yelling. The hosts eyes widened as Dean's figure drew closer from above.

His full weight came closer to smashing down onto it, with Dean swiftly putting his fist against its features. He sat up on his knees, staring down at the banana beneath him. His ears rang out with laughs and exclamations of approval from Kitberry, and cries for him to not do it. The voice that yelled the latter was the same as the one who'd yelled before. The crowd had also begun to shout, some excited to see an attack like this, others surprised, some terrified at the oncoming assault.

Dean screamed out as he slammed against the banana, trying to wrangle himself together to direct a flurry of blows at the fruit. The officer just close by, a donut, started to sprint towards the stage. He had to pull it apart, it was his job. But with how hard Dean was holding the face (if it could be called that) of the host, it was clear it would prove a challenge to stop whatever was going to go down.

Then, the cameras cut, leaving countless amounts of screens black.

All viewers outside of the studio itself were left in the dark to what was going to happen to their favorite gameshow host.

[namkooktyddys]

2. DISHONESTY

Three Days Ago

Author's P.O.V:

"I am so damn excited to see myself in that gown you know? The day is just 72 hours away and... And boom! My last name won't be Lee anymore! Like, do you even understand what I'm saying huh?...... Yeah yeah, come on now, I know Duri, being with your grandma is more important than my wedding now stop sulking. She's sick and you gotta care for her right? It's not like we can't catch up once I get hitched with him. I just wan-"

Walking into the dressing room you saw two people. You were stupefied by the sight. Your throat went dry the moment you saw the most unexpected scene in front of you.

Your fiancé cheating on you with your sister, Ha-Eun.

"....Y/N...? Are you on the line?....You still there?.... Y/N!?" Duri, on the other line was repeatedly calling for you but your ears went deaf seeing them desperately making out with each other. It was like the earth beneath your feet has slipped. Just to let them know that they have been caught, you make an apparent thud with your feet after making another obvious screech sound while you angrily pushed away the curtains of the dressing room.

"Why are you here?"

Without even sparing a glance, you turn around to leave the room. Of course it was hella disturbing - His face was buried into Ha-Eun's neck and her hands holding onto his hairs. Her chest was half bare and already had fresh hickeys and on the other hand, his belt and pants were undone.

Nothing could make you feel more worthless right now. Not your sister again making you feel inferior to her. She always had the best and now your marrier too.

You heard her leaving the room but didn't even care to have a look as you knew if she comes in front of you, your palms would already be kissing her cheeks.

"I told you I could pick up your gown myself and you don't have to come along" He came closer to you, fixing his plain black Ralph Lauren shirt. His eyes were yet fixed on his shirt, now focused on rolling his sleeves up, as if he was trying to hide his gaze from you. And why was his temperament so fucking calm as if he hasn't fucked up big time?

Oh! How badly your heart felt a pang on seeing him looking through his lashes, checking if you were 'mad' at what he did.

Surely, you were digging holes in his soul by staring at him with your teary eyes the whole time.

"That was accidental, Y/N."

The audacity to call the entire episode a mere 'accident'! Your blood was boiling as unlike earlier, he maintained a deep eye contact this time which showed no glint of remorse and the very moment you bitterly blurt out-

"Accidental I see... Did your pants accidentally slip off or you kissed her accidentally? Huh!!"

"Watch your tone you-" Your jaw was cupped painfully harshly while his left hand roughly pulled you towards him by your waist. He clenched his jaw in anger whereas his eyes were as devilish as a demon. How silly it felt to not have a control over your own body. You were beyond shocked to see this side of him. A man, all sweet, charming, cute and lovely 16 months ago, became as scary as a thunderstorm in a snap!

Being this close, you observed how the sides of his neck and jaw had light marks of lipstick and his body smelled exactly like that of Ha-Eun's.

You felt powerless, so damn feeble and fragile in his arms. No way you would reveal how weak and heartbroken you were because why? Why should you unveil it to him? You were strong and fierce and he shall know that. But your eyes were betraying you. A tear was already rolling down your cheeks and for a matter of second, his eyes held a glimpse of...guilt?

The said man leaned closer and placed his lips forcefully on the corner of yours.

How the fuck did you let him kiss you? You pressed your lips into a thin line to restrict him from going further. Pure disgust was crippling up through your whole body.

You loathe his touch now.

"BACK OFF KIM TAEHYUNG! DON'T YOU DARE TO TOUCH ME WITH THOSE BLOODY FILTHY HANDS!"

Gathering up your full strength, you hardly pushed him with the utmost force and wiped your lips with the back of your palm.

Taehyung let go of your figure walking back to a distance, and crossed his arms over his chest. You wanted to slap off that dirty, mocking chuckle that he just left. Fixing his hairs boldly, he took a few steps towards you.

"May I remind you, in two days, I'm gonna be your husband. Behave, Lee Y/N."

"I. AM. NOT. MARRYING. A. CHEATER."

You said looking into his eyes, pausing after each word to symbolise that you were adamant in your decision and your tone did sound firm but you were taken aback when Taehyung started chuckling insanely at what you just said.

His laughs immediately stopped and you furrowed your eyebrows. You were confused, a bit scared, furious, pissed off and emotionally drained and his actions were surprising you every second.

This is not the Taehyung you knew.

"Seriously, Y/N?"

Your name never sounded so nauseating from his mouth ever before.

He seemed really intimidating with that voice which went deeper than it was normally before.

Bending down to match your height, he again leaned closer but you backed off as an impulsive behaviour. He continued after licking his lips, "Our parents have invested millions of bucks in this wedding and you really think they're just gonna let you to blow it all?"

For a while, you gave a thought on what he said but again, your parents are not the one who is gonna spend the rest of their lives with him. You are the one who is going to.

Taehyung proceeded to grab a bridal veil from one of the mannequins placed around you. Clipping it onto the crown of your head neatly, he nonchalantly spoke, "You do not decide anything in your life, darling."

"I will get married for sure, but not with you."

All your sadness swept away. You sounded confident enough for the urge to get back, seeking retaliation was the only thought clouding your brain and mind right now. You were blinded by hate and also, your only motive was to either escape this marriage or prevent it from happening.

"Pft! Such a silly little girl. How will you find a groom in three days?"

"I don't have to explain you how, who, what, when, where. You are no one to me. No fucking one!"

For a matter of fact, your tone went a couple of octaves low and again Taehyung's face had that freaking mucky smirk which was irking each nerve in your body. You challenging him and the determination in you was giving him the desire to burst out in laughter.

"I am your fiancé and we are meant to get married really very soon honey. You know that well. Isn't it?"

Putting both his hands inside the pockets of his pants, he stood straight, taking a good look at your whole figure from head to toe and smiled cunningly.

A game of intense stare was going on between you both and Taehyung was the one to break it first. He turned his back at you to leave the room for the best and walked towards the exit.

His figure was seemingly decreasing in size as he neared the exit but his words were ringing loudly in your ears.

"See you at the altar, Ms. Le-... No!.. Soon-to-be Mrs. Kim."

___________________________________________________________

Author's Note:

Don't worry, I won't make him as bad as you are thinking. Our TaeTae is such a pure soul. One of the best 7 Bois to exist! 😩💕

[doctorbrown]

Let's talk about where Doc lives post BTTF III—

After returning from the 19th Century with Clara and the boys, Doc does settle back down in the Hill Valley area where he ends up buying a large home towards the edge of town to give both himself and his family a little more space and privacy. It's about a forty-five minute drive out from where he used to live.

The house is a bit of a fixer-upper, but he'd wanted something specifically that required a fair amount of work, as he wanted Clara to be able to design the home of her dreams as well as give himself an easier opportunity to make modifications to it for his future scientific endeavours.

The Brown family ends up owning a spacious two-story house with a front porch, basement, and sizeable amount of land attached to it. There's a 'guest room' that's always available for Marty and Doc has given him a key to the house provided he comes and goes responsibly. Clara, being fond of the boy and hearing details of their friendship over nine years back in the 19th Century, agreed to the arrangement.

Doc erects a fence around the perimeter of the property to keep unwanted trespassers out—his reputation will always bring the unsavoury hooligans around, there's no getting around that—as well as builds a new garage on the property to function as a secondary lab/place to store the DeLorean.

Now that he's got the two time machines, security is of the utmost importance. He does make several trips into the future in order to acquire some more robust security measures for both the garage and his home, especially the basement that he converts into a laboratory proper to continue with his inventions. The biometric locking mechanisms of the 21st Century really are state-of-the-art, as is the CCTV system he sets up to catch anyone who may try and get past his updated security measures with brute force.

Construction on a special hangar below-ground is the most expensive and time-consuming process during the entire home renovation project, as leaving the Time Train open and exposed is simply out of the question. It takes a great deal of effort (he also enlists Marty's help in building it) and more trips to the future, but eventually Doc constructs an X-Men-esque sub-basement hangar for the Time Train, similar to the way the X-Jet is stored. Out of the two time vehicles, the train is rarely ever used; it exists more as a backup/failsafe in case something happens to one of the time-travellers and/or the DeLorean and a rescue operation has to be mounted. That thing is not subtle in the slightest. The other times it might be used are for Brown-McFly family holidays where they need the space for five-six people or if it's necessary to travel back to a time far enough in the past where cars have yet to be invented. With hover conversions becoming popular and commonplace in the 21st Century, the need for trains and railways as forms of public transportation has decreased significantly; many railways have been torn up or left to decay over time.

He's working on developing more secure measures to prevent any of the time vehicles from being stolen again to avoid another Biff/Hell Valley experience, especially now that he's got so much to lose. He still refuses to make any of his discoveries regarding time-travel public and this goes double for the time vehicles. His first project has been looking into developing holographic emitters and fitting the time vehicles with them, starting with the DeLorean. What better place to hide something than in plain sight? They work, for the most part, but the technology is complex and until he perfects it, the emitters can and do fail. They're far from perfect; they're only good for visual effects; they can turn the car invisible or make it look like some other vehicle, but it can't do anything about the noises that it makes. It's still going to sound like the DeLorean and if they time-travel, there's nothing that can be done about the sonic booms and the flashes of light.

For a while, he keeps the garage at 1646 JFK Drive set up and functioning as a second lab, at least until the bulk of the work on the house is completed. He eventually sells it down the line. Cleaning it out and seeing it completely empty (and the cleanest it's been in over thirty years) is definitely a bittersweet moment, because it's full of fond memories and breakthroughs and, really, when's he going to get another place literally a two minute walk from Burger King again?

[josenoelrobles]

Want vs. Need: Navigating Our Desires

Introduction "Chasing what we want instead of securing what we need is like sailing a ship with a golden helm but no compass: glamorous but directionless." This provocative opening challenges us to rethink our priorities, exploring the often blurred line between desires and necessities. Personal Experience: A Story of Reevaluation What is your number? I like to ask this question to people because it confuses the majority of them. Here, I am not asking for age or your favorite number. I am asking for the number that you think is enough. You see, as I mentioned in the past numbers are infinite. And if you don't have a very specific number financially speaking, that you would like to achieve you will always be chasing another dollar. Why? Because you can always have more. But just because you can doesn't mean that you should. You have to give before you can receive. That is a rule of life and no one can escape it. So you have to think about what you will have to give in order to obtain what you want. For many of us, we give our entire lives away chasing that money. And at the end of our lives, we realize that we can't take anything with us and we wasted a unique opportunity to live a life truly abundant. Again, I am not saying that having money is bad. Neither you should not have and pursue your financial goals and become rich and wealthy. What I am saying is that we need to take a closer look at what we really want and realize that there is a price to pay for it. Not too long ago I was talking with an acquaintance and I could not help it to kind of envy him. His business is booming, he is hiring more people constantly, he buying every guy toy that you can imagine; money seems to be falling from the skies for him. A short while after that encounter, we had dinner and spent some time together with our families. There we talked more than just business. The veil was torn and we talked more about personal things. It was not that long after we started talking that I realized; I really don't envy this guy. If I have to pay the price that he is paying to have the money that he has, I don't want it. You see, on the surface, everything looks beautiful and peaceful. But dip down there is a tornado going on that we just don't see and in many cases care to investigate or ask. You see other people driving expensive cars, living in very big houses and we say; it must be nice, assuming that person had it easy. And that person must be very happy and comfortable because of all the possessions that he or she has. Not knowing that either they paid, or are paying a high price for all the things that they have and we are not talking about money. I am talking about their health, relationships, families, and in the worst-case scenario their salvation. Nothing worth having in this life comes easy. So another question is; Are you willing to pay the real price for what you want or you are comfortable with what you have? Many times we focus and concentrate so much on what we want that we forget that we already have a lot. We get confused very easily and say I need this and I need that when in reality the majority of those times we should be using the word want. Many of us have everything that we need. But again, we spend so much time and energy thinking about what we want that we don't appreciate what we already have. It is highly likely that if you are reading this, you have a place to live, you have a job, a business, or some source of income. You probably have a way of transportation that takes you from point A to point B, and perhaps even a healthy family. You probably have at least 3 meals a day too. That alone should be enough reasons to be extremely grateful and to realize that we are super blessed and that we have more than what we need. In many cases the thing that we are chasing we already have, we just have not taken the time to notice it. Happiness sometimes is hiding in plain sight. It is called contentment. Freedom is knocking on the door but we are not willing to open it because we are afraid that the things that we are holding inside will leave. Let's be honest with ourselves and do an assessment of our lives and our possessions. If we do this assessment honestly I truly believe that we will realize that the majority of us already have what we need when it comes to material stuff. Perhaps we concentrate too much on what we want and don't want to focus on what we really need because in many cases is easy to occupy our minds by thinking about the stuff that we want instead of the things that we need. For example; We may think about the new and bigger house. Or maybe the brand-new Toyota SUV or Pickup Truck. Or the latest iPhone or Android cell phone. And we can call all these things needs. But are they really needs or wants? If we are honest we can quickly realize that they are wants and not needs. Again, nothing wrong with wanting them but let's call them for what they are. Now things like becoming a better husband, a better father, and a better citizen, are things that we need. But because they don't sound fun and you don't see a material return in our actions and behaviors we try to avoid doing them or don't give them the importance and priority in our lives that they deserve. How about losing weight and becoming healthier? This one personally hurts me because I have struggled with my weight my entire life. This is something that I definitely need. But am I doing what I need to do in order to lose weight and become healthier? The answer is no. Why? Because it is easier to think and work on the things that I want and on the possessions that I can accumulate instead of dealing with the issues, behaviors, and things that I need to change my life for the better. Let us stop lying to ourselves and call the things in our lives for what they are. If they are wants, go for it. Nothing wrong with wanting stuff. But the same way if they are needs, go for it. And don't be afraid to change because, at the end of the day, those uncomfortable changes will get you closer to the best and better version of yourself. Data: The Psychological Impact of Wants vs. Needs Research by the Consumer Psychology Department at Stanford University reveals that individuals focusing on wants over needs tend to experience shorter bursts of happiness that diminish quickly, leading to constant dissatisfaction (Stanford, 2020). Another study by the American Psychological Association indicates that prioritizing needs leads to long-term fulfillment and stability (APA, 2019). The Problem: Misplaced Priorities The crux of the issue lies in our tendency to confuse wants with needs. This confusion can lead to financial instability, personal dissatisfaction, and business inefficiencies, as we allocate resources to less critical aspects of our lives and work. The Solution: Aligning Priorities with Purpose To align our actions more closely with our true needs: - Assessment of Priorities: Regularly evaluate your personal and professional life to distinguish between what you truly need and what you desire. - Budgeting for Needs First: Allocate resources to meet your needs before spending on wants. This ensures stability and prevents resource depletion. - Mindful Consumption: Practice mindfulness to make informed decisions that resonate with your long-term goals and well-being. Adopting these strategies helps balance our approach to wants and needs, fostering both personal and financial well-being. Conclusion: The Balance of Want and Need Understanding the difference between wants and needs is crucial for lasting satisfaction and success. By focusing on our needs while responsibly managing our wants, we can achieve a more fulfilling and sustainable lifestyle. Read the full article

[boycigs]

SO WHAT YOU'RE MURDERERS ? : CHAP 2

masterlist. previous chapter. next chapter.

genre; crack, slightly suggestive, check cw from masterlist

taglist ; @gabytodd @rome-alone @milkyfab @defnotphantomofficial @satsuri3su @one-green-frog @royal-shinigami @sanemiss @astrozuya @8-29pm @yuuisasimp @kawouya @massivebde @kusuinko @spqce-bun

bibi's note ; please note that since reader is izana's brother. (MALE READER) he will have similar features, lavender eyes. thank you so much @softiefeli for proof reading <3 ily, reblogs and comments are very appreciated!!

Your class wasn't half bad. A lecture explaining the content for next week and talking about the start of mid-terms. Now on the way to Bonten HQ.

Thoughts going through your head of why Mikey couldn't have sent for someone to get you. Ah well, going through these parts of the city was interesting. Just a few more blocks and you decided you're done walking for the day.

The building wasn't as you expected, but they're criminals. Hiding in plain sight.

As you opened the doors to the building there was a lady behind the desk who just acknowledged your presence.

"Ah, Good evening sir. May I help you?"

As you glanced down at her the words softly spilled from your lips, something resembling 'meeting with Manjiro Sano'.

"Meeting with the big boss huh? You're gonna wanna take the elevator to the top floor, get out, turn left and take the second right door-" she handed you a piece of paper with a tiny, quickly drawn map. "Just in case."

"Thank you."

Now on the way to see your brother. Although one thing you could say was the elevator music was crappy, not even the original tunes.

"Office, office, ah map‐" you pulled out the poorly drawn 'map' and started to follow it.

15 minutes later after searching and passing by a couple of interesting-looking employees that eyed you with wide eyes. You made it to a very loud office room. One distinct voice boomed with an anxious tone. "BOSS, WAS THAT IZANA, OR AM I SEEING THINGS?"

As you knocked on the door, it was like a spell. All those voices ceased, plus a large thump which worried you.

Finally, someone came and opened the door, and the first thing that caught your eyes was; the semi-familiar shirtless Ravenette passed out on the floor with what seemed to be a head injury, two purple heads, (both having features making them look like jellyfish) now pointing at you and screaming "ITS YOU", to which the taller one hummed along with you 'Video Games' by Lana del Rey, and a short man who looked like your brother, but deathly pale.

"What's going on here ? and, you ! must be Manjiro right?" you questioned, pointing at the short platinum blond.

"That's boss, and why do you look so much like Izana Kurokawa? Are you two related? Are you Izana Kurokawa ?! Did you really die ?!?" The toned lanky-looking one bombed you with questions.

"Uh, Izana's my brother, and by that logic, I'm Manjiro's adopted brother." You stated before your lips slightly turned, the feeling of still having family warmed you inside.

"It's really nice to finally meet you, 'Invincible Mikey', oh and here ya go. 'Zana said you liked 'em." You handed him a taiyaki as well as opening one for yourself, while he started to introduce everybody with his mouth full.

"Thanks, and you as well (name). Now, those two purple jellyfish are Ran and Rindou Haitani, the one on the floor is Kakucho Hitto. The pink one is Sanzu, beware he's probably on something-" You snickered, cutting your brother off. "It's fine, that's how I get through uni."

"Anyway, the other blonde in red is Koko, Takeomi is Sanzu's more civilized brother and mochi is, somewhere. That's Bonten. Everyone, treat him like you would me. Otherwise I won't hesitate to put you on the chopping block."

The short blonde looked the younger haitani in the eyes before speaking again. "Rindou I trust that you'll get this info to the executives that aren't here right now."

When Mikey finished introductions he ordered his executives off to whatever task they had at hand before you came, and took you to his office to talk more with you.

[theodorecanaryhood]

You are mine

Arkham Knight! Jason Todd x male reader

Warning: Swearing, violence, sex, mention of death and torture

Gotham will fall…Heroes will fight…Enemies will stand…Gotham will be under his heel.

That was the night you had taken the initiative and stood by your team. The Knight being your boss, yet seeming like someone you all had to protect at the same time.

‘You’re all expendable’ Scarecrow said over the comms to you, prepping yourselves for when the big bad Bat would come.

‘Some of you will die, some of you won’t’ he continued. Scarecrow always seemed to be speaking a way to make you all afraid, scared for your safety. Yet, none of you faltered. Not once.

Your role was a little different to everyone else’s, seemed Jason always wanted you to hide in plain sight of everyone, to blend in as much as possible and seem like a regular person. A man just riding on his motorcycle through the streets of Gotham.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, the night before it all began. Before the announcement you had to patrol the streets, to see what was going on. To see if everything would be easy to target.

A few thugs tried to shoot their shot at you as the gear and bike you have is quite expensive, yet once they saw the ‘Arkham’ logo on your jacket, courtesy of Jason, they backed up.

Training was also different for you as you weren’t military nor had much experience with fighting. You were on the timid side when it came to fighting.

Jason would have you hitting the bags for a good two hours, then teach you hand to hand, then some wrestling and self defence.

‘You have to hit like you mean it, y/n’ Jason would boom at you in the empty hall, sweat dripping from both of you.

‘Fine’ you groan as you take a swing with your right hook, then swing low with your left. Then swing a leg out to trip Jason up.

‘Better’ he smiled at you, laying on his back looking up at you holding a prop gun to his face.

‘I still don’t see why you’re teaching me all this, if my only job is to roam the streets’ you said, helping Jason back onto his feet.

‘Batman isn’t dumb, worlds greatest detective remember? He’ll catch on quick who you are, if he does I want you ready’ Jason almost whispered to you, he seemed caring of all his men. But never gave them treatment like this.

‘I know, but wouldn’t it just be better to play dumb with him?’ You asked, innocently as you fiddled with the hem of your tank top.

‘No, he will still catch on’ Jason said, giving you the prop gun again, ‘this time, I want you to improvise. Bats catches on quick with how people fight, so you gotta hit him with everything’ Jason continued.

You began with a blow to the face, yet Jason caught it knocking the prop gun out of your hand and giving a kick to your stomach. You took a few steps back, then jumped up and spun round, wrapping an arm around Jason’s neck and bending with force, knocking him off his feet once more, as he rolled over you and plopped onto the floor.

‘Think this’ll work Jay?’ You asked calmly as Jason lay on the ground again, sweating hard.

‘Hopefully, with everything I’m teaching you, it’s everything I know. Everything he taught me’

Yes, you know about who Jason was before and what he did. You know he was Robin, then tortured and ‘killed’ by Joker.

The hours of torture Jason endured, the months it went on for. Enough to make a man go insane. Yet somehow, Jason wasn’t insane, he was just in pain and broken.

‘Another thing y/n’ Jason said as he swung a leg out and tripped you over, landing next to him on your back, ‘don’t get distracted’.

‘Shit’ you muttered as Jason chuckled while looking into your eyes, the both of you laying flat on your backs, faces towards each other.

Seconds that felt like hours of comfortable silence went by, Jason suddenly cleared his throat and got up. Helping you up along the way.

‘Go take shower, Crane wants a meeting soon’

…

Walking through the base where all the militia were, standing watching you as you walked through the hallways. Damp hair stuck on your face. Sweatpants and tank top drenched.

You made it to the shower without any incidents as lately a few members of the militia had been harassing you. Regarding your alone time with the boss.

You let the cold water pour down on you as you took a sigh of relief. Feeling the coolness, taking the bar of fresh soap and rubbing your whole body with it.

‘Y/n?’ A voice called, you stood under the water for a second. Waiting for the voice to come again, but no further voice followed.

The soapy water covered every inch of you as you let the water fall down, rinsing it off of your abs. Then putting your head under the shower head and letting it clear your mind.

‘Y/n?’ You heard again, you hastily continued on with your shower but seemed the time to yourself. Even for 5 minutes seemed to be cut short.

As you finished up with rinsing you grabbed your towel, drying yourself off. Walking around the bases bathroom as you threw on your spare clothes.

A simple white top and a pair of clean sweatpants as you heard someone call your name again, you looked around to see no one there.

‘It’s happening again’ you muttered to yourself, not paying attention to where you were walking and walking straight into a broad figure.

‘Shit, you ok?’ Jason said as he grabbed your arm, nearly knocking you off balance with how much force the impact was.

‘Yes, Sir’ you stumbled as you felt a sudden chill up your back. Jason was looking deep in your eyes again, to say you felt funny was an understatement, some passed few days you had started to crush a little in the boss.

‘Jason, please’ he winked as he walked past you to get into the shower.

…

It was nearly time, Crane was going to announce when you would all hit the streets. This is what all the training was for, the long nights. The one on one with Jason.

Crane had given his usual speech where he tried to scare everyone, God it’s like he’s addicted to fear or something.

Slade was there to talk you all into using as much combat all at once on Batman as possible.

Jason though, stood silent throughout the whole thing. Just stared ahead as the group talked, not even breaking contact with whatever he was staring at.

‘Y/n, a word’ Slade said to you as he pulled you aside after the meeting.

You were surprised as Slade never really spoke to you individually, you weren’t even sure if he knew your name. But he did, and here he was talking to you.

‘I noticed that Jason likes to train you, alone’ Slade said as his eyes took in your form. You only nodded.

‘Yes Sir, he trains me personally’

Jason was lurking in the background now as he was watching Slade with you, smiling and laughing with you as the both of you talked alone together.

‘Fuck’ Jason whispered to himself as he walked over to the two of you, hearing briefly as Slade had asked if he could also train you personally.

‘You might have to ask Jason, he is my boss and has taken upon himself to train me’ you answered, as politely as possible.

Slade seemed to find your answer humorous as he chuckled to himself, he spotted Jason walking over in his Knight get up.

‘Knight’ Slade nodded as Jason stopped right beside you.

‘Something you wish to discuss?’ Jason asked as you seemed a little nervous the two would scrap.

‘Just making light conversation, y/n here was going to let me teach him a few things’ Slade said, Jason seemed ticked off about that sentence. You just wanted to run away.

‘If I want you to train my men, I’ll let you know’ Jason said, Slade chuckling as he nodded. Leaving you and Jason alone.

‘Follow me’ Jason said to you, in a low voice not looking in your direction. Walking with him in a pace that seemed to burn some calories, towards his office.

During this walk and awkward silence you kept hearing someone calling your name again, noticing it was getting closer and closer.

Why does this keep happening you thought to yourself, why now?

See a few years ago, you would never dream of doing something like what you’re doing now. You had a good job with a good income, a home and a family who talked to you nearly everyday.

Yet something changed your life as you got involved with the wrong man, your ex boyfriend was not good news. And the pain you encountered throughout the relationship was enough to turn you, to this person you are today.

Albeit not a bad person, still enough good left in you to know when to make a better decision. Yet, enough to make you bad enough to get involved with the Arkham Knight.

You saw the poster up of the Arkham Knight pointing out, with a caption that stated ‘I want you to join the militia’, you called the number and enlisted yourself. With no excitement and feeling nothing left for you.

When things began to get tough for you and mentally you were breaking, you would always hear a man’s voice calling your name. You didn’t know who the man was, but you always heard him.

‘Are we going to speak or just stand in silence?’ You broke the silence between you and Jason as he stood quietly staring out his window. Taking his Knight gear off.

‘What were your intentions back there?’ Jason asked you, deadpan and still not looking at you.

‘My intentions?’

‘Yes, Slade wants to teach you a few things’ Jason turned around now to look at you, the look in his eyes weren’t something you’d seen before.

It was mix of jealousy and anger, but also he looked scared.

‘I turned him down’ You replied as Jason stepped towards you.

You thought he was going to hit you when he brought his hand up, but he planted it on your cheek. Giving a sad smile.

‘You know why I am so persistent on training you? Because it’s the only time I can be myself, the only time I can be alone with you’ Jason said, his voice was calm. He was now looking deep in your eyes, not even blinking.

‘Jason I…’

‘I get if you don’t feel the same, no one would, I’m a monster’ Jason said, pulling his hand away and looking down. You could tell from his tone of voice he meant every word he said. To you, and about himself.

‘No, I do feel the same’ you insisted as you took his hand, gently interlocking your fingers with his.

Jason smiled at you as he gripped your hand as saw the genuine smile, the smile he always looked forward to seeing.

‘Can I kiss you?’ Jason asked you, surprisingly shy as he asked.

You simply nodded as Jason leant forward and greeted your lips with his own, soft at first but then gradually growing harder.

Your breath hitched and you grew more excited and comfortable with how you were, not an ideal moment for you as you made out passionately with your boss, but it was bliss nonetheless.

Jason wrapped his hands around your waist as he backed you into his desk. You gasped it the sudden presence of it, also gasping at the sudden presence of Jason’s hand spanking you.

‘Fuck’ you breathed out as Jason lay you on his desk, he went to work biting your neck, you suddenly felt growth in your pants as well as a hot wave flushing over you.

Jason came up to your head and pulled your shirt off over you, kissing you again as he ran a hand down your chest and abs.

‘You are so cute, you’re mine. No one will ever touch you like this again. You are mine’ Jason growled in your ear, kissing your cheek and then lips again.

Jason began to remove what was left of his armour, leaving only his underwear on as he carried you over to his couch.

‘I’m a top by the way’ Jason chuckled as you welcomed that comment by rolling onto your front.

Jason pulled your underwear down as he greeted your bare ass with his tongue, rimming you like he’d done it a million times before with you.

Knowing your body in only a few minutes as Jason could hear you moaning a little. Pleasure escaping your lips.

Jason allowed you time as you hadn’t done this with him before. And not to boast but Jason knows he is quite, ahem, large.

‘Damn’ you panted out as Jason’s tongues worked its way expertly around your hole.

Jason only smiled as he enjoyed this side of you, you allowing him to be free. And of course returning the affection.

‘Now, why are you gonna be for me? My handsome little Angel, or my sexy slut?’ Jason asked as he came up to your face.

‘Sexy slut’ you smiled as Jason replied with a hard spank on your bare cheek. Making you gasp out in pleasure.

‘That all you got?’ You teased, Jason spanked you twice more. Both times as hard as the last.

‘Gonna leave a mark’ Jason smiled as he pulled his underwear down.

You almost shocked at the sight of his huge dick, not surprised with the size as you figured when your got glimpses when training. Thank the Lord for grey sweatpants. But just not realising how big it really is.

Jason spread your cheeks apart as he let himself slide in slowly, you breathing through the feeling of it. Feeling like it was tearing a little.

‘You doing ok?’ He asked, you nodded as Jason then began to move slowly. Going in and out of you.

‘Does my sexy little whore like that?’ He asked you as you nodded, moaning a little.

Jason seemed to lose his shit when you rotated your hips a little, in return of his movements. Urging him to go a little quicker.

‘You want me to go faster slut?’ Jason asked as you nodded, eagerly.

‘I want to feel you, balls deep inside me’ you smiled as Jason wrapped a hand around your neck, holding you in place.

Jason found the perfect rhythm for the both of you, knowing you liked it as you began to claw at the arm of his couch. Moaning out his name.

‘You like getting fucked? Does my slut like getting fucked?’ Jason roared as he began to pick up a quicker pace.

‘Fuck, yes baby’

Jason replied to that with a slap on the ass cheek, even harder than the one before.

‘No, it’s yes Sir’ Jason said as you bit down in the soft cushion.

‘So I ask again, does my slut like being fucked?’

‘Yes Sir’ you replied, fighting the urge to moan so loud the Militia on the other side of the building could hear you.

‘Good boy’ he says as he begins to slam into you even harder.

Jason’s dick is filling you up to the point where you’re sure it’s going to split you in half.

‘Turn around’ Jason says as he pulls out of you, you turn around and Jason lifts both your legs.

Entering your asshole again as he works his paces up again.

‘I want to see your face, I want to watch you as I fill you up’ Jason says, you grab onto his hip with one hand as the other one brushes down his abs.

The sweat from the both of you sure to the leave the couch soaked after.

‘Fuck, you’re a good little whore’ Jason slams his hips against yours as you can tell he’s nearing the grand finale.

‘Sir, are you going to finish inside?’ You ask in between pants as Jason throws his head back in bliss.

‘Maybe, does my whore need to be taught a lesson?’ Jason called out as he could feel the sting of his orgasm.

‘Yes Sir, finish inside me’ you smiled as you held his hips where they were, digging your fingertips into them.

Jason slammed as his hips began to buck and he couldn’t catch his breath.

‘Y/n’ Jason screamed out in pleasure, emptying himself inside you as he almost fell to the ground with the release.

Jason held you where you were as he lay on his front as he placed your dick in his mouth, wanting to finish you off himself.

‘Sir’ you breathed out, Jason deep throating you as he worked his way with his tongue.

Your head began to lull back into the couch arm as Jason’s mouth worked magic on you.

Your hips began to move with Jason’s pace as he worked your shaft with his tongue, holding your thighs. His soft, warm hands felt like heaven as his mouth was doing the work.

You lost the ability to speak as Jason have you the best blowjob you had ever asked for, not even hesitating to take you all in at once.

‘Shit’ you gasped as the end was coming for you now, Jason staying where he was.

Your hips shifted at a faster pace and your ass lifted off of the couch. Jason working with you as you could feel your orgasm coming.

‘Oh God’ you moaned out as your seed spilled out of you, going into Jason’s mouth as you emptied yourself out.

Jason lay his head on your stomach as you caught your breath.

‘Damn, I can’t even register speech’ you whispered to yourself. Jason replying by kissing your stomach.

…

After the ‘incident’ Jason returned back to the base, broken down as he had his final run in with Father Dearest.

Realising he was mostly angry at himself for being too reckless. Angry he believed Joker’s lies. Angry he worked his way to get to be the enemy of Bruce.

‘Y/n?’ Jason called out to you as he walked into his office to see you, waiting for him.

You said nothing as you rose to your feet, wrapping your arms around Jason’s neck and held him.

‘I failed, I fucked up’ Jason said as the tears fell from his eyes.

You only kissed him in return as you allowed him to cry, crying hard into your shoulder. Jason held you so tight, you were sure it was because he was scared you would leave him.

You never did though, all night you stayed with him. Sleeping with him in bed as you held him. Letting him cry hard as he got all of the stress out.

You lay in that moment as your sleep waved over you, Jason snoring lightly next to you in bed, you lay realising the voice you heard calling your name all these years. Was his. Jason.

His heart was calling yours from a distance and it was a only a matter of time, before the two of you were to be together. That’s why you were so drawn to that damned Militia poster. That’s why you wanted to be alone with Jason as much as he did with you.

…

Time has changed now as you sat outside the coffee shop, under the sun in Gotham City Park.

Jason sat next to you reading his new favourite book, you just enjoying the light breeze and heat from the sun.

Joggers and dog walkers, children playing, all the sights you typically see and had missed for so long when working in the Arkham Knight base.

Course that was a few years ago now, but it still felt like yesterday. Felt like only a few nights ago you lay with Jason in that couch and fucked. Like only a few hours ago he cried in your arms.

‘Babe, can we get ice cream on the way home?’ Jason asked you, marking his page and closing his book.

‘Course’ you smiled as Jason stood up, giving you a sweet kiss as he held your hand. The two of you walking through the park.

Jason never cared about people seeing the two of you being affectionate. He always said ‘if you don’t like it, don’t look at it’ which always made you feel safer. You felt safe with him.

You looked down at your left hand, seeing your wedding ring glisten in the sunlight. Jason’s sweet smile as the two of you walked the streets.

This is your life now, forever. And that’s the way you want it.