#tropical patio ideas

[macalaelliottphotography]

Backyard - Natural Stone Pavers Summertime photo of a medium-sized tropical backyard with stone landscaping.

[realtweet]

Natural Stone Pavers Miami Design suggestions for a medium-sized tropical backyard with stone landscaping during the summer.

[viirinsims]

Hawaii Lap

Inspiration for a mid-sized, contemporary backyard renovation with a custom-shaped lap pool

[thisisguinevere]

Natural Stone Pavers in Miami Here is an illustration of a summertime mid-sized tropical full sun backyard stone landscaping.

[enoshimakuro]

Landscape Pathway in Los Angeles Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary full sun courtyard concrete paver landscaping in summer.

[aprilcarstairs]

Decking - Contemporary Patio Inspiration for a large contemporary backyard patio remodel with decking and a roof extension

[wyrm-o-lantern]

Miami Landscape Inspiration for a mid-sized tropical full sun backyard stone landscaping in summer.

[zwijgverbod]

Los Angeles Landscape Pathway Photo of a mid-sized contemporary full sun courtyard concrete paver landscaping in summer.

[sherlocked-avatar]

Pool Lap Dallas Example of a large island style backyard custom-shaped lap hot tub design

[jessicaschein]

Contemporary Landscape Los Angeles Design ideas for a mid-sized contemporary full sun courtyard concrete paver landscaping in summer.

[fy-hyungwonho]

Landscape Pathway Los Angeles Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary full sun courtyard concrete paver landscaping in summer.

[hyacintho-surrexit]

Dallas Patio Stamped Concrete

[neyswxrld]

the odd one out

Hunter, no pairing

summary: Hunter has the biggest secret among them all. He spent his whole life with keeping his second form to himself, not telling anyone anything about it. But what if they still figure it out?

warnings: hunter has a "second form" of a wolf (yeah, i know it's a cliché but it fits so well xD), but nothing else really

words: ~1900

a/n: hello everyone! i heard it's halloween already? the werewolves are already here? no, i'm just kidding. :D i had the idea for this story when i found an old obsession with a book series (woodwalkers), in which people can switch their forms. then i tried to figure out how i might put this into a story, and remembered @isthereanechoinhere96 's fic hunter - sergeant, brother, dad, where she came up with the idea of how hunter got his enhaced senses, so i definitely want to credit her for this idea. theeeen i additionally figured i might add some @summer-of-bad-batch prompts ("get out of my room!", "don't avoid the question." and "just when were you planning on telling us that?") and tadaaa - here it is. i hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

His paws pound against the forest floor.

Even though Pabu is a tropical and warm island, this particular night is cold, and his breath comes out of his snout in small clouds.

It's been such a long time since he had the freedom to really be in his second form like that.

Pabu finally gave him this opportunity again, and since they lived here, he tried to run some miles as a wolf as often as he could.

He takes a deep breath through his wet nose, and lets his senses reach out. He's able to feel practically everything around him in this forest.

When he is human, his senses are above average, of course. It was his enhancement.

But being out like this, in his second form as a wolf, is just incredible.

He smells the juicy moss, the wet dirt on the floor. Different kinds of trees, bushes and plants.

And of course the animals.

There are some birds in a nest right above him, the mother is just about to give them some worms.

He is pretty sure there is a small rodent cave somewhere on his right, and little does the small thing inside know that there is another predator lingering just in front of the entry.

He also notices that there is someone walking around in the woods, poking around with a stick, afflicted with the smell of fresh mushrooms.

Hunter takes it as a sign to go back home. He needs to make sure that nobody sees him like this, in his wolf body.

There aren't any local wolves on the island, so it would be very suspicious when somebody would suddenly see one.

He takes a shortcut to their house.

The wolf carefully avoids anyone, and when he finally makes it to their garden, he sneaks into his room.

Not even his brothers know of his second form.

The Kaminoans insisted that he should never tell anyone anything. Not even his brothers. They drilled him, told him the other's would think he's weird, and even threatened to decommission them when he told them. To put it... nicely.

He never knew why his second form was such a big secret, but he never, never ever, told anyone about it.

It was his biggest secret.

And even now, even after the fall of the Republic and the Kaminoans, he keeps his secret.

By now, he is sure the others will think he's... a defect. Just like the regs used to call them. But in his case it was just true - who else was able to change forms in such a strange way?

And besides - he knows them since they took his first breath. It would make no sense to spit it out now, after all those years.

First, they will feel betrayed that he kept this secret, then they'll reject him and send him away. They'll tell him how strange and disgusting he is - just like the Kaminoans prophesied over and over again.

Hunter sneaks over to the patio door of his room. He purposefully chose the one with the door to the garden and let the others take the rooms upstairs - wolves just weren't good climbers. And he didn't want to change his forms in the garden.

It would be weird if one of his family members found his clothes between bushes.

He looks around, crosses the garden and walks into his room.

He shakes his fur a last time, before beginning the fast process of changing forms.

His hair disappears into his skin, his teeth and claws shrink. His ears are suddenly back to their human form, his snout is a human nose again, and his tail is gone.

He gets up, stretches his hands into the air, bends his back and looks directly in the shocked eyes of Wrecker.

"Hunter?" his little brother asks.

"Get out of my room!" Hunter yells, almost jumping out of his skin.

From one second to the other, he's panicking.

He was just philosophizing about his secret and now it's just- gone.

"No- wait- what was that?"

"Nothing! What was what? Wrecker, get out!" Hunter comes over and starts to push Wrecker out of the room.

"Stop it! I know what I saw, I just don't know what it was! Tell me!" Wrecker insists, not even moving an inch. "You were a ball of fur with those big teeth and now- now you're Hunter again!" he almost accuses him.

"I don't even have clothes on!" Hunter still tries to move Wrecker around, but he's just like a solid wall. He lays a hand onto the door frame and holds on - Hunter doesn't have the slightest chance of moving him away.

Tears of despair form in his eyes.

Was this it? He kept it from his brothers for years, just to expose himself like that? Why the hell didn't he even smell or hear Wrecker?

"Don't avoid the question, Hunter! Just put on some pants!" the brawler says. He's not letting it go.

Hunter breathes heavily. For a short moment, he feels ready to cry.

Until he looks into Wrecker's eyes.

Immediately, he sees that he's confused. Scared.

Oh maker, Wrecker was scared. Of him.

He takes another deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

He doesn't want Wrecker to be scared - he needs to explain it to him, so Wrecker doesn't fear him anymore. Then he still could pack his things. They could still throw him out after explaining.

He takes some pants and puts them on, still not ready to say anything.

And if that wouldn't be enough already, Crosshair and Tech are suddenly standing behind Wrecker, alarmed by all the noise and screaming.

"What are you doing?" Crosshair asks.

Hunter looks at Wrecker, pleading, but the latter already starts talking: "Hunter has a secret! A big one even! He's a wolf!"

Crosshair and Tech look at each other, then at Hunter, then at Wrecker.

"You're crazy," Crosshair says, and Tech also just starts to walk away. "I knew this warm air isn't good for you. For the two of you, apparently," Crosshair shakes his head.

Wrecker huffs.

"No, it's true! One second ago there was this big dark wolf and in the next it starts to look like an alien, and BOOM! Then there's just Hunter," Wrecker starts to explain. Hunter shakes is head.

"Firstly, I'm not an alien! Secondly, it definitely didn't make boom!" Hunter growls and this time, Wrecker takes a step back.

"Please don't bite me," he cries out.

He's so scared, Hunter thinks. There's no way he can make amends ever again, he was sure of that.

"What? I would never-- Wrecker, what are you thinking of me?" Hunter still asks.

Wrecker swallows. "Well, there indeed was a wolf just a few seconds ago. I don't know what to think, but I'm sure I know what I saw, Hunter. Please, explain it to us."

Hunter sighs, already deflated. He doesn't exactly see a way out of this.

He takes another look at his brothers - Crosshair and Tech took a step back again - and shakes his head.

"I don't even know where to start," he says.

"So Wrecker isn't just saying things?" Tech asks.

Hunter shakes his head, "No, he's right- I- He- I didn't even know he was here."

"Why don't you start at the beginning? How did something like that happen?" Crosshair suggests.

Hunter shrugs again.

"I've been like this since I can remember. The first time I changed forms was when I was about three years old. Nala Se told me she almost decommissioned me, but she decided otherwise. I changed back after a few minutes, and because of that I was a too valuable specimen for her 'projects'," Hunter says, trying to shrug nonchalant.

He's standing in front of his brothers like a kicked dog, and they look at him like he was growing a second head.

Well, it wasn't that far off in the end, right?

"She... studied you?" Crosshair asks. Hunter nods.

"At some point, she explained that she experimented with different DNAs a lot. It obviously worked with mine. And it seemed like there was a mixture of different animal DNAs that went pretty well with mine. That's also how my senses work. I'm pretty sure there's some kind of shark in my genes, too," the oldest sibling explains. The others listen.

"Can you... turn into a shark, too?" Tech wants to know. Hunter declines: "Not that I know of, at least."

"So your senses work with the animal genes?" Tech asks another question, "How exactly does it work?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself. I just know that switching forms was more of an accident. If I'm right, not even Nala Se knows how it worked. It's just... odd," Hunter shrugs his shoulders.

Luckily, Wrecker doesn't look as scared anymore, but Crosshair just scoffs.

"Are you crazy? Why do you make up stuff like that? And you two - you just believe stuff like this?"

Hunter looks at him, not knowing what to say.

"Can't you show them? I want to see it again, too!" Wrecker says at this moment and even Tech looks interested.

Hunter rolls his eyes, but does as they want him to. The cat -or wolf- is out of the bag anyway.

"Wow!" Wrecker breathes as Hunter ends the process and shakes his pants off his furry butt again.

"This is very interesting, indeed," Tech agrees. He crouches down, rights his googles and inspects Hunter from different angles.

Crosshair looks at him with big eyes, unbelieving of what he sees.

Wrecker carefully pats Hunter's furry head, but he just shakes his body and changes forms again. Now isn't the time for pets or treats.

"Just when were you planning on telling us that?" Crosshair wants to know.

"Well... Not ever?" Hunter asks, before diving into an explanation.

"So- you tell us, the defect squad, that you never told us, even after the war, because we, the defect squad, might have thought you were weird?" Crosshair asks to clarify.

"Well, you were freaked out! You can't tell me I'm not weird!" Hunter tries to defend himself.

Wrecker just laughs and pats his back.

"I thought you were weird even before that," he laughs heartily.

Hunter is relieved. To some degree at least. Does that mean they won't abandon him?

"Could you still do me a favor and not tell Omega? I don't want to... scare her," he asks them. They look at him, uncomprehending.

"Just... give me some time, yeah?" he asks after a second. He didn't want to exclude their sister, but he felt like he wasn't ready for this step.

After his brothers agreed on that, the four of them made their way over to the living room.

Tech and Wrecker still ask many questions, and Hunter has to show his second form a few more times, let Tech inspect him and Wrecker pet him.

He doesn't actually mind: he is way too relieved about their relaxed reactions and if he is being honest, Wrecker's warm hands feel pretty nice against his fur.

It just leaves one question open: Why was Wrecker in his room, when he came back?

When he asks him, Wrecker just shrugs.

"Haven't seen you a lot lately. We've been so busy! I just thought I'd come and annoy you. Didn't turn out how I wanted it to."

It is at that moment that Hunter could hit himself with a bat: His siblings, his family, won't ever dislike him, just because he's different.

They were way too odd for that themselves.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

[sakuralovespossums]

Nanami Kento x Painter Reader

This is my first request work! I’m so exited!!✨

If there were two things you and your husband shared in common, it was your appreciation for wine and art. That was actually how you two bonded back during your student years at Jujutsu Tech.

Nanami, who was at that time a first year, caught you sneaking in some blueberry wine one night while you were heading to your room. Knowing what a stickler to the rules he could be, you were a bit nervous and hoped he wouldn’t snitch on you to the teachers. Thankfully he simply raised an eyebrow.

*sigh~* “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. Do you………mind if I have some?”

It was a rather rough week for him filled with tears and missions. He needed some sort of escape from all the stress that’s been weighing on him. You gave him a small smile and let him follow you back to your room. He was amazed by all your painting canvases that lined across your room, learning about your passion for art and how you enjoyed partaking in it during your free time. As you both sipped on your wine, he let you give him a tour of each canvas, listening to you describe your techniques and inspirations in vivid detail. He didn’t know if his memorization for your art and creativity was from his growing feelings for you or the alcohol. The rest of the night was spent between you two shyly getting to better know each other while enjoying your blueberry wine. You were vividly tipsier than him, though he also gained a pinker but to his cheeks. Since then, Nanami gained an interest in art himself and nervously asked one day if you could perhaps teach him how to paint, to which you happily accepted.

Now you were both adults, with you and your lover growing to become a powerful pair of grade 1 sorcerers, gaining the title of Tokyo’s most formidable grade 1 couple (much to Nanami’s embarrassment and your amusement).

Whenever he felt exhausted by the burden of Jujutsu or the comrades he had lost during his line of work, he would always paint whatever took up his mind, letting it all pour out in the form of paint that he maneuvered with his brush. It was something that greatly helped him in his student years deal with the loss of his friend, Haibara. He was a natural at it after having been taught under you all those years, yet he still thinks you were the better painter. Usually, you would sit between his legs on the chair while he painted while you two peacefully talked about each others’ days and other trivial matters. The art studio on the upper floor of your apartment was filled with only the soft exchange of words and affection between you two, accompanied by the small brush strokes. Whenever you’d paint, Nanami would sometimes help you when you were struggling by offering advice and ideas of inspiration in that deep, corse voice of his that never failed to ignite that blossom of warmth within you. The way his large warm hand, calloused by years of handling his clothed sword, engulfed over your smaller one as he gently guided your strokes, the same way you would do for him all those years ago.

Tonight was a rather rainy night. The sound of the rain water tapping the windows surrounded you and your husband as you sat between his legs and watched him work on his latest painting. It was a canvas of a tropical Malaysian beach, a place he dreamed of going to someday with you after retiring.

“Why Malaysia?” You asked while sipping your champagne.

He pauses his painting. A few seconds of silence pass.

“I’m not sure. I remember reading a travel magazine on it and thought it looked nice.”

He wraps a strong arm around your torso.

“Maybe we could build a small house nearby. Next to some other locals.”

You hum in reply while wrapping an arm around his.

“We could grow a garden in the backyard.” You suggested. “One that’s bigger than our current one.”

“I’d hardly call that a garden, my love.” He replied, referring to the row of potted flowers lined across the small patio.

“Hey! I worked hard on that garden, thank you very much!”

“I know my sweet” he assured with a gentle kiss to your head. “And it’s very beautiful, just like you.”

You hummed contentedly as you snuggled further into him. You watched as he applied more yellow to the sunset landscape, growing immersed into its glowing brightness as his patterned strokes hypnotized you. You loved watching his hand as he painted.

Nanami’s hands could do many things. They could be brutal, easily crushing or punching through whatever enemy or obstacle he faced. They could also be gentle and caring, tending to you in all ways from the basic necessities to the more physical needs. And they could create, such as now.

After being together for years now, you still couldn’t help but wonder what you did to deserve such a perfect husband. You knew this happiness wouldn’t last forever, as both your duties as sorcerers put your lives on the line everyday. This might be the last night you spend together in such peace, painting and drinking the night away. So you and Nanami made sure to treasure every brush stroke and sip, for it was your way of expressing the love you shared between each other. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You have a smudge right there.”

“Yes, because you won’t stop fidgeting in my lap. I think the champagne is finally getting to you.”

“I’ve only had a few sips so far.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

(Fun Fact: Nanami has the second highest alcohol tolerance out of all the other teachers, falling only behind Shoko lmao)

[missmaywemeetagain]

Moonlight, A Pink Scarf Universe Story

A/N: So, I was challenged to do a prompt game, and since I'm desperately trying to fight my perfectionism and become more consistent with my writing, I took on the challenge and wrote this dramatic little heartbreaker this afternoon just under the wire like crazy person. I hope you enjoy this short, barely edited extension of Pink Scarf. It takes place a few months after the Christmas 1960 flashback in Part 16. (Please go easy on me because it is literally the least revised/edited thing I've ever put out and I desperately hope you like it 💗)

Thanks to @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally and @vintageshanny for challenging me to do this even when I wanted to convince myself I couldn't do it.

Prompt: “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people.”

Rating: PG-13 || Word Count: 2k

TW: Miscarriage, medical trauma, angst, depression, intrusive thoughts

Moonlight

Hawaii, March 1961

The room is pressing in on you with all these jovial faces, celebrating in paradise after Elvis’ successful benefit concert for the Pearl Harbor Arizona Memorial. You should be celebrating with them.

You wish you could.

Instead, you are fighting back tears, praying that no one notices your frantic need to escape the otherwise wonderful atmosphere.

Elvis decided to bring you all along for a month-long vacation of sorts as he films his newest picture, Blue Hawaii, and performs the benefit concert to raise money for the Memorial. Y’all need some rest and recreation, he’d said joyfully, his eyes falling on you in particular, and how could you possibly refuse? It genuinely seemed like a great idea, even though he’d technically be working, and so would Jack by extension, but a change of scenery would do you some good after everything that's happened. Maybe you and Jack could reconnect on the tropical getaway, you’d thought.

But so much had happened since you agreed to this trip.

No one knew, of course. Not Jack. Not your family. Certainly not Elvis. You had made sure of it because you couldn’t stand the hopeful looks that would have come with the news, and the inevitable pity that would’ve come after.

The humid Hawaiian air coupled with the room full of people makes you feel as though you can’t draw a full breath. Lightheaded, you push your way through the throng of people filling the lavish home that had been rented for the express purpose of Elvis being able to stay comfortable and private during his shooting schedule. It’s an incredible relief once you burst out onto the patio, then stumble down the sandy path to the breathtaking beach.

Surprisingly, there’s not a soul on the moonlit sand, and for that you are eternally grateful because you cannot hold back your choked sobs any longer. The ebb and flow of the surf crashes over your crying, and you very much wish you could drown your sorrows in the vastness of the ocean in front of you.

Getting pregnant again was not even something you thought was possible. It was cruel, you thought, that you’d nearly made it 12 weeks this time before your body decided that it would reject the baby. You had just started to really, truly think it would be different this time. You were getting ready to tell Jack. You were almost, almost happy.

Even more cruel was that it was almost a year to the day of you bleeding out on the floor of the Rollerdome.

In some ways you’d been thankful that everyone had been so busy preparing for the trip that no one paid much mind to the fact that you locked yourself in the bathroom for hours, silently sobbing through the cramping and the bleeding and the clotting. You’d known then it was too late.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you hug your knees and begin to rock in the soft sand. At least it’s beautiful here, you think absently, trying to soothe yourself.

You’d taken to bed, claiming a bout of food poisoning, and no one was the wiser, being as excited and busy as they were. Not one of them seemed to bat an eye or think it was strange that no one else had any symptoms. A small part of you breaks a little at that, feeling more alone in the world than you ever have. But another part figures it’s just as well. Perhaps it is a blessing that no one knew of your latest failure. Honestly, you so were disappointed in yourself over it all you didn’t think could handle that disappointment from others, especially Jack.

Two days after losing your second child, you’d gotten on the plane to come here, spending hours upon hours with a false smile spread across your features. Maybe if you smiled enough you’d start to believe it. After all, you were in paradise with Elvis Presley. Millions would kill to be where you are.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Be grateful for what you have, you berate yourself, as you have more than once on the trip. Not even the stunning beauty of the island has been able to push your thoughts away from your loss, your seemingly unending sorrow permeating even the most beautiful of sunsets.

The only moment when you’d felt truly free of it had been watching Elvis’ concert earlier. He was so mesmerizing that it was impossible not to be caught up in his performance. You’d been happy for the momentary distraction, for the way your heart had flip flopped a little at the sight of him in his element, sweaty and feeding off the crowd effortlessly. It was easy to get swept away amongst all the screaming fans, to understand why the man you’d called a friend was the sensation that he was, and to forget everything but him for just a little while.

But by the time this stupid afterparty rolled around, the dark cloud that followed you this past year found you once more, and you were honestly too tired to push it away any longer.

You can’t help thinking how you should have an infant with you now, that in a kinder world you’d have your baby and perhaps another on the way. But the world is not always kind. Instead you are empty and alone.

So you find yourself sobbing on a gorgeous beach in Hawaii in the middle of the night, finally allowing yourself to sit in the grief of your misfortune.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out here before his tall, lanky frame towers over you, interrupting your grief so suddenly that you find yourself livid.

You furiously swipe the tears from your cheeks, knowing your makeup is smearing but not having the energy or wherewithal to care. “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people,” you snap.

Even in the darkness, you see how taken aback he is by your anger, his pretty face shifting from surprise to annoyance.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who brought you to this beautiful place?” Elvis says lightly, but you can hear the edge in his tone. He’s not used to people speaking like that to him, least of all you.

Honestly, you’re not really sure when you last spoke to him at all. Since your strange little embrace on Christmas, he’d taken to avoiding you most of the time, yet again. Coupled with how empty you felt from your miscarriages, the fact that your friend had been so obviously (and seemingly purposefully) absent from your life in the past year was heartbreaking in its own right. It was like a slap in the face on top of your other failures, so far from the unbridled excitement he’d shown when he’d discovered your first pregnancy before anyone else had. So far from the love and care and attention he’d given you before.

You’re not sure you really understood how much it bothered you until this very moment. His sudden entitlement for attention and gratefulness makes your blood boil.

You pop up off the sand, pushing your windblown hair out of your face. “Oh, yes, how sorry I am that not every one of my thoughts is about your stunning generosity, your majesty,” you say sarcastically, viciously, before turning to stomp down the beach away from him. You’ve never, ever spoken to him this way, to anyone this way, but the darkness of your sorrow has flared into something else entirely, this blistering anger threatening to swallow you whole and take Elvis with you.

“Excuse me?” he says indignantly, grasping your arm and whipping you back to face him. His eyes flash in the darkness, both in confusion and with warning.

“Don’t touch me!” you spit, ripping your arm out of his grasp.

“What has gotten into you? What the hell did I do?” he shouts, his voice raising over the surf.

“Not everything is about you, Elvis!” you scream back at him.

For a second, it looks as if you’ve slapped him across the face, with the way his eyes widen in surprise.

You pause for a moment, breath heaving, before continuing. “And since when do you even care what’s going on with me?”

 “W-What are ya talkin’ about? O-Of course I care! I-I-I brought ya on this trip, d-d-didn’t I?” The emotions fly over his features so quickly it makes it too hard to discern what he’s thinking, but his stutter belies his frustration.

“You’ve barely talked to me in a year, Elvis. Can’t imagine why I’d think you care,” you scoff.

His eyes go dark, then blank, that Hollywood mask of his sliding over his features. “You’re nuts! You’re just bein’ crazy…” he starts, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I must be. I must be crazy thinkin’ my friend might give me the time of day after…everything that’s happened,” you hiss back.

Elvis blinks, his long lashes fanning over his cheekbones. You don’t know if he’s finally done the math in his head, figuring out that you nearly died and lost your baby almost exactly a year ago. Or maybe, like he’d somehow known you were pregnant the first time, he gleans some supernatural understanding of what might be happening with you now. Either way, his gaze softens dramatically.

“Oh, honey,” he says, “I didn’t—”

Yeah, you didn’t, you think bitterly. He didn’t do a lot of things. He wasn’t even there after you almost died. But you suppose being a star of his caliber didn’t leave him much time to slum it with you, not anymore. And why would he want to? Not when you’ve been depressed and have already failed at the one thing you felt you were created to do as a woman.

“Just leave me alone, E. You’ve gotten good at that,” you mutter, angry tears filling your eyes, turning away from him to stare out into the churning waves.

You can’t look at him. But you feel the heat of his eyes, nonetheless.

“Don’t do that, y/n,” he says quietly.

“Don’t do what? Speak the truth?”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he growls.

He doesn’t get to be angry. Not about this.

“No, you don’t know, Elvis. You have no idea what it’s been like, you couldn’t. And you haven’t even tried…” you trail off, shaking your head.

You know that’s a lie. Whatever had happened between you on Christmas had been something, as much as you’d tried to deny it and forget his strange behavior. Perhaps that had been him trying.

Suddenly, more than anything, you want him to pull you into his arms like he did that night three months ago. You want him to comfort you and let you sob against his chest, to inhale the distinct scent of him as the heat of his lean body presses into yours. You want the desperate tension that is climbing between you to shatter you and make you forget that the past year had ever happened.

But instead of drawing you close, you watch him put distance between you. You feel as he fortifies that invisible wall he’s built between you this past year. It’s only in the depths of his churning cobalt eyes that you see something akin to apology, along with something deeper that neither of you truly wants to unpack.

Then, Elvis shutters that churning away, his fist clenching and unclenching in time with his jaw. “Yeah, I guess not. I’ll leave ya alone, then.” And he turns and walks away.

Oh god. You feel as though you’ve been hit in the chest, pain radiating inexplicably through your torso, the claws of his dismissal ripping through your insides. You don’t know why. You wanted him to go, and he went.

You sink down into the sand, fresh tears pooling in your eyes, and you wish more than anything that the ocean would just swallow you whole.

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211  @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy  @amiets2  @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals  

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch  @tattywood 

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[gumnut-logic]

It hadn’t been his best plan, he had to admit it. But the idea sprung up and he had been at his wits end with a head full of…stuff…and he needed a distraction.

He was pretty sure he could explain a motorised spinning clothesline. After all, wasn’t that what the washing machine did anyway? A few basic laws of applied physics couldn’t do anything but help get clothing dry in the tropics.

Could it?

Of course, he was bullshitting himself and every human in a hundred kilometre radius and he knew it in some dark, deep corner of his soul, but yesterday had been hell and he needed to DO SOMETHING.

Scott had banned him from the hangars due to injury.

Injury, sminjury, so he had a sprained wrist. He could still do stuff.

Even if it hurt to play the piano and the thought of holding a brush up wasn’t pleasant.

Now you’re just a hypocrite.

Oh, shut up!

So, Virgil Tracy grabbed his toolkit and a few important bits and pieces from his workshop…he went in the back way so he didn’t go through the hangars, so there, Scott! And, carrying them in his good hand lest he be arrested on the way back up, snuck…okay, he was sneaking, but that was because a certain brother was a worry wart!...out onto the lawn and crouched down by the clothesline.

What followed was several lovely hours of tinkering away and experimenting and playing, yes, playing, and he had a good time which was much better than sitting on his ass in his bedroom pouting.

He had to admit that by the time he had the solar panel assembled and the motor suspended at the right place, his wrist was hurting a bit more than it should be and the medic in the back of his head was having conniptions, but the mental health value of the exercise certainly outweighed anything else.

That was until standing back and admiring his work, he realised he had an audience.

Of two.

Aw, crap.

“Whatcha doin’, Virg?”

“Mind your business.”

“Ooooh, touchy. Need some coffee?”

Gordon was standing with his arms crossed beside Alan. While Alan had some actual interest in his eyes, Gordon was channelling a combination of sprung older brother and mischief.

“What do you want, Gordon?”

“I see you have motorised the clothesline.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“How fast does it go?”

Virgil eyed his brother. The smirk was practically acidic and started eating Virgil’s eyeballs. This was going to hurt, wasn’t it.

“Fast enough.”

“Round and round? Like a turbo charged merry-go-round, possibly?”

“Gordon…”

But Alan reacted to that. “Woah, that sounds like fun.”

Virgil rubbed his face and was punished for using the wrong hand. Maybe he could claim short term breakdown of his logic centres? An addiction to tinkering?

Why the hell did he need a motorised clothesline at all? They had a dryer for that exact reason.

Did sprained wrists reduce mental capacity? Or was it just that he had known this would happen and he needed it as much as his little brothers did?

Yesterday had been hell.

Screw the excuses, they now had a motorised clothesline and all that implied.

Part of him was aghast at what he had done, the other part was too busy grinning as both Gordon and Alan hurried past and examined his creation.

Everything was loud in his head, but at least he wasn’t sad anymore.

Of course, that was the point where Gordon found the On switch and with a whirring sound and a pair of squawks, launched both himself and Alan into a high speed orbit of the metal and concrete axis of the contraption.

In other words, they started the merry-go-round and clung to the metal bars of the clothesline while it swung them around at a speed high enough for physics to lift them almost horizontal.

It was at this point Virgil realised the complete lack of safety mechanisms.

It was also the point where Scott ambled out onto the patio and exclaimed in horror.

Scott really did know how to meet just the right pitch to communicate terror where his brothers were concerned.

Ever wanting to protect Scott and his brothers from absolutely everything, Virgil jumped into kill the power on the spinning contraption.

The switch was beneath the clothesline and he had to dart in under the pair of screaming brothers - either joy or terror – neither younger brother was as clear as Scott in communication – as they spun around and around.

Killing the motor was easy, but seeing the expression on Scott’s face as he came running towards them, only had Virgil panicking enough to leap up and try to catch his brothers and slow them down faster – fix the problem at speed.

He was a Tracy and Tracys love speed.

Unfortunately, that expression on his brother’s face was enough to short circuit Virgil’s brain regarding his own safety – wasn’t the first time, likely wouldn’t be the last – he had a sprained wrist for exactly that reason, after all, and it was a major component of why he had to DO SOMETHING this morning or go out of his mind.

So, without thinking of the logical consequences, Virgil stepped into the path of his spinning brothers, intending on using heavy-lifting muscles to catch them and slow them down.

Instead, he got kicked in the head twice and went down for the count in a lovely wave of darkness.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil, what the hell were you thinking?”

It was a tired Scott voice. One that spoke of insane brothers driving him around the bend and into his grave.

Virgil opened his eyes expecting to see a terrible two lined up for discipline. But the room – Virgil’s room – was empty except for one older brother rubbing his eyes.

It was very bright and Virgil’s head complained.

“Virg? You with me?”

A grunt was all he managed.

“When I said ‘no working’ did I really have to include the clothesline?”

Virgil scrunched up his face. “You didn’t say anything about it specifically.”

Scott’s sigh of exasperation was enough. “Brains has declared it a breakthrough by the way. Apparently, you got more power out of those solar cells versus however fast you got that thing to go than should have been theoretically possible.”

“Oh?”

“He says it was a logical step on from the project the two of you were working on in the HANGARS.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.” Was Scott gritting his teeth? “You even have John excited due to some physics rule you broke in the process. He has Eos analysing our CLOTHESLINE.”

Virgil winced. “Please don’t yell.”

“I don’t possibly see how I can’t yell. You are the responsible one. Did you break something yesterday that you have failed to declare or have you always been this way?”

Virgil glared at his brother and tried to ignore how much frowning hurt his eyebrows. “You know the answer to that.”

It was Scott’s turn to grunt. “Don’t do it again. Gordon and Alan do not need encouragement. They have enough stuff to kill themselves with already.”

Virgil had to grunt at that as well.

“Sorry.”

Another disgruntled murmur was all Scott said after that.

But he did stay with Virgil and kept and eye on him and as time proved that there was no lasting damage from being kicked in the head by two brothers swinging from a clothesline, the holoprojector may have been switched on, Scott may have joined him on the bed and there may even have been some popcorn acquired.

At one point there was an enquiry from the door, but apparently Scott had locked it and Eos was the one who answered…for some reason in an English accent that said ‘Bugger off and leave them alone!”

Virgil just hoped it hadn’t been Grandma outside the door.

But for the moment, his mind was settled, his headache fading and he was quite happy sitting beside the brother he had sprained his wrist for by pulling him out of the air the previous day, and watching trash TV they could both poke fun at.

After all, who needed to tinker when he had all that?

-o-o-o-