#I’ll support my fellow artist but in no way am I supporting a person like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dandydingo · 8 months

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Why I’m Leaving Freelance Commission Work An essay about doing furry commissions by DandyDingo

Preamble First and foremost I’d like to state that this is not a post geared toward complaining about commissioners or fellow artists in my industry. I’ve simply noticed a concerning disconnect between commissioners and artists about several topics and wanted to make something that explains, clarifies, and elaborates on some of those issues.

I love the community I’m a part of and would like to see it do better! Though it’s a meme that if you want to make money as an artist you should become a furry, it’s actually a double edged sword that I’ll be trying my best to pick apart and display. The following points I’ll be rambling about are also based on my personal experiences working in this type of career for 3 years. I am by no means the most qualified but I’m not the least qualified either; this to say please take what I say with a grain of salt. It won’t apply to all situations!

With those disclaimers out of the way, get ready for a whole lot of reading!

What is this job and how does it work? Typically when someone is referring to a furry artist they mean an artist selling illustration commissions on a freelance basis. There are many different kinds of independent creators though and this could include someone who sells merchandise, makes a living off patreon with comic work, or does fursuits. For the sake of staying focused we’re discussing artists who specifically sell illustrations and work one-on-one with commissioners to accomplish this.

As any seasoned commissioner knows, the way an artist’s process works can be varied but typically involves:

buying an open slot for a commission type (ex: a painting)

handing over your references, requests, and paying

waiting for a work in progress image to approve

receiving the final product

This process is the basic premise, an industry standard if you will. The artist gets the benefit of controlling when they can take on work and the commissioner has the opportunity to communicate what they want at multiple stages of the project.

But why are there so many variations to what projects an artist will even accept, what’s in their TOS, and how long it takes them to do it?

Specialization The thing about many furry artists is we’re independent creators with little to no formal education in illustration. We’re not the type of artists you see putting together Magic the Gathering cards or developing a big title game. To expect that level of industrial standard with speed and quality would be ludicrous! This is what makes us appealing to commission though- you’re not going to find our product anywhere else and you’re supporting an artist you like directly.

In fact, every furry artist is a unique snowflake with their own specializations. This is partially since art takes a ridiculous amount of time to get good at. An artist is almost forced to choose what they can offer and what they’re going to invest in trying to sell. This can even be out of our control! For example, one of the running jokes with my slice of community is the fact that after drawing a single bird furry there was suddenly an entire flock asking me to draw their bird sonas.

Specialization directly rewards furry artists with more steady income / clients and thus they might have to restrict what they can offer. Again, learning to draw something new takes a lot of time. An artist who has never touched backgrounds will struggle a lot to suddenly try and include them in their work. This doesn’t mean it can’t be done or that an artist doesn’t want to. I would even argue this hyper specialization can often leave artists in a depressing loop they feel they can never escape from. If they suddenly draw something else it won’t sell, their personal interests have been buried by what actually works on the market.

Some artists do break this mold though and either enjoy the specialization they’re in or are experienced enough to draw whatever they fancy at a high quality. Perhaps even, their audience expects and celebrates an experimental approach from them which is something that’s true in my case. One of my most successful commissions were “surprise bags” where requests and edits weren't even allowed! Others are not fortunate enough to have that option though.

In any case, this is not the sole reason for the insane variety we see in furry artists and why their commission processes vary so much but it is a huge part of it. For context, the level of skill you see in my art took 5 years to get to and I would consider myself intermediate at best. It’s truly an underrated skilled trade.

Prices - Part 1 Cost of Living Money, everyone’s favourite non-controversial topic! So why is furry art so expensive?

It costs a lot to be a living breathing creature with a roof over your head and food in your belly. We all feel the current effects of inflation and ridiculously high rent. This is definitely a big reason why art can / should cost a lot and believe it or not MOST artists do not make minimum wage.

This doesn’t just apply to furry artists of course and I would be beating a dead horse on something we all already know, the economy is in a terrible state right now. It depends on what country / area you live in, what your living situation is, if you have any pets or health issues, etc.

In general though, that $200 price tag for a reference sheet doesn’t make the cut in most places. It might be the single biggest reason why I cannot continue this work anymore, the price I can sell something for is only so high but my workload will remain the same. That reference sheet will take me 2-4 days to complete no matter what if I want to maintain the good quality a commissioner is (understandably) paying me for.

Depending on what you're selling and where your experience level is at (the more experienced you are the less time it takes to complete something at an acceptable quality) a commission can take 1 hour to finish or it can take 12 hours. So… just do a lot of smaller cheaper stuff right?

Prices - Part 2 The Great Artist Killer, BURNOUT If an artist cannot manage to sell a few big things to meet their monthly bills they might instead switch gears to sell lots of small affordable things. This can mean doing 20-40 commissions a month at a back breaking pace. While all jobs slowly drain the life out of your soul, art demands a level of mental focus that is often overlooked and in the case of this career, you only have you to do the work that is required.

There is no one to cover your shift, there is no one to assist you, and if you don’t make your deadlines your reputation is at stake. The very same reputation of good work ethic that keeps your commissioners coming back the next opening. You must push through the burnout! You must work until your hand aches and bleeds! You must- there is no one to save you from this Hell!

If you try to be an affordable or high production artist this is the life you have to look forward to. Desperately churning out product as you retrofit your creativity and passions into a well oiled machine. Often to try and prevent this artists will raise their prices to something they can live off without breaking themselves or have a mix of high / low prices. A middle ground if you will, something that still doesn’t make the standard of living but isn’t a death march either. It’s a precarious and strange limbo with financial insecurity but hey… at least you’re not dead. It should be noted as well that most artists struggle with some form of mental illness and selling commissions might even be the only career open to them. This is not a topic I feel qualified to speak on but it does play an enormous role in experiencing burnout and the general struggles of this career.

Prices - Part 3 Afterthoughts While I wish artists could push for an appropriate living wage, I understand the commissioners' side as well. Spending $100 that could go toward groceries is just not feasible for the vast majority of us and so when we see something that is actually in our range, a $20 headshot or $10 sketch, we often hop on it without a second thought on the ethics of paying that low. It is okay to buy a treat for yourself that is within a price range you can afford though! You should never spend what you can’t nor should you ever feel pressured or guilty to buy something.

If a commissioner is concerned about paying enough I would recommend saving up and giving as big of a tip as you can! Artists are almost always underselling themselves and even just a $5 tip covers the cut that Paypal takes or buys them a coffee to get through the day. Buying what’s reasonable for you is absolutely still supporting them and a little goes a long way!

NOTE : any artist can experience burnout or struggle with meeting minimum wage no matter what they’re selling; this is a hard topic to pick apart Making Art - Part 1 The Process So how does making art work? That might seem like a silly question but it’s hard to understand when you’re not the one creating it. Given how closely a commissioner and artist must work together in order to achieve a desired result I think it’s worth breaking down what goes into making a piece. Of course every illustrator is different but here’s how it generally works:

Hope You’re Mentally Well Art requires mental concentration, particularly for something complex such as a city. Often a bad mental state can be worked around but sometimes the process stops here- you’re just not able to focus enough to measure out that perspective or break down the complex anatomy that goes into drawing a hand.

Find References An artist may need to take an hour or so to find the right references or to make thumbnail sketches. Especially if your client asked for something specific (like a particular brand of whisky) you need to know what it looks like and how it will fit into the piece. For small quick pieces though this is usually a waste of time and skipped.

Sketching Here is often where the commissioner sees the first glimpse of work done- the sketch! Some artists are messy, some are neat and tidy. They might be drawing you a reference sheet or a headshot but either way you typically get to take a glimpse at their blueprint and ask for changes before the rest happens. Sketches are easy to change and can be redone from scratch with the least amount of time lost if needed. It is the optimal step to work with the client on making sure expectations are met.

Rough Render To keep it across the board for all types of art (painting, cell shading, lineless, etc) we’ll call this part the rough render. A commissioner may be shown the flatcolor swatch to ensure markings were drawn accurately, the lineart to double check all requested details have been included, the rough lighting to give an idea of the mood… the list goes on and on! Some artists skip this step entirely if it’s not needed, there is such a thing as oversaturation when it comes to communication.

Final Product This is simply where the commissioner and artist part ways once everything has been approved, the final product! It may have taken hours or days to get to this step but either way it’s been completed.

Making Art - Part 2 When It Doesn’t Go Smoothly Sometimes an artist’s workflow is so rigid even a single missed day from bad mental health or a life event can have a cascade effect that puts them behind schedule. Quite literally an artist can only draw for so many hours before their hand (or body in general) physically gives out. I’ve had work days where I’ve tried to push myself in order to catch up, to the point of rubbing the skin off my finger enough to make it bleed. In the long run this can mean career-ruining cases of carpal tunnel in the wrist or hand and like with any other desk job; your neck and back aren't very happy about the workload either. Artist work days are often shorter than what’s considered normal which adds to the general difficulty of the career as well. While some artists can certainly work that full 8-10 hour shift, others might only be able to handle 3-6 hours before they can’t concentrate or are in too much pain to continue (speaking in long term for that one, it took a few years of regular work before I started having real physical issues from drawing too much). Given most are stuck at certain price points for selling their art it’s almost impossible to charge more in order to compensate for these possible missed days. It’s an issue with other careers as well which I do want to acknowledge; missing even one day of work could mean less groceries that week or cost someone their job in extreme cases. We truly live in a society! It should be noted though that keeping an impossible schedule is a huge stressor for artists who are stuck having to produce more than they can mentally or physically take on. They often know they can’t do it but what other choice is there- not buying the medication you need that month? This always seems to lead to something public and discussed a lot in the community; the instances of being issued a refund out of the blue or seeing a lengthy mental breakdown post about suffocating in the stress of it all. The wear and tear on creativity is visible as well. An artist’s work may become monotone or lifeless as they sink further from the weight of impossible to meet expectations. They might struggle to produce what they used to be able to as time marches on or simply feel unbearably hopeless. If the unsustainable workflow continues for too many years passion becomes strangled and real physical consequences are apparent.

Some are able to escape this or don’t have this issue! Others suffer in silence or might not be aware of the strain they are being put through, as is the case with plenty of other careers.

How Can I Support Artists? If you’re interested in making life easier for your favourite artist there are a few simple things you can do; specifically in regards to the commission process!

Read the Terms of Service This is not something you should skip over as it could detail how edits are handled, what an artist is willing to draw, etc. It's beneficial for everyone that the TOS is read.

Look Before You Buy Take a peek at an artist’s gallery and decide if you like their style before you purchase anything OR buy a small sample to see if you enjoy how they draw your character! I feel some commissioners don’t understand that an artist cannot change how they stylize on a whim (for example a semi-realistic artist isn’t going to suddenly draw anime). If you’re indifferent or you like experimentation then this isn’t something you need to worry about.

Have A Reference Sheet Although reference sheets are expensive, if you frequently commission artists and are able to afford it BUY ONE! It saves a huge amount of time and frustration- so much so that some artists won’t even consider accepting your commission without a proper reference sheet. Having to guess the body type or colors takes a lot of time and can easily be prevented!

Leave Wiggle Room Give an artist some room to breathe with a bit of artistic freedom! Do not expect them to get that exact #CCE5FF shade of blue you want or draw every single marking of a complex pattern. Lower your expectations if they’re that high, you’ll enjoy the piece more when you do!

Tip Particularly if you’re commissioning a character with a lot of detail or have very specific requests, leave a tip. Again all it takes is a $5 tip to make a difference!

Advice For Artists If you’re truly looking to get into this industry or have been in it for a while, here are some tips that can (hopefully) help make your job a little easier or get started. I don’t want to discourage people from this job by any means! We wouldn’t have the community we do without freelance artists. NEW ARTISTS

Start Small If you’re just starting out you’ll want to aim for the $10 - $50 price range with marketable pieces such as icons or chibis. You may have to heavily undersell yourself for a while to grow a client base. If you don’t sell anything at first don’t be discouraged! It’s perfectly normal to struggle for a while (even years) before you have anything steady.

Experiment Now is the perfect time to experiment and see what works and what doesn’t, what you like and what you hate. Try different platforms, different commission types and styles, whatever you fancy! The goal is to find a niche you can wedge yourself into, feel happy with, and work towards; not to fish around for immediate results.

Focus On Studying The more experience and tools in your belt, the better. For the first while you should be focusing on improving your art if you’re not at an intermediate level. Once hands don’t feel like such a struggle you know you’re at the right place! This will set you up to be more efficient and feel less frustrated down the road.

EXPERIENCED ARTISTS

Personal Time For the sake of your mental health you need to set aside time to do personal art, experiment, and relax. This could mean having a consistent day off, finding a new hobby, or making vent art just for yourself. Also, don’t be afraid to post personal art! You should not be apologizing for taking reasonable time to yourself.

Experimental Commissions Allow yourself to open weirder commission types from time to time. Maybe lately you’ve been really into drawing beach scenes, you could open a 2 slot commission that promises summer vibes. These could be filler between your bigger pieces or replace them every now and then depending on what you can get away with. Other examples I’ve seen are selling goretober calendar slots or $10 artistic freedom sketches. Just try to get yourself out of that repetitive loop if you feel like you need to, worse case it doesn’t sell!

It’s Okay To Quit Not all of us have this option given personal circumstances but there is no shame in leaving this career. Doing commissions even as a casual filler can rob you of the passion you once had for your hobby. If you feel genuinely unhappy with this job and come across the opportunity to safely leave, go for it! In my case I’m going from commission work to comic work, something within the same general field that I can do at my own pace.

Afterword Although I tried to cover as much as I could with this, I know not every issue of the relationship between commissioners and artists was addressed. There are artists who take large amounts of money and then ghost their commissioner. There are commissioners who negatively nitpick at every step of the process and leave an artist feeling like a beaten down dog. The furry community is huge with lots of different folks, there will of course be bad eggs that make things harder for both sides.

I simply hope this leaves commissioners with a better understanding of an artist's perspective and gives some well deserved compassion to the creative people that breathe so much life into our community. We as artists should also appreciate the clients that support us with positive enthusiasm. This special relationship doesn’t exist in a lot of places and I hope I've offered something to help furries have a better understanding of one of the biggest aspects of our community.

Written with much love for the wonderful people that have cheered me on over the years and the community that has always shown it's full support toward me.

#furry community discussion #long post #essay #dandydingo

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befemininenow · 1 year

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Top posts of the year

Hello fellow followers! As the end of the year is slowly approaching, I want to give a thanks to all your support! We may not all share the same interests, but we all share a similar interest of wishing to connect more with our feminine sides. I want to share my last Throwback Thursday by looking back at something more special outside of my own past: my most popular captions by my followers! It will also be my pinned post until New Year’s Day arrives! Here are the top 5 most liked and shared captions (created by me) from this blog:

5th most popular is this one of Sunny Leone in sexy lingerie. This one was created out of impulse and I was caught by surprise that it caught on more than I would have thought. Then again, someone hot like her would provoke you into cracking your egg if she actually said that.

4th place is this art of someone dressing as a woman. This was my very first caption and decided to use this well known drawing used in captions for several years. From what I was able to find later, it was a commission drawn by a known TG transformation artist. However, this person in the drawing is transgender and she (not “he”) is happy to see herself looking back. The euphoria in her face may explain why she hasn’t worn the wig yet. Crossdressing may help some trans individuals with dysphoria and can even serve as a catalyst in transitioning if they feel the need to feminize (or masculinize if trans male) beyond dressing. I may look into recreating this caption in the future as I related more to this pic after discovering the origin.

3rd place is this caption of some girl in cleavage. I’m just going to leave it at that. I wrote as a way to show how “boymoding” can only work until your feminizing results make it difficult to hide. Boymoding, from what I was able to understand, is when transitioning girls under HRT dress as male, but everyone around them notices they’re turning into a girl. In other words, the people around them see them as a crossdresser instead of a guy now. Yet, boymoders deny their feminizing changes. Once it becomes too obvious, like bigger breasts or softer skin, their only option left is to come out as a trans girl.

2nd is this very hot GIF, and it’s easy to see why it’s so hypnotic. The crop top and leggings hugging her own curves, the way she moves, her long, flowing hair, and her overall looks are persuasive enough to either chase her, become her, or both! The clip was originally from a Vine (remember those?) that was difficult to edit, recrop, and make into what you’re seeing right now. I don’t make GIFs anymore, but maybe I’ll make another one like this one day.

And in 1st place is this one of a woman holding a set of pills. Although they’re actually birth control pills, this pic was used in long-gone caption affirming the user to take hormones. Many trans people are placed in a waiting list to be prescribed gender-affirming hormones, and that’s after an extensive time being in therapy sessions. These waitlists take months, or even years, before being cleared out. Oh, and these trans people are all adults! So it’s no surprise as to see why many would love to get their hands on HRT if handed to them instantly. If you’re in that process, please reach resources such as Planned Parenthood, Plume, or other sources available in your country or region that will help you guide your transition into a girl.

-Conclusion

These top posts say something more than wishing to connect with our feminine sides. Based on this list, it seems many wish to also become a girl for other reasons. I can’t judge what you like as I am responsible for creating these captions. But as someone who is learning more about their trans identity, my captions are slowly drifting away from fantasy and diving more into reality. I will slip in something provocative as a way to tease you. But it most likely won’t fall under the “forced fem” topic, but rather as a way to “crack” your egg. There will be more surprises showing up come next year, or up until this blog lasts. Until then, happy night people!

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the-kings-of-games · 1 year

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respectfulshipping for the meme?

Respectful—I SHIP IT

What made you ship it?

It's obviously because I respect you, @merryfortune. U_U (Heheheh, see what I did there?) I first learned about the ship because of that one Respectful fan artist, and though I really like their work, the ship was just another background ship that I was indifferent about. I still am now because I don't actively search for or make anything for them, but as a fellow rarepair hell writer, I support you! It's not a lot, but it's the best way for me to show my appreication for your dedication for the ship.

So, Respectful is another VRAINS ship that I am legally obligated to like. 😤😤😤

What are your favorite things about the ship?

That Merry likes it. 030 I'm sorry, I don't have much to add. I swear I didn't mean turn this into a love letter to the person asking rather than to the ship I was asked about. 😩😚

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

There's only, like, two people who actively think about this ship; if I had an opinion, it wouldn't be unpopular just by the math.

That being said, I would love to see Respectful be the top tagged ship for VRAINS on Ao3. XD We can make achievements together!!! ✨🍀✨🍀✨🍀 One day—I foresee it.

Send me a ship and I’ll answer three questions based on if I ship it or not.

#yugioh #flame muses #flame replies #ygo #yugioh vrains #respectfulshipping #[shies away]

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runekeepershymnal · 2 years

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I think I am prepared to say that I am kinda not okay. I have been way worse, and there are so many people who have it far, far worse right now, so conisder what all is under the read more as just me needing to type someplace out somewhere besides my journal. It’s long.

I have been off for the past few days. At least, I think it's been the past few days; it's hard to tell because my sense of time is a little fucked right now. I know it’s hormonal, partially. Holler at me if you want links to abstracts about how people with ovaries still firin’ off the ol’ eggs can find their ADHD made worse with hormones at different parts of the cycle.

That may be part of it, but I also know it’s not just that. I feel a bit isolated because I am, despite being able to go out a lot more than I was a few weeks ago.

I’m away from the two friends other than my spouse I was able to see in person on a regular basis.

I have finished all my classes with my most supportive professor.

My closest fellow classmate graduated at the end of last semester.

There’s also some frustrations with living in a new place, many of which are just me being a judgmental, awkward jackass who doesn’t know how to talk to people.

I have yet to see a single outfit on a white person (singled out because this town is very white, I am also white, and the majority of the people who aren’t white who I’ve seen down here have been killing it, fashion-wise) that deviates even a little bit from the median here.

Just sensible ponytails on everyone with long hair.

Not one punk. Not one butch. Not one goth.

I admittedly live in the suburbs, and I’m sure if I got in closer to the city, I would see more variety.

Because I am southern, and have a southern U.S. accent (hybrid costal southern and southern Appalachian, if anyone wants specifics), I feel like I’m getting looked at like I’m insane. It’s true, I do fill silences with little southern quips, often self-depreciating.

I am one of the few, non-50+ people who still wears a mask indoors. I make a point to smile under it, including with my eyes, and it seems to weird people out?

There have been several strangers who have been absolutely lovely and kind to me, and I appreciate every one of them, and I hope to return the favor / pay it forward.

I brought one of my cats to their new local vet, and was hit with a longing for our previous vet that felt like homesickness. She was so, so lovely, adored both our cats, including my vicious old granny cat, and always complimented any of my rainbow gear, and was always so kind to me about being a pretty neurotic cat parent. There was nothing WRONG with this vet, she was very professional, and she might grow to be fond out our cats in time, but… she just wasn’t Dr. Katie, or Rachael, the incredible angel of a tech.

I’ve joined a local discord server, but it’s pretty enormous, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to make it out to one of their events. Some folks have been pretty nice, so I’m hoping to maybe make some local friends there.

Then there’s the sense of self / aging / paranoia / worry / feelings of horrible inadequacy.

Much as I do not want to have my sensible ponytail anymore, I am now weirdly afraid that, at 42, my usual pixie cuts will just be seen as “how do you do, fellow kids” trying to seem younger than I am.

I usually give zero fucks what anyone thinks of my appearance as long as I like it, and usually that doesn’t even matter to me because, unless there are mirrors present, I don’t really have to look at it either.

Why the fuck am I afraid that if I go to the gender-affirming, trans-friendly salon staffed with they/them hair artists that I’m gonna get judged? That if I show them a picture of Benthe De Vries’ haircut that they will be laughing about me in the back?

I’m still in pain from the physical efforts of moving (which, given that those efforts aren’t really done yet, kind of makes sense). Apparently I am now of an age, and so out of shape, that those efforts make me feel like I’ve been pushed down a never-ending staircase like in that Don Hertzfeldt “Rejected” cartoon. I have also apparently fucked up my right wrist by lifting things too heavy for me, and that is my dominant hand, so while I have it braced, it’s not really something I can rest.

Description: A black and white animated gif of a stick figure child falling down a seemingly never ending flight of stairs from the 1999 Don Hertzfeldt short animated film "Rejected"

I still haven’t gotten an internship or a job, speaking of “Rejected,” but a lot of that is because I haven’t applied to very much. I’ve been reworking my resume, but at this point, I pretty much have to admit that I’m procrastinating because if I don’t try, when I fail, I can tell myself that it’ll be fine, as long as I try my hardest next time.

I’ve been having a lot of physical dysphoria lately. Rationally, I know that by its very definition, there is no NB body type. Right now, though, I really feel like my body type should be… not this. I am short, I have wide hips, and I have cartoonishly large tits that even a custom binder can’t really mitigate.

Reduction isn’t really an option unless I can make a medical case for it through insurance, which I might be able to do. But there’s other shit that I worry about, unfounded, as well. If I get a reduction, will my spouse still find me attractive? I feel like an asshole for even wondering that, because while it took him a while to get his head around the whole NB thing, it’s been like… ten years, and it’s not really fair of me to be mad at him for having needed some time to sort out his feelings. Especially when we’ve talked about it.

The discords I’m in have quieted down a lot, and that’s normal, lulls happen, there’s a lot of shit going on in the world. But my fucked up little brain keeps whispering that it’s somehow my fault.

I really need to quit looking at Twitter, because at this point watching the latest shit go down in the TTRPG community involving Velvetine Firebird and Some Guy is depressing. I’ve spent hours just going through and blocking and reporting horrible people, despite knowing that they’re just gonna be back with another account. I don’t engage with them, I know better than that, at least, but why the fuck do I still look at twitter??

I’m just feeling tired, and gross, and old, and kinda a bag of low-key despair.

#tangentially related to fandom #asynchronous screw loose #just… me bein’ a fucked up little guy #dysphoria #getting older #looking for work #homesickness

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matthewbeilschmidts · 3 years

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It’s been a long while since I’ve posted but I’m so glad that I am :’)

This is for Day 1: of @prucanweek - Ordinary

Apologies for spelling errors, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy 😭💞

Matthew doesn’t mind that he’s living an ordinary life. Really.

He grows up near the coast, two parents, a fraternal twin brother, and their gangly hairless cat, Tony (picked curtesy of Alfred). Their parents take them everywhere they can during their childhood, the beach, museums, sports game. They focus on their interests, figuring out what the two like and dislike, as they encourage them both to be themselves and do what they love no matter what. Alfred debates between whether he likes wrestling or football more, while Matthew settles into hockey. In between family get togethers, community festivals, and endless sports training, they somehow have time for homework. (The two share answers a lot.)

He and Alfred each have their own rooms when they enter their teen years, a space to decorate and fill with their own mementos and awards. The sports continue, but later their parents find themselves a little bit busier than before. They do though, give them as much time as they can during the school year, never wanting them to go without someone by their side.

Matthew fades into the background a little bit as they get older, while Alfred puts himself front and center. Matthew watches once with a hand over his eyes as Alfred auditions for the school musical, and surprisingly he read and sings the lines well. “It’s always the rowdy ones!” their theater teachers says after he’s finished performing, a mix of anticipation from planning on putting Alfred on stage and dread at the thought of having to manage him.

Matthew silently supports him, after all he has his own things to do.

He’s the co-caption of the hockey team, the coach giving him the position to give him a little more of a voice, and his teammates verbally agree, considering on the ice Matthew has a lot more to show than he does in person. He accepts, albeit hesitantly.

By the time graduation comes by, Matthew can barely believe how the time has passed. His team even wins a championship under his watch. Some of his fellow classmates look so ready to go out and experience the world, and it’s scary to him because weren’t they all going at the same pace?

His parents talk him through picking his college of choice, and he decides to go. He needs to do what everyone does and experience the world.

And if he decides he wants to come home, that’s okay because at least he tries.

He’s in his first art class during his third year at university. The time has been going well, he’s got pretty decent grades and has managed to join a few clubs. But he’s not done yet. Extra curriculars, can’t finish without them. He prioritizes his general education first, and even slips himself into a few major classes early on, but humanities is on record now and has to be completed no matter what one’s studying.

He can get through one semester, he hopes.

Next to him, a student is snickering and the professor doesn’t look amused.

“Gilbert.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you’re done, I can introduce myself now.”

The professor goes in with complete, in-depth introductory slides with her name and credentials, and a briefing of all they will overcome this semester.

He’s never been an artist, at least not one that picks up a pencil and creates a realistic masterpiece with nothing but that and a pad of paper. Maybe some poetry contests in high school, if that counts. The written word has its own impact, its own set of colors to breathe out for the world to see.

There’s another snicker, interrupting his internal monologue.

He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know the student, and it’s not his place to control others. But, if it starts to hinder the class, maybe he’ll tell him something. He’s paying to be there, too.

The man catches him staring.

“Yes?” he asks Matthew without being spoken to in the first place.

“Oh,” Matthew flushes at being caught, not that he was trying to hide it anyway. “Well, she didn’t say anything funny?”

The guys waves a hand, making a “psssh” noise as he does.

“I’m just laughing because of how formal this all is. She won’t be this dignified later in the semester that’s for sure. She’ll be ripping her hair out.”

Matthew glances back, he doesn’t want to say anyone looks mean but, he would believe it if she was.

“You look scared,” the guy laughs, which is rude because isn’t he the one that just put the thought in Matthew’s mind? “She’s not too mean just a sticker to the rules. Will get real pissy if something doesn’t go right.”

“And you still set her off knowing that?”

The man laughs again, but this time around he’s actually trying to contain it behind the thin art easel. He’s not very hidden.

“She’s my cousin’s wife.”

Ah, that makes sense then? Messing with family is normal, but also he shouldn’t be bothering her at work.

“It’s no wonder you seemed casual.”

“She taught both of the lower division figure drawing classes, too. This is my third semester in her class. She’s the only one teaching this specific class I didn’t have too much of a choice.”

“Art major?”

“Yep! And you?”

“Psychology major. I have to get in some cultural classes.”

“Ever taken art?”

“Actually no, not even in high school. I got through that stuff by working backstage in the theater department.”

“Well not to worry my friend, because you picked the best one.”

“Is it easy to pass?”

“Nope. Well, maybe if she likes your work,” Matthew deflates at the blunt response, “but don’t worry because I’m here to be your guide.”

Matthew perks up, but it takes him a moment. This guy’s gonna help him?

“Are you any good?”

“Am I good?” He looks perplexed Matthew would even ask. Matthew has to cover his own amusement. “I may not look it but charcoal and I go way back. I’ll show you my work later as proof.”

“Deal.”

“Gilbert, since you’re adamant on talking, you can be the first to introduce yourself.”

Even if his name wasn’t said, Matthew feels just as guilty. Caught, for talking on the first day of all things.

“Gilbert Beilshcmidt. Fourth year. I’m an art major and my favorite breakfast food is pancakes.”

Matthew looks surprised that he was paying attention, even to the last addition of their introduction. Matthew’s not sure he would have known considering he was distracted.

And so their friendship starts.

Gilbert sits next to him again. And again.

Where ever Matthew sits in the art room, Gilbert follows not too long after.

Some days they take the sitting desks, some they stand and lean against the stools.

And despite not even talking much, Gilbert treats him like a friend.

“Do you have any plans this afternoon?”

“Nope, this was my last class.”

“Do you want to get some coffee and work on our sketch books.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Matthew finds himself meeting Gilbert in his downtime. Every Thursday after drawing for three hours becomes the day they meet. At first, all they do is draw, little more.

Gilbert is animated in all moments, but he has short spurts where he focuses exceptionally on his work. Matthew is no art critic, but he thinks Gilbert expresses himself quite well on paper. Graphite, charcoal, and pastels, all the utensils glide easily without a single stroke missing its mark.

Watercolor though, could use some work, which actually happens to be Matthew’s favorite. Even if the intention is to guide the colors with a brush, it’s okay for them to take a life of their own spreading across the thick paper.

They share snacks, art supplies, and their time.

Gilbert proves himself very useful as he promised. Matthew though never planning to be the next Van Gogh, has to pass this class. And it would be nice to pass it with flying colors, but some concepts are harder to grasp than others.

It’s obvious to tell he’s a beginner, while Gilbert excels. Matthew finds out he only now needs the intro class since it’s the first semester it became a requirement.

Gilbert helps him find the shapes he’s comfortable with, explains the processing for hatching and how it relates to shading. And while he’s no expert, he sees a subtle improvement over the next few weeks that makes some pride swell within himself.

“Do you want to come with me and my friends to this cool bar for dinner on Friday?” Gilbert asks about a month into the semester.

It’s the first time Gilbert and him will have spent time off campus.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

Gilbert’s friends are just as animated as he, it’s almost hard to keep up. Overwhelming as they are, they’re extremely welcoming. Matthew eases into the atmosphere, joining in when he can but mostly pleased to be out and doing something different.

He’s made friends during his time, but like him they’re a little more reserved and pick quieter places on the town.

It’s fun. And he wants to go out again.

Matthew invites Gilbert and his friends to watch his next hockey game.

After their shock in finding out he plays such a violent sport, they’re all agreeing and planning to find the best seats in the arena.

“Are you serious. Are you hiding muscles under that red sweater?”

Gilbert pokes at him, it tickles when he gets closer to his biceps, but he knows he’s only teasing.

“You think I’m playing but I’m serious! You should have been there, well you were there. On the stands, I mean. We all screamed after you sent that player flying against the wall.”

Gilbert recreates the motions, but only slams himself into the wall and whines after he bounces back. He then plays it off like it doesn’t hurt. Gilbert’s not a very good actor.

People tell him it’s so much different watching him on the ice, but it’s still him. He’s always wondered how much different, he feels like himself. He just knows he goes into the zone when he’s in his gear. He just wants to win. And he will.

“It’s like night day,” Gilbert continues. “You were ready to kill a man down there.”

“You’re not the first to say that. I guess maybe, I could be a little more out there in real life, huh?”

Gilbert stops walking.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“You’re perfectly fine the way you are. I like the way you are, so don’t go change. I don’t want to be at risk of dying during art class.”

And as silly as it sounds, he’s pleased. He likes Gilbert a whole lot, too. Just the way he is.

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Matthew takes the initiative.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, just you and me. I want to take you out.”

“Like you did to that guy on the court,” Gilbert laughs nervously.

“On a date. Gilbert, would you like go out with me?”

He says yes.

Later that evening when he’s heading home, Gilbert starts running through the courtyard cheering that “I have a date with the cutest guy I’ve ever met!”

Matthew’s window is open, he’s face is bright red and he slams head first into his pillow. He needs to plan the best first date ever.

Three months into dating, he’s finally heading home again for a school break. He wants to take Gilbert with him, who is waiting for the next major holiday to go back home. But isn’t it too soon? They haven’t been dating that long, after all.

But Gilbert surprises him, and jokingly says he wants to go with him because he’ll miss him too much while he’s gone. And then, Matthew asks if he seriously wants to go.

“I do.”

So they ride the 3 hours train down to Matthew’s childhood home. He’s a little bit nervous, because he’s had dates to school dances, and brought friends over, but this is entirely different. This is someone he wants to take a serious step with, even if the time hasn’t been that long. They’ll never get anywhere if they don’t, so they’ll both take the leap and pray it works out.

“Mom, dad, Alfred, this is Gilbert.”

It’s the most timid Matthew’s ever seen him.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Matthew’s boyfriend.”

After he shakes all their hands, he takes his hand back to link pinkies with Matthew.

There’s not an once of regret in his mind as the long weekend passes.

Gilbert graduates the next year, and the year after it’s his turn. They’re going to move in with each other. Gilbert really has no irresistible urge to go back to his home town, satisfied with just visiting a few times a year. And Matthew thinks he would like to go back closer, just to figure out his next move. So, they go together.

It’s only a one bedroom, but is more than enough space for them both. Gilbert finds work as a docent while Matthew works for a second degree in education.

He still plays hockey for a local league, Gilbert becoming their number one fan. They find their own rhythm, a pace that works for them both, where they can settle down or speed up when they agree with each other. Dewey mornings, warm summers, chilly evenings they spend them altogether.

They decide move up North closer to Gilbert’s hometown. Matthew’s more nervous meeting his grandparents than he was introducing Gilbert to his own family, but Gilbert assures him again and again they’re just a stuffy old family who actually really care about each other a lot more than they let off.

Gilbert’s grandfather towers over him, despite being a hair above 6 feet. He’s silent, eyes boring into Matthew as he introduces himself. And to end all of Matthew’s worries, the elder man pulls Matthew into a hug and tells him he’s glad him and Gilbert are home. Gilbert, just as perplexed as he, stares, but he melts into a pleased laugh.

Yeah, this is his and Gilbert’s home now.

They stay, for a long while, contemplate moving a few times, but they’re satisfied for now.

Gilbert and him always make time for each other, continue their own respective interests with complete support of the other. They’re never afraid to complain, because they always work through it rather then let it simmer.

Gilbert’s vivacious spirit keep them going, and Matthew’s heart keeps them grounded.

His life at first seem a little bit ordinary, but how can he complain when the pieces of the puzzle fit themselves in and stayed locked in tight.

#hetalia #prucan #prucanweek #APH Prussia #APH Canada #.txt post #I forgot all my writing tags #will fix later HAHA

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kimtaegis · 3 years

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milestone follow forever (1/2)

Wow, another milestone reached. This blog has been a huge part of my life for the last 8 months, I’ve met and become friends with so many incredible people who I don’t want to miss ever again. With the help of BTS, this blog and all of you, I rediscovered passion and creativity and found a community that I adore and admire dearly. I am forever grateful for you, so this little (or not so little) follow forever is me saying thank you to all of you, I love you!

I’d like to start with some honourable mentions; people who have a very special place in my heart, who make all of my days better, and who I love endlessly.

@jimimon: Al, my friend from the stars. What I’m gonna say is nothing new to you by now, but god, I love you. You’ve really become one of my closest friends over the last few months, you know? Talking to you is part of my everyday life, I trust you with all my heart, you comfort me and you laugh with me, you cook for me and watch amazing shows with me. You bless me and everyone else with your incredible edits, smart text posts and loveliest asks. I could write much more, I hope you know that, but for now: I love you, you love me, we love each other, J-HOOOOOPE!!! 💚

@yoobijin: My beautiful, stunning, lovely soulmate. Réka I wish I could one day return all the love you give me back to you. I don’t know how your big heart fits into your body, that actually can’t be possible. You are stunning, so extremely talented in so many ways, funny and warm-hearted, positive and supportive. I’d just like to give you a real hug one day, to at least try to show you how much I adore you, how much you mean to me. You brighten up my day by just being you, and I want you to be happy always. I love you so damn much 💙💙💙

@jinsmin: My little birdie Gracie, while writing this down I just received another bird-ask from you, which is too funny and too cute at the same time. I cherish every single one of our interactions, you never cease to make me feel more light-hearted and at ease. Often I ask myself if you can sense when I could need some uplifting words or a tit pic or two (hihi). No, but on a more serious note, Gracie you are one of the kindest and sweetest people I know, and I’m so grateful that you share your positivity with me, you are my little personal ray of sunshine, and I love you infinitely. 💛

@marvelousbangtan and @artsyjoons: You two are real double trouble. Well, if trouble would be defined as the loveliest, sweetest human beings there are. My sunshine and my sunflower, the warmth and love you radiate always keep me comforted, feeling calmed and happier. There’s nothing more adorable than seeing you two screaming together in tags (even better: in tags under my posts adsfdgfh) - you really don’t know how often you made me smile without knowing you did. I love you two so, so much, please always be happy!! 💜🌻

@r-m: Jords, beautiful, super funny, kind and caring Jords. I still remember the day of “balenciaguks started following you” and how thrilled I was. I didn’t even know you right then, but my gut feeling was right - you truly are as amazing as I thought. You really give flavour to this site with your charisma, and the gorgeous gifs you make are the cherry on top. I’ll always have the biggest crush on you, babygirl; I adore you to death, and am patiently waiting for our wedding. 🌹

I will always have the softest spot for my fellow gifmakers. You all are not only talented, but the sweetest people on earth. Luckily, I interact with most of you in one way or another too, which feels like the jackpot. Thank you for sharing your amazingness with us, be it through your creations or your personalities, you’re the real deal. You’re not only artists, but also bombass mutuals to me. 💗

@bangtanger @blondesuga, @blueandtaes, @dnaes, @everythingoes, @filmsout, @gimbapchefs, @heybaetae, @hobeah @honsool, @hoseosk, @intronnevermind, @jiminswn, @kimtaehyunq, @kkulmoon, @loversmore, @lyseries, @parkjinmi, @rosebowl, @solivoire, @suga-ssi, @taehyungq, @taeyungie, @userjiminie, @vjimin, @yoongisbengaliwife, @yoonglet, @yoongisshadow.

I’ve grown to be very much into creating and admiring gfx, it’s a way to express myself and something that inspires me, which is why I’d like to mention some absolutely amazing gfx creators who blow my mind every. single. time. Your talent is unmatched, thank you for sharing your beautiful art with us for free. I love your brains, but also the rest of you, very, very much.

@hobibestboy, @hopekidoki, @jmin, @jminparks, @jsuga, @kithtaehyung, @ljinki, @meroutro, @minyoongislaysme, @namgination, @ourownwings, @slipped-away, @taemaknae, @tanyoorine.

Thank you all for being you, I adore you!!!! 💕💕💕

#wow what a post #but what has to be done must be done!!#it's the least I can do #milestoneff

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salty-rey · 3 years

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Singing for the Troops

Pairing: Fives x Reader

Words: 3948

Warnings: Fluff! Open-ending (sexual mention???)

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first time I do a fic for Star Wars, so I apologize in advance if I mislabeled certain ships. Or if I didn’t do the boys’ personalities any justice.

I was inspired by old performances/entertainment for the Allied troops in WWII, and after watching Christina Aguilera’s Candyman music video. Then I thought, “do the clones get any kind of entertainment like this?” So I took it upon myself to make a fan fic!

Hope you guys like it!

I don’t know how to end a fic....

Playlist: Something’s Got a Hold On Me | Candyman | Ain’t No Other Man

Your dream is to become a famous singer, and you have been working hard for years to reach this goal. You have been visiting various bars and cantinas, singing for patrons whenever the owner allowed it. Even if you were paid or not, you still sang. If a bar had an open mic night, you were there. Out of all the bars you’ve been to, 79s has always been a favorite. It was always packed, and the owner was happy to have you sing for the guests. It always brought more patrons, which meant more money for the establishment. Plus, you were even paid, unlike previous locations.

After a few months of you visiting 79s, you attracted the attention of a particular ARC trooper. When you finished your playlist of songs, both originals and covers, you were given a glass of whiskey.

“Compliments from the ARC trooper,” the droid server told you before gesturing to the said trooper in blue.

Looking over, you spotted the clone who raised their glass to you, sending a wink your way. Even though they all share the same face, this clone had a distinctive number tattoo on the side of his head and a classic goatee hugging his chin. It wasn’t the first time that someone bought a drink for you. Troopers before had attempted to grab your attention, even tried to get lucky for a night, but you brushed them off. But there was something about this trooper that was welcoming. Perhaps the way he smiled at you or the way he spoke to you. He was causal yet not dull. Flirty, too but it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You become bashful at his witty comments. It felt as though the two of you were long-time friends.

The ARC Trooper introduced himself as Fives and greeted you to his fellow brothers. There, you met Echo, Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase. They all serve under Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, aka “Skyguy,” as to how Padawan Learner Ahsoka Tano calls him. They had stories to share with you; their missions on other planets engrossed you. In turn, you told them about your dreams to become a singer.

“It’s silly, I know. Been lectured by my parents for years.” You lightly laughed, only to become surprised at the boys’ reactions.

“No dream is silly!” “Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous of your voice!” “I don’t know what it’s like to have parents, but they should be supportive of you.”

“If that’s your dream, then go after it. To kriff what other people say.” Fives huffed before fully turning to you. “Who can say that they had dreams but didn’t achieve them because they thought it was unrealistic? I’m going to see you on a big stage one day, and I’m going to say, “That’s our songbird.” Because you will always have us cheering you on.” The trooper said with a soft smile.

A blush crept onto your face, and a smile was spreading cheek to cheek. “Thanks, Fives!”

After that night, you and the boys exchanged your private commlinks. Soon enough than anyone would like, they were shipped back to the battlefield. While they were away, if there were any downtime between missions and work, you would hear your holoprojector beeping. You spent hours talking to each trooper, glad to see that they were doing well. Fives was the one who spent the most time with you, almost talking the night away. He would only stop when he saw your head dipping and your eyes blinking to stay awake.

“Go to sleep, songbird. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. With any luck, we should be landing back to Coruscant within the month.” So fives said, his holo-imagine occasionally flickering due to the distance.

After letting out a yawn, you rubbed your eyes and smile at him. “Okay. Be safe out there, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” Fives smirked. He then bid you goodnight with a soft smile, and he was gone.

Within the month, the 501st had returned to Coruscant, and you met up with the boys back at 79s. The bar 79s was packed as usual, especially on a weekend evening. Troopers from all kinds of battalions were here, drinking and dancing, retelling stories with their brothers and civilians. The music was pumping, and the dance floor was full of slightly or fully intoxicated soldiers.

Tight hugs and smiles were exchanged when you were reunited with the boys at the bar before entering and finding an empty booth for you all to sit. Echo had left the table to get everyone their drinks as you and boys caught up.

“I heard that there this campaign being made for singers by singers and that they want to sing for you troopers.” So you told them, raising for your a bit so that they can hear you over the music.

Singing for the Troops was a campaign created by independent singers on Coruscant. Singers who supported the clones and believed that the troops deserve a moment of peace and perhaps experience some form of normality, which may be entirely new to them. What clone can say that they have been to a concert? Plus, it would give the artists a moment to shine and perhaps score big with a sponsor. It’s a win-win situation!

“The campaign reached several Republic-allied planets, encouraging other singers to sign up. Not just that, but it’s was being crowdfunded, and it reached its price goal! Also, I heard that a famous singer is the main supporter of the campaign,” you informed as Echo passed around everyone’s drinks.

“You should sign up!” Kix said after taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know. I never sang for a large crowd. Let alone been off-world.” You replied nervously, your hands fiddling with the glass of liquor.

“That never stopped you singing at bars!” Hardcase responded before downing his drink in one gulp.

“Just imagine that you’re singing to us! We already have the same faces.” Jesse joked before wincing at the sudden punch to the shoulder.

“Look, songbird; you’re a great singer. And you’ve sung in front of countless drunken troops. So singing in front of a bunch of sober soldiers will be easy,” Fives chimed in, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “All those other singers will be lucky to have you join them.” He said before winking, a smirk on his face.

Your cheeks felt warm, and it wasn’t because of the liquor. “Thanks, Fives.” A soft smile formed on your lips, happy to hear his compliments. You then sighed before downing the rest of your drink. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

“Alright. A toast to (Y/N)!” Kix cheered, raising his glass, and the rest joined in.

The next day, you wasted no time in signing up for a chance to sing in the campaign. The requirements are to submit a recording of your singing, and if you are selected, you will receive a message at the earliest notice. When you waited for a response, you and the boys roam the upper mid-levels of Coruscant, taking time to hang out before the boys were shipped back to war. It always felt bittersweet saying goodbye, but you knew that it wouldn’t be for long.

It will be much longer.

Arriving at your apartment from working your day job, you noticed that your holoprojector was blinking; someone left a message for you. A tightening sensation was felt in the pit of your stomach, your heart racing as you approached your holoprojector. You stared at the blinking light. Did one of the boys leave a message for you? No, they know your schedule, so it possible it isn’t them.

Is it from the campaign? Your heart hammered hard against your ribcage as your hand reached over. Then, what felt like many minutes, you finally pressed the button, the image of a well-dressed man appearing.

“Evening, miss (Y/N). I am the manager of the campaign Singing for the Troops, and I’m here to congratulate you. You have been selected to be one of our singers! We hope to hear from you soon.” The recording ended with a courtesy bow from the man, leaving you standing there in shock.

Did he just say that you were accepted? Does that mean you get to go off-world and sing?!

A squeal of joy echoed throughout your apartment, you jumping in place. “I did it!!” You cheered before reaching for your holoprojector. You had to tell the boys! You had to tell Fives!

After several minutes to reach them, no one answered your calls. Your smile slowly turned into a frown before sighing in defeat. “They’re at war, (Y/N)... they’re probably outside of their base. I’ll just leave them a message about the good news.”

Later in the day, you contacted the campaign manager and agreed to meet with them for further instruction. The plan was to visit various battalions and sing for them during downtime. It will be difficult, and the campaign will have to plan, seeing battalion will go first. During those long weeks of planning, meeting other artists, and vocal practices, there still was no response from the boys. It wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t hear from Fives and the others, although you couldn’t help but worry.

“Once everyone arrives onto Coruscant, we will first visit the 104th Battalion,” the campaign manager informed everyone via holoprojector.

“The Wolfpack Co.,” you whispered to yourself. Fives told you about this battalion, having pointed a couple of them out back at 79’s. Fives said to you that the unit within the 104th was a serious, no-nonsense type of group. Entertaining this group and the rest of the battalion will be a challenge.

The manager continued to list other battalions and legions until one of them caught your attention. “501st and finally, the 212th.”

“Bottom of the list...” You whispered, frowning lightly. How long will it take for you to reach the 501st Legion?

The meeting concluded with a buzz of excitement. It was happening. For reals! In a few days, you will be flying out of Coruscant for the first time, following your dreams.

Before the faithful day could arrive, you decided to reach the boys once more. You sat with anticipation, your knee bouncing as you waited for someone to answer. Finally, after several beeps, the projector came to life, and standing before you was Fives.

“Fives! Thank the Maker,” you sighed in relief before glaring up at him. “Why hasn’t anyone returned my messages?”

The ARC Trooper lightly winced at your tone before smiling apologetically. “Sorry, songbird. The mission was a lot tougher than we first thought. But we finally liberated the planet from Separatist control. The boys and I are fine. I’m sorry for worrying you.” He said, frowning and eyes cast downward.

You opened your mouth to speak before shutting, looking away as well. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. We’re at war, and I know that you won’t always be there for our calls. I just....” You began to say but couldn’t finish your sentence.

“I know.” Fives stared at you, eyebrows knitted. “(Y/N)?” Looking back up, he was now smiling at you ever so sweetly that it made you blush. “Congrats on getting picked. I knew you would get in.”

You blinked up at the ARC trooper before smiling. The two of you spend a couple of hours talking, quickly making up for the lost time. You told him the battalions that you were going to visit, and he groaned in annoyance. “Why do we have to be at the bottom of the list?”

“I guess the 104th battalion are in dire need to put some smile on their faces—especially that sourpuss Wolffe.” You teased, causing Fives to laugh.

“That’s going to be one hell of a challenge. I don’t think I saw Commander Wolffe smile before.”

“I welcome a challenge. And I’ll sure be the one to turn his scowl into a grin.” You puffed out your chest in pride.

Fives chuckles at your comical posture, lightly shaking his head. “If anyone can, it’s you.” You relax, returning to an upright position, looking back up at the trooper. The two of you stare at each other in silence, observing each other’s features.

His armor was scuffed and dirtied. There are new scratches and dents throughout, roughing his paint job. His face looked tired, yet there was a glow in his eyes, staring at you in what it appears to be loving.

“I can’t wait to see you again, pretty girl,” Fives spoke, breaking the silence.

That was a new nickname, and it caused you to blush once more. Despite feeling embarrassed, you smiled back. “Me too. Take care, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” he repeated all those weeks ago.

Who knew participating in a singing campaign would last for so long. Then again, the war is still going on, so landing on Star Destroyers only happens when the surrounding area was safe. But it was all worth it. Seeing the joy on the troops’ faces and feeling their excitement as the music vibrated throughout the hanger was rewarding.

Working with the manager and group of artists was a great experience as well. Many of the singers were friendly, sharing their stories of how they got into music. Many of them were humans; one was a Twi’lek, another was a Pantoran, and a couple more alien species. Listening to them sing in their native tongue was thrilling, giving you goosebumps at the realization that there are so many cultures out there. So much more for you to learn, and what better place than here.

As the list of locations was getting shorter, you felt more nervous and excited as you got closer to the 501st legion. You were going to see Fives and the others soon. It’s been months since you last saw them. I tried staying in touch with them via holoprojector, but it was getting more complicated since you were busy as well. But that will all change as you near the Star Destroyer that the famous boys in blue occupied. Although, you were nervous for an entirely different reason. You would do something big, having already talked about it to the manager, band, and fellow singers would help be your backup singers. You’re taking a big chance, and there’s no turning back now.

The ship that you and the rest of the artist travel on docked, allowing the whole group to exit. The hangar will house the concert. That same space will also enable the troopers can dance and sing along. In a matter of hours, the soldiers set the stage, and the singers filed onto the hanger. Just like every other Star Destroyer, the stage is decked with standing spotlights and a curtain to act as a background. It also shields the rest of the group whenever they’re not performing.

You watched your fellow singers perform on stage, peeking from the corner of the curtain where the rest of the artists prepared themselves. As the crowd cheered and danced in place, your eyes scanned around the group. But at your current angle, you can’t see past the first few rows of troopers. So the only way to spot your boys is when you perform on stage. And it was happening real soon.

Three more singers performed, some of them accompanied by background singers or dancers. Then, it was your turn.

“Now, please welcome (Y/N)!” The manager introduced, and the crowd cheered as you walked on stage. Dressed in your performance outfit, you approached the microphone stand. Your eyes quickly scanned around the group, searching until a voice rang out from the sea of white and blue.

“That’s my songbird!!!”

Your eyes snapped to the source, and you softly gasped. There he was—your favorite ARC trooper.

Fives was waving his hands at you, a broad grin on his face. Standing by his sides were Echo, Hardcase, Jesse, and Kix. They were waving at you too, whistling and clapping their hands. They were all here. They are all safe and sound. You felt a weight come off your shoulders, blinking your eyes to fight back the tears.

Gripping the microphone, you paused for a second before opening your mouth. Your voice projected throughout the hangar as you sang out your first couple of lyrics. “Oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah/I get a feeling that I never, never, never had before no, no/And I just wanna tell you right now that I-/I believe, I really do believe that/Something’s got a hold on me.”

“(Oh, it must be love),” your backup singers sang softly after you. Drums began to play. A soft bass followed along as you continued to sing. Your feet carried you around the stage, feeling the beat. The large crowd of troopers resumed their dancing, stomping their feet and cheering as you reached the middle of your song. Standing at the center of the stage and facing forward, your eyes then locked to Fives’s as you sang out the next couple of lyrics.

“My heart feels heavy, my feet feel light/I shake all over, but I feel alright/I never felt like this before/Something’s got a hold on me that won’t let go/I never thought it could happen to me/Got me happy when I’m in misery/I never thought it could be this way/Love’s sure gonna put a hurting on me.”

The whole time, neither one of you broke eye contact. You can see the look of surprise appearing on the ARC trooper’s face before shifting to one of love, a smile decorating his face. The other boys looked surprised at your words before looking at Fives. It was evident that their brother had a thing for you since day one, but to have you tell him of your feelings ---incredibly so bold like this--- was shocking. But they began to cheer, Echo smacking Jesse’s back as his brother rolled his eyes before depositing a small number of credits.

You grinned at the end of your song. Then, having witnessed the reaction from the boys, you blushed a bit. Glancing back at the band, you nodded your head. Drums began to play, followed by a couple of trumpets. “I met him out for dinner on a Friday night/He really got me working up an appetite,” you began to sing, moving your hips to the beat. The crowd started up again, dancing along to the sound of your voice. “He’s a one stop shop, makes my cherry pop/He’s a sweet talkin’, sugar coated candyman!”

“Well, by now, I’m getting all bothered and hot/When he kissed my mouth, it really hit the spot/He had lips like sugarcane/Good things come for boys who wait!” So you sang, smiling at Fives, who smirked back at you. The crowd was getting excited as you moved your hips rather proactively, your confidence rising after seeing Fives’s responses to your words.

“He’s a one stop shop with a real big (ugh)/He’s a sweet-talkin’, sugar-coated candyman.” The crowd wolf-whistled at those words, but your focus was on Fives. You can see him biting his bottom lip, eyes heatedly watching you now.

When the song finished, the band continued onto your final piece. You had perfectly planned this night. Your choice of songs were different than the ones from previous performances. This was your love letter to Fives. You love him, and it appears that he feels the same way. You don’t know when will be the next time that the two of you will see each other. You would have loved to tell him your feelings differently, but like how you said before, singing is what you know best.

“Ain’t no other man can stand up next to you/Ain’t no other man on the planet does what you do/You’re the kinda guy a girl finds in a blue moon/You got soul, you got class, you got style with your bad ass/Ain’t no other man, it’s true/Ain’t no other man but you!”

Your performance ended with a loud round of applause. You were softly panting, sweat trickling down your neck, eyes watching Fives. He was clapping the hardest, using two fingers to whistle. A bright smile came to your face, thanking everyone before retreating to the back of the stage.

“What are you waiting for?!” Jesse shouted, a smirk on his face before lightly shoving Fives. “Go after her!” Echo encouraged, followed by a thumbs up from Hardcase and a nod from Kix.

Without wasting another second, Fives rush past his brothers, being careful not to bump into anyone as the next singer came to the stage. It didn’t take him long to reach the side of the stage, but two non-clone guards stopped him. “Sorry, sir, but no one is allowed back here.”

“It’s okay! He’s a friend,” you quickly intervene. The guards relaxed, allowing you to approach the ARC trooper. All that confidence from being on stage was dripping away. Now, your heart was racing, and your cheeks felt like they were on fire. Fives smirked as your cheeks darken in color, your blush reaching down your neck to the tips of your ears.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed now, cyar’ika.” Fives chuckled as he took his hand in his.

You laughed nervously, letting Fives pull you away from the group of singers and towards a more secluded area of the hangar. “M-maybe a little,” you admitted before rounding a corner. Both of you were now hiding the two of you behind a starfighter, Fives gently pressing you against a stack of heavy crates. A hand laid on your hip while the other laid on the containers, trapping you in place. “I told you never sang in front of a large crowd.”

“Could have fooled me,” he responded as his hand on the crates moved to cup the side of your face. You slowly relaxed under his touch before gently leaning into his palm, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“I meant every word, Fives.” You said in a hushed tone, your cheeks still flushed. You raised your hands up, before wrapping your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down to you, until the tip of your noses brushed. “I love you.”

“Say it again,” Fives moaned, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flushed against his armor.

“I love you, Fives.”

What little space was between you two was gone, as Fives leaned forward, capturing your lips. It wasn’t a light kiss nor a deep one, but still full of passion. It was something that the two of you wanted. A moan escaped you as Fives pressed his tongue into your mouth, your hands moved to cup his cheeks, his hand cradling the back of your neck. “Ner cyar'ika laar senaar,” he purred against your lips after parting to breathe, before pecking your lips a couple of times. Hearing speak in Mando’a caused you to shiver in excitement, which he felt against his hands.

“You liked that?” He growled before nipping your neck, causing you to gasp. “There’s more where that came from.” You then felt his hips press and grind against yours, releasing another moan from you.

“There a few more singers left. Plenty of time for it,” you smirked before taking his hand. “And I know the perfect place where you can show me everything.” You both raced back to the ship that you arrived in. You both definitely had enough time, returning back to the hangar but the way you were walking, it was obvious what had occurred.

You didn’t care how the boys teased you, or how the other singers looked shock, or flustered. You are in complete bliss, having Fives at your side and holding his hand for the rest of the evening.

---------

A/N: Thanks again for reading! I have another fan fic in mind, but I should really focus on my finals first!

Ner cyar'ika laar senaar = My darling song bird

#fives x reader #arc trooper fives #clone trooper fives #trooper fives #501st fives #501st legion #clone trooper x reader #trooper fives x reader #clone trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x you #arc trooper x you #clone trooper x you #star wars x reader #star wars x you #fan fiction #fan fic #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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yourlocalcatholic · 3 years

Note

What advice would you give to someone who really wants to be catholic but deeply disagrees with the church’s stance on LGBT people? I am afraid that if I go to church, people will say unaffirming things about me or my partner, or push me into conversion therapy.

Well, it’s not going to be easy.

When I started my conversion, I was not in line with what the Church believed about the LGBTQ+ community. In truth, I still struggle with it.

Despite my previous stubbornness on LGBTQ+ issues, I kept my heart open to God and what the Church teaches. I didn’t ignore what the Catechism says, but instead learned to understand what it teaches and why. This allowed me to accept the Church’s stances on the LGBTQ+ community.

Since the issues are different for gay and trans people, I’ll address them separately.

Contrary to popular thought, being gay in and of itself is not a sin. However, acting on same sex attraction is. The Church understands that being gay is not a choice, but as a result of its inherent brokenness, people with SSA are called to celibacy. The Catechism of the Catholic Church says, “Homosexual persons are called to chastity. By the virtues of self-mastery that teach them inner freedom, at times by the support of disinterested friendship, by prayer and sacramental grace, they can and should gradually and resolutely approach Christian perfection” (CCC 2359).

I know a lot of people would like if the Church permitted same sex marriages and relationships, but this simple cannot be so. As Christians, we are called to be faithful to Christ and the Church, to “observe all that I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:20) and that “if he refuses to listen even to the Church, let him be to you as a Gentile or a tax collector” (Matthew 18:17). Christ asked for us to live lives in accord with Church teaching and meeting the standard he set for us. We are not only called to reject our modernist, consumer culture glorifies, but to “be perfect” as our heavenly Father is perfect (Matthew 5:48). We are called to overcome the vices of vanity, pride, gluttony, greed, envy, lust, wrath, and sloth, while cultivating the virtues of detachment, humility, temperance, generosity, charity, chastity, patience, and fortitude.

This also means we cannot call a sin anything other than a sin. We cannot lower the Church’s standards to the culture’s level, calling abortion, remarriage (without an annulment) after a divorce, homosexual acts, or contraception anything other than violations of God’s law. For “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and for ever” (Hebrews 13:8). Claiming the Bible says something that it clearly does not say is projecting our own morality on God. In doing so, we say that God does not know what is best for us and that he does not know what he is doing.

All of this can seem impossible. And without grace, it would be. Even with grace, we’ll often fall short. When we stumble we must repent, confess our sins, and come back to the Church.

So... is the Church homophobic? No, it is not. Sadly, however, some people with the Church are. These kinds of people lack one of Christ’s fundamental truths to “not neglect to show hospitality to strangers” (Hebrews 13:2). We turn ourselves into hypocrites when we do not uphold the idea that are all welcome in the Church.

Keep in mind, also, that just because “all are welcome” does not mean you can remain the same when you choose to become Christian. We are all ridden with sin, and we all have a cross to bear. But, by God’s mercy, we do not have to carry that cross alone.

Neither to trans people. Like homosexuality, there is a lot misunderstood about how the Church views being transgender.

For starters, the Church recognizes that every human person is created in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:26-27). EVERY person. Consequently, we must act in love towards our trans siblings and reprimand those who name-call, bully, or engage in any other uncharitable behavior toward them. As Christians, how we speak to one another, the language we use, the tone of our voice, and the respect our words and attitude convey determines whether our words are used to glorify God or to slander his children.

Respecting our fellow children of God also means we use peoples’ preferred name and pronouns. It is not a matter of affirming the person’s decision to transition, but rather it serves no use to do otherwise. If you’re having a conversation with a trans person, that conversation will not last long if you deliberately choose to use a name or a set of pronouns that the person is not comfortable with. What do you hope to achieve by refusing? You are more than likely to lose the opportunity to give them a faithful witness through which Christ can soften their heart to receive and embrace the true Gospel.

This topic is more difficult to address, in part because there is no official policy regarding trans individuals in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

The other reason is because the truth is... very difficult to hear. Admittedly, though I am not trans, I struggle to fully grasp it. Like SSA, like anything else inherently broken, it is difficult to hear the truth of our condition. But I’m not here to tell you what I think, because what I think (or have a tendency to think) is corrupt due to my sin. Therefore, I can only share with you what the Church teaches. Keep in mind, I accept what the Church teaches, despite how difficult it will be to hear, because if I didn’t, then why would I be Catholic?

God doesn’t make mistakes. When he fashioned each of us in our mother’s womb, he did so with the care of an artist making his greatest masterpiece. He choose the things that make you uniquely you, and this includes our gender. If you feel like God made a mistake when you were created, then we don’t share the same definition of God. God is an all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving Father, so it is impossible for him to make mistakes because it would be contrary to his nature. God created you male or female for a reason.

But gender dysphoria, the condition of feeling one’s emotional and psychological identity as male or female to be opposite to one’s biological sex, is a very real condition and many people suffer greatly because of it.

If your sex is a source of suffering in your life, God can be there with you to comfort you and help you through that suffering. He doesn’t promise to take away our sufferings and struggles, but He does promise to be there carrying our crosses alongside us.

Keep in mind that we are all called to holiness. For this reason, God may be asking you to grow in holiness by wrestling with trying to trust him that he doesn’t make mistakes and that he created you as male or female for a reason.

Now, you also expressed worry about people being uncharitable. Truth is, there are going to be uncharitable people. In my experience going to church, I have not encountered any. That said, I do not make my bisexuality known to the parishioners because I do not feel it is necessary.

But if you do feel the need, talk to the parish priest about your worries. There are many priests who understand that God has called them to love everyone, not just the ones that can hide their crosses easier. So, speak with a priest - via email, phone call, or in person (whichever way you’re comfortable) - and express your interest in their parish. If they are God-fearing, they will work with you.

I will be praying for you. God bless.

#lgbtq

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radiowallet · 2 years

Text

For the month of December I want to highlight some of the blogs that have made my time on the hellsite (affectionate) a truly wonderful and fulfilling experience! Some I have interacted with personally, while others I have lurked in the background like shadowy gremlin, but my love is there none the less. This is by no means a comprehensive list because there are so many amazing and wonderful people out there making days brighter with just their simple presence and kind hearts! To all of you, ALL OF YOU, Happy Holidays! I am so grateful for all of you!

Today I want to give a huge shoutout to my dearest @nobodys-baby-now

Vee was the first artist I ever comissioned a piece of art from and I’ll never forget how kind and patient and fun she was to work with. We bonded quickly over our love of Marcus Moreno and Spy Kids and loving what you love, no matter what. Her art is truly magnificent. The way she uses colors and light to capture the life in a person’s eyes is nothing short of pure beauty and if you haven’t done so, please check out her art here. ON TOP OF THAT- I have had the pleasure of beta-reading her fics and guys, Vee is top tier. Gifting us with her art and her writing! JUST WOW!

Add to the fact that Vee is so freaking kind! Always ready to support her fellow creators, providing comfort and laughter through it all! Seriously, getting to spend time with Vee has been nothing short of fantastic and I’m so thankful for her friendship. Thank you Vee and Happy Holidays!

I would also like to give a shout out to @pilothusband

Kat is honestly the queen of the shitposting and I love her for it. Seriously, the energy she carries is very similar to my own and whenever I go to her blog I will always be fucking laughing. Then I treat myself to reading her writing. Seriously- she has such talent and I have enjoyed everything I’ve read off her masterlist.

Then she has to go and be so kind and nice and so warm. Seriously, right off the bat sliding into my DM’s and my notifications offering a funny thought or smutty thot, and making me feel instantly like I had a new friend. Thank you, Kat, for sharing your writing and your kind soul, and for being someone I can laugh with! Happy Holidays!

#December 15th #season of gratitude #I'm gonna drown you bitches in love #happy holidays #Cat says thanks

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icypantherwrites · 3 years

Text

To all of my fellow writers / artists here:

Please tell me I am not alone in dealing with the sheer amount of hateful, cruel, rude commenters and frankly at this point trolls on my works, as while I do not wish this experience on anyone I really hope for my sake this is not just happening to me.

For the past couple months I've been hit with an influx of cruel comments, of people posting hateful messages in regards to my author's notes requesting comments, of people telling me I write "disturbing, toxic" things, of people who, without prompting, launch a tirade about how much attention they feel my works receive and compare it to their own and get irrationally angry.

For the most part I delete these comments as responding to them, especially when 99% of them are anonymous accounts, goes nowhere and just invites these people to harass me more. But lately when I delete them (which to my knowledge doesn't trigger any sort of alert via email) I am within the hour lambasted by a flurry of comments from the person whose comment I deleted, which tells me they were sitting and refreshing on the page waiting for me to do just that or rise to their bait. Things insulting me, my works, telling me I can't "handle" criticism (of which a; I did not ask for and please don't offer critique on anyone's work unless they do and b; their comments were not constructive criticism in the slightest), and on and on.

Today was sort of the final straw as someone, without prompting, called my work disturbing and said they'd never read this particular story (Unspoken, in case anyone was wondering) and were only commenting now because I had said in the author's note I was looking to focus on updating just one or two fics at a time (I have currently 5 ongoing chaptered fics and it's getting to be too much and I don't like having a month between updates for some of them) and would be choosing the most engaged fics to update at this time and requested if fans of that story would like to see it regularly updated to please engage as otherwise it would be marked for hiatus.

This person attacked me for why it was on hiatus and why I was not able to post it (since it's a commission it has to be finished after all) and went off on me about my requests for engagement of the story and aired issues they had with me taking commissions and requests which is "illegal" (cough, one off commissions are not ;)) and clearly not knowing I donate a large chunk of what I make back to charities and Gofundmes because helping others helps me and I need a lot of emotional help these days xD

I deleted it and moved on, but within minutes this person came back attacking me again with a lot of the above notes including the fact I had to take commissions because I couldn't handle writing my own works, which bothers me personally as those commissions *are* my works as 99% of the time I create the entire plot from a very broad prompt and even if someone did have a bullet point list it is still *my* writing. I marked it as spam and have now set that particular story to comment moderation, but I am still bracing myself for a bevy of attack and troll comments I'll have to read through.

And I just... don't understand.

I post all of my works on AO3 for free; it's at almost 2 million words of posted content. I update regularly and post a few new one shot stories a month. I try my best to respond to comments when I have the energy and when I don't I keep updating so people can continue reading and hopefully that continued posting of content shows them how much I value their support.

But I'm hit with at least a troll a week, sometimes more, of just this pure hate and what I can only assume is jealousy in my comments section, something that I use to help and buoy myself and encourage myself to keep posting. I didn't ask for all of this hate. I am just trying to post my works and if people want to, they can find more on my Patreon but I don't advertise it whatsoever on my AO3. I'm posting my works there solely so I can share them with the fandom and ask for engagement as fandom is a two-way street and a little appreciation and support for art goes a long, long way.

And I don't want to set my AO3 where every fic needs comment moderation. I don't want to have to go a step even further and only allow logged in users to be able to read my stories. But I am slowly reaching that point and feel so drained and tired all the time and always bracing myself for the next comment to be something cruel and unwarranted and I just...

Don't know how long I can keep doing this for. Not like this. I want to share my works, but I can't keep sharing them and terrified each time I get a comment that it's going to be a cruel one. And so if anyone out there has been dealing with this regularly too, please tell me I'm not alone. Tell me if you have a solution, any advice, anything that could help. I'm tired. I'm drained. And I am at the end of my rope :(

#writing #fanfiction #fandom #trolls

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sooibian · 3 years

Note

Nia! A game for you! Which one of the Exos would you ship with your mutuals and why?

thanks for this, anon! i needed the distraction 💗

i tried not to pair my mutuals with their biases but...idk if i did this right haha anywayyy let's go!

Minseok:

@sooghostwriter: melissa is strong, determined, and unapologetically honest. i see her with someone who is equally strong, and secure with himself and is at the same time dorky and fun. i can see the two of them bonding over skincare too *heart eyes*

@kyoonqs: everything about flor is pretty. she’s got a beautiful, creative mind and a soft heart and she has a keen eye for aesthetics and detail. i see minseok and flor - this is very specific haha - coming together to collaborate on a project which turns out to be a process of self-discovery and they eventually end up falling in love with each other.

Junmyeon:

@vampwrrr: i just want someone to take care of this bebe like she deserves to be taken care of. in a precious, gentle, and loving way. it will be a quiet kind of love but i can count on jun to whisk you away to exotic locations every now and then...and bring you breakfast in bed. he’s the kind to listen and understand and he’ll make sure to never make you feel alone and to always make you feel secure. i can’t stress on this enough i just want someone to love and cherish piper forever and i think jun is that understanding and steady partner.

@mel-loves-kdramas: i’ll keep this simple. mel and junmyeon are a match made in heaven. mel is loving, gentle, understanding, and kind. exactly the kind of partner junmyeon needs.

Yixing:

hardworking. passionate. artistic. ambitious. my three friends @kyungseokie @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme and @diveinthebluewithyou are the embodiment of these qualities which i feel is the kind of energy that yixing would be attracted to. it would be an everlasting and healthy relationship in which both the parties involved support the others dreams and aspirations but at the same time they do not lose their sense of self. power couple vibes maybe?

Baekhyun:

@j-pping: jae is intuitive, intelligent, level-headed, and strong-willed. at the same time she’s fun and a positive person who makes everyone feel comfortable and welcome. with these qualities i think she’d get along really well with baekhyun. i see their relationship progress in a friends to lovers kinda way.

@royal-aeris: aeris! my fellow pisces friend! i think you're witty and hilarious! but you're also sensitive and very much in touch with your emotions. i think baekhyun is the kind of person to understand that kind of emotional depth as well as complement the fun side of your personality beautifully.

@his-mochi-cheeks: my dearest dearest ari deserves someone who isn’t shy with their expression of love and baekhyun is exactly the man for her. he’s someone who is intuitive, strong, and protective. he also possesses a natural ability of making people feel better and understood. ari deserves this fun kind of love!

Chanyeol:

@littleflowercrown13: melissa is endearingly awkward and shy but at the same time she seems like someone who's strong-willed and level-headed. i think melissa and chanyeol would help balance out each other's energies in an opposites attract kinda way. it will be a fun but a meaningful relationship in which they complete each other!

@jenmyeons: moa your tags never fail to crack me up. when i think you and chanyeol i think idiots in love haha. childhood friends who’ve always been together drift apart in their uni days only to find their way back to each other again <3

@lovelysehunie: ninni is a biiiig animal and nature lover. she’s also the kind of person who is deeply passionate about her interests. maybe chanyeol and ninni bond over something they’re both enthusiastic about and as they say...the rest is history.

Kyungsoo:

@rosetvler: rose you’re a feisty go-getter. you are witty and hilarious but you also have major indoors-y energy. i see kyungsoo and you as the kind of couple to cancel plans with friends just cuz y’all are too bored and lazy to step out of the house. maybe he’ll cook for you and you can watch a movie together before drifting off to sleep in the comfort of his arms ;-;

@leewalberg: unnie, you and i are so similar in so many ways. you’re hilarious!!! laidback and easy to get along with and this is the ...sort of uncomplicated (??) nature that kyungsoo could possibly gravitate towards? he also seems like a no-fuss dude so i see this as a smooth sailing, rock-steady relationship.

Jongin:

@baekberrie: in my limited interaction with you i thought you are a really, really sweet, soft, kind, and a friendly person. also, my dear, your blog theme is so comforting and beautiful!! i’m thinking first date at the amusement park..both of you in comfortable clothing... neutral/pastel tones..shy giggles...hand holding...sweet treats..sugar rush...soft kisses.

@xiusoomygod: dee you’re so so so soooo adorable and cute and bubbly and creative!!! i can see nini (specifically dressed in his gucci bear collection) getting attracted to these aspects of your personality. it’ll be a soft romance in which you guys bond over make up.. and fashion too! maybe even create your own brand in the long run!

@ninibears-erigom: i’ll keep this plain and simple, i just don't see ayla with anyone other than nini i'm sorry i tried but, again, this one is a match made in heaven!!!!

Sehun:

@thedeviousdo stephanie is intelligent and someone with strong opinions at the same time she’s non-judgemental and is willing to consider ideas that are new and different. these are the things that i believe would bring sehun and steph closer to each other. conversations leading to platonic affections will soon pave way for “the romantiques” in this relationship !!!!

i am a sucker for the enemies to lovers trope lololol *grabs popcorn* the trajectory of both my neo brained bebes @changshapatrol and @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt falling for sehun looks something like this: denial, guilt, anger, sadness, acceptance :P

get ready ahead of time to go out are you ready? i’m gonna rule the city today and bring the sparks. you’re already out, why are you so shy, my boo. don’t stutter, you don’t have to feel awkward, don’t bring anything, just hold my hand my lady. every road we walk on is a red carpet and a runway. the way you walk is so unique match the speed now, tempo!

also i think their personal styles really complement sehun’s really well? sooo...which stage are we on now, lolo and olivia? :P

#where's my degree in matchmaking huh?#i see usually people pick 7-8 of their mutuals for these kind of asks but this is my attempt to spread the happy ☺️#this one and a half year has not been easy on any of us. i hope this message brings a smile to your beautiful faces ❤️#i love and cherish each one of you!#mutuals i haven't interacted with enough have not been mentioned in this post but ask me again in a year and we'll have a longer list ☺️❤️#my lovely mutuals #i hope you're all healthy and happy 💗#also aksjdjdjd i was pretty nervous about uploading this im sorry if ive said anything stupid ahhh

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concernedbrownbread · 3 years

Text

Brevity

For @sokkaweek day 3: Grief/Loss

Preview:

“They made a statue of her. In the square.”

“Is that so? I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“It is.”

“What’s wrong, son?”

Sokka didn’t know how to articulate all the things wrong with a sixteen year old girl giving her life for an eternity old spirit just so the world could take the stupid circle in the night sky for granted. He couldn’t quite describe how cruel the universe was, to let put so much pressure on her, to make her life so hard, only to snatch it away from her before she could even live it.

“The world sucks, dad.”

Or, in the Northern Water Tribe, Sokka finds a statue of Yue and learns to find meaning in the brevity of their relationship

Words: 1809

Warnings/Notes: I know NOTHING about ephemeral art except basic research, so any symbolism I attempted probably either felt flat or heavy-handed. I drew most my inspiration from Néle Azevedo.

Read here or under the cut

---

Stepping onto the banks of the Northern Water Tribe, Sokka felt a chill travel down his spine. Spring was arriving, but only a tribes person could tell - the snow had yet to melt, and the sun was still a shy thing in the sky. But Sokka knew that the cold he felt had nothing to do with the season.

Unbidden, he searched the sky.

“Welcome!”

Sokka straightened, almost feeling guilty about being caught looking up. Beside him, his fellow Tribesmen straightened as well, though for another reason.

“I’m Tanek,” the man said, a slimy, superior smile in place, “And I will be your guide during your stay in the North. Please, come this way.”

When the gates opened, they were greeted with far more hospitability than when Sokka had first visited, though it made sense. With the war over, a certain tension had seeped out of the Tribe – now, the festivities were in full swing, the cheerful faces of children poking through the guards who were standing on either side of the waterway that led to the palace.

“Chief Hakoda,” Chief Arnok greeted, “Welcome.”

The sight of the man sent Sokka’s stomach churning. He looked like he had aged a decade, not a year, skin wrinkling on his forehead and under his eyes as he smiled. Dad reached forward to clasp his arm in greeting.

“Dad,” Sokka whispered desperately, “I’m going to - go - “

Dad frowned slightly, whispering back, “You don’t want to stay for the meeting?”

“It’s unofficial anyway,” Sokka waved his hand, “I’m hungry.”

“Alright, see you later,” Dad winked, “I’ll fill you in on the boring politics.”

Dad turned back to Arnok and Sokka took the opportunity to escape before he had to talk to the leader of the Northern Water Tribe. To Yue’s father .

In another life, he wondered how this meeting would have gone. If he would have waved at Yue, standing behind her father, and she would have waved back shyly. If their Dad’s would trade Dad jokes and embarrass them, or if they would -

Well. It was over now.

Sokka made good on his promise and made a beeline for the food stands. He didn’t have a lot of money on him, or any Northern Tribe money at all, but fortunately they accepted Earth Kingdom coins just as readily. Sokka’s mind immediately started noting how cuisine had evolved differently from the south, and heard Toph’s voice in his head saying, geek.

Sokka snorted. He preferred nerd.

He wandered the city, making a point to avoid waterways, and marvelled at the intricacy of it. He hadn’t had much of a chance to explore last time. Agna Qel'a’s structures rivalled the ones in Ba Sing Se and the Caldera, though Sokka wondered about the integrity of the buildings. Their supports were built primarily upon whale bones, but the rest really was ice, maintained by waterbenders. Southern Winters were different from Northern ones - they’d have to figure out what to do differently …

Sokka’s mind wondered away from architecture as he ducked under an all too familiar bridge. He caught his eyes before they travelled upwards towards the sky.

The food he had eaten had settled uncomfortably in his stomach, nausea rolling as memories floated into the forefront of his mind. He pushed them away with practiced ease.

“Alright!” Sokka told himself cheerfully, “I should check in on dad and the others.”

He forced his mind back onto the buildings around him, onto thinking about the future of his own tribe, and not the past of another one.

He kept avoiding the waterways. It was a lot harder to get to the palace, but it was a lot easier for him, too.

It was because his eyes kept going back to the skies that he spotted it.

He felt his breath hitch at the sight, a burning climbing his throat and reaching the back of his eyes. The chill he had felt since he got here made him tremble.

The ice sculpture had her arms outstretched, up towards the sky. Her expression painted into a mix of determination and sorrow, just as beautiful as Sokka remembered her. She was dressed in the same clothes, hair tied in the same knot, as he last remembered her. Somehow, even in ice, Yue was beautiful.

He was going towards her without even realising it, as though the promise to protect her had rekindled in his heart.

There was a crowd gathered around her, at awe as they should be.

It was smaller than he expected - smaller than she deserved. Made only of translucent ice, one that would melt when spring came in with full force. Sokka frowned - surely they should’ve used something sturdier to eternalise his girlf -

Do I even have the right to call her that?

A dull ache settled into his heart, one that never seemed to go away. He pulled away from the statue, the sight of it leaving his skin burning.

“Like it?”

Sokka whipped around to look at the woman, her hair greying with age and an adoring smile on her face as she gazed up at the statue.

“It’ll melt,” Sokka replied flatly.

“It will,” she agreed.

“I don’t get it.”

She didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t, “The beauty of Princess Yue’s life was in its brevity - "

“Her life wasn’t brief!” Sokka burst out, “How dare you! You didn’t even know her!”

“On the contrary, I was there for her birth, and every birthday since. I was the one who taught her the beauty of art, of sculptures,” the grief in her voice was undeniable – and unsettling. There was so much familiarity, when she spoke of Yue, something Sokka had never had.

Then she turned to Sokka, “But I don’t remember her mentioning you.”

Sokka felt the words catch in his throat, forming an uncomfortable lump.

“Whatever,” he hissed, “I need to go find my dad.”

The knowing in the artist’s eyes left him feeling uncomfortably cold, even more so than the chill of the arctic did.

---

Sokka wandered into the room that Dad was staying in, directed there by a worried Bato. Dully, he noted the decor, similar to the room he, Katara and Aand had shared during their time there.

Sokka had hated sharing back then, even as he had needed it. He had wanted to invite Yue over, but he certainly didn’t want Katara meeting her and spilling all the dumb stories of him from when they were kids.

Now, Sokka wished he had taken every opportunity to be with the Princess. Even if it meant his annoying little siblings were tagging along.

“Hey Sokka,” Dad greeted cheerfully, “Have fun?”

“Oh ... yeah.”

Dad frowned, “You seem a little distracted. You okay?”

“Do you …” Sokka sighed, “You still miss Mom, right?”

Dad was by his side immediately, pulling him down onto the bed so that they were sitting comfortably. Dad-instincts , Katara called it.

“Of course I do,” Dad said, “I miss her everyday.”

“So it … never goes away?”

Of course it never goes away. Sokka knew that already. Every time he caught himself looking up at the sky, a dull ache in his chest. It never goes away, but life goes on anyway.

“What’s this about, Sokka?”

Sokka wrung his hand together in knots, “Do you remember Yue?”

Dad’s eyes softened, “I remember.”

“They made a statue of her. In the square.”

“Is that so? I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“It is.”

“What’s wrong, son?”

“The world sucks, dad.”

Dad huffed a bitter laugh, “It does.”

Yeah. He supposed that’s the only way to explain it.

---

Sokka stared up at Yue hanging in the sky, just behind her statue. He smiled wryly at the irony, and though Yue might have giggled at it too.

“Ah, you’re back young man.”

This time, Sokka didn’t startle, “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m sorry for my outburst, earlier.”

The woman waved a dismissive hand, “I’m sorry I did not recognise you. Had I known who you were, I would have been more careful with my words.”

“You know who I am?”

The woman smiled, “There are very few in this tribe who don't. Yue was very fond of you.”

“She was?” he asked hopefully, feeling a little bit like a lovesick schoolboy.

(And maybe he was. Sue him.)

The woman laughed, “She was indeed. Anyone who knew her could see it.”

“I only knew her for a couple days,” Sokka admitted.

The woman nodded, and the pain in her eyes felt more like kinship than anything else, “Even so.”

“I feel like I don’t deserve to mourn her.”

“But you lost someone,” The woman put a hand on his shoulder, turning him gently towards the sculpture before them, “Grief knows no bounds, there is no right and wrong to mourning. Princess Yue cared about you - you made her happy,” the woman smiled ruefully, “And I know she made you happy too. And now she makes you sad. Such is love and life.”

“How cheesy,” Sokka mumbled through his tears.

The woman gave him a stern look, “Nothing cheesy about sincerity young man. Now! Tell me what you know about art.”

“I know a thing or two,” Sokka grinned, wiping his tears.

The woman looked unimpressed, “I do recall Princess Yue saying you were, and I quote, charmingly boastful.”

Sokka sighed happily, “She really said that?” he perked up, “So you knew her well?”

“So-so,” the woman said, “She was very reserved, but I like to think I saw a side to her that no one else did.”

Sokka looked at the statue, considering, “Is that why you made a statue of her that would melt?”

She smiled softly, “It is. Her life was short. Shorter than she deserved, but we cannot change that. But we can remember that even in her brevity, she had meaning. That even if you had not known her forever, you had known her, and that it meant something.”

“Art isn’t about how long it lasts, but about what it means in the moment.”

They stand together in the quiet, watching the statue and the moon and Yue. Knowing that it would melt, and be rebuilt, only to melt again. Knowing that the moon would wax and wane. Knowing the water pushed and pulled, in an endless cycle. And knowing that even as life comes to an end, there will always be meaning in it.

---

Authot's Notes: EEEE, at least it's finished I guess. I want to expand this for when people from other nations arrive so I can write politks and tension while also keeping the theme of grieving Yue in the background (in my a world, reborn series). That being said ... I'm a slow writer, so maybe don't expect anything anytime soon, oops.

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tbtssstuff · 3 years

Text

Creative Soul || kth

↣ Summary: Art was all that you knew. Never really had time for anything else, but you didn’t really mind. Until you became friends with a man who frequented your convenience store and you start to wonder if art was really everything.

🎨 Twenty Six: Party Situation

↣ Pairing: Idol!Kim Taehyung x Army!Reader

↣ Genre: Social media au

↣ Word Count: 1234

Masterlist

-TJ/ TacoAdmin 🌮

Taehyung’s soft snores fill your ears as you lay on his chest, fingers tracing random shapes across his skin. He’s been in California for three days now and honestly it’s felt like a dream to you. Like at some point you are going to wake up to an empty bed in your hotel room, but each day you are proven wrong when Taehyung’s angelic sleeping face.

It was moments like this when you wonder how you got so lucky.

“You know I can feel you staring.”

You chuckle as Taehyung cracks one eye open. “Good. Maybe then you can wake up.”

He groans and closes his eye, arms moving to wrap around you and pull you close. You giggle as he buries his face in your neck, his long hair tickling you.

“What time is it?”

“2 pm.”

“2 pm? Why did you let my nap go for so long? We have to start getting ready for the gala.”

You laugh as Taehyung begrudgingly removes himself from you and the bed, catapulting himself to the closet. “I’m sorry! You just looked so cute that I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You might wanna get up too.” He calls from the walk in closet in your hotel room, “You take longer than I do to get ready.”

Huffing, you throw the blankets from you and get out of bed. He wasn’t wrong and it would take you a long time to get ready for the gala tonight, but he has no room to talk. He’s the fourth person you know that takes FOREVER to get ready.

First and second was the power couple, Jimin and Scarlett. The third was Jackie.

“Like you have room to talk.” You lightly push him out of the way to get into the closet, instantly going for your robe. “You take forever too Mr.-my-hair-has-to-look-perfect.”

You could hear Taehyung mocking you behind you, but you just roll your eyes at him and continue to grab what you need for your shower. He knew you were right.

“Are you going to take a shower?” Taehyung asks, running his hands up your arms. You could tell what he wanted and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“I am.” You smile and turn around to face your boyfriend, recognizing the wicked grin on his lips. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

Taehyung hums, licking his lips. “I’ll take you up on that offer.”

The art gala was filled to the brim when you and Taehyung finally arrived and got through the red carpet, several pictures of you and your boyfriend taken along the way.

“That was exhausting.” You sigh, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “I don’t understand how you can do it for hours.”

“Years of practice.”

You sigh and lean back against a table, reaching for one of the room temp waters they kept for patrons. Taehyung licked his lips, drinking you in. Your dress was a vibrant red, off the shoulder and stopping just above your knees and fluttering around, beautiful red flowers sewn into your collar and waist. He always did love the color red on you.

“You know, red is really your color.”

“Johnny.”

Johnny came up beside you, wine in hand and a smirk on his face. Dark black hair slicked back and dressed in a dark grey suit, Johnny was to die for. You know if you didn’t know what he was really like and had Taehyung by your side.

“Hello Y/n. Taehyung.”

“Get out of here Johnny.” Taehyung snarls, wrapping his arm around your waist protectively.

Johnny tosses his head back, his mouth wide open with a laugh before fixes Taehyung with a pointed smirk. “Or what?” He questions. “You won’t do anything. Not with all these reports here.”

He was right, the floor was crawling with paparazzi and different reporters here not just for the gala, but because they knew BTS’ V was here to support his girlfriend. The last thing you needed was to give Taehyung a fighting scandal to ruin his reputation.

Placing a hand on Taehyung’s chest, you try to push him away from Johnny. “He’s right. Come on Tae, he’s not worth it.”

“Yeah Tae,” Johnny mocks as you walk away, “you better do as she says.”

Once Johnny was out of sight you could see Taehyung start to calm down a little, but not by much. You knew that Johnny riled him up more than he did you and while you were thankful he was there to protect you from Johnny, it could cause more problems.

“I can’t stand that guy.”

You nod and place your hand in Taehyung’s, squeezing it in hopes to give him some kind of comfort. “I know I can’t either. He’s been even more conniving than I remember lately.”

“It’s because he wants you back and for no other reason than I have you and you're happy now.” Taehyung sighs as he plays with your fingers, happy for the comfort they provide. You always had a way of calming his anger down, it was like a super power. “But I won’t let that happen.”

Smiling, you lean up to peck his lips. You know he won’t let it happen and you were happy to finally have someone by your side worth fighting for.

The gala was going amazing.

You and Taehyung looked at the art on display, he praised yours and trashed Johnny’s, you had some new food that you had never heard of before, which turned out being gross and Taehyung laughed at you as you basically threw up in the trash. He was used to fancy rich food while you were not.

The night was going well until Johnny decided to pop his head in.

As he’s been doing occasionally throughout the night.

“Will you just go away?”

Johnny shakes his head, looking at the display next to you. “I’m only here to observe the art, Taehyung. What’s your problem?”

You tried your best to keep the distance between Taehyung and Johnny, but you kept being reminded how much bigger Taehyung was than you. He almost got to Johnny three times, but thankfully a hopeful look from you settled him down. He could tell you didn’t want him to start a fight, but Johnny was baiting him.

“You’re my problem.” Taehyung growled. “I know what you’re up to and it’s not going to happen.”

“What? To enjoy the art with my fellow artists?” Johnny places his hand on your waist, pulling you close to his side. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke, bringing back several unpleasant memories.

“Isn’t that right y/-“

Before he could even get your name out of his mouth a fist made contact with it, sending Johnny stumbling backwards. Some woman let out a screen as she saw it happen.

“Someone get him off him!”

“He’s gone crazy!”

Everything was moving in a blur and then you realized that it was you moving. Taehyung was pulling you through the crowd and out of the gala. Lights flashed as photographers took your photo, loud voices dulled by the drumming of your heart as you realized what just happened.

Taehyung punched Johnny.

Multiple times.

And the reporters and paparazzi saw it.

And it was all because of you.

tag list: Tag list: @ego-allie-bap @brightchillstar @lovelyseomin @tangledsparkles @pureshinso @3sriracha @kisskissshutmydoor @leafyturtle @nxtrogers @eleganttravlercloud @ladyartemesia @littlemeowyoongi @thelilbutifulthings @aviwasabi21 @ireallylikeyourwriting @xannybill @kimmalik @sunas-bby @preciouschimine @queenofnightdreamland

#castlebangtan #bts social media au #bts social au #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts imagines #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #creative soul #tbtsstuff #tacoadmin

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squarecarousel · 3 years

Photo

Challenge 144: 10 Years, Looking Forward: Coffee Breaks

I wanted to depict a calm moment, where we’re both happy, healthy, safe, and just better versions of our current selves. I’d like to think I’ll get better at giving myself time off and not feeling guilty for it. That we won’t have to schedule time to hang out because I’ve convinced myself I need to work every moment of every day. Here’s to hoping in 10 years, I’ll have perfected my work/ life balance.

In general, I’m pretty sure my partner Greg (They/Them) will have better hair and make-up skills then I ever will!

Speaking of hair, at the rate I’m greying, there’s no way I won’t be a silver fox by then (Finally achieving my hair goals without the assistance of bleach) ;D

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

♡ Graduated from SCAD in 2011.

♡ I’m currently freelance: Mainly working on private commissions, followed by comic covers, and comic pin-ups.

♡ I’m hopeful that in ten years time that my current situation will flip. That the majority of my freelance work will be covers/ pin-ups, with just a few private pieces here and there. OH, and that I'll have about 20 cats XD

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

It’s not lost on me how incredibly lucky I am to have had Square Carousel in my life these past 10 years. It’s allowed me to grow as a person and as an artist. Pushing me to illustrate things that weren’t necessarily in my wheel house and broadening my visual language. I had to take a few work related breaks through out the years, but I always looked forward to the day I got to jump back in and get to work with my fellow members/friends.

As silly as it sounds I don’t really think I can properly articulate how much love and admiration I have for my fellow members (especially the admins/ ESPECIALLY Caitlin). They’ve been a rock in my life when I needed it the most (whether they know it or not). ♡

Lastly, a big thank you to all the people who supported S.C. through out the past 10 years! Whether you’re a former member, an amazing guest artist who contributed, or just someone who’s liked our work, it has meant the world to us!

Elizabeth B.

#Elizabeth Beals #Illustration #artists on tumblr #square Carousel #Square Carousel Illustration Collective #challenge 144 #10 years looking forward #10th anniversary #final challenge #finale #couple #self portrait #good bye #SCAD #SCAD GRAD

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tagsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

From @TsarinaTorment

to @gumnut-logic

Secret santa does not own this work, full credit to the author mentioned above!

Prompts used: all of them but in true Tsari fashion I also twisted them so much they probably barely resemble the prompts at this point.

Virgil and many, many butterflies (probably not what they had in mind...)

Virgil has a puzzle to solve (actually maybe stayed on some sort of track with this one!)

Virgil and a brother go on a boat trip (of the rescue sort)

Nothing Christmassy, so sorry if my requestee was hoping for that. But on the plus side, it's 8k words of Virgil!

Tsari--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: Steady Hands

Rating: Teen

Characters: Virgil, Gordon, Scott, John... and some friends :D

Summary: One boat. Two brothers. A life-or-death game of Jenga.

“Eeeeaaasy.”

Virgil didn’t bother to glare at his brother, far too used to his distraction techniques. He didn’t even spare him a glance, keeping his attention firmly on what he was doing. Gordon wanted him to fail, like the supportive little brother he was, mostly because he inevitably had a bet on with Alan, and Virgil had far too much pride to let his younger brothers’ schemes throw him off of his game.

He had the steadiest hands of all of his brothers. All four of them were too jittery, too used to moving, whether it be the physical activity Scott and Gordon preferred, or the twitching at the tips of fingers over keyboards and virtual reality. Virgil was an artist, a pianist, an engineer. A medic. His hands didn’t tremble unless he let them.

The tower in front of him wouldn’t fall. Not on his turn.

Perfectly steady hands poked at a single block, careful yet confident. It moved, but its neighbours didn’t. Gordon groaned loudly. Virgil ignored that, too, and once the block moved far enough, deftly plucked it from its fellows.

The tower didn’t even wobble.

“How do you do that?” Gordon groused, pouting at the stack. There were more holes than blocks in the Jenga tower now, and Virgil’s latest move had left it teetering on the very edge of stable. Even he would struggle to get another out without nudging neighbouring blocks and bringing the whole thing crashing down. Gordon had no chance, and they both knew it.

But Gordon wasn’t a quitter. Eyes narrowed in concentration and tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, he surveyed the stack in front of him for several moments in silence, assessing. None of the blocks would go without pulling others down with them, Virgil knew, but Gordon still refused to throw the game.

Eyes almost slits, he selected his target and reached out to touch it.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Clatter.

“Aw, man!” Gordon complained, looking at the jumble of blocks in front of him. “That doesn’t count! John knocked them down!”

“John’s a hologram,” Virgil reminded him, satisfied grin on his face. “That was no more of a distraction than you talking when I picked. My victory.”

“What’s the situation, John?” Scott cut in, ignoring them in preference of John as he always did when a call came in. With one last look at the still-pouting Gordon, Virgil turned his own attention to the projection of his brother.

“There’s a large fishing trawler in distress,” John said. “There was a small explosion in the engine room and now they’re taking on water. The crew are requesting evacuation.”

Virgil straightened up. He didn’t need to look to know that Gordon had done the same, poised to dart for his Thunderbird the moment the brief was over.

“What caused the explosion?” he asked. John shrugged.

“The crew don’t know,” he said. “But the ship’s sinking, so I suggest you launch. I’ll see what I can find on the explosion.”

“F.A.B.,” Scott agreed. “Virgil, Gordon – you’re up. I’ll attend in Thunderbird One.” Virgil didn’t wait to hear anything else, standing up and heading over to the painting that concealed his launch chute and trusting his brothers to be doing the same. “Thunderbirds are go!”

Scott always loved saying that. He denied it, but Virgil knew his big brother.

John was efficient. By the time Virgil was sat in his pilot seat, Module Four selected and little brother rising up into the cockpit behind him, Thunderbird Two’s navigation systems were updated with the precise location of the distressed trawler.

It wasn’t too far, down in the waters south of Tasmania, and before long they got visual on the boat in question. It was listing to one side, figures crowded on deck. From the way they were waving up at Scott in Thunderbird One, Virgil thought it was a pretty safe bet that they were the crew.

“That boat’s too big for Thunderbird Two to stabilise,” Gordon noted. “I’ll see what I can do from the water.”

“F.A.B.,” Virgil agreed.

“I’ll drop down and help the evacuation,” Scott said over the comms. “Virgil, stay overhead in Thunderbird Two and drop the rescue platform. It’ll be a tight fit without the module, but once they’re on board take them to the nearest port. John?”

“I’ve got their home port located,” the ginger said. “Sending co-ordinates now.”

“Once they’re all evac’d, I’ll look around and see if I can find what caused this,” Scott continued. “If Gordon can get the hull patched, we’ll get the GDF out to tow it to port.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gordon said, hologram flickering to live next to John’s on the dash. “Ready for module deployment, Virg.”

“Dropping you now, Gords.” He brought Thunderbird Two into a hover just above the water and released the module. The familiar shudder passed through his ‘bird as she dropped her belly, and it was with a practiced hand that he kept her steady. Out of the window, he saw Scott bring Thunderbird One down before dropping the few feet onto the deck. The silver rocket soared back into the sky under remote control or autopilot – Virgil didn’t know exactly which controls were being used but she wasn’t slaved to Two – as Scott made his way to the crew.

Leaving his big brother to corral them, he focused on his own task, bringing Thunderbird Two overhead and getting ready to drop the rescue platform.

“How many guests am I expecting, Thunderbird Five?” he asked.

“Captain tells me there’s ten,” John told him. “Life signs agree.”

“Gonna be cosy in here,” he observed.

“Cosy or not, we’re ready for evac, Thunderbird Two,” Scott cut in.

“Copy that, Thunderbird One. Lowering the platform now.”

Aside from the unknown cause of the explosion, it was about as standard as they got. Well, Virgil wasn’t used to carrying an entire crew in his cockpit, but aside from that little detail, it was nice and simple.

“Scott, I’ve just picked up another life sign.”

Well, it was simple, until John dropped that little detail. Already leaving the danger zone, Virgil glanced over at the captain, sat in the co-pilot’s seat.

“I thought we had the whole crew here?”

The captain looked shocked. “We do.”

Virgil frowned. “Thunderbird One, all heads are accounted for.”

“Thunderbird Two, keep going. I’ll find our mystery person and evac them in One.”

“I’ll help you search, Thunderbird One,” Gordon chipped in. “I’ve patched up the hole best I can; I’ll leave Four here and join you.”

“F.A.B., Thunderbird Four. Everything’s under control here, Thunderbird Two,” Scott assured him. “You get the crew to dry land.”

“F.A.B.,” Virgil agreed.

“I don’t get it,” the captain said, shaking his head. “There are only ten of us. Who’s the other life sign?”

“If I had to guess, Captain,” John said, “I’d say that’s probably the cause of your explosion. Scott, Gordon, be careful.”

“Noted, Thunderbird Five. Gordon, I’ll rendezvous with you on deck.”

“F.A.B.”

Both his brothers flickered out of sight, presumably switching to a private channel, and Virgil let out a breath, glancing over at the crew behind him. There weren’t enough seats for all of them, so he couldn’t go at his usual speeds, and inwardly he frowned. Even if it was Scott and Gordon, he didn’t feel right leaving them with someone potentially dangerous and without backup.

But he had a job to do, and some people to get to shore.

The trip took longer than he was happy with, but once the crew were safely offloaded, he turned around and shot for the boat and his brothers as fast as Thunderbird Two could go.

“Scott, Gordon, you found our mystery life sign yet?”

His brothers flickered into view.

“Negative, Virgil. No sign of them yet. John keeps losing the signal. I’m guessing it must be some sort of cloaking device.” Scott looked frustrated.

“I don’t like this,” Virgil said bluntly. “Call the GDF to deal with it and get off that boat. If you haven’t found them yet they’re trying not to be found.”

The journey was much shorter when he could go at top speed. Thunderbird One was still hovering above the boat, gleaming silver from the sun.

“Virgil, this boat is still likely to sink. We’ve got to get them off,” Scott argued. “We can’t wait for the GDF.”

“Scott’s right, Virg,” Gordon agreed. “We’ve got to- Scott! I saw them!”

He broke into a run, Scott seemingly hot on his heels.

“Guys,” Virgil ground out. “Guys, if they don’t want to-”

BOOM.

The explosion rocked the boat; through the cockpit windows he saw it list from one side to the other, and then back again, noticeably lower in the water. The cabin was gone, replaced with timber sized matchsticks.

“Scott?” he shouted. “Gordon?”

His brother’s holograms flickered once, twice, and then they vanished. No, no, no. Virgil didn’t think, just reacted, pushing his ‘bird forward the last short distance and firing the grapples down towards the once again sinking boat. As Gordon had noted earlier, it exceeded her lifting power, and VTOLs shrieked as he gunned them with everything she had. His brothers were still down there, somewhere inside looking for their elusive lifesign, and he absolutely was not letting them slip from his grasp. Not now, not ever.

“Scott!” he shouted again, over the sound of Thunderbird Two’s screaming engines. “Gordon! Come in!”

Autopilot couldn’t keep the pressure on the VTOLs; if he tried to leave the cockpit and find them himself, the boat would sink. Even on manual pilot, Thunderbird Two couldn’t hold it for long. A shudder ran through his ‘bird and he grit his teeth. He wasn’t Scott, but he still solved problems. Logistics. Thunderbird Two was at maximum lift strength; her engines would burn out if he kept this up.

His brothers were still down there, unresponsive. He couldn’t risk that.

Module Four was floating on the swell of the waves, waiting for Thunderbird Four’s return. The bright sub was under the waterline; he could just about see her through the ocean swell. Remote controlling her was difficult, and he didn’t know precisely what Gordon had done with her to latch her to the boat. She was also their backup exit if their route to the deck was blocked.

After the explosion, it probably was.

So he couldn’t move Thunderbird Four. Gordon would know exactly where he’d left his ‘bird, and would be making for her if they hadn’t been incapacitated by the explosion. With neither of them picking up comms, Virgil knew better than to cling to a false hope, but he still couldn’t risk it, just in case they were fine and it was just some damaged radios.

He did have Thunderbird One. Her lifting power was nowhere near that of Thunderbird Two’s, but combined, it might just be enough to keep the boat from sinking. It was now an inconvenience that Scott hadn’t slaved her console to his, but he could still override her from Thunderbird Two, and unlike Thunderbird Four, there was no way she’d be of use to his brothers in the boat.

Jaw set, he flicked the control pad and jabbed in the override code for Thunderbird One, slaving her to her sister’s controls before remote piloting her to the more laden end of the ship. One high-tensile grapple cable fired.

It missed. He didn’t have Scott’s precision, or Gordon’s innate dead aim. Those thoughts got pushed away as he reeled the cable back in to send out a second time. The ship below him had to be secured – before Thunderbird Two’s VTOL overheated. He could worry about finding his brothers once he knew the ship wasn’t sinking any more.

The second shot caught, the light going green to represent the clang of success he couldn’t hear over Thunderbird Two’s engines. Thunderbird One’s VTOLs joined the chorus; a cacophony of sound so loud he could barely hear himself think. It was enough.

Just.

Virgil still couldn’t risk autopilot on Thunderbird Two, the weight remaining beyond her official lifting parameters. If it wasn’t for Brains’ over-engineering, she wouldn’t be holding even with her sister’s help.

“John!” he called. Unlike his missing brothers, the ginger appeared immediately. “They’re not picking up. Do you have their signals?”

John looked annoyed, and a little worried. That wasn’t good.

“Their location transmitters are still working,” he said. “But I can’t get either of them to respond, either.”

“Take control of Thunderbird Two,” Virgil ordered. “I’m going to get them.”

“F.A.B. Taking control of both Thunderbirds One and Two now.”

The holographic symbol for Thunderbird Five flashed up over his controls, and Virgil released his grip on them, trusting John – or EOS – to keep the boat from sinking.

Now he had two brothers to save.

“Locations, John?”

“They’re both in the engine room,” his brother told him, the boat’s schematics appearing over his wrist controller as he hurried along the internal corridors of his ‘bird. Her module was detached, floating too far away to reach, but Virgil made it a point to have one Jaws of Life accessible at all times. Just in case.

That just in case paid off as he reached the small storage room, filled with spare gear – and a half-eaten celery crunch bar. He ignored it, but made a mental note to remind Gordon where food was and wasn’t permitted on Thunderbird Two later. Once his brothers were safe.

“Bzzt!”

Static erupted from his wrist controller just as he began to shrug on the mechanical exosuit and he paused, tapping at it to try and clear the signal.

“Bzzt! -irgil? Bzztin -Two!”

“Gordon?” The static was bad, but Virgil still recognised his brother’s voice. “Gordon, can you hear me?”

“I’ll try to boost the signal,” John said. Virgil nodded distractedly, his focus on his comm as it crackled again.

“-ear you,” Gordon confirmed amongst more static. “-dio damaged. Bzzt-bzzt-pair job.”

“What’s your status?” He resumed suiting up, unwilling to waste a moment if his brother was trapped.

“-t great,” his comm crackled. “Not hurt bzzt-ott bzzt cold.”

Virgil frowned, trying to parse what his brother had said through the static.

“Say again, Gordon?”

“Bzzt-t hurt bzzt Scott-bzzt-t cold.”

That was either Scott’s cold or Scott’s out cold, and considering the lack of communication from his older brother, Virgil decided to assume it was the latter. That was a problem, but not an insurmountable one.

“I’m on my way down to you,” he declared, Jaws of Life now settled over him. “Any idea what caused the explosion?”

“-egative, Virg. It’s bzzt-gerous.” Virgil scowled, hearing Gordon’s too dangerous protest and wondering if he thought for one moment that that would stop him. “-ther problem. Bzzt-bzzt-”

“-me a probl-bzzt?” another, unfamiliar voice cut in. Sharp, female. Their missing life sign?

“-ou-bzzt been goo-bzzt-bzzt-fore,” Gordon retorted.

“Gordon?” Virgil cut in. “What’s the problem?”

“-os Crew bzzt-bzzt.” Whatever else Gordon had to say was lost in a snow of static, but Virgil had heard enough to start piecing it all together. Chaos Crew. Explosions. Unfamiliar female voice.

Gordon, and presumably an unconscious Scott, were with Havoc, and Fuse was running around somewhere with no eyes on him.

“Gordon, I’m coming,” he said, cutting off whatever the static was supposed to be. He hoped their connection was better on his brother’s end. “John’s given me your location.”

“No!” Gordon protested, but Virgil ignored him as he left the safety of Thunderbird Two to slide down one of the cables holding the boat up. The roar of the engines drowned out anything coming from his comms for several long moments before his boots hit the surface of the deck.

He’d known it was bad, but this was worse. His comms spluttered at him but he ignored Gordon’s static-garbled protests that he’d left his ‘bird in favour of reassessing the situation.

Virgil was no Scott, able to take everything in at a glance and make snap decisions, but he had an eye for detail and the patience to spend an extra moment looking things over before acting. It was that eye that told him this was not going to be easy.

The main entrance to get below deck – he was sure it had a name but that was Gordon’s area and Virgil might not be Scott but right now he did not have the time to waste on remembering it – was entirely collapsed in, the cabin so much steel and timber covering it and well and truly trapping anyone down below. According to the schematics, that was the only way down.

This was why Virgil had the Jaws of Life with him.

“Virgil.” John’s voice overrode Gordon’s crackling with an urgency that demanded his attention right that moment. “I can’t boost their radio signals any further, but I did manage to boost their suit telemetry and get a more detailed scan of the compartment they’re trapped in.”

“Let me guess,” Virgil sighed, stomping over to the mangled mess of former-cabin and starting to calculate the best way to clear it. “Bad news?”

“Scott’s helmet’s taken some damage, probably from the initial blast, and his oxygen supply is depleted.” Virgil frowned as he identified the first bit of rubble that needed to go – a large sheet of mangled metal that was probably part of the cabin’s roof or walls.

“So they can’t swim for it? That’s not a problem unless their compartment starts to flood,” he observed. It wasn’t ideal, and if Scott’s helmet was damaged that confirmed that he was probably unconscious, but he trusted Gordon to do any initial first aid until he got there.

He ignored the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah,” John said in that flat way that meant bad news. “About that.”

Uh oh. “It’s already flooding?”

“Got it in one. The flow’s reasonably slow and the compartment’s quite big so they’ve got time, but I’d estimate ten minutes and they’ll be under.”

“And with Scott unconscious he can’t hold his breath.” Virgil scowled and shifted the metal with more force than he should have done. The diluted clang of metal on deck reverberated through his boots.

“I imagine Gordon-”

“Hey, watch it!” John’s speculation – probably on how Gordon, their resident aquanaut and underwater rescue specialist, was going to get oxygen to Scott when his helmet was damaged and didn’t fit Gordon’s rebreather anyway – was cut off by a disgruntled exclamation from behind him.

Virgil turned to see unmistakable purple armour, and wondered how on earth he’d missed Fuse coming up behind him.

“You almost hit me with that!” the young man griped, but his heart didn’t seem to be in the accompanying pout. Instead, he was hurrying forwards, almost frantically, and Virgil remembered that Fuse was reportedly Havoc’s brother. “What are you doing throwing metal around on a ship full of explosives?”

“What?”

Virgil hadn’t seen any more explosives. There weren’t supposed to be explosives on the ship.

Fuse hurried past him – probably as fast as he could run in that suit – and started digging through the pile. Metal and wood creaked in protest at him and Virgil clapped a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back.

“Hey! Careful or you’ll bring the lot down.”

“I left a charge around here,” Fuse told him, and Virgil took a deep breath. “They weren’t supposed to go off yet!” He sounded panicked and even though it was blindingly obvious this whole thing was Fuse’s fault – probably directed by the Hood – Virgil couldn’t help but slip into reassuring rescuer mode. That was what he did, after all.

“Okay, okay, take a breath,” he instructed, eyeing the pile of former cabin warily as he tugged Fuse to take a step back. The young man resisted, but Virgil was stronger and he stumbled a single pace away from the pile. “How many explosives are on the ship?”

Fuse glanced around, clearly nervous and slightly scared. Virgil could relate, but he’d been doing the job long enough to compartmentalise that part of his brain and still-fluttering stomach. “Uh… I’m not sure. Nine or ten? I think? I just put them where the Boss said to.”

The silence in his ear from a definitely-eavesdropping John turned frosty, even though his brother still didn’t say a word. No doubt he was about to do his best to wreak hell on the elusive criminal.

“And how many haven’t gone off?” How much of a ticking timebomb was this ship he was stood on – the ship his brothers were trapped in and slowly running out of air as the water seeped in, the ship three Thunderbirds were attached to?

“Only one went off,” Fuse said. He was wringing his hands, still glancing around nervously. “It shouldn’t have gone off until Havoc was clear. He said she’d be safe!”

“Well, she’s trapped with my brothers somewhere down there,” Virgil pointed out. “Where are those explosives and how long do we have until they go off?”

“Five minutes,” Fuse gulped. “I think. But that one went off early and the others are all close enough that if one goes…”

“They all go,” Virgil realised with a sigh. He assessed the situation again. “You want Havoc out of there, I want my brothers out. There’s five minutes, tops, until this boat blows.” Those ten minutes of air didn’t seem significant any more. He took a breath. “We’re going to have to work together on this.”

Fuse glanced sideways, thinking, and Virgil fervently hoped that he loved his sister more than he feared the Hood. John hadn’t warned him about the explosives, which meant Thunderbird Five hadn’t picked them up – the Chaos Crew’s cloaking technology was something Brains and Kayo were itching to get their hands on. That meant that if he had to do it alone, he was working blind. Five minutes to disarm nine or ten explosives… even with the person who had made and placed them with him, it was going to be tight.

It felt like an eternity before Fuse sighed and met his gaze. “Okay.”

Okay. Plan of action time. “We need to get those bombs disarmed as quickly as possible,” Virgil said, knowing the words were redundant but saying them all the same. “Tell me where they are and how to disarm them, and we’ll take half each.” A minute per bomb – just under. He could do that, except Fuse was wringing his hands again.

“I don’t know how to turn them off.”

“What!” Virgil didn’t panic – was the last of his brothers to ever panic in a given situation – but he was starting to get really, really close. “You make them! How do you not know how to disarm them?”

“I-I’ve never had to!” Fuse protested, and right then he’d never looked more like a kid. Virgil took a deep breath, pushing the panic back because this just made things a lot harder but he wasn’t giving up. Not now and not ever.

“We don’t have time for this,” he ground out. “Do you have one with you that isn’t primed?”

Fuse nodded jerkily and reached behind him, withdrawing the familiar purple triangle of a Chaos Crew bomb. Virgil took it gingerly and wasted no time in slipping an arm out of the Jaws of Life to palm a hexdriver and pry the cover off. Five minutes – probably four, now – to work out how to disarm them, teach Fuse, and then get nine-or-ten bombs disarmed.

Easy peasy.

The crisscrossed wires that greeted him weren’t complex, thankfully. If they were, then no amount of miracles would have been enough to pull it off. But it was a simple enough wire pattern; only two wires needed cutting to render them useless.

Well, they could have done with knowing that several times in the past. If all Fuse’s bombs were like this, that was a lot of explosions they could stop. But he didn’t have time to muse on that right now.

“You have a hexdriver and wirecutter?” he asked Fuse, who shook his head. Silently despairing – and starting to wonder if the Hood’s plan wasn’t to one day blow the kid up with his own bombs – Virgil fished out spares from his toolbelt and handed them over. “Okay, it’s simple enough, luckily for us. Pop the cover, and cut these two wires.” He pointed, and then demonstrated by doing it on the one in his hand. “Those two. Got it?”

Fuse stared at the bomb, swallowed loud enough for Virgil to hear it, then nodded.

“Yeah, I got it.”

For the sake of everyone on the boat, Virgil really hoped he did.

“Okay, so where are they? Time’s running out.” Somewhere, Virgil noticed that Gordon’s static had ceased buzzing in his ear, and really hoped that was John’s doing and not because he’d lost what little contact he had with his younger brother. He didn’t have time to worry about that now, not with three and a half minutes and five bombs to disarm.

Luckily, with a plan of action in place, Fuse seemed to regain both his confidence and his memory, bringing up a schematic of the ship and highlighting the ten points he’d fixed bombs to.

“That’s the one that went off,” he said, indicating one inside the cabin area. It was positioned to do exactly what it had managed and cripple the cabin, Virgil noticed. The others were all scattered around the deck, ensuring no escape if any of them went off. Whoever had been trapped by the initial explosion would never stand a chance.

Three minutes, five bombs.

“I’ll take these five,” Virgil said, pointing at the ones on the left of the boat – port side, Gordon’s voice whispered in his head. “You take the other four.”

Fuse nodded and then they moved. Trusting Fuse – trusting a member of the Chaos Crew – felt like something heavy in his gut but Virgil had no choice. He couldn’t trust Fuse, not really, not after everything the guy had done, but he could and had to trust Fuse’s love for his sister. He stood to lose almost as much as Virgil did if he didn’t help.

That, Virgil clung to as he found the first purple bomb, merrily flashing red at him. Popping the cover was harder when it was fixed down to something, but Virgil wasn’t going to let anything stop him and the purple casing was no match for a Tracy on a mission. Two quick but steady snips of the wirecutter later, and that was one down, four to go.

Onto the next.

He reached the fifth and final one with thirty seconds to go. Plenty of time, but the casing didn’t pop off when he levered at it like all of the others had. Instead, it bent alarmingly, and the red flashing light sped up, much like Virgil’s heartrate was doing. He tried tackling it from another angle, but the cover might as well have been superglued for all the luck he was having.

Fuse let out a shout that sounded triumphant from the other end of the boat, and Virgil took a deep breath. Fifteen seconds, and this was the last one. If Fuse was telling the truth, but Fuse had to be telling the truth otherwise his sister was going to die, too.

Ten seconds, and the cover still refused to budge. He wasn’t going to get it disarmed in time, but Virgil wasn’t giving up. Not now, not ever.

Five seconds and he finished cutting around the part of the boat it was fixed to with his laser. He didn’t know how big the blast radius was going to be, but the further from the boat it was, the better their odds.

He was still wearing the Jaws of Life. Virgil wasn’t the best pitcher in the world, but he had mechanical assistance and the steadfast determination that no-one’s dying today. With barely two seconds left, the bomb was hurtling through the air, away from the boat into the open ocean.

It barely reached the water before exploding, sending a shockwave that rocked the boat and had Virgil stumbling backwards, colliding with the cable from Thunderbird One. Above him, VTOL continued to scream their displeasure.

He took a moment to breathe, stomach churning its way back to stability one breath at a time, before pushing himself upright again.

The rescue wasn’t over yet. The bombs were gone, but there was only five minutes left until the compartment his brothers were in flooded. Gordon had plenty of oxygen and could hold his breath another five minutes, easily. Longer, if he was prepared. He had no idea what Havoc’s condition was, beyond ‘conscious and sniping with Gordon last he heard’, but Scott was unconscious and while Virgil had every faith that Gordon would be able to work something out, the fact was that they hadn’t gone into the rescue expecting to need extra oxygen, and Gordon’s supplies were mostly in Thunderbird Four.

He trusted Gordon, but the hard number he had was five minutes before Scott was at risk of drowning.

His comm crackled into life, Gordon’s voice barely audible past the static, but he couldn’t make out a single word his brother was saying. That didn’t stop him from hearing the underlying panic.

“Gordon, I can’t hear you,” he replied, pulling himself together and heading back towards the ruined cabin, where Fuse was staring somewhat blankly at the pile of rubble between them and their siblings. “John, is there any way to clear this static?”

“It’s physical damage to the unit, so there’s nothing I can do,” his brother said, sounding rather annoyed at the failure of their communications. Virgil didn’t blame him. “But after that shockwave, the boat seems to have taken more damage. The compartment’s filling faster now. I’d estimate you have two minutes, three at most, before they’re underwater.”

So much for five minutes.

“Any good news for me, John?”

“You… seem to be working with Fuse rather well?” his brother offered. “Otherwise, I’m afraid not. Communications are still down, as you’re finding, I don’t know any more than you do on their conditions, and both Thunderbirds are struggling to keep the boat up. Once you’ve got them out you’ll need to move fast.”

“So no breathing room until we’re off this sinking boat,” Virgil summarised. “Thanks, John.”

“Just get them out,” his brother responded.

Virgil slid his arm back into the Jaws of Life and felt the technology whirr around him as he returned to Fuse’s side and the jumble of debris between him and his brothers.

“Does Havoc have an oxygen supply?” he asked. “They’ll be underwater in less than three minutes.”

“If it’s not damaged,” Fuse slumped, reaching for the mishmash of former-cabin. “Her radio’s damaged and I can’t contact her.”

“Well I heard her over what little communication I’ve got with my brothers, so she’s conscious,” Virgil reassured him. “We just have to get them out.” He eyed the mess in front of him and shook his head. Move the wrong bit and it’d probably all go crashing down. “Just like Jenga. You any good at that?”

Fuse shook his head. “Don’t play that sort of game.”

“In that case, stand back,” Virgil told him. “I’m good at Jenga.” Although admittedly he’d never played it with people’s lives on the line before, or on a time limit.

The load-bearing chunks of broken cabin were easy enough to pinpoint, and it was with all the confidence of years of heavy lifting that he cleared away all the loose debris so that it wouldn’t fall when he moved the heavier ones later. Still, he was ever-conscious of the time slipping away from him, and it only took one jerky move to send a cascade of small segments tumbling down, past the load-bearing sections and into the belly of the ship.

Less haste, more speed, he scolded himself, but the action had actually cleared the immediate issue; the load-bearing struts were no longer load-bearing, and with a mechanical whine, the Jaws of Life made short work relocating them to clear the area.

One minute down, one to go, and he still had to find his brothers. They were still in the engine room, and the fact that they hadn’t moved told him that they must be stuck there. Unconscious Scott or not, Gordon would have moved them as close to the exit as he could get.

Unless Havoc…

No, he refused to let that cross his mind. Fuse was working with him to make sure Havoc was safe. Surely Havoc was smart enough to know that working with Gordon would be better for her than being hostile. He’d even heard Gordon’s garbled tones over the comms not two minutes earlier. Havoc wasn’t the problem, not this time.

The problem was the collapsed corridor between him and the engine room.

Time was ticking, the fluttering in his stomach that had died down was back in full force because he could hear the water sloshing around on the other side of the barricade but not his brothers, and there was an entire collapsed section of corridor in the way.

If he couldn’t hear Gordon sniping with Havoc or trying to rouse Scott, they were probably already underwater. If Scott hadn’t regained consciousness, his life was entirely in Gordon’s hands right now, and while there were no hands Virgil trusted more given the situation the fear was curling up inside him that he was too late.

No.

He took a deep breath.

He was not too late. He was going to get them out of there and he was going to do it now.

Virgil had steady hands. He was an artist, a pianist, an engineer. No matter how much his stomach fluttered as though an entire swarm of frantic butterflies had taken up residence and his heart raced to the rhythm of a bomb’s flickering red light moments before detonation, his hands stayed steady.

It was those steady hands that reached out and directed the mechanical hands of the Jaws of Life to dig their way through the jumble of broken boat in his way. Fast, but steady and sure as he stopped letting himself think about lifeless bodies and instead remembered the game of Jenga he’d been having with Gordon just before the call came in. Jenga was easy, a simple logistics puzzle, and Virgil slipped into that mindset. All the turns were his, the tower of blocks was a mass of broken boat, and Virgil hadn’t lost a game of Jenga in years.

That record was not breaking now.

Debris piled up beside him, and at some point Fuse had followed him down, but Virgil’s focus was on the shimmering surface of rising water as he broke through the precariously-balanced debris. A blur of purple almost knocked him over, but while Havoc was strong, she was slight and he caught her – sopping wet and clearly fuming – by the shoulders.

“Go careful or it’ll fall down on top of you,” he warned her. She scoffed and shrugged him off before hurrying past him, but she wasn’t his concern any more, not when there was IR blue with a bright splash of yellow breaking the surface of the water and taking in a huge lungful of air.

Gordon was helmetless, blond hair plastered to his face as water trailed down his skin as though he was in the swimming pool at home. Aside from the deep breaths he was taking after holding his breath for however long, he seemed fine, and Virgil’s attention snapped to the limp body he was clutching.

The yellow-rimmed helmet jammed on Scott’s head and creatively secured with far too much insulation tape to keep it air and water tight did not belong to his eldest brother. It didn’t fit right – hence the need for the insulation tape – and was definitely too small, but Gordon’s yellow rebreather was attached to it and while it was an unorthodox solution that Scott would be complaining about later, Virgil had no doubt it had saved his life.

“Good thinking,” he praised, reaching down to take Scott from his brother. “Injuries?”

As soon as he had hold of him, Gordon was scrabbling at the tape, ripping it off in a way that was bound to smart Scott later. “Not that I don’t like hugs, but there’s no way we’re getting through that tunnel tied together,” the aquanaut said in a rush. He was right; the rebreather was still attached to Gordon’s baldric and getting Scott out was going to be difficult enough without them being linked together. “I’m fine, wasn’t near the blast, but Scott got hit in the head by the debris and it smashed his helmet. He’s been out of it since everything went boom.” That worried Virgil, but what worried him more was how long it was taking Gordon to get the helmet off of Scott’s head.

The water level was still rising.

“Ah hah!” Gordon exclaimed triumphantly as the last of the tape came off and he was able to detach the rebreather and reclaim his helmet. Trusting his fish of a brother to get himself out of the water, especially now he had his helmet back, Virgil turned his attention to Scott and hauled the limp body clear of the flooded room.

Despite the helmet, his hair was still wet. Virgil latched onto that observation as he pulled him over his shoulder and headed back for the exit as fast as he could. Behind him, the familiar sound of wet flippers reassured him that Gordon was following, but also told him that the water levels were still rising.

“Thunderbird One’s VTOLs are overheating,” John said suddenly, his voice grim. “She won’t hold much longer.”

Virgil frowned. If Thunderbird One went down in the ocean, she’d be all but impossible to retrieve and he really didn’t need any more delays. He eyed the end of the corridor, knowing that somewhere, Fuse and Havoc were ahead of him.

“Any sign of the Chaos Crew?” he asked, speeding up as much as he dared. A jolt in the wrong place would bring the debris down on top of them. Water sloshed around his ankles.

“I’ve lost them.” He could imagine John shaking his head. “I’d assume that means they’re in their ship and clear.”

Virgil was going to have to take that chance.

“Is Thunderbird Four still attached to the boat?” Gordon asked. Virgil had all but forgotten the little yellow sub, but John confirmed it and he nodded, realising that with his comms still down, Gordon couldn’t hear their brother.

“John, cut Thunderbird One loose and get Thunderbird Four back to the module,” he said.

“Are you sure? Thunderbird Two can’t take the full weight of the boat for long,” John reminded him.

Virgil reached the end of the corridor, water somewhere near the top of his boots, and gestured for Gordon to go on ahead. The aquanaut started to frown, then glanced at Scott and acquiesced.

“I’m sure,” he said, watching Gordon scramble up to the deck. “We can’t afford Thunderbird One crashing, and Thunderbird Two can hold long enough.”

She had to.

“EOS has Thunderbird Four,” John informed him. “She’ll be back in the module in approximately forty seconds. I’ll cut Thunderbird One loose once you’re on the deck. Not before.”

Virgil supposed that was as good a reason as any to hurry. Gordon was clear, leaning back in to take Scott, and he passed their brother up to him before heaving his way out.

True to John’s word, above them Thunderbird One jerked skywards, disengaging from the boat. Her VTOLs were spluttering painfully, and in the blink of an eye John had her diverting power to the rear thrusters and jetting off for home.

Thunderbird Two squealed, a noise that shot right through Virgil as the boat juddered and lurched beneath his feet. A resounding crash from below deck told him that his careful Jenga of debris had toppled entirely, but they were all clear so that didn’t matter now.

What mattered was getting onboard Thunderbird Two as she juddered and shrieked in protest at the weight Virgil was asking her to hold up, just a little longer.

“Thirty seconds before her engines reach critical,” John warned him. “Get on board now.”

Gordon had hold of Scott, one hand clinging to the deck while the other clutched his brother’s unmoving form close. A particularly large lurch had Virgil crashing down, landing on one knee and forcing him to stabilise himself with one of his claws. Above them, swinging violently with the Thunderbird’s movement, the cockpit platform lowered.

If all three of them were conscious, they’d make it. But Scott’s eyes were still closed, and either Virgil or Gordon needed to sacrifice their hands to keep hold of him. Hands that were very much needed to keep their own balance and scramble onto the platform.

Gordon knew it, too. Virgil could see it in his eyes.

“Go,” he said, reaching to take Scott. “Get on board.”

“Not a chance,” Gordon disagreed. “I’m the aquanaut. If anyone’s going in the water, it’s me. You’re weighed down by the exosuit.”

He was right, but Virgil didn’t want to admit it. He’d only just managed to get Scott and Gordon out of the water; the last thing he wanted was either of them going back in, but Thunderbird Two’s lurching was getting worse and he could hear her VTOLs starting to splutter.

“How about you all move and no-one goes in the water?” John snapped in his ear. “Virgil, get on the platform.” He sounded half angry, half terrified. Not for the first time, Virgil decided that he did not envy his older brother’s job.

Another lurch sent all three of them sprawling sideways, slamming them against the side of the deck and further from the rescue platform. Something went clatter.

Virgil saw something fall past him, but before he could register what it was, there was a dull thunk, like the sound of one of their cables hitting the deck, and the ship lurched back upright.

“What the hell?” Gordon muttered. “What was- oh.”

Oh indeed.

Virgil looked at the cable that had just appeared where Thunderbird One’s had been, heard Thunderbird Two’s VTOLs quiet down just a tad as something else took the strain, and followed the thick grey line up to see a purple and grey machine spluttering away.

“I guess she didn’t hate me after all,” Gordon quipped, but Virgil could hear the wide-eyed surprise in his voice.

There wasn’t time to wonder why the Chaos Cruiser was helping them. The little thing was even less equipped to hold the boat up than Thunderbird One had been, and wouldn’t last long. But the little clatter had reminded him of something he really shouldn’t have forgotten in the first place.

“Gordon, hand me Scott’s grapple launcher.”

There was a split second pause before Gordon dove for their brother’s baldric. “Oh, we’re idiots. Virgil, get moving.”

“Gordon-”

“I’m the better shot, and also less weight,” his brother argued. “Get moving.” The aquanaut didn’t even wait for him to agree before firing straight at the hole in the bottom of the cockpit. It was a bulls’ eye, of course, and Virgil stifled a reflex noise of complaint as he scooped Scott up and scrambled for the rescue platform.

It was still rocking, the Chaos Cruiser not strong enough to fully stabilise the boat, but with stubborn determination and a healthy dose of grappling using the Jaws of Life, he fumbled his way onto the platform, Scott in a heap beside him. The familiar whirring of a grapple cable – and seriously, why hadn’t they remembered Scott had those until one of his grapple packs had fallen out of his baldric – heralded Gordon swinging in on a rapidly-shortening cable, and with a sigh of relief that sounded an awful lot like finally, John set the platform rising back into the cockpit.

Just before they were swallowed up by his ‘bird, Virgil found himself looking out at the Chaos Cruiser. Havoc and Fuse both stared back, one gaze cold as ice, the other warmer than he’d expected. Then it cloaked, shimmering into invisibility, and he was staring at the inside of his cockpit.

Thunderbird Two juddered, and the red warning lights shut off.

“I cut her loose,” John said from his wrist before he could panic. “I’ll get her to pick up Thunderbird Four, and then she’s heading for home, unless Scott needs a hospital?”

Scott. It was against regulations and Virgil was going to be grumbling at himself for it later, but he disengaged the Jaws of Life entirely and stepped out of it, leaving it loose in the cockpit. Gordon had already crouched down next to their brother, and was poking Scott’s cheek.

The malcontent grumble he got was music to Virgil’s ears. “He’s waking up, John, but I’ll do a scan just to be sure.” Bleary blue eyes blinked at him as he held the scanner up, and Gordon broke into a relieved grin.

“Hey, bro,” he beamed. “Nice to see you back.”

“Ow,” Scott rasped as the scan flashed up a group of ambers but no reds. Nothing they couldn’t handle at home. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing particularly exciting,” Gordon told him airily, in that tone that all older brothers knew meant trouble. Virgil was pleased to see Scott squinting at him suspiciously. “Just a woman with a very sharp tongue and an extended swimming session. Pretty fun, actually!”

“Your idea of fun concerns me,” Virgil drawled, but kept his eyes on Scott, who was already pushing himself to sit up. “John, I think home is fine.”

“F.A.B.” His brother didn’t even bother hiding the relief in his voice.

“Do I want to know?” Scott asked, voice dripping with suspicion. It was a rhetorical question – he’d be hounding them for every last detail before the day was done.

“Know that we maybe kinda just a little might need to be a smidge thankful for the Chaos Crew saving our butts?” Gordon asked in that same sunny tone. “Probably not.”

“We saved them first,” Virgil clarified before Scott could explode. “Long story short, your last life sign was Havoc, one of the explosives Fuse planted went off too soon which knocked you out and trapped you two with Havoc in the engine room, and then I had to teach Fuse how to disarm his own bombs before the rest of them went off, then dig you three out.”

Scott groaned and put a hand to his head. “I think I must be hallucinating, because I could have sworn you just said you taught Fuse to disarm his own bombs.”

“I wish it was all in your head, Scott, but no, that actually happened,” Virgil admitted. “Come on, let’s get you in a seat.” He looped Scott’s arm around his shoulders and grabbed his waist before hoisting him up. Gordon hovered on his other side as they made the short few steps to one of the passenger seats and Scott sank down into it.

“Thunderbird One?”

“John’s sent her home already.” Virgil decided against mentioning the damage to her VTOLs. He didn’t want to be in the room when Scott found out about that. “You were unconscious for fifteen minutes, Scott.” Was it really only fifteen minutes? The whole thing had felt so much longer. “You’re piloting nowhere until Grandma gives you the all clear.”

Scott groaned, but it was his normal groan of annoyance at being grounded and not one of pain. Still, Virgil checked his head with his fingers, which Scott suffered with his usual bad grace. A lump, but no cut – fortunate, considering his unintended swim – and otherwise seemed in pretty good shape considering his spate of unconsciousness. Virgil snapped a cold pack and prodded his brother into holding it against his head.

“And keep it there,” he warned. The eye roll he got in response should have annoyed him but was really just another reassurance.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” Scott asked. “Because so far I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Unfortunately, big bro, it’s all true,” Gordon drawled. He’d sprawled himself out over the co-pilot’s chair, arms folded behind his head and flippers on the dash. Virgil glowered but the squid ignored him. “Chaos Crew got involved but ended up helping us out. Rather begrudgingly, in Havoc’s case. Virg had Fuse, so he’s the one to ask about him.”

“He was worried about his sister,” Virgil shrugged. “Family loyalty trumps his loyalty to the Hood, apparently.”

“I can believe that,” Gordon shrugged.

Scott sighed. “This all sounds ridiculous. Let’s just go home.”

Virgil grinned. “That’s the plan, Scott.”

“Besides, Virg still owes me a rematch,” Gordon injected. “Johnny ruined our last game.”

“You ruined your own game,” the ginger sniped, proving that he was still eavesdropping. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“I think I’m done with Jenga for the day,” Virgil admitted, pressing his hand over Scott’s on the cool pack as his brother’s grip slackened. A quick check on his brother proved it was just Scott trying to escape treatment again, rather than anything concerning. “How about chess?”

Gordon squinted at him in confusion. “You know you’ll lose.”

Virgil smirked. “We’ll see.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020 #Tsarinatorment #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #The Chaos Crew

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