#instead of shoving alan in at the end

[grinchwrapsupreme]

spending 1.5 episodes on confirming that Alan has spent the past 4 years being haunted by his own suicide and desperately trying to move past it without knowing how was NOT ENOUGH

#suicide mention // #the panic when he sees himself in the park and KNOWS what night it is hurts so fucking bad #but like he's obsessed with trying to push forward and nadia is obsessed with going back #and that conflict would have been so tasty if they'd given them enough time together to fully explore it #instead of shoving alan in at the end #russian doll #alan zaveri #like obviously spending all that time on nadia's story was super important #but i wish the balance had been there #sorry i'm watching the S2 finale and he's so scared #and his convo with his grandma feels like it's missing a huge portion of its foundation

[avonne-writes]

thinking about how buck wouldn’t share a bed with anyone because he wouldn’t feel comfortable being in that close proximity to anyone even if all the other guys are doing it. until bucky shows up and now he can finally be warm and have a comfortable sleep.

It takes Bucky about a week in the camp to recover enough of his personality to socialize. He was a shell of himself for what feels like forever, but getting Gale back was like getting a second chance at life. He can feel himself healing with every hug, every touch of Gale's hand, every warm look. By the end of the week, he’s well enough to open up to some of the younger guys who don’t know him but who, for one reason or another, joined his ragtag team of friends.

They're watching a soccer game outside, soaking in the sunshine. Gale refused to come and decided to stay behind reading instead, but already after one week, Bucky wonders how long his dislike of sports will win over the boredom of camp life. Watching these games are one of the few things that bring a smile to Bucky's face here.

"God, I wish I could bottle this up." One of the boys, Alan or something, sighs as he tilts his head back in the sun.

"It gets so freakin' cold at night that if I don’t share my bunk with this moron -" He shoves his friend, some short, tan guy called Billy, who pushes him back with a smile. "- then I can’t sleep from my teeth chattering. And it's not even winter yet."

"I don't know how Cleven does it."

Bucky's interest perks up. "Does what?"

"Sleeping alone." Alan explains.

Billy shakes his head. "That man's made of stone or something."

"Buck doesn’t sleep alone." Bucky says.

He’d know, given that he spent every single night since he arrived pressed to him head to toe. The first few times, when Bucky was really bad off and wasn't sure if he'd recover, Gale would spoon him from behind, his hand splayed over Bucky's heart. Nowadays, he's back to being the little spoon, which Bucky likes even more, because it lets him feel like he can put himself between Gale and the rest of the world.

"He did when we got here. Before we were sorted apart." Alan makes a contemplative face. "Wasn't real keen on getting close and personal with us."

"He just didn't like your ugly mug." Billy teases and gets another friendly shove for it.

"I wonder who shares with him."

Bucky raises his eyebrows at the boys, the corners of his lips twitching to smirk. "Me."

He doesn’t know what's more amusing, the look of utter admiration on the two boys' faces or the way Gale reacts half an hour later, when Bucky interrupts his reading to tell him what interesting rumours he heard.

#mota #gale cleven #john egan #buck x bucky #my writing #anon #stalag fic #the way it pained me to write soccer

[gumnut-logic]

Scott was ever so tired, but when John requested he not return Thunderbird One to her hangar, but instead nest her up with Two, he had to do as his brother asked.

John’s reasoning didn’t involve words, just a photo that had Scott hitting the brakes over Tonga and gliding in as quietly as he could.

The fact Virgil was behind him only had him waiting longer as the cargo ship needed to touch down before One could park securely. After all, the whole reason they hid the Thunderbirds like they did on their deserted Island was to protect them from accidentally being seen. There were holographic shields and security networks galore protecting the Island, but ultimately, if a fishing boat either wandered in or needed safety, it was a good idea to keep the Thunderbirds much less than obvious.

In summary, they didn’t tend to leave the sports car on the lawn for the neighbourhood to gawk at.

So instead, Scott set One to hover a respectful distance away while he waited for Two to catch up.

And try not to fall asleep in his pilot’s chair.

Fortunately, Virgil wasn’t as far behind as he could have been and the green behemoth soon appeared on One’s sensors. Scott stared as his younger brother glided in under minimal power and set down with a short spurt of VTOL in a rather impressive manoeuvre. It was the closest to landing silently that Two could probably get.

Scott let One follow almost immediately. She wasn’t as quiet as Two, the fact she had had to hover removing any chance at a glide out of the equation.

In any case, he slipped One in behind her sister and stashed her in the massive hangar so Two could still deploy if necessary and One could as well, albeit a touch slower than usual.

But considering her pilot was a zombie, it wouldn’t matter for another eight hours at least.

Climbing out, he met an equally tired Virgil and they plodded to the elevator together, drowning their exhaustion in the showers, and throwing on pyjamas that Grandma had obviously left out for them.

Scott’s t-shirt had the slogan on the front ‘Born to fly’, which he found appropriate, but the shirt having come from Gordon, the back followed up with ‘Farts in the sky’.

But he was too tired to care right now. Shoving it on and pulling the pants up over aching hips - he really shouldn’t have jumped from that cliff – he stretched to finally get any of the remaining kinks out of his system.

Only to find Virgil wearing a slightly too small t-shirt also obviously of the Gordon purchase pile that pectorally declared, ‘Warning: Do not decaffeinate, may decapitate’.

Well, perhaps, Gordon did have a point there.

Scott sighed. “Want to check on them?”

Virgil’s answer was only an eyebrow, but it clearly declared Scott an idiot for asking such a stupid question.

That ended all energy for future verbalisation and, finishing up, Virgil fell into step beside Scott as he headed off towards the lounge.

Because Allie was in the lounge.

And Allie was injured.

That fact, that entire concept, cut into Scott’s gut like a blunted knife.

John’s frantic yell the week before had aged the commander several years in a matter of seconds. Allie had been up helping a space freighter that had lost power and was in the process of losing orbit along with it. It should have been simple, but some high-speed space trash had collided with the vessel while Alan was out repairing broken electronics.

His suit had been compromised by what was basically a small meteor of human origin and for a bit there it had been damned scary.

But Brains made above average spacesuits and a certain self-healing polymer invented by a smart brother automatically resealed the suit.

Not before the damage to Alan’s leg had been done, however. A gash the length of his calf with both hot and cold burns leaving his leg a mess and their little brother grounded for weeks.

Scott was just happy to have him safe, and those weeks gave Scott the time to process the fact that, ultimately, he would have to let Alan out into space again.

But for now, he was safe at home.

Virgil was on his right when they entered the comms room. There was only one lamp providing illumination beside the moon shining through the rafters, but there was enough light to see Alan and Gordon curled up in what appeared to be the remains of a blanket fort.

Scott stepped quietly, Virgil on his heels.

Both little brothers were asleep, Gordon curled protectively around Allie, snuggled in a pile of pillows and bedclothes. Alan’s bandaged leg stuck out at an angle, but rested on a cushion, his foot sporting a pink fluffy slipper.

But it wasn’t the rather heart-warming sight of his two sleeping brothers that raised his eyebrows.

It was the swarm, a literal school of plushies that surrounded them that had Scott’s eyes bugging out...at least a little.

His brothers were curled up on the floor, but sitting on the couches where International Rescues were decided on and deployed was a literal cornucopia of sea life cuddly toys.

There was a giant prawn as big as Alan perched as if waiting for the holoprojector to activate. Eight octopuses of varying size, lined up in a row, sat beside it, three squid keeping them company.

A whale took up the entirety of one couch all by itself, a plethora of rays and fluffy sharks were piled up in mounds.

A furry red crab was sitting on the steps alongside something else that was white and vaguely bug like. The rest of the floor was covered by starfish, multiple clownfish and a whole variety of other plushie marine organisms including a six-metre-long oarfish that Scott only knew the name of because Gordon had pounded it into his head the day he bought it.

Literally, Gordon had whacked him across the head with it.

Virgil tiptoed into the mess silently on bare feet and there was a flicker of yellow light as he scanned his little brother.

The engineer retreated back to Scott’s side just as quietly, so there was obviously nothing to be concerned about.

John flickered in above the table, obviously on dim projection. He didn’t say anything, just smiling a little down at his brothers before looking up at Scott and Virgil.

Scott absently saluted him and that smile widened just a little before he blinked out again.

There was definitely a good reason why Thunderbird One needed to be parked out back.

Virgil tugged on his arm.

A glance at his brother and Virgil nodded him in the direction of the elevator.

Scott looked back at his two sleeping little brothers once more, a breath releasing through his teeth. Gordon obviously had a sea creature plushie addiction that might require a few questions at a later time, but there was something about the scene that swelled Scott’s heart and part of him wanted to curl up in the pile with them.

Virgil tugged on his arm again and Scott relented, following the engineer from the room.

Nothing much was said between them in the elevator, both caught up in their thoughts. Now they were out of sight of their little brothers, exhaustion once again crept in.

Virgil squeezed Scott’s shoulder as they exited onto the residential level and both of them disappeared into their rooms.

Five minutes later there was a knock at Scott’s door.

Bleary eyed and heart sinking he opened it, only to find Virgil standing there with his arms full of a giant black teddy bear. His brother shoved it at Scott, forcing him to either grab a hold or drop it.

Nothing was said, but Virgil did squeeze his hand before disappearing as abruptly as he had appeared.

Scott was left holding a giant black teddy bear.

It took him a moment, but he shut the door and retreated back into his bedroom.

The bear stared at him.

This was foolish.

But exhaustion continued to gnaw at him and it was with a certain lack of care that found Scott grabbing the bear and curling up in bed around it as the lights finally shut off.

Its fur was ever so soft.

And warm.

As he relaxed into sleep.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #nuttyfic reblog #I felt like some fluff #and some Scotty

[finnish-kingdom-hearts]

Why I love the Alan/Alice/Alice pairing

Why I Love the Alex/Alan/Alice pairing:

The Trauma Trio and Schrodinger's Wife all wrapped up in one package.

From the Dark Place, Alice had watched Alan pine for her warmth and at the same time crave the touch of his supposed imaginary friend turned foe. She could feel the darkness had taken a cruel pride in tormenting her husband in Casey’s form loop after loop. After returning from the lake, she shared her husband’s love and worry and passion for this FBI agent who they barely knew but had already spent a lifetime with.

Wake was finally reunited with Alice (Back in his arms, stuck in his head? Dealer's choice with this pairing bayybeeeee!). They were together again thanks to her love. But a part of his heart couldn’t come to grips with the realization that there was a real Alex Casey. That this man, that he’d thought about since … and during… puberty, this person he longed for to be real, WAS real. Flesh and blood instead of ink and parchment. This man that he’d done nothing but hurt since the moment he’d crawled out of that damned lake. He could barely look at Casey after everything he’d put the man through. But he yearned for the FBI Agent to understand and maybe one day forgive him. The mere thought of Casey one day smiling his way makes his stomach flutter.

And Casey, now having been touched by the darkness, better understood the absolute nightmare Alan had endured. When he compared his relatively short encounter with the power of lake to Wake’s thirteen years of torture within its depths and Alice’s choice to risk everything to save her love, Casey’s built up anger and resentment ebbed away. It turned into sorrow, then to rage, then into something in-between. He also felt something else he hasn’t felt in a long time, something he felt when he caught Alan sheepishly stealing glances at him and the way Alice’s unyielding gaze (Next to Alan? Through Alan?) seemed to penetrate his very soul. He shoved the feeling back down the moment his cheeks started to flush. Saga would never let him hear the end of it.

Alice could see Alex and Alan dancing around each other, avoiding each other’s gazes and touches, lest an avalanche of emotions spill forth between the pair. A smile spread across her face. She would hold on to her light, not only for Alan but to guide Alex to where he belonged.

#alex casey #alan wake 2 #alan wake ii #alan wake fanart #aw2 #alice wake #alan wake #remedyverse #artists on tumblr #poly relationship #more likely thank you think

[ash5monster01]

Perfect To Love Part 7

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, angst, trust issues.

Summary: Beth Walker was used to living in the shadows. She had only one friend and anyone else who paid her mind usually bullied her for her size. So she learned to keep her mouth shut, her head down, and her heart closed because she had to accept the fact that she would be nothing more than the fat girl to people. That is until Robin decides Beth needs more in life and that might just include a boy who she never would’ve thought could see her for who she truly was.

a/n: this chapter is short & sweet, I know, but I wrote it to give more of the dynamic between Robin and Beth, and more of an idea of what’s going on in Beth’s head. she just doesn’t want to be hurt <3

word count: 2,296

Part 6 ←→ Part 8

Masterlist

Beth had expected to feel a lot of things after their date. Considering it was her first date ever. She thought it would go like it did in the movies, be everything she ever dreamed of. She thought she’d feel butterflies for the next couple of days. Dream of stolen glances and soft touches. Instead every time she thought back she cringed. Actually recoiled into herself from embarrassment. She’d replay the date in her head, try to remove that feeling, yet every time she reached the end she’d wince, and have to start all over again. It was a torturous cycle and she was unsure how to break it. Unsure how to separate the good moments from where they had turned bad.

She also wasn't sure how to explain it, which was why she had been screening Robin's calls since. When Beth had returned home that night Robin had been long gone needing to be home in time for dinner with her parents. Instead of following through on the promise to call her with all of the details she had been avoiding her, because how do you explain to your best friend how badly you messed up when you weren't even sure yourself how it happened. It wasn't something you could just easily explain. It also wasn't something Robin could easily understand. After all Beth was embarrassed and here she was cringing again as she thought of it.

"Alright Walker, open the door before I break it. I won't hesitate. Alan already told me I was allowed" Robin banged at the girls door and she flinched, rolling over to look at it. Knowing confrontation was standing right there behind the white paint on the door.

"Robin please let me sulk a little longer" Beth groaned out, flopping a pillow onto her face.

"Not happening, open up" Beth groaned louder, this time so Robin could hear, before tossing the pillow away, and standing to open the door. Swinging it open just to spot the blonde girl holding up a tub of ice cream and two spoons with her permanent awkward smile on her face.

"You're really gonna make me do this?" Beth asked and Robin nodded which caused Beth to sigh as she returned to her bed, Robin now following behind. Once they were both settled in, side by side, and spoons in each of their hands, Robin turned to her.

"Alright, tell me what's up. Steve said you've been avoiding him too" Beths head fell back against the head board as Robin mentioned his name. She needed at least another half and hour before this type of torture.

"Robin I'm such an idiot. I told you I was too awkward to do this" Beth told her, eyes shut so she didn't have to face her bestfriend and show her humiliation.

"I think you're over thinking it. Steve said it was a great date. Just the end was a bit weird" Beth cringed, tucking herself into the sheets as Robin said this.

"Oh God, he's never gonna ask me out again" at this Beth stuck the spoon into the tub of ice cream and shoved a glob in her mouth. She hated turning to food for comfort considering her size, but embarassment this harsh needed all the ice cream in the world.

"That's not true, tell me what happened and I'll tell you that you're overreacting"

"I can't believe you don't remember me from high school" Beth shook her head as Steve opened the car door for her, Steve outwardly groaning as he heard this.

"I was an asshole in high school Beth, if it helps I didn't remember Robin either" he explained, shutting her into the car before she could respond, and jogging to the other side.

"You definitely were an asshole, I can agree with that" she told him once he was inside. Beth didn't want to tell him what happened, didn't want to ruin this night, because the night had been so good. So perfect. Everything she ever wanted.

"Hey, that's mean" he gasped, but he was pretending. He blocked out a lot of things from highschool because when he thought of who he used to be, the things he used to do, they were things he didn't want to remember. Things he didn't want to represent him. Yet he wouldn't doubt at some point their paths had crossed and it was more than likely not the type of meeting they were doing now.

“Hey I said were. If you asked me a month ago I would’ve said you were still an asshole but after you punched Colin and tonight, I can officially say Steve Harrington has changed for the better” Beth said grabbing his hand this time. She had gotten more comfortable, more confident in his feelings towards her. She could grab his hand and not feel awkward now.

“Thank you Beth, it means a lot” Steve had his own set of problems Beth realized. Sometimes she was so focused on her own she missed others. Steve was a different guy and she could recognize that was not easy to come to. Beth waited a moment before acknowledging his sentence.

“Anytime Steve” the air in the car was heavy. A repercussion of a good first date and an understanding conversation. Both parties could feel it, feel the weight of what could come next. It was the moment Steve had been waiting for since the beginning of the date.

“Bethany?” Steve cooed, eyes flicking down to her cherry red lips. Beth’s heart doubled over in speed, hammering against her rib cage because he looked so pretty and he was looking at her like that. Flushed cheeks, fallen strands of hair, hazel eyes shining into her own.

“How’d you know my name was Bethany?” she whispered, pretending he wasn’t leaning closer because despite the fact of how badly she wanted to kiss him she was tainted by a cruel world. Was she even deserving of a kiss from a boy like him?

“Your Mom happened to let it slip” he was too close now, so close his hand was no longer locked into her own but using the back of her seat for support. Beth felt the panic begin to creep up her chest. She wanted to taste him, to be apart of the club of girls that knew what it was like to be kissed silly by him.

Then his hand landed on her thigh, her skirt had risen from sitting in the seat, and Beth became very aware very fast that he could feel her. Feel her size, the weight, the plush of her skin because she was fat. She knew it, she didn’t need him to know it too. So instead of focusing on the fact that he was now so close she could smell the honey scent of his hair, she panicked because he was close enough now that he could feel her and it was going to gross him out.

“You ready to go?” she blurted without much thought, head turning away from him, his lips just barely grazing her cheek. Steve felt the disappointment like a gut punch and she pulled her leg from his grasp. Confusion flooded his features and she kept her sight straight out the window, too scared to even look at him.

“Um yeah, it’s almost 10 anyway” Steve said after clearing his throat. He recovered quickly but he was finding it hard to hide how much it bothered him that she couldn’t kiss him.

With the air now heavy with denial a word wasn’t shared between the two as he drove her home and the electric buzz had been eliminated. Steve wondering the whole drive why she didn’t want to kiss him and Beth fighting the panic that had burrowed it’s way into her chest over the fact that she was about to have her first kiss and if he didn’t like it she was sure she would never recover.

“You denied him?” Robin questioned, the ice cream on her spoon dripping back into the container.

“I panicked Rob. At first I was so excited, I wanted to kiss him so bad, and then I realized he was touching me. He could feel the difference between me and all those skinny girls. I didn’t want to see his disappointment when he noticed” Beth covered her face with her hands and Robin sighed as she plucked the spoon from her grasp and set it in the container.

“Beth it’s okay to be scared about your first kiss. You’re scared for the wrong reasons though. Steve made a pass at you because he wanted to kiss you. If anything was to disappoint him he wouldn’t have gone on the date” Robin told her as she pulled her hands away from her eyes. She had already listened to Steve all morning asking where he went wrong. He wanted to kiss her and he wanted to know why he couldn’t. Hearing it was about Beth’s size broke her heart.

“It’s too late now, he isn’t going to ask me out again” Beth told her, eyes glimmering with tears. She was embarrassed by how she reacted, cringing at the memory of denying him.

“That is so not true. I had to fight him from trying to come with me” Robin told her, recalling Steve begging to let him tag along to her house.

“I’m so embarrassed, and I don’t want to tell him why” Beth whimpered and Robin sighed as she wrapped an arm around her friends shoulder. She leaned her head against her own and gave a small hum of thought.

“He deserves an explanation Beth and it’s not my place to tell him. He thinks he upset you and he won’t forgive himself until he knows why” Robin told her and Beth groaned.

“I was so much better off without all this drama” Beth chuckled and Robin joined her, giving her a squeeze.

“Well it’s a little late for that now. You’ve entered the dating world and it’s full of drama, confusion, and heartbreak. You’re gonna love it” Robin told her and Beth laughed before sitting up to look at her friend.

“You can’t say things like that to me if you still won’t ask Vickie out on a date” Beth said and Robins jaw went slack with shock.

“How’d you know?” she asked and Beth just shrugged before picking up her spoon again.

“I spend every day with you two, you look at her the way I look at Micheal J. Fox” Beth told her and Robin shoved her teasingly.

“You’re lucky I love you” Robin pointed and Beth just giggled, eating another spoonful of her ice cream.

“I guess we both got to figure this whole dating thing out” Beth told her and Robin nodded, scooping a bite of ice cream for herself.

“Could I ask you something?” Robin asked after a beat and Beth nodded.

“Anything” she told her and Robin sighed as she thought of how to say it.

“How come you don’t trust Steve like you do me and Nancy?” she finally asked after a beat and Beth sighed, ready to fib but Robin cut her off. “I know it’s not cause he’s a guy either. He’s proven he’s not like Colin”

“But he used to be” Beth whispered and Robin furrowed her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” she asked and Beth let out a breath, fingers fiddling with the spoon in her hand.

“When I was a freshman him and his friends did something to me that I could never forget. It jump started harassment towards me for years. I don’t think he even remembers but how do you trust someone who has already hurt you once before” Robins eyes widened, not really knowing this would be the reason. She remembered what Steve, Tommy, and Carol were like though. She watched them harass kids to tears before. She was lucky enough to not be one of them but apparently Beth wasn’t.

“I’m sure he’s sorry for it” Robin began to defend her friend but Beth shook her head.

“I don’t doubt it, he’s a good guy now. It’s the fact he doesn’t remember is what concerns me. If he remembered at least I’d know he cared. That he regretted every moment he was a jerk” Beth told her and Robin took this information in, accepting the fact that Beth more than likely didn't want to share details just yet.

"Maybe tell him that, explain you couldn't kiss him because of what he did. That you can start to trust him once you move past that" Robin told her, hoping she could tell Steve the truth about what she was feeling. Beth had been the happiest Robin had ever seen her the past month and she wanted it to stay that way.

"Maybe, but right now I need to hate myself just a little bit longer" Beth told her and Robin lightly snorted.

"You know I think you should come to terms with Steve on your own but he's the best. Don't ever tell him I said that, but other than you he's my bestfriend and I trust him with my life. There isn't many people out there I would say that about" Robin told her and Beth nodded as she listened to her friend talk so highly of the boy. Beth had seen he was all those amazing things, she didn't need Robin to convince her of it. But in the balance of all things was Steve's past heavier then his future? And if it was Beth wasn't sure she'd want to be apart of it.

The world had already crushed her, she didn't need Steve Harrington to finish her off.

Taglist: @kindablackenedsuperhero @rinarecommends @starryeyedpoet17 @crustless-toast @loverofmarsss @alexa-33 @bethanysnow @middle-of-the-earth @princessadriana4-blog @mochminnie @legendaryhumandiplomatgoop @a-lil-bit-nuts @i-came-as-bostonian

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x plus sized reader #steve harington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington fic #steve harrington slow burn #joe keery x you #joe keery x y/n #joe keery x reader #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery imagines #joe keery #joe keery fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve stranger things #stranger things imagine #80s imagines #80s aesthetic #steve harrington plus size #steve harrington prompt #steve harrington fanart

[tagsecretsanta]

From @squiddokiddo

From @squiddokiddo to @lenfantdeverone

-Letters and Wishes-

Prompts used: Baby Alan writing to santa and Scott receiving an emotional gift. (kinda... Heavy leaning on Alan and letters though)

I'm not much of a writer but I hope you enjoy this little drabble. It has taken many twists in development that I wasn't expecting and has turned into this. Warning, you may need some tissues.

Ps. I've also included a little festive stocking filler for you, at the end. ₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

"Alan!! Get your ass up here!!" Scott yelled down the old loft stairs. What on earth was he doing?

"I will." A call came back. "I'm just writing my letter to Santa!!" 

Well that explained it...

Scott rolled his eyes. "Aren't you a little old to be writing to Santa?" He huffed as he lifted a large box of baubles. "We kinda need your help with the decorations up here!!"

"Yeah in a minute!!"

Every damn year... 

"You know how important that letter is to him." Virgil interjected "Let him finish it, I'm sure we can manage."

"Fine but you're picking up the slack for him." Before Virgil could protest, his brother had shoved the box of baubles into his arms. "Check those will ya, want to make sure none of them are broken."

"Well if they weren't broken before they definitely are now..." John shot from the other side of the loft, he'd assigned himself the task of fairy light maintenance and hadn't looked up from his work for ages. "Some of those decorations are are family heirlooms Scott, be a little more gentle will you?"

Scott turned on his heel dramatically "Can you blame me John??" He stomped over to the astronaut in question, the floor boards squeaking under his footfall took away any sense of seriousness there may have been. "We don't have much time to get all of these decorations up and since we're missing a pair of hands we..." Scott paused as he mentally counted his brothers " Wait where's Gordon?."

Just as if a sparkly Cuthulu had been summoned, a tinsel covered form raised it's head out of one of the larger boxes.

"Here, I'm trying to find the ends of this tinsel, it's damn near impossible." He wriggled about in the shimmery material causing the box to topple over, various decorations spilling out across the floor.

"Little help?"

John and Virgil came to his aid, pulling him up and untying him from his sparkly prison while Scott handled the scattered trinkets. As he was scooping the last few up, something caught his eye. An envelope, red with crudely scrawled writing on the front. He picked it up and read the address.

"To Mr S Claus, the North Pole."

"Wait Grandma actually kept those letters? Weren't they basically just our requests for toys?" Virgil asked removing the last bit of tinsel from his brother.

"Oh, this should be good." Gordon grinned "Open it, let's see if we can guess who's it is just by the list of toys they wanted!!"

Curious about it's contents, Scott proceeded to open the envelope, being careful not to damage it. He pulled out the letter inside, glitter and sequins spilling out and onto the floor. Another mess he'd have to clean up...

"Well that rules John out." Gordon giggled and John shot him a look.

"I thought glitter would be too distracting for him, remember I really wanted that telescope and I wanted to make sure that I got the message across clearly."

Scott shushed them and began to read the letter aloud.

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

Dear Santa

What I really want for Christmas is my daddy to come back. He was trying to save someone and he went missing but Virgil said that your magic doesn't work that way and you wouldn't be able to bring him back. Even if you really really really wanted to.

So instead I want to ask for this. 

Please could you tell John come home for Christmas? He hasn't left Thunderbird 5 since dad disappeared.

Can you ask Virgie to play us some carols on the piano? I haven't heard him play in a very long time and grandma loves carols.

Can you make Gordon smile again? He used to play with me all the time and make me laugh but now he always says too tired to hang out with me. I think he might actually be upset.

Can Scotty have a break. He's been working all the time for ages and ages and he always seems angry or sad. He has so much nasty paperwork to do and when he's not doing that he's flying Thunderbird 1 and saving people.

This Christmas I want him to relax, it's not fair that he has to be so busy. Grandma says that he's going to work himself to the bone and he's already really boney. I don't want my brother to turn into a skeleton.

My daddy used to always used to help me write to you. I'm going to write you a letter every year for him, even when I'm 108 years old.

Love Alan Tracy.

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

At the lounge table, Alan gazed down at his masterpiece, it was perfect, best letter he'd ever written along with the best glitter glue art he'd ever made. 

He sat for a moment, admiration turning into embarrassment, thinking about what Scott had said. He would be 16 next year, practically an adult, he was definitely way too old to be writing letters to Santa Claus, he stopped believing in the magical bearded gift wizard years ago. But he didn't want to stop.

He missed dad. 

A gentle hand on his shoulder halted the spiralling thoughts. He turned to see his grandma's warm smile.

"Why the long face kid? Your letter is looking amazing this year." She said softly, gently pushing the discarded art supplies aside to get a good look at her grandson's creation.

"Grandma, I-". He paused, not being able to find the words. "Don't you think I'm too old for this? To be writing letters to a man I know doesn't exist?"

She knelt to his level and pulled him close rubbing his back soothingly.

"You can never be too old for something you enjoy, sweetheart."

"I just feel like dad would have wanted me to be more useful now that I'm older, ya know. We don't get a lot of time to have Christmas, I could be decorating or making lunch or helping prepare for the winter rescue rush..." He swallowed, tears begining to brim, trying not to let them spill. "want to honour dad, I want to remember him."

Grandma Tracy pulled away to meet the boy's gaze.

"Alan, writing those letters is honouring your dad. I know he valued hard work and did everything in his power to make Christmas happen every year but what he loved most of all was taking some time out to write your letters to Santa with you."

Alan remained silent.

"And if it's what you love too then it's what he would have wanted, to know that you're doing something you love whether it's useful-" she gestured some air quotations "or not."

She gently cupped her grandson's face in her hands and brushed away his tears. Big blue eyes gazed into hers.

"He'd be so proud of you Alan."

The old lady reached to plant a kiss on his forehead and Alan sniffled a watery smile before drying his eyes.

"Now then if you're finished with your letter, why don't you go see if your brothers need your help." She stood picking up the sparkly paper from the table and slipping it into an envelope, red just like all the ones that came before. "I can't wait to see what you make next year."

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹

Scott swallowed struggling to read the last few words aloud.

"Love Alan Tracy..." 

The silence was deafening. The nostalgic guessing game long forgotten in the hopeful words of an eight year old boy.

Scott dried his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "I had no idea... I..."

"I don't think anyone did." Virgil added his arm snaking around his brother's frame.

Gordon and John were still sat on the floor the younger's face buried into the older's shoulder, both silent in mutual disbelief.

"After all that pain, all he was worried about was us..."

The sound of footsteps thudding up the loft stairs brought them back to the present as Alan appeared at the top step.

"Hey guys, I've finished my letter and-"

Four pairs of tearful eyes turned to meet him.

"Uhh... What's going on?" He gingerly stepped towards them. "You guys ok?"

As soon as he was within arm's reach, Scott grabbed his little brother into a tight hug, clinging on for dear life. It wasn't long before the others joined them in the embrace, circling around the smallest Tracy.

"I'm sorry." Scott mumbled into Alan's blonde locks. 

"For what?" The boy struggled to talk under the weight of his siblings.

"Your letters, I should have known, they help you stay close to dad right?"

Alan could feel the tears welling up again, nodding sheepishly.

"He'd love that you're keeping up the tradition for him."Virgil said squeezing tighter. "And you'll never be too old for that." 

They all stayed there for a moment, just feeling the closeness and love of one another.

And there were those words again, it was a bitter sweet comfort.

"He'd be so proud of you..."

𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.⊹

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart

[hils79]

Hils Watches Moonlight Chicken - Ep 5

I forgot this drama is only 8 episodes long so I'm over halfway through now. Wild. I'll be finished in a couple of days. Feels so quick after a 40 episode cdrama

So we're seeing what Alan and Wen were like before they broke up. I'm starting to have a theory about how this is going to end...

Also, it's weird seeing Mix kiss someone who isn't Earth. I've only seen the two of them together in dramas

Damn that fight scene was brutal but holy shit First and Mix are good actors. I was so focused on what was happening I forgot about the food that's in front of me

Thank god for Gong, who is apparently the only sensible person in this drama

Okay, here's my theory now that we're under the read more tag. I'm worried that the plot of this movie (two people who fall in love but don't end up together because of other factors) is what is going to happen to Jim and Wen. GMM typically doesn't make bittersweet BL dramas but this one is bit more mature than the others. I am bracing myself just in case this movie is foreshadowing.

That's about the highest level of praise you can get from a teenage boy

It's always Engineering or Architecture

Wen's just had a 'oh my kind of step-nephew is in love with a boy' moment. He looks so fond.

They don't live in a small town or anything. I don't think it's unreasonable for Jim to ask for someone who didn't show up at his restaurant and yell at him to deal with his loan application.

Yes, let's have a very thinly veiled conversation in which Wen is compared to a pen

It's just occurred to me that I've seen First play a high school student (The Eclipse), a college student (Not Me) and now a bank manager who I assume is meant to be in his late 20s or early 30s. All of these dramas were filmed in the last 2 years. That's some range!

Come on dude, don't be a total dick. You had better send off his loan application and not just toss it in the bin.

Okay, that's interesting given my comment above. Why DID Jim go to Alan's bank? Is he hoping to get turned down?

It's like he was reading my liveblog and is now answering all of my comments :D

Gong is my new favourite. He's so done with all Wen and Alan's nonsense

He is so right and he should say it

Well, let's see. We were having a nice romantic Christmas moment, then your ex-boyfriend who you still live with and share a bed with showed up. He yelled at you, then he yelled me, then he yelled you some more and shoved you over. Oh, yeah, and this dude is also in charge of whether I can borrow the money I need to save my business.

Okay, if this was closer to the end I'd be more worried that they were going to go with the bittersweet movie ending but given that there's another 3 episodes after this one maybe it'll be okay?

Alan really does like talking in metaphors. Wen was a pen, now Jim is chicken

I was saying today I am enjoying that for the most part characters in this actually use their words instead of just leaping to conclusions and making assumptions. Not always, but way more than most dramas. I'm glad Wen and Alan have finally had the mature conversation that they needed to have for both of them to move on

I still think Alan is going to end up with Gaipa but given that they haven't even met yet that may just be wishful thinking.

A good progressive boy

Bold of you to assume you can just move in with Jim

#hils watches #hils watches moonlight chicken #hils watches tdramas #moonlight chicken #tdrama

[i3utterflyeffect]

stick!Alan is probably so terrified and confused. Befriends a stick figure and suddenly one of his old creations turn him into a stick figure and tries to kill him. He understands where they're coming from too, but he's also scared af. Not to mention all the shame and regret resurfacing during all this. Worst day of his entire life. Also now his creations and friends of his creations are fighting each other destructively and other people might get hurt because of it.

Also, Second probably feels guilty af about accidentally putting him in so much danger. He probably feels bad about it too because the kid is crying and apologizing to him and he's trying to reassure them he's not mad. Except also Second asks if what they're saying is true and he doesn't know how to respond. Then maybe Dark finds him and is about to attack, but Second is standing in front of him protectively and he's horrified that this kid is putting herself in danger to protect him and he tries to tell Second to go, but they don't. My brain is spawning more ideas as I type. Anyways Dark would also be conflicted because surely the only reason Second would try to protect that monster is if he was manipulating her into doing it, but he's begging her to get away.

YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH..... like i think this AU is where it hits him the worst genuinely because SC talks about their life like a normal kid, they have frustrations with family and friends and they talk about their week and they ask him random questions and they make things for him and they're just so excited to have a friend outside of their immediate family because they don't really get to have that?

it doesn't hit quite as hard when they don't have a life outside of you i don't think but SC and the CG are just kids from some other random place before this, who just happen to be on a computer instead. it's like when you're asked to watch your friend's kids and they're genuinely kind and smart

and then he gets shoved into the stick world and the others say 'oh it's okay! we'll help you' and even if he feels a bit like he's imposing on them he's still really grateful for their help while he regains his bearings (and Alan's been their friend, so they're pretty insistent on helping him, because why wouldn't they?)

and then it all comes crashing down in disaster because he finds out his creations are still here, and they're incredibly mad because it turns out the kids that were playing on his computer were their family

and despite the fact that they are LITERAL AGENTS OF DEATH and could WIPE THEM BOTH OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH if they SO DESIRED, SC is still insisting on protecting him even despite KNOWING they have no power compared to the others

not only even that, but he's not even sure if SC would be able to stop them in the end and they really don't need to watch it happen, much less throw themself in front of a conflict like this when it's definitely going to end up deadly

and chosen and dark don't get why he seems even more upset about SC protecting him and everything is just a disaster

meanwhile SC is just so stressed and wants it all to just STOP, he wants his family to stop fighting, for them to stop trying to kill her friend, for everyone to just stop and talk about things instead of fighting for ONCE

#tommy's foolery #tommy's stickmen tag #poor sc is just going to fucking. 💥 #tommy's aus #dark color gang au #man though. alan being even more scared because he realizes the repercussions behind it now that he fully recognizes they're all people

[ironcladrhett]

TIMING: Current (last night) LOCATION: Alan’s house, World’s End Isle PARTIES: Rhett (@ironcladrhett) & Alan (@alan-duarte) SUMMARY: Definitely worried about Alan’s shoulder after having been shot (and definitely not just an excuse to see him), Rhett drops in on the realtor unannounced. It’s going fine until Alan admits to Rhett, in not so many words, that he knows he’s a hunter, and he knows he attacked Cass and Alex. CONTENT WARNINGS: Wrspice (implied, it fades to black)

—

It had been months since he’d gotten shot by that fucking hunter. The wound had time to mend itself but you couldn’t say the same about Alan. The weather would only get worse and worse as the days went by, and the latest rainfall had made his shoulder ache. Still, how could he possibly regret stepping in the way? Ever since Alex had stepped into the werewolf’s life, he felt as though he had another, new reason to wake up in the morning. There was the purpose that came along with being a mentor of sorts, of course, but he also had to admit to appreciating the girl’s company, even if she spent half her air criticizing his housing projects and the other half talking about Cass. 

His hand idly rubbing at his shoulder, Alan’s eyes scanned through his emails. His empty coffee cup sat nearby, next to a pile of ongoing contracts and a plate that only had a bunch of crumbs to hold now. He didn’t usually bring work home but to say they were short staffed would have been an understatement. Alan could have hired someone extra, but there weren’t many people looking forward to living or working in a town where the floor wanted you dead (or anything close enough to that), and he hadn’t found anyone who could do the job properly among the very few resumes that were sent their way.

His jaw popped as he yawned and if that wasn’t enough proof that he needed a change of mind, a knock on the door finished convincing him out of his duties. And yet, as he opened the door, answering negatively to desperate emails suddenly didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. What was he doing here? 

—

He’d been attacked. Shot out in the woods while… what, hiking? The sudden surge of concern had been alarming, making his steps falter. Ophelia walked on without him for a few seconds before realizing her father wasn’t beside her anymore, slowing and turning around to face him. “What? What is it?” she inquired curiously. Rhett shook his head, his frown deepening as he tapped away at the screen. His daughter let out a huff of breath, closing the distance between them again and putting her hands on her hips. “Dad. What is it?” 

Rhett clicked the screen off and stuffed the device in his pocket, shaking his head again. “Nothin’,” he lied, flashing her a brief, unconvincing smile. She frowned and rolled her eyes, pulling the sleeve of her flannel back to check the time.

“Ah, shit, I have to go—we’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow, okay?” The warden grimaced, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Do we gotta?” “Yes, we gotta. You need a place to live that isn’t that atrocious van!” Ophelia argued, shutting down his continued protest with a feisty glare. The man relented, holding up his hands in defeat. “Good. Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Can… can we do the afternoon, instead?” Rhett tried, giving her a hopeful look and a shrug. Ophelia narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then nodded. 

“Fine. 11am is late enough. Don’t be hungover,” she warned, grabbing him in a tight hug before hurrying off down the street to the nearest bus stop. Rhett sighed, watching her go for a moment before calling a taxi to take him to World’s End Isle.

The ride wasn’t unfamiliar, and neither was the home that stood before him as he got out of the taxi. Shoving a hand into his pocket, he paid his fare before moving toward the front door, pausing to pull his hair up into a messy bun along the way and push up the sleeves of the dark button-up he was wearing. He was still clad in jeans and boots, but they were a far cry from the ratty old things Alan had insisted he’d tossed. Knocking on the door, he didn’t have to wait long in the bitter cold of the darkening evening (he really should have worn a coat) for Alan to pull it open. 

And just like that, his words failed him and he felt a little stupid for being here. Not unannounced, that’d never been a problem for him, but… ah, forget it. His gaze jumped from Alan’s face to one shoulder, then the other, then back to his face. 

“Hey,” he said stupidly, sucking in a sharp breath. “You, ah… I was… nearby, and I thought… uh. How’s your…” Another deep breath, and the warden closed his eyes. “I been shot ‘afore. Sometimes leaves… chronic pain. Learned a few… massagin’ techniques to take the edge off. Thought I could help. Maybe.”

—

While Alan doubted at first that Rhett just happened to be in the neighborhood, he then remembered Emilio saying that he had moved into the realtor’s neighborhood and it wasn't like they had not spoken recently. It was a bit perilous, to keep talking to him as though he wasn't aware of what had happened between the hunter and Cass, or of Alex’s involvement. 

Alan could get along with hunters, if they were reasonable. He got along with Emilio just fine. This complicated things. He appreciated Emilio, he cared a lot for Alex, which meant that he cared for Cass too, but ultimately, Alan also had a fondness for the man who stood on his doorstep with a bashful, stammering stream of words and what seemed like an attempt at sympathy and honesty. It was in a moment like this Alan wished he hadn't let others soften him up.

“Alright, don't stay here,” crossing his arms to wrap his cardigan around him and attempt to stay warm, he pushed himself aside. “Do you want to drink something?”

—

“Aye, when don’t I?” Rhett chuckled, moving into the home and giving a soft sigh of relief at the warmth that wrapped around him. He was still barely used to actual winters and didn’t quite prepare for them right, always overestimating his ability to handle the cold. A shiver ran up his spine and he let his gaze sweep over the place, still finding new things he’d missed despite having been here a few times. It was… nice. Maybe having a place to live that wasn’t on wheels wouldn’t be so bad.

“Anythin’s fine.” Not picky, he didn’t have to say. Alan knew that, obviously. He turned to the man as they made their way to the kitchen, his brow wrinkling as he thought about what he wanted to say. 

“Hey… maybe you oughtta stick to like, neighborhood trails, aye? The woods out beyond downtown are… fucked.” He stepped a bit closer to minimize the distance between them, one hand gently finding Alan’s shoulder. “... which one?”

—

“I’ll get something from the wine cellar,” Alan’s gaze drifted toward the lights across the street. Some of his neighbors were already decorating for Christmas, and their houses could have replaced the public lighting with ease. His parents always found it wasteful and Alan had always preferred to keep his front lawn decorations to a tasteful minimum, which didn’t clash with the minimalism of his house, or Alan’s less than sunny personality. “You’re alright with Californian wine?” Most likely. 

Two glasses were poured and while Alan focused on that, he could try to ignore just for a little bit the irony of Rhett’s words. One of the reasons the woods were so fucking dangerous for Alan was the presence of people who shared Rhett’s belief that a certain part of the local population didn’t deserve to live. And yet that hand on his shoulder was easy to lean against. “Wrong pick,” Alan glanced up to find the other’s eyes, and tapped on the left shoulder. The hunter didn’t look very frightening right now, did he? “Massaging techniques?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he challenged the other’s ability to soothe out pain rather than cause it. “Your hand is cold dear, I’m gonna start a fire in the living room.”

—

“Where yer other scar is? Man. Unlucky shoulder,” the hunter mused, catching that look in Alan’s eyes and letting out a soft sigh. As the other announced his intention to make a fire, Rhett picked up his glass from the counter, leaning instead onto his cane as he stepped forward after his friend to slowly follow him into the next room. “S’what I said,” he answered, albeit delayed, at Alan’s apparent disbelief that there was much to be done about the aching wound. Or at least that there wasn’t much Rhett could do. Which was… fair. More fair than he figured the man knew, considering there’d not been any threats of violence yet. The way they’d carried on online, he assumed that news of the girls hadn’t made it back to Alan, which told him two things: Alan was unaware of the supernatural (which would stop the girls from having said anything, most likely), and by extension, he himself was quite normal. Human. 

Or at least this was the logic that he applied because he hoped it was true. He couldn’t imagine someone putting on a facade just to fool him, pretending that they didn’t know something as devastating as what he’d done to those girls just to… to what? Get the jump on him? It didn’t make sense, so that couldn’t be it. No, he had no idea, and Rhett found himself clinging to that idea more desperately with each moment of calm familiarity that passed between them. 

Parking himself on the couch while his host went about building a fire, Rhett rested his cane against the coffee table, keeping his eye trained on the other man. A finger reached up idly to push itself beneath the eyepatch and scratch at skin unseen. “Kinda good I been half-blind fer a couple years now,” he said suddenly, gesturing vaguely at the eyepatch when Alan looked over. “Would be havin’ a hell of a time with depth perception, otherwise.” It was said with a dry, nearly humorless chuckle. He’d long since adjusted, and the eye he’d lost to trauma was no more useful when it was still plugged into his head. It wasn’t something he readily told people, because it was a weakness, and he hated admitting those, but… well, it was a lot more obvious now anyway, wasn’t it? Anyway, he didn’t have to mention the fact that he could barely see out of the eye that remained. Even Emilio didn’t know about that.

— 

“Same one,” Alan confirmed. Right above that one bite mark he considered still a curse rather than a blessing. It was easier to tell Alex that she should embrace it than to make her feel the same way he did. There was no cure to the evil they suffered, and there was no undoing the things Alan did. There were some things he didn’t regret, of course, but there was too much he had lost for the benefits to outweigh the disadvantages. 

Sitting by the fireplace with a log in his hands, he looked over at Rhett, unaware of the hunter’s mental peregrinations. He was going through his own : it seemed unlikely that man was going to be able to do anyone harm in that state, but there was a chance he’d want to get his revenge. That is what Alan would have done if he’d been standing in his shoes. Maybe now was the right moment to ask Rhett about it. What could he do to him anyway? He had a bad leg and worse eyesight than before, and Alan liked to think he wouldn’t have come all the way to his house if he hadn’t appreciated him at all. “Since we’re talking about things that we’ve carried around for a few years,” he pushed himself back up, as the firestarter did its work and the wood started cracking gently against the new flames, “you know that old scar of mine?” He rubbed his fingers over his sweater, right where he knew the irregular scar remained. You could tell that he wasn’t the most comfortable talking about it, after all these years. Still, he took a seat, on the other end of the couch, and picked up his glass of wine. “That’s something Alex and I have in common,” with a clearly knowing look, he turned his attention toward the hunter’s face. There was no trace of amusement on Alan’s face. He didn’t particularly enjoy having this conversation with Rhett, but it wasn’t like the other had left him with much of a choice. “I’m not trying to ambush you. You’d have joined the club already if I did,” but that was not the sort of fate he wished on anyone and Alan hoped he never did such a thing on one of his full moons.

—

Alan was uncomfortable. The things he was saying didn't quite click at first, and the warden just cocked his head at the man, wearing a soft, bemused smile. That’s something Alex and I have in common. His heart leapt into his throat at the girl’s name, body tensing reflexively. He felt his too-strong grip on the glass threatening to shatter it, and instead leaned forward to set it down on the coffee table, realizing that his hand was shaking as he pulled back again. “What?” he balked, refusing to believe what he was being told. 

Alan was a fucking werewolf? And he knew—he knew, this whole time. There was a vague threat in there, one that had been restrained only because of… whatever this was that they shared, apparently. The hunter’s heartbeat had kicked up significantly, fearful in spite of Alan’s assurances that if he wanted Rhett dead—or worse—it would’ve already come to pass. There was no pretending now. No reason to act like he wasn’t a killer, like Alan didn’t know that he’d attacked Cass and Alex in the woods, and that his fresh scars and permanent injuries were a result of the young werewolf protecting what she loved. 

Before her, he would have been angry. He would have been furious for being duped like this, duped into caring for someone who was… was… The insults felt bitter on his tongue, and of course his thoughts went briefly to his daughter. He’d been a hypocrite plenty of times in his life, he knew that, but he couldn’t—he’d said he wouldn’t. He was retired now. He couldn’t—

“You’re… I…” He didn’t know what to say, hating the feeling of fear and hurt taking up residence where the anger should have been. “I didn’t know—she… I thought I was protectin’ her,” he breathed, rising from the couch and grabbing his cane before he sank back to the floor without it. For the brief few moments before she turned and attacked us, sure. “Then she—look. Listen. I ain’t—I’m retired now, aye? I don’t…” He felt sick. Whatever sort of affection he held for the man—no, the werewolf—sitting at the other end of the couch felt tainted by his deeply ingrained disgust for inhuman things, but he was wrestling with his acceptance of his daughter at the same time. He couldn’t have it both ways, and yet his mind was trying to put the blinders back on. 

He took a wobbly step backward, waving his free hand in the air defensively. “I don’t want no more trouble,” he muttered, turning away from Alan to try and hobble back toward the front door.

—

“I…” Well this wasn’t what Alan had expected. For a moment, he thought he saw it : the anger, the disgust, but there was nothing but worry and something akin to fright there. At least Alan figured that must have been fright, and he realized that perhaps he had just fucked up here. “Rhett, please…” It wasn’t like he was gonna outrun the werewolf, not in the state he was in and Alan still rushed past him, if only to stand in his way and attempt to have a conversation. “I’m sorry, I…” Putting his hands before him, Alan felt oddly vulnerable, for someone who wasn’t precisely under any threat other than Rhett’s sudden departure. 

It was too much at once. Finding out Alan was a werewolf, finding out he knew about the hunting thing, about the incident with Cass, about the incident with Alex. But the werewolf was feeling a whirl of conflicting emotions ever since he had heard what happened, and the more he spoke with the hunter, the more confused he was with what was the right course of action. If he hadn’t known Rhett at all, it wouldn’t have been difficult. It would have been quite simple, really. With a sigh, Alan looked down to the side,  finding it difficult to hold up his gaze. 

“Can we just sit down and talk?” Because he’d just follow him outside, stubborn as he was. “You said you retired, yeah?” Whatever that meant. Retirement didn’t make anyone like Rhett completely harmless, but the way he said it made Alan wonder what had pushed him to make that call. He had mentioned a daughter earlier today, and now that the werewolf saw the damage done by Alex, he could take a wild guess and claim that the hunter was now unfit for carrying out his duties. “I wish I could do the same,” with a bitter scoff, he glanced the other way, still avoiding looking him in the eyes.

—

Alan stopping him, apologizing and asking him to just talk were things that desperately confused the warden. He came to an abrupt halt, of course, keeping his distance from Alan, knowing that there was no chance of him forcing his way through. Even with his enhanced strength, he was crippled. There was nothing to do about it, so he stayed, trapped like a stray dog for the second time in as many months. 

At least this werewolf wasn’t trying to gut him like a fish. 

There was a weak attempt at humor that was met with a soft exhale from Rhett, not quite a laugh, but an acknowledgement of what Alan was saying. He looked as bewildered as he felt, the grip on his cane tightening as he steadied himself on his feet and lifted it to his waist, like he was afraid he was going to have to use it to defend himself. It was clear he didn’t want a fight, because they both knew it would be his last one, but he couldn’t help the reaction. 

“Nothin’ to talk about,” he argued, his voice strained with emotion. He too was looking anywhere but at Alan, his one-eyed gaze raking over the ceiling as he spoke again in a voice that was nearly too soft and too upset to be coming from such a typically gruff, loud man. “I fucked up,” he breathed, his knuckles turning white as they clutched the cane even tighter. It wasn’t clear what exactly he was referring to, though one could surmise that it was likely his attack on Alex and Cass—though in his mind, coming here had been part of it. Engaging with Alan had been part of it, even back when he thought nothing of it, because it always just made things harder. He wasn’t built for this. Never had been, and he shouldn’t have tried again. Not even to the level that they had… which was far from falling in love, but still. He cared for Alan in a way that was mostly foreign to him these days, and caring for people… well, shit, look what it had put him through with Emilio. Hell and back again. 

His eye finally found Alan’s face and he hissed in a sharp breath when he felt it welling with tears. “Please,” he begged, not sure what he was begging for. He just wanted to leave, but… he also didn’t. He wanted them to be okay, but some part of him was ready to convince him that they never could. That made sense, right? How could it ever be okay? 

This was why he shouldn’t be looking for a place to live. He’d fucked things up here, beyond the point of repair. There was no home to be had here. And Ophelia… she’d be better off without him. He was a destroyer, nothing more. 

—

“Really? You’re gonna tell me that what happened in the woods was nothing?” The bitterness of Alan’s tone clashed with Rhett’s, and it took the werewolf aback as well, as if he had expected their tones to match instead. They both had a right to be furious at the other, didn’t they? 

Confused, but not defeated yet, he pressed his lips into a thin line. “This makes things easier, don’t you think?” A monster meets a monster ; a killer, a killer, and a liar, a liar. They both had a lot of terrible things on their ledger, without a doubt, but Alan didn’t ask Rhett to stay because he wanted to have a look at an hypothetical moral balance if only because he worried his own would be just as bad, if not worse. 

“You don’t precisely have a monopoly on having done terrible things or fucking up,” and he held out his hand, not entirely sure of whether the other would reject it or not. “I’m not… I just want to talk and sort things out,” because he was tired of seeing people he cared about hurt, and of losing people. He didn’t want to lose Alex, but he had come to realize he didn’t really want to lose Rhett either. What they had might have been new, he cared for that fool enough to ask him, once again to have a word with him. Maybe Alan was the fool here, who knew? 

“I’m not a good person myself, but… I’m trying to be better,” because he’d seen the kind of change it made. Alan kept to himself the fact that a fae had been partly responsible for the change, at first. Forced kindness surely had done a lot for Alan’s morale at first, worsening it each passing day until he realized how different things were when he addressed others with consideration. “C’mon. You’ll be sorry you didn’t try the wine, and it’s warmer by the fireplace than out there, and…” then, and only then, he tried looking at Rhett, catching sight of near teary eyes and the look he gave him was an apologetic one. “I really am sorry for the way I brought this up.”

—

He stared at the extended hand, knowing it for what it was: an olive branch, and yet… His gaze jumped back up to find Alan’s just as he was looking at him. And he apologized again. And Rhett realized he still had yet to do that, but didn’t know if he could. He swallowed hard, finally releasing the cane with his left hand and setting it back against the floor where it belonged, leaning onto it as he realized his leg was aching. 

He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, sighed, and tried again. “I’m tryin’, too. To be better.” Annoyed that his body had betrayed him, the warden pressed the sleeve of his shirt over his ‘good’ eye to soak up the unspilled tears, lowering his arm again and shaking out the nervous energy that was building up in him like a terrible storm. Again his gaze fell to Alan’s hand, and he sighed, dropped his head, and reached for it. “Stop apologizin’,” he grumbled at the other, keeping his chin down as he was led back into the living room where the fireplace and wine still waited for them. 

Once they were seated again, the warden leaned forward onto his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “... what you wanna sort out, then? Before you ask, no—I ain’t gonna go after them again. Hence the whole…” Retirement thing, he left out, his voice trailing off instead as it threatened to waver and betray him once more. 

—

Alan was grateful for Rhett’s pragmatism then. He didn't precisely want to ask whether or not he would have to worry for Cass’ or Alex’s safety although he was curious as to what had caused him to change his mind. Was it the fact that he’d lost an eye, or that he most likely would walk with a cane from now on? Or was it that recent revelation he had had. 

It was another thing he wasn't sure how to bring up. Rhett had been evasive on the matter while they spoke online, and back then Alan was more interested in his girls’ well-being to care to push the subject any further. “What are you gonna do now? Focus on the forge business ?” Perhaps kicking around the bush was easier, for now. It wasn't like he didn't care for Rhett’s answer. Even though he was furious he had attacked Cass (especially since he’d first seen her at his place), when Alex told him what she’d done, he couldn't help but feel worried for both sides instead of just hers. And then, Alan had felt terrible about that. 

He still felt conflicted. How could he not ?

“Would you like me to let them know that they’re safe?” Part of him felt like an idiot for blindly believing his word, and the other part just had to look at the poor man to forget about any sense of doubt. “Do you want something stronger than wine?” Because one glass wouldn't suffice to soothe Alan’s nerves and he assumed Rhett, much like his brother, favored stronger liquor.

—

“I guess,” he responded dejectedly. It was true, it wasn’t like hunting was the only thing he spent his time on, and he could certainly put in more hours at the forge. They’d extend his contract if he asked, he knew that. His work made them a lot of money, after all. And that would fill the days, but what of the nights? He’d been horribly restless since Alex kicked his ass six ways to Sunday, stuck in bed all day and night, shuffling aimlessly around Parker’s house, irritated by his own uselessness. He slept enough, but not much. How would he fill the rest of those hours? It was why, in his conversation with Emilio, he’d wanted to make sure he ended up living somewhere near a pub, if that was a thing that was going to happen at all. He needed a distraction. He needed to medicate. 

Glancing sideways at his friend, Rhett scoffed, but it wasn’t out of malice. He was just… well, it was difficult to describe. “They know. Er… Alex does, anyway. She… reached out, after. Told ‘er as much. Guess hearin’ it from you too ain’t gonna hurt none, though.” At the offer for something harder than wine, the warden nodded silently. It wasn’t until Alan had returned with said liquor (and Rhett had drained his glass already) that the hunter spoke of the elephant in the room. 

“It’s my kid,” he offered quietly, downing a gulp of the hard liquor Alan had brought back to the living room, not much caring to know what it was, and just wanting it to help him fucking relax. “She’s… like Cass. A nymph.” He dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head. A moment of silence fell over them while Alan absorbed what he’d said and Rhett reached deep for the next thing he wanted to say. 

“I wasn’t… always like this.” Like this meaning, of course, the sort of hunter, the sort of man that would attempt to murder a girl who had committed no crime other than being different from him. “I used to… I was, y’know. More… live n’ let live.” The explanations were not coming easily, strangled out of him like he’d never spoken them before (which he hadn’t), an admission of the person he’d been before everything went wrong only making him feel worse for the way he’d become. He couldn’t claim to have been born this way, no… it was learned. It was adopted from grief, and he’d clung to that grief so bitterly and for so long that it had overtaken him like a parasite. Why? What changed? He knew the questions were coming. He could see Desmond’s face in his mind’s eye, hear his friend accusing him of failing. Fuck. Fuck. 

—

Although Alan felt as though speaking would do more harm than good, remaining quiet when someone unfolded themselves like that wasn't exactly easy. He would have liked to ask questions, but rather than push to know more, he sat back, getting his feet and his knees up on the couch to get comfortable and just listen. Nursing his glass of wine against his cashmere sweater, he shifted again, pushing on his shoulder briefly before humming quietly. 

Rhett had had a child with a nymph and then decided that not one single fae deserved to live. Alan knew he was missing a piece of the puzzle here, one that Rhett kept without a doubt, close to his chest. But he had already shared so much. Was it fair to ask ? Should he have waited for him to tell by himself? Was he supposed to piece it all together on his own ? 

With no clear answer to his thoughts, Alan took a long sip from his glass and leaned forward to give his pal a refill. He scooted a bit closer too, if only to put a friendly hand on his forearm. “What's her name ?” He inquired. “Did you… reach out to her?” He imagined easily that facing an angry werewolf could make one reflect on the meaning of their life. “Is she staying with you?” Neither the van nor the bunker seemed like a suitable place for a young woman to live, but Alan felt like now was a good time for kindness. 

The wood cracked a bit in the fireplace, and Alan’s gaze fell onto the flames for a moment. “You’ll have to tell me more about that live and let live guy. He sounds fun,” with a light smile he picked up his wine glass, taking another sip. 

—

What’s her name? Rhett stared down at his hands, at Alan’s hand on his tattooed arm, and hesitated. “Ophelia,” he finally answered, trying to make a list of the rest of them in his mind so he could rattle them off more easily and satisfy Alan’s curiosity. “And no. She.. found me. After… after this.” He gestured at his leg and eye. “Reached out once. Ignored her. Then she tracked down ‘Milio, made him agree to have us meet. N’ no. She ain’t stayin’ with me. She n’... her mum, they’re… they got a community’ah their own. One I was huntin’ down. I was ready to raze that place to the fuckin’ ground, mate.” He lifted his free hand to his face again, hiding behind his palm as he struggled with the reality of his situation. “She’s… she’s a good kid. Grown now, but… fuck’s sake.” He was crying again, gritting his teeth angrily and swiping at the tears with the back of his hand. 

Rhett actually managed a weak laugh when Alan smiled as his own little half-joke. He felt like he was shaking his head too much, but it was all he could think to do half the time. All of this just felt… stupid. Wrong. He’d not talked to anyone about any of this and he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. Was he mourning who he used to be? Relieved to have a chance to get back to that? Afraid? He couldn’t fucking decide. “He was fun,” came his answer, finally. “Fun enough to… to keep his stupid, angry brother in line, anyway. Desmond, he… he hated nonhumans. Hated ‘em all, always wanted to kill every single one we came across. I talked him outta a lot of ‘em, but after he—” Rhett’s breath caught in his throat and he shivered, pushing the thought away. He turned his head to look at Alan, distraught. “M’sorry. Fer all of it. I ain’t been right in a… a long time.”

—

That wasn't the sort of spectacle he’d have ever expected to see. Some men looked like they had never shed a tear in their entire life and up until now, Alan figured that Rhett was one of them. For a few more seconds, he didn't budge, sympathetically brushing his thumb against the tattooed forearm. “She’s a brave kid,” at least from what he understood. Searching for the guy who wanted her whole species dead took guts. “I guess she got that much from you,” moving his hand to Rhett’s cheek, Alan couldn't help but smile a bit more as he elicited a laugh out of him.

His hand dropped back to his lap, and he once again fell silent. He didn't know everything about Emilio and Rhett’s lives clearly, but he always assumed their family bond might have gone a bit further than blood. Desmond was a name he had never heard before, one Rhett spoke of past tense, he noticed. It didn't take the full sentence for Alan to connect the dots. 

He remained silent, even as Rhett's apology finally arrived. With all that he had just unpacked, Alan even had to stop himself from saying sorry for the third time. “You know, if you can change once, you can change twice. I meant it when I said I'd like to know more about the live and let live version of you,” and how could that happen without support ? 

His empty glass of wine was set down on the coffee table, and an offer to get or make something to eat was made. “You’re not alone, alright ?”

—

She was brave… braver than Alan knew. Braver than Rhett could bring himself to admit. She’d sought him out, even though he was the reason she and her mother had to run from place to place. She looked for him knowing that he might want to kill her, and… and he had, hadn’t he? For a moment. The first time she called him, he was angry. Angry that she existed, angry that she’d found him, angry that her presence was going to complicate his plans. 

For a moment, he’d wanted her dead. For a moment, he’d settled on the idea that he’d be the one to do it. A moment turned into a week, turned into two. He’d kill her, he thought. Be done with it. Only Emilio wouldn’t let him, wouldn’t allow them to be alone together. Smart. He’d been bluffing when he told his brother that she was safe because she was his daughter—what did blood matter? He’d never been a part of her life. What did any of it matter? 

But then he saw her face to face, and his fury had withered beneath her warm gaze and bright smile. All the fight had left him in one fell swoop, and he found himself wishing it’d happened just a few days sooner. Before he tracked Cass to her cave. Before Alex attacked him to save her, before she crippled him further, before all of it. But… maybe it wasn’t a bad thing, being physically unable to fight, to match how he felt inside. Maybe it made all this easier. Maybe if he hadn’t been so injured, he still would have been angry when Ophelia looked him in the eye and told him he had to stop hunting her mother. Maybe he would have done something stupid, and maybe Emilio would have been the one to put him down. 

It was all for the best, probably. Except for that girl, that nymph. None of it was fair to her. Ugh. 

The offer of food was turned down, the warden’s interest in anything other than booze proving to be lackluster. And the more he drank of that, the less reactive he became to the things he was saying. The pent up fear and frustration and guilt didn’t force itself out by way of tears or stammered words anymore, and for a while, Rhett was quiet. He simply existed, sitting beside Alan on the couch as they watched the flames eat up the logs in the fireplace, the comfortable but heavy silence stretching on until he felt compelled to break it with a question. 

“Alan,” he began, his voice hoarse, “why don’t you hate me?”

—

Why didn't he hate him? Alan couldn't say he had tried very much. His anger against Rhett’s action had almost immediately become laced to worry and, little by little with an unsettling echo. The werewolf might have not hunted down any specific hunter in his life, most of those who had crossed his path had either come to regret it or didn't even have time to reflect on their mistake. 

A few months ago, he wouldn't have seen hypocrisy in condemning what Rhett had done because it wasn't the same, right? At least Alan was protecting himself, and those hunters were probably going to try to hurt him or another werewolf. It was only self preservation. Nothing more. These last few weeks, yes, Alan felt a different way. On both sides of the story, there were people with lives and loved ones and he knew for certain that this wasn't how he’d get hunters to stop roaming the woods looking for revenge or ultimately… trying to protect their own people.  Maybe it was not the same, no, but that didn't make it right.

Alan’s gaze remained fixed on the flames for a while more and he served himself another glass of wine as he thought some more on his reply. 

He didn't want to give Rhett the wrong idea. Even if he did something similar, he didn't convince himself that what he did was right, even if that would have helped him sleep better some nights. And eventually what did the trick was thinking of what else defined him and telling oneself that there was more to him than his wrong doings. 

“I suppose I have been reflecting on my own actions a lot lately,” and the eulogy that would have gotten him. He realized he would have been glad not to hear it. Maybe he didn't have it in him to do grand gestures of kindness but he could try at least to be kinder. That came with showing Alex how to live her lycanthropy better, helping his neighbors replace into a new home and quite frankly changing his methods. This wouldn't change how he got successful or buy him a ticket to heaven but peace of mind was good enough.

“Trying this thing called kindness,” he took a sip and didn't even grimace when he said that last word. “I wouldn't be doing a good job at that if I refused to see the good in you,” if you put aside some quirks that were anything but usual, the version of Rhett he had been around was nothing like the one he imagined the girls had faced. It didn't change what he had done, but Alan couldn't unsee it, or pretend he didn't appreciate him. “I have a lot of reasons to despise myself but I don't think I'd even try changing if there was no one to give me hope that it’ll be okay,” he looked up from the fireplace, at last, to set his eyes on the hunter. “I don't hate you, because you are so much more.” 

—

He didn't deserve it, he knew that. Alan making an effort to see the goodness in him was a waste, but was it fair to tell the man that? He'd likely just argue it, anyway. But Rhett knew better than anyone that he wasn't worth anyone's pity or concern, not for all the hellish things he'd done in his life. He didn't deserve his daughter, who seemed to love him unconditionally in spite of those terrible things, or perhaps because of them, because she felt like she could fix him. But there was nothing left to fix. The warden could claim to be retired, he could claim to have no interest in hunting intelligent supernatural species anymore, but the damage was done. The bias was there, and it was never going away. He'd never be able to love his girl the way he should, he'd never be able to look past the things that made him and Alan so different. He could lie and say he was, but deep down, he knew. He was a hunter. He was a tool, raised for one thing, and he'd been doing it for forty years. There was more bad in him than good, and anyone who knew hunters would know that he didn't have the time to make up for it. 

But... if that's what Alan chose to see, that small percentage of decency, who was Rhett to say he shouldn't? Life was fucking lonely enough already. 

He shook his head like he didn't really believe what Alan was saying, the silent response cut with a soft sigh. “Flattered you think so,” he finally responded. He wasn't confirming that Alan was right or wrong, just that it was nice to hear. Because... it was. For better or worse, Rhett and Emilio clung to one another like they were the only thing keeping each other afloat, and sometimes Rhett wondered if that wasn't the truth. They were family, but that didn't mean that Emilio saw anything in Rhett that he liked. He loved him, unconditionally, just like Ophelia... but that didn't make it right. That didn't mean that Rhett was worth saving, it didn't mean that the warden had any chance of changing again. 

He glanced over and found Alan looking back at him, and his throat tightened. “Don't mean it'll be okay, though. Caused a lotta damage. Figure there's plenty'ah folks that ain't gonna forgive me.” I shouldn't be staying in this town, he thought, but I have to if I want any kind of relationship with my daughter. “I'd leave, if not for...” The thought drifted away from him, dead in the air. If not for her. If not for Emilio. If not for the one person that doesn't have to like him, who shouldn’t like him, still giving him a chance. Alan. 

“Guess I just don't want you gettin' the wrong sorta idea, mate. Too mercurial for anythin' like that. Not long for this world, considerin'.” Don't get attached, was what he was trying to say. “So don't go givin’ me anythin' more than I've earned, aye?” Which was next to nothing. Polite company, someone to spend the night with. He hoped Alan could understand.

—

“I think we’re both old enough to know saying it will be okay doesn't fix much, but…” he fell silent. “What I'm trying to say is don't overthink it. You’re not alone, and that has to be a relief, hasn't it?” Or maybe that was just Alan speaking out loud, reflecting on his own needs. He found relief in having his family, yes, but it weighed a lot, knowing that he was lying to them every full moon. He had missed, over the last ten years, a good share of family events that had the misfortune of happening on one of these evenings.

He offered the other man a slight smile. He didn't have much more to offer in terms of comfort. Yes, there would be folks coming at him for revenge, and perhaps they’d want more than Alex had gotten here. He knew the sentiment. 

Now all Rhett could hope for was for these people to see his cane and eye patch and realize that someone had been quicker than them at getting back at him. That was also what Alan could hope for. 

“Rhett, I don't want to alarm you, but you’re being extremely gentle here,” he teased, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and wrinkling his eyes. It was also quite clumsy, but what else did he expect from the New Zealander? The werewolf reached out, plucking flyaway hair from the hunter's cheek and pushing it back behind his ear. “I’m fine with what we have,” he finally stated. “I’ll let you know if that changes,” it wasn't reasonable to expect much more at his age, with his track record. “Another glass of Martinique rum?” 

—

It was a relief. Rhett nodded to indicate as much, but let the man's words roll around in his head in quiet contemplation. He'd been overthinking a lot of things lately, since thinking was all he could fucking do. 

Whatever will be will be. There was no point in agonizing over it. Worrying wouldn't make anything better or prevent the inevitable… so he may as well just focus on existing in the moment. 

When Alan accused him of being gentle, the warden scoffed as if offended, though he did wear a slight grin at the same time. “Shut up,” he grumbled, not seeing the hand coming his way until it was touching his face. He tried not to flinch but was only partially successful, and an attempt to mask it was made as he turned his head again to look at Alan. His expression was… difficult to read. On the one hand, he was glad for the company. On the other… Alan was a werewolf. And sure, that boundary had been crossed some months ago already, but he hadn't known this then. If he had, he would have killed him. Tried, anyway. Probably ended up worse than he was now. 

Alan was a werewolf, but he was also a friend. One of the very few that Rhett actually had, and certainly the only one willing to offer physical comfort—a thing the warden hadn't been aware he so desperately wanted until it had been given. He glanced at his emptied glass when Alan offered to refill it, and sighed. He'd promised Ophelia he wouldn't be hungover in the morning, but… “Sure,” he conceded, and when Alan had finished pouring from the bottle, he motioned for him to turn around. “Now, ‘bout that shoulder…” His hands quickly found a home on the correct side of Alan's neck, uncharacteristically cautious in the way they applied pressure meant to soothe, listening for any sounds of discomfort. The two-handed action was interrupted only as he moved one to grab his glass and take a sip. “Call me gentle again ‘n I'll make ya regret it,” he teased back as both thumbs dug into the muscle with care.

—

It was Alan’s turn to flinch, then. Clearly he wasn't scared too much by the hunter’s presence, but his shoulder had been giving him a hard time and while the idea of Rhett’s rough hands meddling with it didn't sound like a good one on paper, it didn’t prove so bad for now.

His nerves relaxed, and the werewolf who had no reason to feel uncomfortable by his own doing, rested his weight against the back of the couch, letting the hunter's fingers knead his tired shoulder. Alan found himself thinking of what his reaction could have been. 

A year ago, if Alex had told him of Rhett’s wrong doings, the werewolf would not have thought about it at all. He would have found him and attempted to put a more permanent end to the threat. 

While he was leaning into the hunter's definitely gentle touch, Alan’s smile grew up to his eyes. That wasn't supposed to be his reaction to a threat but in this instant it was difficult to feel anything but safe and warm. 

“I’m glad we had this conversation,” not as eye opening as figuring out the other could be soft, but certainly important. “I always feel lighter telling people I…” 

He still had his difficulties admitting to caring for others, even if he showed it in every way but words. 

“Well, telling them the truth. I hope you feel lighter knowing you’re not lying to me either.”

—

“Aye,” was all Rhett could say to the sentiment, struggling even more than his counterpart to admit when he gave a shit about someone. All other soft dialogue was shoved back into a trunk and locked away, the key discarded carelessly somewhere in the maze of barren rooms that made up his mind. His stubbornness would always put up a fight, a staunch refusal to accept such things boiling down into denial that kept him, in a way, at arm’s length from everyone. Not literally, of course—hands worked deftly at easing the pain in Alan’s shoulder, quite practiced in the motions after so many years of performing them on himself after difficult hunts. 

The silence that settled between them was comfortable, neither feeling the need to fill it with inanity, talking for the sake of talking. Anyway, Rhett was terrible with chit chat, a fact that Alan seemed to have already understood and internalized. He was grateful for it. 

His fingers slipped beneath the collar of Alan’s shirt in the front, sliding over bare skin to the scar on his shoulder that he now knew came from a werewolf. Still massaging with the other hand, Rhett drifted his fingertips over the uneven skin, his gaze flicking up to Alan’s profile. He’d never killed a werewolf before. Had a good idea of what it’d take, and it sure as hell didn’t sound easy. Not only that, but the man’s earlier insinuation that he could’ve been turned by now was… well, accurate, for one, but it was a thought that elbowed its way to the forefront of his mind as he took in the other’s visage. What was it like, he wondered. Losing control like that, but on such a strict schedule. How did Alan cope with it? How many people had he killed? How many hunters? When had Rhett stopped being just another body to add to the pile and started being something worth protecting? 

He was reminded, for a moment, of Emilio and how he had tried to protect the people in his life from Rhett. Funny, how the roles had been reversed. It was a perspective that he’d do well to think on for a while, but as his hands became distracted from their duty, wandering farther from Alan’s shoulder, so too did his thoughts. They were already quite close, but the warden leaned in to speak into his ear. 

“Mind if I stay here tonight?” 

—

“Aye indeed,” there was no denying that Alan, as respectful of silence as he was, was usually a little more talkative. It wasn't that he and Rhett had nothing more to say to each other but their conversation had been quite trying and the werewolf didn't want to go back there just yet. The subject would probably come back on the agenda later. Alan had a lot to make up for, too. Not that he had harmed Rhett, but among the hunters who had passed through his clutches, there were some who would come back to haunt him one day. He sometimes hoped that the large number of wolves in the region protected him. In truth, he knew nothing about it. Maybe no one was looking for him, and maybe living worried was the worst punishment he would have to endure.

Distracted by his thoughts, he was quick to notice that the hunter's hands had taken a more direct approach, and after a brief glance over his shoulder, unbuttoned the first few buttons of his white shirt to let him further examine the hideous scar that he had on his shoulder, now adorned with a second scar, more marked, recent, blistered. That silver bullet had left quite a mess.

When Rhett had flinched, Alan had told himself that his condition made him unattractive, even repulsive to the hunter, and he would have understood if that had been the case. Although he behaved like someone who had everything under control, that was how he managed to hide his weaknesses and faults from everyone. According to him, it was easier to live looking perfect for everyone to see, even if it meant being alone with your pain and difficulties, because that also meant that everyone envied what he had and that sounded better than pity. Besides, people had better things to do than deal with his personal problems.

The hunter's breath against his ear was a welcome distraction, and his unpleasant thoughts gave way to a relieved sigh as he sank into sturdy arms. “I would not mind at all,” and reaching over his head to weave fingers through unruly (but softer than usual, he noted) hair, Alan shifted to the side to grant the man an affectionate kiss on the corner of his lips. 

—

The mistake had already been made, if you could call it that, so what was the point in holding back now? Rhett would gain nothing by shutting Alan out at this point except more loneliness. He'd had plenty of that over the last couple of decades, why insist that it continue unless he sought misery? Sometimes he wondered if that wasn't the case, and he just couldn't or wouldn't admit it to himself. 

Oh well. Made no difference to him now. 

The feeling of fingers in his hair elicited a soft sigh from the warden, all the hostility that typically filled his days ebbing away to make room for something softer and warmer. Was this how other people often felt? Was the cold, dark grip of a life resigned to violence his own fault, or was that something he was always destined to ride out? He couldn’t say for certain, but he did recognize that it was becoming easier to forget that anger the more time he spent around people like Ophelia and Alan. People that, for all the world, should want him dead, and yet…

He chased Alan's kiss with one of his own, angling his head to better catch his mouth fully. There was something akin to desperation in the way he grasped at Alan, like he might slip away if Rhett wasn't quick enough to show his interest, like he'd come back to his senses and realize that what the warden had done was inexcusable. He guided the man to turn and face him, his bum leg dangling uselessly off the couch as the other tucked itself beneath him. 

“Was hopin’ you'd say that,” he answered breathlessly before pulling Alan over the top of him as he laid back on the cushions. 

—

From someone who would have happily massacred him a few months ago, Alan expected hesitant gestures as if inviting him to slow down the course of things, a kind of new timidity, as if they had actually met only a few moments ago. The fervor was as much a surprise as it was a welcomed one.

All this changed a lot of things. He knew it well. But he didn't want them to become strangers again. Doubts dissipated with each kiss given, each breath shared, each sigh whispered against the skin. Running his hand through his own hair to discipline it (a futile effort if there was one right now), Alan studied him for a short moment, his eyes wandering along those long eyelashes, the pronounced bridge of his nose, the scars more or less less recent speckling the face of the hunter like a constellation traced on his skin, up until he decided it was no longer time for contemplation.

For now at least. Because it resumed later.

It was entirely dark out now, and through the large windows that faced the living room, there was nothing to see. The fire still crackled in the attic, covering white noise and outdoor sounds. Alan often had something of the sort going, if only to cover the hum of kitchen appliances, cars in the street, or any distraction that he imagined had dogs barking. 

It didn't prevent him from monitoring every breath the hunter was taking, however, his face nuzzled as it was against the crook of his neck. It was a warm, comfortable embrace, and a younger Alan would have probably agreed on greeting slumber here with just a throw blanket and a shoulder for a pillow. “How does a proper bed sound to you? Or a shower and toothbrush?” He would have rather not moved, still, the werewolf pushed himself off the couch, stepping over discarded clothes to bravely lead the way there. “Unless you’d rather stay here on your own of course.” With a glance over his shoulder, and a kind smile he disappeared around the corner.

—

As their heartbeats slowed and breaths evened out, Rhett stared blankly at the ceiling. Alan was half draped over him, perhaps the only thing keeping him from floating off into that unseen abyss that was his fractured mind. He could hear Desmond, he could see him in some capacity, like a hallucination, loudly announcing his disgust at the sight of his brother in this state. It was the same as before, the same as when Desmond realized Rhett was falling in love with Mariela. I don’t know how you’ve managed it, but you love her more than me, and you’ve only known her for six months! You’re choosing her! 

It’s not that simple, Rhett had protested, and it was certainly a sentiment that could apply to the present as well. He looked down at the semi-opaque figure of his brother that stood at his feet. I’m lonely, he told the apparition in their private, shared headspace. What the fuck does it matter? I’ll be dead this time next year anyway. Desmond shook his head and turned away, just in time for Alan to stir and say something. Rhett watched him get to his feet, his chest tight. He hesitated on the couch for a few moments before pushing himself up and grabbing his cane to follow after his bedfellow, thinking that a shower, brush, and bed all sounded pretty damn nice.

#. thread ; #. with ; alan duarte #. not alone ;

[captain-crowfish]

Happy CubeGoblins Day to those who Celebrate

I was going to animate a meme to celebrate but the software I was using suddenly said "No❤" And wiped the project.

So instead, here are 9 random things I've learned about The Boxtrolls production history within the last few years or so.

G-get it? Because it's been 9 years since the movie released.

1

it was originally going to be a Dreamworks film.

"'What Phil really values is a good story,” says Fiona Kenshole, the excitable Brit who Knight hired as director of worldwide scouting operations for Laika. Kenshole, a former children’s literature editor and publisher, is in charge of finding the best stories for future Laika movies. She scored a coup this spring by beating out DreamWorks for rights to the book Here Be Monsters. She finagled the deal by promising the author, Alan Snow, that Laika directors would stay true to his vision and that she’d throw in a pair of Nikes for his son." Source Article

This fact really intrigues me even though I know it wouldn't nearly be as dark and gritty if it ended up being made by Dreamworks. Also, "True to his vision"? Yea, that didn't happen. Sorry.

2

This film has really cool set design

Image source (There's more!)

3

(At least) Three storyboard sequences made for a very early version of the film are available online One Two Three

4

Mr. Pickles has tattoos on his knuckles

╳△⚲↑ It's been years and I still don't know what this means

5

There were about 15 Snatcher puppets made for the film. At least one of them didn't even have legs.

6

back on the subject of Storyboards, The scene in the movie where The Boxtrolls get crushed is a little bit different in the novelization, and also longer. It seems however, that perhaps the book was finalized before the film was, as Storyboards exist of the same scene, with beats and dialogue that are nowhere in the final film. (It shows Mr. Gristle shoving the fake Boxtroll head onto Eggs' head and the Mecha-Drill exiting the factory workshop.) Here it is!!!

7

There were originally 7 red hats

The two left-most guys are called Chips and Knuckles.

image source

8

Some countries built Boxtroll-themed play-places in malls as part of an advertising campaign.

I can no longer find the sources for any of these (There are more images, however)

9

And finally, my favorite fact. Remember the Cabbagehead creatures that were cut from the film sometime in production? Turns out they weren't cut early enough to stop any test animations from being made!

Video source Isn't that cool?!?!?! I'm gonna go eat some cheese now. Maybe even Coastal cheddar.

#the boxtrolls #boxtrolls #crowfish crap #ugly stupid fairy adventure #here be monsters! #laika bts #laika studios #laika films #favorites #number 8 is mainly only relevant to me because I have a lot of dreams about indoor playgrounds

[kariachi]

Some fic for directly after the end of the Rooters Arc, because damnit this shit was needed.

~~

Argit and Zed came to a stop seconds before Kevin did, as the portal between Earth and the Null Void closed behind the lot.  He closed his eyes, gave a deep sigh.

“It’s done,” he said plainly. Gwendolyn squeezed his hand while Argit smirked.

“Yep.”

“And we’re out,” he continued. Manny, Helen, and Alan all took a large step to the side, as Argit’s smirk grew toothy.

“Proctor’ll never know.”

For a brief moment Kevin’s lips quirked into a smirk of his own. He nodded. Dropped Gwendolyn’s hand and the smile. Turned around, opening his eyes and squaring his shoulders.

Ben was on the ground, clutching his nose, before anyone but Helen could blink.

“The fug, man-?!”

“The next time,” Kevin growled, glaring murder down at him, “I see you pulling that bullshit you did with Alien X again? Going out of your way to beat on people who can’t fight back? Trying to lie about it like I don't have eyes in my head? I’m breaking your fucking legs. Especially if it’s any of my people again. Got it?”

The group stood in silence for what felt like half an eternity as the threat sunk in for half of them. The honesty behind it, and the dawning realization that maybe there had been some things Servantis had changed. Only his former team and Argit were unaffected, watching like this was normal behavior from him.

“Go’ it,” Ben eventually answered, warily accepting the hand Kevin offered to pull him up. The glare mellowed to a disappointed glower as he did.

“You’re supposed to be better than me. Act like it.” Stepping back, Kevin shook his head, sighed, and turned his attention on Gwendolyn. She stood tense and wary, but didn’t shy away.

“Kevin-”

“Please,” he interrupted, the glower falling to just, pure disappointment, “explain why you brought them to the Rooters?” He gestured to Alan, Argit, Helen, and Manny as he said it. Gwendolyn squared her shoulders.

“We weren’t going to let you fight them on your own,” she said.

“I wanted you to keep Manny and Helen safe,” Kevin countered. “Argit and Alan can watch each other’s backs no problem but getting shit out to those two would’ve been too dangerous.”

“You really would trust Argit to watch somebody’s back,” Gwendolyn asked, arms folding over her chest as she raised a brow. Kevin’s frown deepened.

“More than I can trust any of you to listen to reason, apparently!” He threw his look around the crowd as he said it, shoulders getting tenser with every word. “It’s not like I made not wanting you all involved a secret!” Argit locked eyes with Gwendolyn and gestured emphatically Kevin's way. Alan, Helen, and Manny stood their ground.

“It was our fight too,” Alan said. “We weren’t going to just leave you to fight it for us, no matter what you said.”

“And look where it got you!” For all the world it looked like he had more to say to them, but instead, after a beat, he turned on Argit. “You know better, the fuck did you let them in for?!”

“Hey!” Rearing back, Argit gave him a sharp look, ears pinning back. “I didn’t 'let' anyone do shit! Red kicked me through the portal!”

“She did do that,” Helen confirmed, enough to get Kevin to round on Gwendolyn again.

“Why?!”

“He wouldn’t let us through,” she said. “And was acting like you were lost forever!”

“It’s the Null Void,” Argit pointed out, though nobody paid any mind, “it’s a reasonable assumption!”

“And you wanted him along that bad you couldn’t just shove him aside?!” That shut her up right quick. There was no way to talk yourself out of that logic trap, either you admit you hadn’t been thinking before you did the very dangerous thing, or you admit to having thought Argit would be helpful. Neither was anything Gwendolyn was liable to go with under anything less than pain of death, especially in the midst of an argument. Still, her silence was enough to tear the wind out of Kevin’s sails. He slumped with another sigh, walking over to drop his forehead against Argit’s.

“You’re the only person I can rely on…”

“Yeah,” Argit said, reaching up to fiddle with his hair. “It’s kinda pathetic.”

“Yeah….” With what was almost a whine and Zed nudging at his hand until she got pats, Kevin pulled back. “I was gonna get you four their heads if I didn’t die. Figured target practice, maybe you could put Billings’ skull on your desk as a warning to others…”

“Aww, Ravrsa.” Looking half-smitten, Argit gave his hair a gentle tug. “Maybe you can get some actual sleep now, huh? Buy this lot something to eat and get you someplace to nap?”

“That would be amazing.”

“Alright then.” Argit gave him a nod and a pat, then leaned around to face the rest of the group. “Alright you lot, pick a venue, preferably one with take-out or bench seating. And no, Benny, we’re not doing your fucking smoothie joint.”

In a smooth motion Zed and Kevin both started moving again, the little trio starting off ahead while the other regained their bearings. Gwendolyn ran up to join them, not going for Kevin’s hand again but sticking to his side, as the rest slowly began to follow after.

~

They ended up at a burger joint Manny liked, and had to haul Kevin, dead asleep, out of the building when they were done.

It'd been a major time.

#fanfic #ben needed to get knocked down a peg #and kevin needed to be able to get upset that he had to save everybody despite specifically saying he wanted them to not get involved #also a nap

[tanushakyrano]

febuwhump day 4: knife to the throat

i was going to apologise for this if i do that i would have to apologise every day. i really am just bullying everyone huh

characters: Kayo, Alan

additional warnings: knife (obviously), slight blood mention

_____________

It all came down to the Hood. No matter what happened, it always came down to him in the end. He was a fungus, growing in the dark and murky places, snaking his tendrils into every nook and cranny and slowly choking everything in his reach. Difficult to combat, and impossible to eradicate. Get too close and he’d draw you in. You were caught in his trap, and it’s all you can do to sit and wait as the rot sinks in and the fungus grows and grows. And then you’re dead.

Kayo had done this dance before. She’d learnt how to keep herself alive; stay just out of reach, defend and counter-attack, foil his plans as best as she can without being caught up in his web. The pattern was so familiar that it had become second nature.

Alan, however, had ever so slightly thrown a spanner in the works.

It wasn’t his fault, really. The only thing he’d done wrong was be on the rescue with her when her uncle reared his ugly head, and she would never blame him for that. Wrong place, wrong time. It just meant that she had more to lose. A person to protect. If anything happened to Alan, she could never forgive herself.

It was why she’d shoved him out of reach when the Hood had attempted to snatch the data core from his grasp.

Before Kayo had time to blink, an arm grabbed her waist in a vice-like grip and cold steel dug into her throat.

“Hand over the core, Tracy.”

His voice was slick and cold and dangerously low. She tried to elbow him in the stomach, twist out of his grasp, but his hold on her didn’t budge and the blade pressed close against her jugular. She barely even dared breathe.

Alan’s eyes were wide. He clutched the data core in both hands, face pale, a slight tremor in his fingers. Despite that, he was measured and steady in his reply. “Why would I ever help you?”

“Because I’ll kill her if you don’t.”

Ice-cold water dripped down her spine.

“You wouldn’t.” Disbelief saturated his voice.

“Oh, I would. You really think I would let a pathetic family connection get in the way of what I want?” the Hood spat. The knife broke the skin. A trickle of blood carved a path down her neck. “Hand me the data core, now.”

Alan took a step forward. Kayo tried to warn him off with her eyes (her uncle couldn’t be allowed to take a single step further to his twisted goals, he couldn't be allowed to win) but he steadfastly ignored her. His gaze fell instead upon the Hood.

“Let her go, and I’ll give you the core.” He was closer now; Kayo watched the uneven rise and fall of his chest as he approached, one cautious step after another.

“Good boy.” The words dripped from his tongue like poisoned honey. The hand holding her hostage beckoned him forward, stretching out, ready to take the data core. “Give it here.”

Alan paused for a fraction of a second, then he carefully placed it in the Hood’s grasp. The pressure against her throat lessened. She spun out of his hold, forcing the knife away from her, settling into a defensive stance next to Alan. 

The Hood just laughed.

“It was lovely seeing you both,” he purred, bowing mockingly. “We should do this again sometime.”

Too late, she noticed where he was standing. Kayo darted forward, electric stuns crackling and spitting energy on her wrists, but he stepped backwards through the door to the escape pod and it slid shut in her face. He smirked through the porthole as he fell away out of sight. She yelled in rage. Her fist slammed into the wall.

A gloved hand tentatively rested on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” Alan asked quietly.

Kayo whipped round, fists clenched, jerking away from his touch. "No, I'm not fucking okay, Alan. Why the hell'd you give him the core?"

Alan stared at her incredulously. His hands trembled at his sides. "Why did I give him the- Kayo, he had a knife! I couldn't let him-"

The words died in his mouth, but they both knew what he had been about to say.

I couldn't let him kill you.

She wouldn't dwell on it. She couldn't. The absolute conviction with which he'd spoken rattled her to her core, and if Kayo thought about it for one more second she wasn't sure that she could carry on. But that wasn't on the cards, not now. They were still in danger. Alan was still in danger. Feelings were secondary, irrelevant. She shoved them down and out of the way, not letting them clutter her mind for a single damn minute. The clock was ticking. She had a job to do. 

Protect the Tracy family.

"We need to go, Alan. Now."

"But-"

Kayo held up a hand, cutting him off. "Don't. Please-" She hated the way her voice broke. "Let's just get back to Thunderbird Three, okay?"

She hated the look on his face as he slowly nodded. The last thing she wanted to do right now was hurt him any more. The kid didn't deserve any of this. Guilt twisted in her gut.

She pushed through it.

Protect the Tracy family.

#thunderbirds are go #cora writes #kayo kyrano #alan tracy #febuwhump23 #whump #SORRY

[roseverdict]

Mechanize, Mobilize, (Un)Mythicize

Chapter 2: The Evacuation of Stick City

The world is ending, villains and heroes are working together, and they need to save as many people as they possibly can before the internet goes down. What could go wrong?

i'm so incredibly WIRED this week for. Obvious Reasons™. but i just realized i should probably clarify- while this is not the same universe as my macaroni au (*coughSHAMELESSPLUGcoughcough*) the two fics i published in the macaroni au so far more-or-less happened in this au, too. just with the major change of "the sticks had to speak through pantomime and/or written text" lmao

dark and chosen have still Communicated™ and Deleted The Line Of Code That Alan Put Into Dark™.

mango and purple have still had a Macaroni Incident™.

except instead of "the fic i'm building up to with the macaroni au" happening shortly after the Macaroni Incident™, this is happening instead. also mango and purple here are being quicker to figure out their footing with one another than their macaroni counterparts lmao

〜

As Red and Reuben soared through the wifi tunnel and into a stranger's device, she took the bundle from his mouth and scritched him behind the ears. Reuben was such a smart pig, such a good boy.

Reuben leaned his head into the scritching with a quiet snuffle.

The end of the tunnel came up, and Red jolted at the sight that greeted her- program icons swarmed angrily around an animated mech like a horde of infuriated wasps. They were holding off the invader fairly well, but even as she watched, the connection flickered dangerously.

She glanced at Reuben, then pulled out her diamond pickaxe and turned back to the incoming firewall.

Before she could even chip at the barrier, however, Reuben reared back-

-and blasted a crater through the wall!

Red couldn't help giggling silently. Reuben was the best pig.

The icon swarm and the mech all froze and looked at the two of them.

Red just sprinted for the mech and went to town on it. Reuben quickly joined in, and by the time the icon swarm had finished pulling back, the mech was nothing but a heap of mangled metal on the taskbar.

Red steadied her breathing, then, on a whim, shoved some of the broken pieces of the mech into her hammerspace. Maybe Yellow would be able to do something with them.

One of the icons, a VLC traffic cone, tilted curiously.

Red just ran halfway back to the wifi tunnel, turned around, and pointed frantically at it. She even brought her free hand up for emphasis- they had to get going now!

Reuben oinked and jumped next to her, lifting one of his front paws and one of the rear ones as he looked directly at the wifi tunnel.

The computer shuddered from the force of whatever was going on outside, and the icons quickly swirled past Red and into the tunnel, with her and Reuben running after them just before the connection cut.

〜

Orange shot through the tunnel as fast as they could, reaching forward with the Minecraft icon at the last second to make a one-block wide hole in the barrier and speeding through head-first. They hit the ground with their hands and flipped forward, only realizing after they fully landed that the desktop was empty of sapient programs and stick figures alike.

What it was not empty of was a User's cursor.

It took a second for Orange to get a handle on the computer's webcam and focus on the Outside, but then they saw the User flinch back in wide-eyed shock. She must not have had a functioning microphone, because even though she mouthed the words "What the…" Orange heard none of it.

Orange shook their head frantically, and their orange text popped into view above their head. No time to explain! There's a bunch of robots attacking people out there and in the internet- you gotta get to safety!

The User blinked in shock, but then her computer shook and her head whipped around to look out a window. Orange didn't have a very good angle to see what she was looking at, but her face quickly lost its healthy pink color in favor of a ghostly white.

My friends and I split up to look for any stick figures we could evacuate, but it looks like it's just you in here. Orange told her seriously as they ran back for the tunnel. Raise the alarm if you can and stay safe!

The User's face hardened, and she nodded once before moving to get up. At the same time, Orange dove back through the hole they'd made and into the tunnel, closing the hole and severing the connection with the webcam as they did.

Well, that was one computer that wasn't gonna be hijacked or stolen or whatever the plan was. Hopefully the User would be alright.

As Orange streaked down the tunnel, they clenched the fist that wasn't holding the Minecraft icon.

Whoever was doing this, Orange was gonna have some words for them.

〜

Yellow swooped to the side and almost picked an IP to evacuate at random, but one of the addresses sent a jolt down her spine. Whether it was horror, hope, or something in-between, she wasn't entirely sure.

Whatever it was, it was enough for her to streak up the tunnel as fast as her elytra could take her, readying her staff hand for the moment the other side came into view.

She'd investigated the Minecraft server Alan usually played in after Mango's plans had been foiled. While he'd long ago saved it to a list of usual servers to go to, the IP address she'd found was an exact match to the one she was now racing to reach.

The other side of the tunnel rose up to meet her, and Yellow swung her staff forward and deleted two blocks'-worth of it so that she could land safely on the taskbar.

Immediately, it became apparent that this device was used primarily as the host for the Minecraft server. Task Manager was open, but it was the only program active aside from the one that actually ran the server.

Yellow flew for the computer's storage and dug straight for the Minecraft worlds folder. For a moment, she was worried that there would be multiple worlds to sift through (and she didn't know if she had the heartlessness to save one and leave the rest to die), but when only one world came up, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Even though she wasn't actively within the game, as she got closer to the folder, the control block in her staff resonated with it, the faint sounds of worried mobs reaching her ears.

Yellow set her shoulders and created a new .zip file, and she swiftly moved the folder containing all the world's information into it. There was a hefty amount of world to move, but the computer must have been a high-performance one bought specially to handle an online multiplayer Minecraft server, because the data transfer didn't take more than a few moments.

As soon as the world was safely contained, she tried to pocket the .zip archive, but the filesize was just too unwieldy. As a hasty Plan B, she slung the .zip over her shoulder like an oversized messenger bag, then bolted back through the wifi tunnel before it could collapse and trap her there.

〜

Mango ran through his basement, breaking as many of his remaining command blocks as possible and snatching them up. He knew better than most what they could do in the wrong hands, after all, and the whatever-it-was that was trying to take over the interspace certainly qualified.

His phone buzzed, and he spared it a quick glance.

Just Now Purple: all got out saafe comingto get you rn

A knot that had tied itself right in Mango's chest loosened up at that, and he went back to destroying his work on a second wind.

The ground shook outside, and Mango broke the last command block with an air of finality, the last of the devices powering down and leaving only the nether portal as a source of light.

Then that, too, flickered out.

Taking his cue to leave, Mango ran back down the underground tunnel, snatching torches off the wall as he passed them, and clambered up the ladder as fast as his limbs could carry him. He only paused for a moment at the top, making sure nothing had invaded the house while he was downstairs, then hauled himself up and replaced the uppermost part of the ladder and the trapdoor with a block of wood planks. It was still very visibly different from the rest of the floor, but with a rug dragged over it, it would hopefully go unnoticed by any would-be burglars.

He would have preferred to stay down there, perhaps even to set up a base of sorts, but he knew just how malleable the interspace could be. With the sky going dark, possibly permanently, he couldn't afford to box himself in somewhere that could easily cease to be.

(Watching Goldie get torn to shreds was more than enough evidence that it would be painful.)

He gathered every piece of his prototype staffs up and shoved them into his hammerspace, and soon enough the only remnant of his attempts to destroy Minecraft was the murky chalk left over after he and Purple had tried cleaning the wall.

Then again, if Mango hadn't known what the cloud-like shapes on the wall were supposed to be from the start, he doubted he would have figured it out just by looking at them.

He gently pocketed the nearest photo of himself and Goldie, still in its frame, and he managed to pick up a selfie Purple had done with him just last week before the door burst open.

"You will come with us to safety," stated the mech in front of him.

Mango slowly put up his hands, displaying just enough of the selfie for the mech to see that it was a mere photo, then carefully reached for an empty photo frame, slid the selfie inside, and put the entire thing in his hammerspace.

The mech stepped aside to let him pass by, and he held his head high as he did exactly that.

Around him, his neighbors were being herded out in much the same way as he, and Mango lifted his gaze slightly to watch the sky.

Any minute now, kids.

The mech ushering him out of his house paused, then all of the mechs turned and primed their weapons in the same direction.

Mango took advantage of the distraction to sweep out a leg and swipe his escort's legs out from under it, then make a break for the outside of the group.

Immediately, he got a front-row seat as Purple and Green swooped overhead, tag-teamed the mechs into firing on each other in a matter of moments, and were greeted by a round of excited applause from his neighbors.

Purple scanned the sticks on the ground for a second, then dove down in front of Mango and grabbed him in a quick, tight hug.

The tension in Mango's shoulders relaxed, and he returned it just as strongly.

The moment passed, and he and Purple turned to Green.

Green nodded, then took out a pair of elytra just like their own, held them up for Mango's neighbors to see, then tossed them to Mango.

Sensing the need for a demonstration, Mango quickly equipped them and took to the air.

Purple and Green both took out more of the elytra, passing them out to everyone there, then Green whistled and pointed to the sky, where almost half the IP addresses in view were blackened and dull, with more joining them with each passing second.

Mango nodded, and he and the rest shot up after the kids, following them up to the few remaining active IPs as the world around them grew darker and darker.

〜

Blue shot through the wifi tunnel at top speed, holding his crossbow as steadily as his shaking hands would let him.

The world was ending, Alan had needed to escape without him and his friends, and things were bad enough that the Dark Lord of all people was working with them to evacuate devices, but he was fine.

Really!

He took a deep breath in and let it out. Slowly.

Repeatedly.

He just had to remember that he'd survived everything else that had tried to end him. He'd survived it when Mango had tried to delete Minecraft with them all inside! He'd survived it when the witch turned him into a netherwart-harvesting piston! He'd survived it when he'd taken a lava bath!

And those were just the most recent things he'd lived to tell the tale of!

He could do this!

He slammed face-first into the invisible barrier at the end of the tunnel.

Blue shook his head to clear it, then brought up his diamond pickaxe-

-and mined clean through it!

Yellow's boosts were no joke, huh?

He jumped out and onto the bottom of the screen, only to have to duck as an energy blast nearly took off his head. When he looked in the direction of the source, he gaped for a moment as a handful of drawn stick figures- solidheads just like him- fought off one of the animated mechs.

They weren't doing very well- the mech easily overpowered them one-on-one, and only their numbers gave them any kind of advantage- but they did well enough to give Blue the split second he needed to bring his crossbow up to bear.

His aim was true, and the rocket struck the mech in the back of the head.

The rest of the fighters froze in shock, but Blue just charged forward, switched back to his bow, and fired off a volley of arrows into every weak point he could see. The moment he got close enough, he shoved the bow back into his hotbar and started punching.

That snapped the others out of it.

While adding another stick to the fight might not have helped under normal circumstances, it quickly became clear to Blue that his attacks were doing enough damage to turn the tide, and the mech was soon smashed to bits.

The other sticks watched him warily for a moment, which was fair. He did just sort of show up out of nowhere with massive power at his disposal.

Distantly, he wondered if this was how the Chosen One had felt when he and his friends had all started bowing to them.

Instead of silently leaving like the Chosen One had, however, Blue pointed for the wifi tunnel and gestured hurriedly for the sticks to follow him through.

They hesitated for a moment, but then the computer shook. Blue snatched up one of the metal plates from the mech, one with part of some kind of gold insignia on it, and held it up for the sticks to see. Once they'd all looked, he dropped it and pointed where the Outside would be.

The sticks stiffened.

Point made.

He tossed them all elytra of their own, then turned and ran back for the tunnel, their footsteps behind him giving him enough strength to jump straight in.

〜

As Green and Purple led their group of escapees higher into the sky, Green caught sight of it as their friends all started popping out of various IP addresses. Some of them were followed by sticks or programs, some weren't, but as soon as they were satisfied by the number of people they brought with them, they quickly flew up and into more IPs.

The newcomers all glanced around in confusion, but Green just brought a hand to their head and whistled sharply. Once all attention was on them, they waved in greeting.

The sight of Green and Purple's approaching group of escapees seemed to help them relax a bit, and for a moment, Green let themself hope they could all get away without any further issues.

Then the Dark Lord popped out of an IP, holding another stick by the arm.

Immediately, the sounds of wingbeats behind Green fell off-rhythm, and when they glanced back to look, just about everyone had flinched back in fear.

Understandable, but there wasn't time-!

The Dark Lord whistled, and once Green looked back up, they only had a second to catch the stick the Dark Lord had saved (and apparently tossed down). Oh, sure, Green managed it, gave them some elytra, and did a quick once-over to make sure they weren't hurt, but then they glared up at the Dark Lord with a frustrated, out-of-tune note.

The squeak that came out of Purple was nothing less than horrified, but the Dark Lord just stuck a hand on their hip and looked up longsufferingly.

Were it not for the too-vivid memory of feeling their code burn away from the inside out, Green felt like, in that moment, they could have strangled the Dark Lord.

The others started popping back out into the sky, then, leading more refugees out, but enough time had passed that only a very scant few IP addresses remained online. There wouldn't be time for them to make any more trips if they wanted to escape, themselves.

Quickly, however, the escapees grouped up into four distinct sections.

The Stick City sticks stuck close together, warily keeping an eye on the others.

The escapees from humans' devices hovered closer, watching everything around them in fear.

Green found themself with the rest of the Color Gang, somewhere between the two larger groups and being watched by both.

And then, as a group unto themselves…

…then there were the Chosen One and the Dark Lord, who'd started flying to the few remaining IP addresses still active and within reach, most likely searching for a good escape route.

As Green watched, however, the Chosen One straightened and waved frantically at them, pointing at a lit-up IP that seemed to be the steadiest still there, even as the barrier closing it off from the interspace flickered away entirely.

Green shared a look with Orange and the rest, then they all nodded and set off.

Well, the Color Gang did, anyway.

There came a sharp whistle from one of Mango's neighbors, and once all eyes were on her, she pointed accusatively at Orange, made a circle motion with her hand, then pointed at the Chosen One and the Dark Lord.

Orange lifted one hand to their face, then tilted their head questioningly.

This time, it was Purple who answered. They sang a quiet melody, the notes forming the image of two sticks standing menacingly above a crowd.

One of the sticks was red, and the other was black.

Green jolted, as did the rest of them, and they all glanced at the Chosen One in shock.

Instead of trying to deny the accusation, the Chosen One glanced down and gripped their forearm in visible shame. The Dark Lord looked the other way without any of their usual attitude.

Green could only hover there in shock. This couldn't have been after they'd first met the Chosen One- after the Virabot incident, Yellow had made a point of keeping up with Stick City news. It had been more of a hobby than anything, but Green knew she would have said something if the Chosen One had suddenly gone bad.

By extension, that meant that this had to have been before they came to fight the Virabot.

That…painted a clearer picture of why they and the Dark Lord had fought so viciously, actually, though Green knew they were still clearly missing pieces of the puzzle. One of those pieces was obviously whatever had gotten the two to work together to get the Color Gang to safety, but, hey, Green wasn't about to look a gift spawner in the mob.

Mango's neighbor made the circle motion again and pointed at Orange, who jerked back in offense.

Then Orange was gesturing, the Chosen One and the Dark Lord were gesturing, the Stick City sticks were gesturing, Green wound up closing ranks around Orange with the rest of the Color Gang as things got heated, and all the while the city below them crumbled and the sky grew darker and smokier and-!

Green balled their hands up into fists, took a deep breath, and let out a discordant, downright unholy shriek.

Instantly, everyone flinched and glanced their way, arms falling still.

Keeping one fist clenched, they used their other hand to gesture sharply at the discoloration left behind where the Dark Lord had stabbed clean through their chest. For emphasis, they turned around in the air to display the matching exit wound scar on their back.

When they turned back around, Yellow was pointing at the scarred slice through her throat and the back of her head, Red at the scarring on both the front and back of her gut, and Blue at the visible evidence of his own stabbing in his upper torso. Orange just held their arms out, each and every faded slice on full display.

They all pointed harshly at the Dark Lord as one.

The Dark Lord crossed their arms and folded ever-so-slightly in on themself, meeting no one's gaze.

Before anyone could act on this information (and Purple looked fit to throw down right then and there), Green swooped aside and pointed angrily at the smoke still rising from Stick City, a furious arpeggio forming the shapes of the Color Gang, the Chosen One, the Dark Lord, and one of the mechs.

The note-mech threatened the note-Color Gang as Green kept singing, but the note-Chosen One and note-Dark Lord grabbed them and pulled them to safety as note-Orange punched the note-mech into dust, then ran after them.

The notes vanished, and Green pointed emphatically at the IP that the Chosen One had tried to direct them all towards, breathing heavily.

There was a brief moment where none of them made a move.

Then Mango flew up by the IP, glanced at the Dark Lord, nodded at Green, and shot through.

The tension didn't quite break once Mango was gone, but it shifted ever-so-slightly, and the escapees flooded into the IP.

Green waited for the last of the strangers to shoot up and through, then gestured for their friends (and the Chosen One and the Dark Lord) to go through, too.

They all gave a quick nod of assent before doing exactly that, save for the Dark Lord, who just looked at them funny instead.

Green put one hand on their hip and pointed again at the IP longsufferingly.

The Dark Lord shot up and through, and only then did Green go in after them.

The tunnel flickered, and Green poured on the speed.

Just as their feet began to tingle with the impending disconnection, they saw the desktop of whichever device they were fleeing to come speeding towards them-

-and they tumbled from the wifi icon just as the tunnel slammed shut and the icon flashed a red X instead of signal strength bars.

Green shook themself and pushed themself to their feet, trudging towards their friends.

Orange and Red were gawking at the desktop they found themselves on almost as if they recognized it, and when a cursor jolted into motion, they were quick to jump up and down and wave their arms to get the User's attention.

The cursor carefully came down and picked the two up, then dropped them into an already-open Libreoffice document.

You two again?

Green stared at Orange and Red, who each glanced aside with matching awkward chuckles.

Orange's trademark text popped into view over their head. Heh, yeah. Hi again, Alexcrafter.

Ohhh. That would do it.

Purple nudged Green and shrugged questioningly.

Green held their hands in front of them as if they were, say, pressing two Minecraft icons together into the ultimate weapon of destruction and creation, then gestured to the icon in Orange's hands and Alexcrafter's cursor.

Purple nodded slowly, and in the corner of Green's vision, Mango scratched at the back of his neck.

I promise we'll explain when we can, but you've seen what's going on outside, right? asked Orange seriously.

Alexcrafter paused for a moment, then, WHAT ARE THOSE

Yeah, uh, as far as we know, a stick figure… Orange started, though they glanced at the Chosen One for confirmation. …?

The Chosen One nodded.

Orange nodded back and deleted their ellipsis and question mark before continuing, started a robot uprising. They took over the interspace, too, and we had to get as many people out as we could. Your IP address was one of the last ones online.

Alexcrafter didn't respond for a moment, then told them, theyre getting close to the house

im closing the laptop and grabbing my sisters

were all getting out of here

The survivors all threw their arms up in a cheer, and Orange nodded energetically. Thank you!!! Don't stop until you're safe!!!

The screen went dark from the outside, and Green pumped their arms excitedly, which got Red, Blue, Yellow, Purple, and Orange to all join in.

It was all up to Alexcrafter now, but they'd already promised to try.

#rosie writes #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #ava orange #ava red #ava yellow #ava green #ava blue #avm purple #avm mango #ava chosen one #ava dark lord #avm alexcrafter28 #AAAAAAAAAAAAA #sticks #not looking forward to using all those tags for nearly every upload lmao #sti-fi au

[samflynn89]

[Hiya! Thought I'd send this in? Does not have to be a thread, if you don't want it to be. You seem cool, just wanted to say hi. Also I know I tend to write novels for starters, but you do not have to match length... write however you want! —@not-that-dillinger]

To say that the day had been hectic was an understatement. Or two days, he supposed, though it felt like one never ending day.

Things had already been busy, getting ready for the release of the Encom OS the day before, but then that had been stolen, then things had spiraled from there. Ed hadn't slept that night, and then he came in to work that morning to learn that Sam Flynn was taking back the company.

It had been meeting after wretched meeting after that, with hardly a break in between. Now it was 2 PM (how was it only two???), and Ed would like a moment of to himself, just long enough to drink his coffee in peace without someone requiring his attention to scrounge up the spoons he'd need to survive the rest of his meetings until 5. He wished the drink on his desk was tea, or even his usual more-sugar-than-caffeine, would-you-like-some-coffee-with-that-milk coffee, but he needed the caffeine, and he didn't have the social spoons or the time to stay in the break room longer than it took to brew the single cup and flee back to his office.

Except he'd barely sat down and began to clear the sticky notes for the OS off his desk when there was a knock at his door.

Ed took a deep breath, and slowly counted down from ten. It wasn't Mackey; he wouldn't have knocked, which meant whoever it was, they didn't deserve his annoyance. Then he stood up, schooled his expression to a careful neutral that (he hoped) hid his exhaustion, and answered the door.

Ed hadn't expected Sam Flynn to be there, and he braced, half expecting to be fired on the spot. At least Flynn had the decency to knock.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

Sam hasn't slept since returning from the Grid. It's not the first all-nighter he's pulled, and he's sure it won't be the last now that he's decided to step into the role he fought against for so long. He doesn't need a mirror to know he looks like hell, he can see it in the way every employee he passed on his way in has looked at him with alarm. Though he supposes that also could have been shock, his return had been abrupt.

He's running on fumes. The adrenaline rush of the last few hours is giving way to a deep seated exhaustion that he refuses to pay any mind to - certain that if he so much as acknowledged it, he'd crumple under the weight of it all.

So instead, he finds the one person in this brutalist shell of his father's company that he knows. The one person beside Alan, who would have too many questions for Sam's already overloaded brain. It all seems like a solid plan, to seek out someone familiar, until Ed actually opens the door and Sam realizes he's not even sure why he came here in the first place.

They're not friends. They're not even acquaintances.

"Uh, hi," Sam says, knowing he must look just as awkward as he feels. He's got one hand shoved in the pocket of his jeans, the other rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. Even if Sam did have a suit back at his apartment, he wouldn't have worn it, which means he's standing in an office in the same clothes he spent most the early morning riding around on his bike in. Great first impression. He can already sense how most the board is going to receive his less than inspiring appearance.

"Can we talk?"

#((the way in which i also apparently write novels)) #((look at us)) #((also I still have no idea if i'm doing this correctly)) #((completely winging it)) #((which lowkey is very Sam of me)) #((thanks for sending this tho!! I've been wanting to interact with more people but haven't known how!)) #not-that-dillinger

[piracytheorist]

I cannot imagine why people read the name "the connections" and go oh yes this is a company that would advertise that they create incredibly powerful bioweapons in their day to day life? like imagine once you get deep enough to learn illegal bioweapon dealings and just being able to leave. you want to quit but can't because you know things so they can threaten you and the people you love who're you gonna tell... so why is Mia so hated for part of this? like I 100% can see the Connections watching all the shit going on the tanker as oh no... someone should have done something then started collecting data they sent two people escorting a powerful bioweapon without the treatments needed to keep it stable also Alan the person transporting Eveline with Mia I rarely see him get mentioned he says "its my fault Evie got out" and before Alan dies he is stuggling and to keep him from falling to the ground Mia reaches out and stabilises him shoulder asking Evie to stop and that's when Evie infectes her and Mia gets shoved away by Alan and then he dies... i have a lot of thoughts about the connections and because Evie turned up in shadows of rose I'm choosing to believe that RE9 will bring back the connections in some way (don't worry the clown costume is ready and waiting because of the stupid "winters story is now down" with Rose)

I mean, just because the Winters' story is """over""" doesn't necessarily mean they won't bring the Connections back... it may be hopeful thinking but you never know.

Also yes a lot of people miss the point about Mia not being a high-up in the Connections. They act like she was some kind of criminal mastermind or whatever, when she was 100% expendable for them. After Eveline attacked the ship, ended up in the Bakers' house and started infecting everyone, did the Connections try to rescue Mia? Did they at least consider observing the situation through her? Nope. They sat back on their chairs and got Lucas to give them info on Eveline's development. Granted, Lucas had more control over his mind than Mia did, as we see in Not a Hero, but they still let their own operative get fucking infected and potentially murdered in there, while choosing to observe the situation via a random murder-happy civilian. Doesn't sound like Mia had a lot of pull in that company if that's how easily they practically made her part of their experiment.

And like, as you said, it's not like all people who end up working for criminal organizations reach that point by choice. It's not like they start working and giggle evilly all cartoon-villain-like while waiting for the moment they'll be given license to kill. It's a slippery slope and before they realize it they're actually committing crimes, and by that point it's too late to just say "Yo I quit I wish y'all well" nah dude you either stay or you die. And it's not like criminal organizations advertise the fact that they do crimes. Evil people do not realize they're evil, and it's dangerously easy to forget that.

Also it looks like pretty much immediately after they were rescued, Mia spilled out everything she knew about the Connections to the BSAA (per The Baker Incident Report), which is why she was put under witness protection. Like those people who complain why she wasn't put in jail- you've never heard of an informant, dude? Step up yo game man, this stuff is actually happening in real life it's nothing new. Mia was given a way out of the Connections, and seeing how they had treated her like yet another experiment she went like "fuck 'em bitches" and just spilled everything. Having shared sensitive intel about a criminal organization, and being a witness of bioterrorism, there's no way she could have been placed in a normal jail.

(Plus I'm convinced the BSAA knew Ethan was all moldy boi by that point, kept that a secret and instead they let him and Mia go live together with a semblance of freedom cause they were betting on them having a child at a later point; a child the BSAA would potentially use later on for their own purposes. So you've got a moldy boi who begs to have his wife back and said wife has received an antidote for that moldy infection. Why keep them apart when you could let things be for a while and potentially repeat the Eveline experiment with a significantly less amount of money spent?)

#re talk #Mia Winters #I've also got a lot to say on the topic lol #especially in regards to how the BSAA got involved after re7 #me who doesn't know shit about the other RE games lmao #I try! I try. #anonymous #ask and ye shall receive

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Welcome to the Future || POTW with Alan, Nora, Orion, & Regan

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @alan-dixon @fearfordinner @3starsquinn @kadavernagh SUMMARY: An unlikely group finds themselves lost in what one would call a pretty desolate future. What was once White Crest is no more and looks exceptionally bleak.

As the road shifted into an expansive desert, Regan slammed on the breaks that weren’t there. The car wasn’t there, either. She stumbled and fell into the sand. Of course. She lay there with her eyes closed, feeling the coarse grains between her fingers, and death pulsing around her. What utter bull feces was this? Couldn’t she be done? The coyote was gone. Let that be the end of this wretched nonsense. But she knew better. Even before the wings and the screaming, she’d learned that White Crest was never done.

 Regan collected her sanity and craned her neck up, forehead meeting the harsh sunlight. This was definitely not the road, she was definitely not in her car, and there was definitely a lot of death in whatever endless Sahara this was. It beckoned her like the shimmering heat on the featureless horizon, tugging at her senses. Slowly, she rose, squinting into the distance to see if anything or anyone might be here with her. “How did I even get here?” She asked aloud, then silently reprimanded herself for asking a question to which there would be no logical answer. At least not yet. She brushed the sand off her shirt and pants, and realized it wasn’t the fine, tan sand of nice beaches. It was peppery, with bits of various metals and materials within, as if an entire parking garage had been pulverized, including the cars and upholstery. 

 Regan exhaled deeply from within her lungs, a high-pitched whistle of a screech riding her frustration. Then she spotted it. Them. Not one person, but two. She visored her eyes with a hand to try and see better – she couldn’t tell much, other than that they seemed to be coming her way. For a moment, she expected the coyote to warn her. They wanted to steal the skull, the one that no longer existed. They were a threat. But that warning never came, and its absence left her as uneasy and confused as its presence would have. She would decide for herself. “Hello?” Regan called out, “I don’t recognize this beach.”

 Claiming that things had been strange since Rio got back to town felt unnecessary considering nothing about this town or Rio’s life had ever been normal. But he didn’t feel like he was crazy in his assessment that things seemed even more on edge and more off the wall than they had been before he had left. Walking through the common, Rio found himself taking more careful steps, looking around the place as if he was searching for something and jumping at every dog bark or car horn. Clearly, that careful footing wasn’t helping him. It only took a small mound of dirt, misplaced and making the ground uneven for Rio to twist his ankle and fall face first into the innocent person walking by him. His only hope was to grab out at the person’s arm to try to stop himself from crashing entirely into them.

 “Oh god- I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-” Rio froze as he pulled away from the stranger, his attention now entirely lost on them and instead focused on the desert surrounding them. This place looked like it was straight out of a Mad Max film. And it definitely wasn’t the Common. Glancing around, he couldn’t see anything besides sand and skyline, both engulfed in blowing dust. “What the-?” Rio began to question, only to be cut off immediately by an ear piercing scream. Rio gasped in pain immediately, shoving his palms against his ears in an attempt to muffle the sound. He looked around for a source but could see nothing at first. Whatever that was, it wasn’t close by. And if his hunter senses were picking that up it must have been loud. “I uh- sorry. You have any idea where we are?” Rio asked the stranger with him, hoping they might have some clue as to what the hell was going on. 

 A woman’s voice came soon after, one that Rio hadn’t heard in a while but was pretty sure he recognized. He turned towards the voice, watching a figure slowly come into view. “Doctor Kavanagh?”

 Nora was walking. She was very good at walking. If walking was a profession she probably would be in a high paying tier for it. Not that she needed a profession. Thus were the perks of being rich. The other perk of being rich was the innate knowledge that you didn’t need to pay attention at all times because if you broke something you could buy it. Which was why Nora got to be lost in thought at the current moment. Walking down the street. Enjoying the day. Being toppled to the ground as someone landed on top of her. Falling on sand instead of pavement. Falling on sand instead of pavement? 

 That caught Nora’s attention. “Wow…. How did you know I’ve always wanted to be kidnapped by a stranger and whisked away to an unknown location where survival would be in question?” Nora peered at the boy who had knocked her down, ready to keep the interrogation going. That was ended by a scream. A loud scream. A scream so loud it hurt her poor innocent ears that had never done anything wrong and were infact featured on many websites as the world’s cutest ears. (The last bit was only in her bear form but it was still a bragable achievement). Was there a metal concert here? Were they at burning man? Nora staggered to her feet, swirling around for any sign of the giant man who she wanted to incinerate herself. 

 Her kidnapper seemed to be doing a very bad job at this. He also had no clue where they were. However, he turned to his accomplice. Dr. Kavanagh. “You.” Nora’s voice, a normal monotone, was practically a growl in this moment. “I know you. You broke my best friends heart. And now you’re kidnapping me? How evil can one person be?” Plus Nora had long suspected she was a serial killer online, but the proof wasn’t in the pudding yet so she kept it to herself. 

 One moment, Alan was filling up his thermos with coffee and picking up a pastry from the break room (he shouldn't have, he had been putting on weight ever since he turned 40 and his doctor told him that he just had to deal with this being absolutely normal), the next, he was stepping into the scorching hot heat of a desert instead of enjoying the AC of his office.

 Feeling as though he'd been teleported back to Afghanistan, the startled estate agent turned around, expecting to find himself completely alone in this big and empty land. To his surprise, Alan found 3 figures in his horizon. He gave his watch a look, then gave one to the sun.

He could have been dreaming, he could have been dead too. Or maybe this fucking town was playing with his nerves again. Taking off his navy blue jacket, the werewolf, pastry in one hand, coffee cup in the other, took a couple of strides toward the trio, waving his hand at them, and hoping (but not too much) that they wouldn't be hostile. "Hello," he tried, "Are you from White Crest too?!"

 Walking in the sand with brogues was proving to be extremely tedious, and he could already feel it slipping between his sock and his sole. “Mother fucking sand, always getting…” Cutting himself off, Alan narrowed his eyes and found that he recognised at least one person out of the three. She’d been trespassing on his building sites. And she wore clothes now. 

 Regan braced herself for anything as the pair came closer – and as they did, she realized one of them looked quite familiar. The other simply looked quite goth. And before they could even get closer, she spotted a third figure, this one alone and glancing around as if confused. Well, at least they had that in common. And wasn’t he hot in that suit? Regan exhaled another deep breath at hearing her own name. A name. The name she so rarely heard these days outside of the ME’s office. “Yes,” she confirmed, glancing hard at the young man. It had been so long since she’d laid eyes on him. He looked… “Malnourished as ever, I see. I might have some sustenance in my purse. Perhaps a protein bar.” She was looking down at the tendons in Orion’s lanky ankles as she dug into her bag. 

 The second person stopped her. “Excuse me,” Regan said, looking up, a hint of irritation in her voice. “I break hearts on a daily basis, technically, if you consider the autopsy of them and removal of tissue for histology to be “breaking”. My condolences for your best friend.” Her fingers brushed up against the bar she was looking for, and she presented it to the starving child. “Who might you be?” she asked the goth, remaining expressionless at the proclamation that she was evil. “And you, for that matter,” she gestured toward the besuited man who looked as though he’d been dropped here straight from Wall Street. This was confusing. But one thing was comfortingly clear. It pressed against her from all sides, a reminder that this place could never be truly alien. “I am delighted to inform you all that wherever we are, we are surrounded by the dead.”

 Rio had been so wrapped up in trying to make sense of their new surroundings that he had barely registered what the stranger that had been teleported with him had been accusing him of. But as the world slowly registered in his brain he scoffed at the idea and turned back towards the “I did not kidnap you. I don’t even know where we are. I would be a terrible kidnapper.” He stopped just short of exclaiming just look at me. But that would only add more fuel to the very offensive fire that the doctor led with as soon as they ran into each other. For the first time in over a year, Rio noted. “Ah. Always a pleasure, doctor. I missed you too.” Rio mumbled, feeling completely defeated. Not only because it wasn’t the warmest welcome after what felt like a long time of not seeing her (especially full sized and not fairy sized), but also because Rio was pretty sure he was the healthiest he had ever looked. Props to Ari for forcing him to eat her real food. 

 Surprisingly, the oddest part about this scenario wasn’t even the weird desert, but the company apparently. Stuck between a stranger that just called him a kidnapper and a medical examiner who was taking the phrase heartbreaker way, way too literally. “I really don’t think that’s what this person meant…” Rio began, but gave up halfway through the sentence. A fourth person was coming to join the group, and if Rio was lucky at all this person may actually focus on the situation at hand. Considering he was in full suit, Rio didn’t have the highest hopes.

 “Hi!” We are from White Crest! Or at least I am.” Rio explained, hoping to be a welcome face for the stranger. As long as this stranger wasn’t a murderer. But as the man got closer, Rio could feel the hair on his neck rising, and goosebumps break out across his skin. Okay, so definitely a werewolf. That’s a start at least. A protein bar was placed into his open palm, distracting Rio temporarily so he could look at Regan and bring a small smile to his face, “Uh, thank you?” Rio gave her a thumbs up and decided against trying to refuse the treat. “I’m uh- Rio. Nice to meet… two of you. Any idea where we are?”

 A doctor, a scrawny kid, a werewolf and the bear woman : that was certainly not the perfect line up to get out of a desert. Sure enough, Alan used to work in less than ideal conditions back in the days, but he would have happily switched his current work clothes for the 68 pounds of equipment they used to make them carry. At least he’d have been prepared for this crap. What was he supposed to do in an Armani suit? 

 “Alan.” A pause, “Dixon,” he glanced at the doctor, then at the two others, then down at the protein bar in the kid’s hand. Poor boy definitely looked like he could use a snack. Holding out the pastry in his hand, the werewolf smiled, a kind, worried frown on his forehead :  “You want a piece of my Danish?” It was not like Alan needed it anyway… 

 Instinctively, the man turned his attention toward the doctor, assuming she would be the most responsible of these three. Her declaration that they were surrounded by death, however, deterred him immediately. “Come again?” Once again he gave his watch a look, tapping at the dial. Glancing up at the sun, he pursed his lips. “We’re still in our time zone,” Alan hummed, rubbing at the back of his head. “Any idea of where we could be in our longitude?” 

 “You are a terrible kidnapper.” Nora agreed, “You didn’t even take my cell phone. Kaden is going to hear all about this.” Nora pulled out her cellphone to start typing out a message about how his ex girl friend and her little kale goblin kidnapped her to a secondary location and that Alan was here for some reason but she hadn’t gotten around to asking. It didn’t send. She tired three times while the others were talking amongst themselves. “Does anyone have service?” Nora asked, holding her phone up to the sky. 

 Something clicked in Nora’s mind. Something important. They didn’t have service. In a desert. With out cards. Which means she was going to run out of ham eventually. Nora’s hands started roaming up and down her jacket as she started taking inventory of her pocket ham. How long would it have to last? She wouldn’t be able to order more… She eyed the others in the group. They’d probably need pocket ham too. It looked like the doctor had pocket food too. While Nora thought that was very smart of her, as everyone should have pocket food, she also didn’t trust the doctor to not poison them and maybe eat their bodies. 

 Did bears eat people? They did right? Nora eyed them. Nah. She wasn’t that kind of bear. Also why was no one talking about the scream? The ear shattering scream? “What was that loud noise we heard? Is that what brought us here?” What if that was some kind of light speed shattering noise? And that’s how they got here so fast. Sick. She’d love to be able to do stuff like that. No wait, Nora reign it in, she told herself, she was getting off topic again. 

 Regan couldn’t help but think that, even stranded wherever they were, she would have been better off alone. The famished adolescent was clearly lacking in survival instincts, considering he’d thanked her. At least it seemed like a question. Maybe it didn’t count. And then there was the man in the suit – he seemed like he just wanted to get back to whatever important meeting he was pulled from. And… “Kaden?” Regan’s nose wrinkled. “How do you know – my boyfriend hardly matters right now.” Neither did what she just said, once she’d realized she’d said it. Ugh. “I would hardly call that one ear shattering, but unless any of you plan on dying within the next – oh, I don’t even know, maybe a few days – then that doesn’t matter right now either.” Regan brushed her pants off again as if some sand still stuck to her, but her busy hands told her it was nerves more than anything else. Unacceptable. She needed to take charge if no one else would. She scanned the horizon, not really expecting to see anything. It just looked like an endless wasteland. And, to boot, The Goth was right. Her hardy flip phone had no signal.

 “Yes, death, it’s really quite impressive how much there is here,” Regan said offhandedly to the Suit Man, now Dixon. Then continued in the same breath. “I was driving past the Common when I ended up here. My car – I don’t know where it went. Who loses their car while they’re inside of it?” Regan shook her head. “Anyone spot some kind of a landmark somewhere? Surely we’re by the beach, given all of this sand. So where’s the water?” But what she smelled on the air was only pungent metals and harsh chemical scents – no ocean breeze and salt. And then there was the death, refusing to guide her in any particular direction, because it surrounded them from all sides. “Or just pick a way. You,” Regan said, looking at Dixon, who seemed least likely to immediately perish, “You appear to have more muscle mass; glowing, healthy skin; and more danishes than the rest of us. Where should we go?” Was it misplaced confidence to think he might have survival skills, or might’ve seen anything while walking over here that could guide them? Probably. But she had no clue, Orion most probably had a severe iron deficiency and could faceplant in the sand at any moment, and the Goth was… well, Regan bristled again at the mention of Kaden. 

 While the two women argued about who he assumed to be a common acquaintance, Alan took out his phone, pointing it up to get any sort of signal. "Well that's not promising," and it seemed like Nora wasn't getting any more luck than he was. It would have made things a lot simpler, but this didn't mean that they were lost.

 "Is it something to do with... ghosts? Can you see ghosts around us?" He knew for a fact that such people and abilities existed, and figured this could be what she meant by those cryptic words. "If we're by the shore, where are the birds? We'd see at least one sea gull," Alan shook his head. A course of action had to be figured out, and soon. In this heat, they couldn't just sit still and wait for help. He was about to suggest that when the doctor gave him quite the complimentary description and forced a thin smile out of him. "We'll get along," he noted, glancing back up at the sky. "Alright, so north this way," he pointed toward the scrawny kid and Nora. "And since we're still in the same longitude, the sea's gonna be East. I suggest we head this way." Truth be told, he didn’t know either where they were exactly, or why they were here. “I was in my office. It’s right by the Common,” perhaps it was something to do with the location, but this didn’t really look like home… “What about you two?” Folding his jacket over his arm, he led the way, hoping that wherever they were headed toward, they’d find support. 

 The mention of Kaden made Rio perk up, but Regan beat him to the punch by questioning the name drop. “Boyfriend? I’m so glad you two are still together. I always thought you two were cute together.” They had made a good if not odd and unexpected pair. “Actually that’s hardly important. And neither is you thinking I kidnapped you- which I didn’t, just to re-emphasize. And once we have cell service again you can ask Kaden that. Trust me he probably won’t even think I’m capable of kidnapping someone.” Which he totally was, for the record. If he wanted to kidnap someone he could do it so fast and so well. Not that he planned on kidnapping anyone. “I have no service either.” he confirmed, locking his phone again and shoving it in his pocket. For now, the thing was nothing more than a glorified paper weight. Maybe a flashlight or a notepad depending on how long they were stuck here. The werewolf, Alan, was then offering him a piece of his danish. Rio exhaled a long sigh and shook his head, mostly in defeat. “No - I’m okay. Thanks though. I’m really not even hungry. The protein bar is like… sort of a bit between us.” Only neither of them found it humorous.

 “Impressive? Not sure I’ve ever used that word when talking about death before.” Rio sighed. The doctor had always been a bit eccentric, so hearing her sound impressed by a certain amount of death didn’t concern Rio as much as it just perplexed him. In his own way, he had spent his whole life around death. But he could never see it the way she was able to. “I uh- don’t hear any water. Or smell the ocean for that matter. I don’t think we are near water.” He wanted to stay vague, even if the supernatural and impossible was impossible to ignore by this point. The last time Rio saw Regan he was pretty sure she didn’t even believe that he could be a hunter. Or that hunters existed. And who knew how Alan would react to the knowledge? The final stranger was a bit more of a wild card, getting a read on her didn’t seem possible. 

 Well, Alan was just putting cards on the table, clearly. “I uh- can’t see ghosts” Rio hesitated with his response, unsure how the others would take the same question. But the man seemed to take Regan’s advice to lead the group, and considering Rio had no better ideas he figured the smarter choice would be to stick together. “I was walking through the Common. Heading to the campus. I lost my balance and fell into them-” Rio paused and pointed towards Nora, “Sorry again, by the way. I closed my eyes for like- a few seconds max and all of a sudden we were both here.”

 If Nora was going to rank all the times she’d been kidnapped, this one was going on the bottom. It was severely unorganized. None of them had working cellphones for ransom money and they hadn’t even tired to tie her hands together. Free hands. She could do so much. Plus the kid was scrawny and malnourished as everyone kept saying. And she already knew she could take Doctor lady over there in a fight. Well, she wasn’t sure, but she was on the edge of sure. “I don’t think Kaden knows he’s your boyfriend still.” For whatever reason, Nora had decided the sub conversation of Kaden and Regan was more important than the main conversation they were trying to push.

 “If this had been a better organized kidnapping, you guys would know where we are.” Nora turned to Alan. “Are you kidnapped too, or did you miss me and hire them to kidnap me?” Nora really just wasn’t sure how Alan fit into this scenario. Unless they were so unorganized that they picked up a stray. Really. They should be way more thoughtful in their kidnappings. Nora turned to the kid who had been identified as Rio. “You shouldn’t apologize for kidnapping someone before you get your randsom.” She admonished him. 

 “I was walking in the commons.” Nora added as they shared what they had been doing. “I was on my way to break into townhall.” Nora had just watched National Treasure for the first and thought it looked fun. Eyeing the three others Nora stared to wonder if they worked for town all. After all, everything that happened in White Crest directly revolved around her. “I don’t see any ghosts. What I do see is a cool bug.” Nora dropped to her knees and crawled forward in the dirt. She picked something up an examined it. It wasn’t a bug. Just a piece of metal. She dropped the piece in disappointment. 

 “Ghosts?” Regan looked sharply at Dixon, still finding the word to be distasteful, even after her recent experience with a talking coyote being in her head. “No. Not whatever you’re actually referring to. I mean death. Pure, simple death. It’s underneath us. Everywhere.” Wait a second. It was underneath them. Why? Was it the sand? She scooped some up and let it filter between her fingers, but it didn’t feel like the cemetery of sorts that must have been further down. She shook her head. It was a detail that would matter to her and no one else, considering their lack of enthusiasm over a deathly discovery waiting to be found. At least Dixon was doing what she’d hoped, and picking a direction. They trailed toward the direction he’d pointed in. Regan always found walking on the beach with shoes to be an irritation, and this was no different; the sand felt like it could suck her in with each step. At least she’d be closer to whatever she was feeling. 

 Orion and the Goth quickly made her wish she would be sucked in. “Stop talking about me and Kaden.” Regan hissed, and a high-pitched screech escaped from between her teeth. Maybe enough to make their ears itch, but not much else. She wouldn’t apologize for that. “Go play with your cool bugs and your danishes and your nonfunctional cell phones instead.” Regan kicked up an arc of sand, in a display of emotion that she knew Deirdre would have given her weeks of admonishment for. But– what was that? Something metallic poked through where she’d kicked, black and shiny. Regan squinted and bent down, hoping the others would pause their walking and take a look. “What is this?” She glanced quickly at the Goth, anticipating ridiculousness. “It’s not a bug.” Regan pulled a packet of nitrile gloves from her pocket – always with her – and stretched one over a hand. Carefully, she reached out and traced a finger along the curved black metal. There was more attached to it, ratty wooden planks. The sand was easy enough to dig out of the way to get a better picture of what the object was. And it was beginning to look a lot like the corner of a park bench. Like the ones in the Common. 

 “Well that sounds like good news,” Alan would have rather this had been a normal day for him. Then, he could have pretended that the lady had lost her mind, but this was another one of those days, wasn’t it? Loosening the knot of his tie, he led the way, glancing behind him every now and then to make sure no one was struggling or getting left behind. And he was doing exactly that when the doctor shrieked about her boyfriend, causing the werewolf to cover both his ears and glare at her in barely concealed offense as she proceeded to throw what he would have called a tantrum had this been a child. “Wow, she really roasted us all here,” taking a sip from his coffee mug, he found the beverage managed to make him feel a bit cooler. Enough, at least, to stop in his train of thoughts and pay attention to that piece of metal in the sand instead. “That’s… could be from a… plane,” he tried, figuring that was the only thing that would make sense in the middle of this deserted hell. Glancing at the other two, Alan motioned them to get closer and help the doctor and him as they tried to dig that thing out. Sure enough, he didn’t have plastic gloves in his pocket (like a normal person), but if something had been buried in the sand, he doubted that would matter at all. Setting down his coffee mug, and placing his danish on top, the businessman took a hold of what looked like one end of the object. “Maybe we can try to pull it out, what do you think?” He glanced at Nora, then at the kid. Neither looked exactly strong enough to help, but it would be better than trying on his own. 

 Breathing a sigh of defeat, Rio accepted his fate as the kidnapper. “Thanks for the advice” he admitted toward Nora, taking special note to withhold any apologies in the future until he acquired the ransom. Technically speaking, it probably wasn’t terrible advice, though he wasn’t sure the amount of apologies given to the victim really changed the situation much. He also wasn’t sure why he was so hung up on the kidnapping thing considering they still had no clue where they were.

 Regan’s brief screech made Rio wince and tried to play it off by pretending he was scratching at his ear rather than an attempt to muffle the noise. Regan served as a constant reminder that banshee and hunter hearing did not mix well. If it had been an actual scream Rio wasn’t even sure he would have kept consciousness. Kaden had been Rio’s expert on hearing, and his expertise wasn’t exactly fae. Although in a way, he was probably the best source to ask about Regan’s screams in particular. Not that he wanted to question Regan about Kaden right now. He had thought they were still together, but Nora’s comment combined with Regan’s general anger implied otherwise. 

 The discovery of something under the sand was exactly what Rio needed to get his mind off of other distractions. He joined the group in trying to unearth the object, pulling his sleeves over his hands to help shovel it out of the way. “I got the other end” Rio agreed with Alan, partially to try to be helpful but mostly with something to prove. He was sure that they’d still call him scrawny and feeble after a display of strength too, but at least it might show that he’s not completely useless. He found the other edge of the object and grabbed at it. “I’m good. Go ahead.” He nodded towards Alan, putting some extra strength into effort but failing to pull it free. “I think it’s bolted down or something.” Rio suggested, slowly realizing what this thing looked like, but trying to ignore the implication. Plenty of parks probably had benches that looked like this one, bolted down just like those in the Common. He didn’t want to entertain the idea that this could be the Common, but in this hypothetical scenario, it at least gave him an idea. “If this is a park bench-” Rio paused, wondering if he made himself sound crazy by suggesting the idea at all, “Maybe we should head that way.” He pointed off towards the center of where the Common would be located. He couldn’t think of a good excuse to justify why he was suggesting this at all, so settled on a poor lie, “Maybe the bench was uh- facing something?”

 Nora watched as they digged wondering why Alan was digging with his human hands instead of wolf paws. As they talked about where to go in the commons, Nora was steadily stripping off her clothes and stacking it in a pile next to her. When Rio suggested the bench was facing something, Nora made a dramatic show of her transformation and started digging. Her bear paws were much bigger than her tiny little human hands which meant she made some good progress as she tossed sand around her. 

 This was kind of fun, Nora decided to herself. Fun in a 'I hope I find a body down here with a ghost so we can talk about sand' kind of way. Nora did hit something. It was a square piece of metal attached to a little stand that she easily ripped off and threw behind her in her digging frenzy. She was not to be stopped by anything. Eventually she met with pavement stopping her from digging more. She climbed out and switched back into a naked human covered in sand. "Nothing there."

 As the sand was slowly cleared by combined digging efforts, Regan only watched with narrowed eyes as more of the bench was revealed. And it was a bench. They all seemed to be thinking the same thing. But was it a familiar bench? And did that matter? Regan wanted to chalk this whole experience up to a bad dream, but the feeling of death all around plucked at her skin in a way that could only be real. She didn’t have any better ideas than what Orion suggested, so she gave him a curt nod. It didn’t take long for them to stop once more and dig around again, looking for something in this endless expanse. 

 And then there was a bear. Nora had just been there a moment ago. She– yes, she was definitely in that very spot. Regan doubled backward, a scream climbing up her throat, but she locked it inside of her along with her fear. Most of it, anyway. “There is a bear,” she pointed out, looking emphatically toward the other two, “a bear.” At least the bear seemed to have no interest in causing them harm, and started pawing around in the sand. It made fast work of the hole it dug, and Regan wondered if they ought to throw sand over it and try and trap it down there. 

 A piece of metal was hurled into the air from out of the pit, and it seemed to break into a second piece in the air. Regan turned and watched one piece land soundlessly in the sand behind them. Did she dare completely turn her back to the bear? She sucked a breath in through her teeth and marched back, carefully pulling the object from the sand. It was old and worn, a thick layer of rust covering the engraved letters. Down the center, the object had undergone sufficient trauma for it to tear in two. Regan held the metal up to the sunlight. A plaque. This was a plaque of some kind. She heard Nora’s voice and felt a shiver of relief, but this had her full attention. The death even quieted against her senses, as if it wanted her to focus on reading. After reading it, she could partially understand why.

 She called out to the group. “I think the bear dug this up. And it… come here.” Did this even deserve the importance she was giving it? Her fingers, as they brushed against the letters, said it did.  “It broke in half,” she pointed out, “but it’s legible. I don’t…” She held the plaque up for them to read. “In remembrance of

1770”

 “In remembrance of who?” Regan asked, knowing her companions were unlikely to know any more than she did. Perhaps even less. “1770. This must be commemorating someone around the founding of the town.”

 Nora made it clear that she didn’t care much for hiding her true identity, and Alan did his best to pretend he didn’t see her bear form or that he didn’t feel a mix of worry and terror anytime he glanced her way. Better this than trying to explain anything to anyone. “What do you mean there’s a bear?” Turning to look at Regan in confusion, Alan watched as a piece of metal was hurled up in the air by Nora and sent away. 

 While Regan fetched that piece, Alan turned back to the two others to take a look at what they’d dug out. “Well that’s odd,” he gave the plaque a puzzled look, brushing sand off of its surface with the back of his hand. His brows furrowed at the text engraved in the metal. “Doctor, would you mind coming over here?” Taking a seat in the sand, Alan gave a glance up at the sky, squinting as his eyes met the Sun. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered, reaching in his pocket to check once again for signal, but his Maps app wouldn’t load and his screen stubbornly remained white. “So, what does it say?” 

 There was a bear. Seemingly out of nowhere. Rio would have been freaked out if he hadn’t been able to connect the dots so quickly. He had learned about bugbears growing up, and had read about them at the Scribrary, but he had never seen one in person. He knew that the correct reaction was to be disgusted as a hunter. He also knew that the appropriate reaction for him should have been fear. But his eyes widened in adoration instead as he watched Nora in fascination and mumbled a not-so-subtle “Woah. So cool.”

 That brief moment of awe was disrupted by the flying piece of metal that made Rio cringe in fear and try to use his arms as cover as he tried to spot them mid air. The pieces split at the end, with Regan and Alan both going to fetch the separate pieces. He heard Regan’s first, nodding in agreement once she read it off. The town had been founded in the later half of 1770. It had to be significant to that. “Maybe just the founders? I don’t remember any books about White Crest ever naming any families specifically.” Though he couldn’t remember any sort of plaque in the Common that had paid tribute to the specific year of founding. The thought gave him chills. And found himself wandering with Alan to take a look at the second piece. He read it to himself at first, feeling his blood run cold as he tried to think of an explanation. “Um… this doesn’t make any sense.” Rio stressed, nerves inching into his voice as he prepared to read it out loud.

 “of White Crest, ME

 - 2022”

 The connection was clear as day, though Rio hardly wanted to admit to it. But eventually he just had to say it. “It says ‘In remembrance of White Crest, ME. 1770-2022’”.

#wickedswriting #season 4 #season 4 thread #potw #potw thread #alan #nora #regan #orion