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i3utterflyeffect · 1 month

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hello!! yeah sorry I should have specified which au I was talking about

mhm I would love to know more about your dark color gang au! /gen

─ the pop in pop out-anon .

OKAY SO BASICALLY!

dark and chosen are probably on the run at the time, but they end up somehow running into the color gang WAY earlier than they would initially and end up raising them!

The color gang are already friends, but they're more likely than not an outernet stick rather than an internet stick? they don't exactly have any place to stay or parents either????

SC meanwhile is most likely a doodle that escaped from Alan's computer while he wasn't at his desk (still no clue how) but they didn't really know where they were when they were created, and all Alan really knew was that the file disappeared into nothing?

He mostly forgets about it though, since, well. It just kind of vanished. a file can't just do that. and the ALTERNATIVE is not great, because he still remembers dark and chosen.

anyway, the color gang ends up taking in SC as part of their group is the important part!!!

even though i've drawn them meeting because the kids were staying in dark and chosen's house, i actually do think they'd probably scout locations, because i imagine they have a lot of trouble with SC due to them being a hollowhead, and people don't exactly have a great view of hollowheads. you'd think they wouldn't take it out on kids but since TDL is still around and it's been less time since their reign of terror, sticks are a LOT more agitated about it

most likely they run into half the group while the other half (usually green, the other half of the group cycles though) is back holding down the base with SC

anyway Dark and Chosen are actually nice to the kids (because yeah. they get it. being on your own in a world that doesn't like you is scary, esp when you have 0 experience with life) but one of them realizes that they're hollowheads! both of them expect the kids to freak out and run off but actually they're pretty happy to see someone who won't immediately freak out upon seeing SC!

they bring the two over to SC (potentially because SC had been hurt or something) and they're immediately just 'ah, fuck, we can't just leave them here in the city,' so they decide to bring them back to their house!

of course the others insist on being brought along so despite some arguing they do eventually give in, thinking that they'll find somewhere else for them to stay and just let them visit SC every now and then. spoiler alert: this doesn't happen and the CG just ends up living there with them lol

chosen and dark essentially take the group under their wing in everything though, teaching the bunch of them and taking care of them and eventually coming to refer to the group as their honorary siblings due to their friendship with SC! they also take an interest in the crime side of things (much to Chosen's despair and Dark's delight) and they end up causing a lot of terror themselves!

Yellow and Red typically work with the virabots, with Yellow using some other tech as well since Dark encouraged them to work with technology a lot! Red generally does work with any semi-sentient robots though, since they really like doing that stuff!

Blue makes a lot of explosives and stuff! they've accidentally blown up a ton of stuff (including the house multiple times!) and generally is more destruction-based than the others, but they can do controlled destruction if they really have to! Chosen can be a little rough on Blue since they cause a lot of collateral damage, but they're pretty flexible!

Green generally is a melee kind of person who does more focused work or hangs out in the background! they're usually the planner or if a plan needs doing by a specific person, they usually take that over! they do more focused fighting in general!

also, i don't know if i've mentioned this, but Dark doesn't use the Virabands just for Virabots in this au! they actually made the Virabands for the kids!

the virabands override admin permissions on a computer, preventing the sticks from coming to any harm involving a user trying to forcibly quit their programs or any sort of antivirus trying to get rid of them, and also preventing them from being 'tamed' similarly to Chosen!

this will be important later BUT!!!!!! i wanna talk about the gang's relationship with each other first!!! specifically the most interesting ones; yellow and SC!

first off, Yellow is very close with Dark, since they learned almost everything they know from them! they share interests so the two spend a lot of time together! they really value each other's company since they think a lot alike, and it makes things very hard when conflict starts to happen between them.

SC meanwhile is kind of under a lot of pressure! she's kind of considered the baby sibling of the group, and the others are really protective of her, but at the same time, she's under a lot of pressure to unlock her powers! Chosen and Dark are unintentionally kind of suffocating for him, and he can't really get away from them because they still view SC as their fragile little sibling.

SC still can't access their powers, but they can do a minimal amount of electricity if they really try or are particularly stressed. It's not really enough to hurt anyone, but it'll stun you.

SC loves everyone a lot, but finds them pretty overwhelming in general. Also their favorite sibling between the older two is Chosen because Chosen is chill about things and lets them sleep.

It's also worth mentioning that he does really want to seek out his creator! She feels like if she understood why she was made, it'd be easier to get her powers working. He ends up taking an interest in humans despite the other's discouragement, too.

ANYWAY! ALAN! Yes, Alan's here!

They get permission to go to user desktops from Chosen and Dark, so long as they bring things to defend themself with and also tell Chosen and Dark! (they do tend to ask what IP address they're going to, just to make sure, but they don't realize that the kids sometimes computer hop)

and eventually, they find themselves on Alan's computer! Alan isn't able to force quit SC's friends, so it's a lot less heated, but he does end up cornering a lot of them, before SC ends up finding the pencil, and Alan subsequently finds out SC can talk!

after that the whole thing kind of defuses because SC thinks the pencil is cool and Alan not only thinks that SC is great at art, but is also kind of shocked that they can talk! they end up getting along pretty well, and Alan lets them hang out as long as they promise to at least TRY to not break the computer. They're actually a little bit better than they are in canon, but they're still pretty bad about it lol

Alan does kind of become kind of a home away from home for SC in particular, and they end up visiting him a lot to just draw, talk about the things happening back home, help him learn how to draw-- all that stuff! they care about Alan a lot and Alan ends up treating them like an actual person, since it's a lot easier to recognize that they are when they talk about their life outside of the computer.

of course, this can't stay secret forever.

I think that eventually, Dark finds out the CG is at his computer, and tries to wreck his computer completely, even though the others are still on it. Dark's basically lost it on Alan because in their eyes he's manipulating them (and they know that he's capable of that considering they initially were on his side), and the CG is trying to stop them and have to go to Chosen, and it blows up into this whole thing

it's possible Dark actually ends up hurting the others, and SC in return ends up hurting Dark-- not to the degree of what happens in canon but it's just messy and painful for everyone, and the CG kind of have to spend time away from Dark while things cool down, and Chosen kind of has to sweep up the mess and explain everything that's happened, including WHY it was so upsetting

it's kind of messy for everyone to fix, but after realizing that the others trust Alan more after what happens Dark really realizes they completely fucked up, and tries to fix what they did, but it takes time.

they mostly move to Alan's computer for a while, but they eventually do reconcile!

that's all i've got for now but i do like this au a lot, it's one of my favorites thus far i think and i've been having a lot of fun with these guys ✌️

#tommy's foolery #tommy's stickmen tag #tommy's aus #dark color gang au #i've been considering a splinter au because i think king getting caught up in this would be funny #but i don't want it to be like. a whole thing that happens in the actual au #splinter aus are generally just what i call one-off little ideas that i do not rlly put together with the larger piece and main stuff #but would be fun to rotate anyway just because damn wouldn't that be fucked up or what

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adudelolwriting · 5 months

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Alan finished hooking up the last cord, plugging it into his PC. A small smile went on his face. He never thought it would be possible, but here it is. He grabbed the VR headset off of his desk, doing one more final check that everything was plugged in, and put it on.

Alan’s vision was black. His heart jumped in his chest, possibilities racing through his mind. Had something gone wrong? Did he not hook it up correctly? But after a second, his vision slowly faded back and he saw the classic, default background of his computer screen.

Yes! Alan pumped his hands in the air, it worked!

He took a closer look at himself. He was actually a stick figure! On his own computer! His skin was a deep purple color, and was flawlessly smooth. Alan also hands, which was a tad strange. He then felt a pair of glasses hanging from his head -- good to know his imperfect vision followed him into this world.

He stood in front of a tall, minecraft house. It’s different from the last time Alan saw it -- it was for one, much taller than the one story building it was before, and two, well. Alan didn’t really have a two.

His stick figures weren’t visible on the desktop, so they must be the source of the noise from inside. It was honestly really, really strange seeing the house from the side angle (or was it the front angle? It did have the door, after all…)

Right as Alan was about to step closer, the door swung open and there stood Orange. Wait. How is Alan meant to communicate to them?

He waved, hoping it wouldn’t show how nervous he felt. Orange continued to stare at Alan, before glancing back into the house.

“Uhm.” Orange could talk? “Hi. Who are you?”

Oh, duh, he doesn’t recognize me. Alan opened his mouth to talk (wait, mouth?) but nothing came out. How does he talk?

Orange was clearly starting to worry now, the stick glancing back and forth between Alan and the house. Alan perked up, pointing to his own chest, then pointing towards where his cursor sat dormant. Orange, you’re smart. It’s me!

“Oh, Alan?” Orange’s eyes lit up as he looked up and towards the left. Alan followed his gaze, and oh. The stick figures could see Alan through the monitor. It was like looking through bathroom glass -- you couldn’t see the details, but you could see the major shapes and colors. And Alan was looking at himself, his real body, with the big black VR set over his head.

Orange took Alan’s hands, his eyes bright and full of life. Orange was shorter than Alan, having to look up to meet his eyes. “This is so cool! You’re here! You’re actually here! How did you get on the desktop? Did you really do this for us?” Orange spoke quickly, tapping his feet quickly as he spoke. “Oh, right, you don’t know how to talk. Gosh, how did Green try and explain this to me?”

Orange let go of Alan’s hands, rubbing his chin while thinking. “Okay! Green said that it has to come from your diaphragm,” Orange said, poking Alan in his chest. “Uhm. So just, focus a lot on it? And really think about what you want to say.”

That… doesn’t really help. But it’s the only thing Alan has going for him right now, so he takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes, and, “hello?”

Orange gasps, his arms quickly shaking up and down. Talking was different than Alan was used to, but it still felt natural. Like he was supposed to talk like this. “Oh my Cursor, it worked! Green’s gonna be so happy that you did all of this for his birthday!”

Oh, God, it was Green’s birthday?

Orange’s face dropped slightly, “you didn’t know? Blue said she put it in your calendar a week ago.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Alan said, slowly, still getting used to how it works to talk here. “Just… Give me a moment. Uh, how long has Blue used she/her pronouns?”

“Oh, Blue doesn’t care what you call him!” Orange’s smile was back. “We all alternate for their pronouns.”

Okay, okay. So one of Alan’s stick figures doesn’t use explicitly he/him pronouns. One, at least. God, has Alan ever actually asked about it? He’ll need to ask about it sometime, write it down maybe.

As Alan was about to speak, the door to the house opened, revealing a black stick figure with a hollow head. Alan’s heart spiked, and he instinctively put Orange behind his own body. Orange let out a confused noise as Alan’s heart dropped, watching flames ignite in the stick figure’s hands.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here,” Alan started, keeping an arm out infront of Orange. “But you need to leave. Now.”

He didn’t know what The Chosen One was doing on his computer again. He didn’t know what it was going to do to Orange, or any of the other stick figures. Orange could die. Alan’s stick body could, but Alan would be fine. He probably wouldn’t feel it. Even if he could feel pain, he would not let Orange get hurt.

“Wait, Alan, what--” Orange started asking, before he got moved away as The Chosen One flew at Alan with his hands alight. The Chosen One tackled Alan, easily pinning him down on the ground.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” The Chosen One hissed in a low voice, “but I will not have you ruining this for anyone. I don’t know how you were able to get here, or why you decided to, but I can kill you right here.” The Chosen One’s grip on Alan tightened, and he gasped for air. The Chosen One looked to Orange, before looking back to Alan. “Lucky for you, Second here says that ae trusts you, and aer’s siblings trust you too. I do not. Lord does not. We know what you’ve done to our kind, I know what you’ve done to me. But we’re going to be nice, and civil for Green, and everyone else showing up to their birthday party tonight.”

The Chosen One let go of Alan, letting his back and head fall back onto the ground from where it was lifted. The Chosen One looked at Orange, and cringed slightly. “Sorry, Second… It won’t happen again. I’ll go talk to Lord, that way she knows He’s here. It won’t happen again,” The Chosen One muttered under The Chosen One’s breath, “not tonight, at least.”

The Chosen One walked inside, leaving Alan and Orange together. “What was that?!” Orange asked, “The Chosen One is like, one of the nicest people I know! The Chosen One could be a bit standoffish when we first met The Chosen One, but not aggressive!”

“I… Me, The Chosen One, and The Dark Lord don’t have a good history,” Alan sighs. “I wasn’t a good person, when I made them. I was young and stupid, and I treated The Chosen One like shit. I created The Dark Lord to try and kill The Chosen One, but that obviously didn’t work and they destroyed my computer. I haven’t seen them since. How did you meet them?”

“Oh, The Chosen One kidnapped me.”

“What?”

“But it’s okay though! The Chosen One found me, cause we’re spirituality connected, apparently? And The Chosen One knew I was uhm, ‘The Chosen One’s Return’ or ‘The Second Coming’ or whatever, and The Chosen One was getting hunted, and needed help… but it’s okay! So The Chosen One’s been hiding here with Lord!” Orange explained quickly, his -- aers voice and words getting jumbled together. “But it’s okay! You’ve changed, and so have The Chosen One and Lord! C’mon, we’re wasting time, Green’s gonna be so excited! And you can meet King and Purple, too!”

“Wait, Orange,” Alan said, causing Orange to turn and stop in aer’s tracks. “How… old are you guys?”

“Oh. Well, I’m the oldest! Well, out of us who live here normally. I’m thirteen, Blue’s twelve, Green’s turning twelve, Purple’s gonna be twelve soon too, Yellow’s eleven and Red’s ten! I don’t know how old The Chosen One or Lord is, though they say they’re young. King’s, like, ancient!”

“You guys are just kids?” Alan’s face dropped in horror. They are kids. They’re kids. Alan had killed Green, and Red, and Blue and Yellow, and tried to kill Orange. Alan tried to kill children.

Oh, God, how old was The Chosen One and The Dark Lord when Alan created them?

“Yep! We’re all kinda a family. Purple and Green are even twins!” Orange smiled, taking Alan’s hand. “C’mon! Everyone’s gonna start wondering where I went.”

Alan gets dragged inside, and if Alan thought it was small before, it’s even smaller when full of people. The chatter was loud, laughter breaking the sound. “Guys! We have a special guest!”

Alan saw that The Chosen One and The Dark Lord were off to the side, The Chosen One squeezing the other's hand.

Honestly, Lord was fuming. She never wanted to see Alan again, and was only on this computer again for Second’s siblings. Most of the time when Chosen invites the others over, it's at his and Chosen’s house.

Lord never wanted to see Alan again. Lord wants Alan dead.

But unfortunately, Lord was told to be nice tonight. Her teeth clenched, and Chosen squeezed her hand. “Just for tonight, Lord,” Chosen whispered, leaning Chosen’s head on Lord’s shoulder. “We just have to tolerate Him for Green.”

“I hate Him,” Lord said in a hushed voice, “I hate Him. I hate what He did to you, Chosen. He doesn’t deserve any of this. They don’t deserve it. They -- we know Second got manipulated to literally work for Alan to stay alive. He hasn’t changed, I know it.”

“I know, I know. But we just need to ignore Him. Second and aers friends want to stay here, and they all love Alan. That much is obvious.”

Lord sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “You’re right, I suppose. I’m just worried for them… Second’s practically your sibling, and everyone else is like Second’s siblings. I want them to have a good life. I don’t want Him holding everystick’s lives over everystick.” Lord closes her eyes, and decides to just focus on Chosen’s comfort. Chosen wraps an arm around Lord’s waist, pulling her close.

Lord and Chosen can ignore Him for one night. One night, and then they can go back home, safe, in their bed.

This is just one more horror the pair have to get through together. For Green. --------------------

Green was ecstatic. Not only was it his birthday, but Alan was actually here! Green wonders if He designed His character to be a deep purple hollowhead, or if the way He got here randomized it. Green likes to think that it matches Him.

“Happy birthday Green!” Everystick said at once before he blew out the candles. Blue baked the three layer cake, just for Green. As the flames go out, everyone cheers for him.

“Now I’m really older than you now!” Green laughed, nudging Purple’s shoulder. It rolled its eyes, hitting his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up. I’ll be the same age as you again next week!” Purple huffed, dramatically crossing its arms. King ruffled Purple’s head, who giggled.

“You weirdo. You said you wanted to invite everyone to our house for your birthday, right?” King asked, to which Purple hummed and nodded its head.

“You guys have a house?” Alan asked, and King jumped, forgetting the dark purple stick figure was there.

King cleared his throat. “Yes, me and Purple live together in Stick City. It’s… not the best, but this one-” King patted Purple’s shoulder, “-has been helping me. The little stick isn’t letting me slack a day to get my shit together.”

Purple laughed. “I mean, you just can’t continue living in that dumpster! I know you were struggling with your depression and revenge plot, but I can’t live with this mess, and I lived on the street!” Purple giggled, teasing King. Alan’s face dropped as King let out a hissed “Purple!”

Alan tentatively spoke, “you were homeless?”

It shrugged. “After my mom died I was, but I found a mac for a while, and then King found me! It’s my trauma, I can make jokes about it,” Purple said as if it was talking about the weather.

“A lot of sticks are homeless at one point or another,” Lord spoke up, and Chosen shot Lord a look. “Especially children, or sticks created by Cursors.”

“Lord,” Chosen warned quietly. Alan glanced at the two.

“Hell, me and Chosen were homeless for a long time. And when we finally tried to get a house, we couldn’t. We built our house, together, in a place in the middle of the woods.” Lord stepped towards Alan.

“The Dark Lord,” Chosen hissed, placing a hand on her shoulder. Chosen used Chosen’s other hand and held Lord’s in them -- Lord hadn’t even realized that her hands had burst into flame. She took a deep breath, and his hands unlit. “Sorry. I’m gonna step outside for some fresh air.”

Lord walked out of the house without a word. Chosen silently followed.

The whole house was silent as the pair walked out.

“Maybe I should go,” Alan sighed. “I can… do this-” He gestured to His body, “-another day. I don’t want to ruin the mood anymore. Have a happy birthday, Green,” Alan leaned down and gave Green a hug, and Orange, Yellow, Red, and Blue joined in.

“We don’t want you to leave!” Green frowned, holding onto Alan.

“The Chosen One and The Dark Lord trust you guys. They trust you all enough to come back here after everything my stupid, younger self did to them. I can come back here later. You only turn twelve once, yeah?” Alan smiles sadly, patting Green’s head. He let go of Alan, and Alan waved goodbye. “It was nice to meet you, King, and Purple.”

Alan walked outside, avoiding eye contact of the two other people and walked to the corner of his computer. Alan brought up the VR icon, jumping slightly as the panel opened up. His hand hovered over the exit button, glancing back. His voice stuck in his throat as he watched the two stick figures whispering to each other.

“For what it’s worth,” Alan started, catching the attention of the two, “I’m sorry. Orange has -- ae’s helped. They all have. If I knew what I know now, I wouldn’t have done any of that.”

And Alan hit the quit button.

#adude.writes #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #ava #avm #alan becker #ava orange #ava the second coming #ava the chosen one #ava the dark lord #ava king orange #ava purple #ava green #the chosen one/the dark lord #what is tumblr shipping tags like #afaik they dont have a ship name?#ava the color gang #idk how to tag uh #yeah :3

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mariamariquinha · 2 years

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Versos de Placer (Colonel Carrillo x f!reader) - Eight

Summary: *Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood playing in the background*.

Word count: 4.6k (hell yeah)

Warnings: Bad words, daddy issues (of course), talks about paternity, mentions of violence, family problems, unprotected p in v sex, slight nipple play, kinda of copy mechanism (?), typos (I’ll try to check again if there’s something), very brief reference to country singers, allusion to historical events.

Author’s Note: Guys I’m really sorry that my links are not working, but I don’t know what’s going on and it’s kinda freaking me out. I still need to check on Tumblr to see what’s up, so I’m sorry for everyone who tried to reach the last chapters (that’s why I didn’t even linked the masterlist here).

Also, I’m sorry for being late with this one haha Things wasn’t working for me so I give myself a small break to go back in the mood, so... yeah, 4k words later, here we are! WOO-HOO!

(I love this gif so much, ugh)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

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

It was a cliché. A big one. Girl who had problems with her father, like… yeah, okay. Kick a bush anywhere and find five or six with similar stories.

He was born in Nashville, used to listen to Patsy Cline and Jim Reeves with absurd frequency, and disowned everything after the 70s, which included Alan Jackson, even if you've seen something about the guy in his record collection - not that the visits to his house were that frequent (or existent). Hillbilly, another cliché. Harsh personality, another cliché.

He didn't even have to hide so much in his astute personality to accurately trace what that past, filled with sermons, church Sundays and hay, would have done to the relationship that type of man developed with a female daughter. There was a cruel side to you, cold and even calculating, that personified itself as a consequence of the way things had been. How unhappy he was with his decision to move to Texas for work and then turned to be even more bitter at the idea of having a daughter with someone he'd met in a single night; how marriage was a bankrupt institution from the beginning and how it hurt you and your mother unscrupulously.

You weren't from Texas, though. Javier used to say that you still had a long way to go to be like that, even if there were certain remnants of the education your father gave you - if he gave you any. Your metropolitan Los Angeles style was something of your mother's and that only made the crumbling relationship turn to dust in the wind. Join the DEA? Stupid. But he would take credit, after all he saw the Department being created and felt 'honored' to have nurtured enough good fruit in you, making you a young woman in the field.

Firstly, when he walked towards you at the airport, you noticed that there was confusion on his face when he saw you. Whether it was your presence or you just looked more miserable, he was expressionless for a while. It was night, the trip from Bogotá to Medellín had been adjusted to a more strategic time, but you knew the Ambassador would offer lunch or something similar to create amenities.

“... I feel flattered.” Not a ‘hello’, or even a ‘how are you doing?’. He needed to tease. He needed it.

You rolled your eyes at him, keeping your arms crossed over your chest and rolling your head to the side.

“Don’t feel, you’ll still carry your own luggage,” Your tone was light, a little sharp but… light. “And it’s a long way to the car.”

“Oh, I'm sure that courtesy was a privilege reserved only for your arrival.”

Without an answer, he just followed your strides down the landing strip, the cool breeze making your clothing choice more valid than his, who opted for those tailored pants that were expensive in an unhealthy way financially. He was always bigger, stockier, better able to withstand cold breezes. If there were any complaints, it would be about the wind messing with his hair, but the time had made him bald enough that the effects of the breeze were nil.

“Where will you stay?” The question sounded stupid, at least for him, who replied with a bigger frown after getting comfortable in the passenger seat of the Ford Bronco you’ve been driving for quite some time. “What?”

“Where do you think I would be?”

“Not with me.” After a beat of silence from his part, your hand hesitated on the ignition and you looked at him a little desperate. “Or it is?”

“No, of course not.”

“Thank God,” You breathed with relief, finally giving life to the car in time to see the man scoffing a disbelieved laugh. Perhaps he reconsidered a little before giving his address, which was in a discreet hotel - this time you masked the relief in knowing that the stay would be temporary.

You didn't dare turn on the radio for much of the drive, opting for the natural silence of the streets and the car's engine instead of trying to fill the void of a conversation neither of you wanted to have (or so you thought).

“How’s everything going? I’ve heard a lot about your progress.”

Huh.

“Did you?”

“Since you don’t appreciate giving me any updates…”

“You seem to be having them just fine without me.”

“Or maybe you just didn't want me to know about your adjustment difficulties,” This made you gaze at him with a bit of annoyance, where he found enough encouragement to continue with that tone. “Which I understand, after all, the local police aren't always very cordial with us.”

“Do you think this is the biggest of my problems here?”

“No, but the name Horacio Carrillo may have caught my attention. I imagined he was patriotic enough to be averse… It must have been a fun experience, watching you two beating horns.”

The mention of Carrillo made you grip the steering wheel tighter and keep your eyes exclusively on the street so as not to give any suspicious reactions. That was one thing that had been probing your head a little bit, the idea that they had a past you knew very superficially. Your father wouldn't pay much attention to it if it was something forgettable, like most of the memories he never wanted to share from his time in Colombia, and it certainly wasn't something that boiled down to a simple soldier learning torture techniques to fight the ELN*. Plus, of course, there was the shadow of the fact that you hadn't even enjoyed the amazing time the two of you had together, especially with the great distance you both naturally established with your father's aura hovering there.

“Beating horns.”

“I know how tough and stubborn you can be.”

“It came from somewhere.”

“Me, I assume.”

“He had his reasons for not liking me right off the bat,” You gazed at your father again, this time for sure of your intentions. “Do I need to elaborate on this or do you also have more memories of Carrillo?”

“So you are no longer in the title phase, this seems to be progress.” The teasing way he mentioned it, not even amused by your provocation, made you clench your teeth in anger. Fucking bitch. “But how about Peña and Murphy? Good partners.”

“Why do I get the impression that you already have the answer to your questions?”

“I do, but I need to understand if you can still get a good shot at your targets knowing that a minute's delay could cost you your life.”

Again, you didn't give him the pleasure of sharing any reactions, focusing solely on driving the car, but the strained air gave away what he really meant by that.

Juan Marcos taking the knife. The pain of that cabinet breaking apart in your back. His weight beneath you as it made him pass out with a force created by the desperation of survival. Carrillo's face, the blood running down your forehead… It was the kind of thing you tried to forget, that you clearly didn't tell.

You couldn't deduce whether he had the right to be offended by it.

“We're not going to talk about it.” You decided.

“It’s because of this kind of behavior that bad things happen.”

“Well, you being here seems to be proof of that.”

“If that means you'll stop playing lone heroine around here, I'm glad I'm not welcome.”

“Maybe the problem is you're always more than content to be alone all the time, dad.” This abrupt harsh comment made him shut up. You sighed again, closing your eyes for a few seconds to compose yourself. “... As I said, we’re not gonna talk about it. It's always like that with you and... And we don't have time for that. Yes, I'm alive, yes, it was my mistake. And believe me when I say that my consideration kept you from worrying enough for me, so let’s prevent the drama.”

There was something else about your father that could have ambivalent meanings: his silence. He would be quiet to think, to anticipate a sharp response, to be surprised, or even to show offense. You could never tell which was which until the next reaction came.

When that didn't happen and the two of you made your way to the hotel in a new vacuum of utter nothingness, he just said he'd see you the next day as if nothing had happened. The frustration, however, was the same - he still hadn't learned to listen to what you had to say.

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

The tension was palpable, but no one dared to put a finger on it for the sake of that mission. Carrillo would look at you, then to your father, feeling a particular helplessness, as if being there was like watching a bomb about to explode without being able to do anything about it.

Javier had told him about the relationship, at least what he knew, which went almost unnoticed by Carrillo since at the time he didn't like him and there was no justification for it; not that what had been going on between you should mean anything, but a protective instinct surged through him at the memory.

“We met at that party, you know. Everyone could see that she didn’t want to be there or whatever,” Peña mentioned. “Maybe they don't talk to each other after what happened here.”

And Horacio knew that was a subtle cue to speculate on his motives for not liking your father, but the silence that followed was enough for no one to bring it up again. It took a while for the walls of rejection to come down - a little longer for him to understand that there was a cliff of difference between you and that brusque, hostile father figure.

You had a fire like him, but Carrillo would never be on guard with you for the same reasons he would be with your father.

It wasn't much, at the time he'd seen plenty of other guys like him walking around Colombia and taking up space as their own, wasting time and money on hookers and alcohol before going back to the grueling job of ripping a person's fingernails off in interrogation.

When he first met him, he was still a low-ranking soldier, limited to orders, with words of obedience on the tip of his tongue. The primal nature of always being ahead, of being number one, of... being the best, was something that pleased your father immediately, and the two spent more time in a closer relationship - which was not a friendship. There was a story about family; Carrillo had just gotten married. Your father laughed, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and said that he would soon find out that this would be a stupid decision.

When he found out that you and your mother were in the States, uncertain about the whereabouts of the man who was supposed to protect you two, there was a sense of morality in him, and in that aspect he was pretty strict about keeping his distance. When he saw your father bragging about the women he'd been paying at the brothel, Carrillo saw his respect for the guy completely drained from his body. When the training ended with one of his partners in the hospital almost dead, the decision to make him an enemy was already right.

It was strange to think about it at that moment, because since then he's been thinking about you. The woman who was there, in front of him, smoking a cigarette with the worst of expressions as she listened to the man without any dignity of his own talking about something with such propriety. Horacio wondered if you had feelings for the man, at least one that was good. If the two of you fought a lot, if you found out what was happening in Bogotá, if there was any connection of affection.

He suddenly felt bad for being hard on you at first, even though there was a part of him telling him that he wasn't the worst man you'd ever faced in your life.

“So basically the three of us are going to be playing with dolls while you guys do the work?” Your voice was so full of rancor that everyone was surprised, except your father, who just sighed with his hands on his hips.

“That was the deal.”

“The 'deal' was collaborative work. I know it may seem like a difficult term for you to understand, but no one here has been scratching their own ass all the time. You are here for what we achieved.”

There was a unique silence in space; everyone agreed with you, that was a fact, and the dissatisfaction was shared enough that no one tried to appease it.

You took more of the cigarette and looked him straight in the face, not hesitating for a microsecond with your defiant gaze. Tough girl, that was Carrillo’s thought while watching the scene - he needed to resist the urge to smile at it, to say you’re doing just fine right then and there, wearing the pants and giving your father shit.

“We don't have to go into that merit.”

“Oh, I think we do,” Your answer was sharp and fast. “What do you think we’re doing here, basically?”

“I can't risk putting agents unprepared for an operation of this size,” He crossed his arms over his chest, just as tough as you. “Considering the recent episodes of how your so-called great job led you all, I’m more than sure that this discussion isn’t necessary.”

There was a second silence, much stronger and more intense than the first time, because everyone understood what it meant and it was a subject no one wanted to discuss. It was his plan, after all, and he sure as hell used it as a weapon to disarm your aggressive behavior.

It sounded unfair. Carrillo couldn't be the only one to think that, mainly because everyone was involved and there were still the marks of the attack on your body. How could someone who wasn't there, who didn't know what you were doing with some competence, act like that? How could a father limit himself to calling his own daughter incompetent when she almost died?

“What happened with Juan Marcos was…” Javier tried to speak but you interrupted him right away.

“Say what you mean.”

“You know what I mean.”

“So let's be clear, maybe no one here has seen how cowardly you are to use this against all of us.”

“It's not a question of cowardice, it's a question of safety to make sure you don't get all lit up to do grown-up work and risk all the work trying to play heroin,” The tone your father used was bitter, full of anger and loud enough for everyone to listen. Carrillo clenched his fists at it; Javier and Steve looked between you and the man in silence. “So no, you are not going to make part of this and be thankful to have the right to be sitting here right now.”

Yes, there was a third silence, and even though there wasn't a hint of tears on your face, it was obvious that you were hurt by it. You held a disappointed expression, fingers fiddling with the still-lit cigarette between them, jaw clenched - it was like a bucket of cold water right in the middle of your face. Who was he to talk about incompetence? Who was he to treat you like that in front of everyone?

Carrillo once again resisted the urge to go to you when he saw you sigh, put out your cigarette in the ashtray on the table, and brush the ashes off your pants.

“... Peña and Murphy have experience in this type of operation. Technical knowledge doesn't trump field experience, at least not here, so consider the possibility for the sake of your team. If that's what you want.”

The colonel's mind and tongue worked before he could stop it.

“No.”

Everyone looked at him in confusion, including you, but since word was out, he stared at the table for a while before facing your father specifically.

“This won't work if we don't come to a consensus.”

“Colonel, the situation is more delicate than it appears.”

��I was there wiping the blood off your daughter’s face when they tried to kill her, and despite our differences I assure you that my trust is in every person in this room.” The decision in his voice made your father squint. “We're here to strategize, so be it, but with all due respect I'd rather have someone I know watching my back than a bunch of southern men who've only seen Colombia on postcards.”

To say that there was one more moment of silence was a bit obvious, but Carrillo could see the same feeling of anger emanating from his father as the time he had challenged him years ago, when his body was leaner and his confidence more precocious.

That time nobody said anything because it was an unusual attitude; not the retaliation, but the fact that he was defending you from an awkward situation and using as an argument the fact that he trusted not only you, someone he had reservations about, but Steve, who was hardly in his favor even afterward so long. Maybe that surprised your father too, maybe he knew the two of you didn't get along in plain sight, but that logic made the work dynamic in the name of the mission.

That didn't include the fact that you were sharing a bed with him at times. This was a secret justification that only surfaced in the exchange of glances you had as Carrillo watched everyone for a brief moment and saw you with a dumbstruck expression.

“By land and by air. We're going to need communication all the time,” He nodded at the map on the table nonchalantly, leaning against it to refocus on the plane and ignore the amount of stares directed at him.

If you squeezed his forearm gently and smiled discreetly after that, probably as a way of showing some sort of good reaction to what he said, Carrillo tried not to feel satisfied with his own self.

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

“How does it work?”

Horacio looked up in time to see your father with both hands in his pants pockets, looking at him with a curious expression. It was already night, a little late to have so many employees in the Search Bloc building, so he looked between the man standing in front of him and the door, ready to ask why he was there.

“This thing between you and her. What kind of strategy is there between you to make everything so smooth?” He talked about you as if you were a stranger, which made Carrillo particularly angry.

“My strategies are limited to my work. I do what has to be done.” The answer came politely, even as the colonel continued to stare at the revised plan on his desk.

“I know her well enough to know that she is not easy.”

“Me neither.” You neither, he thought.

“But she's not what you were when we first met,” This caught Carrillo's attention, and he raised his head again with a frown. “I brought her up to the strict function of doing a fucking decent job. Nothing out of the ordinary. What happens is that there is a difference between learning and putting learning into practice.”

“She handled the situation pretty well on her own, she's been doing it since she got here.”

“Being attacked by a narco three times her size isn't handling the situation pretty well, Colonel. You know this more than I do, we come from the same place.”

Once again, Horacio held his tongue so as not to say anything else he regretted; instead, he abandoned the focus of the documentation on the desk and leaned back in his chair, staring at your father as if the man's words were an insult - because they were.

“When your daughter arrived here, I almost committed the indiscretion of writing a complaint to the Embassy. I thought like you. I figured she would be a spoiled brat who came from the right place to the wrong fight and particularly that lasted longer than ideal.”

He paused just to remember you two on his bed sharing a cigarette, then your face while negotiating with the Montoya boy.

“I've seen too many men die to understand the weight of what these motherfucker narcos are putting on my country, agent, and I've come to recognize what I really value in a team that has the same ideals as I do.”

Dissatisfied and unconvinced by the answer given by Carrillo, your father moved with some discomfort and scoffed.

“And what ideals would those be?”

“Among other things, being ready to not pull the trigger.”

Which sounded very unusual to both of them. Not pulling the trigger? Did they really believe in this philosophy in the midst of the hell created by Escobar? Well, there you were, right? Talking to a boy sold into the drug trade, asking about a man you barely knew as you nearly died at the hands of Juan Marcos, giving up work with your father if it meant seeing your partners get recognition.

This was the kind of sense of morality that put both of them to the test of their convictions. Vocalizing it made Carrillo realize that he loved it about you - and that your father hated it.

“Balance then.”

“Yes. Balance.” Horacio nodded, already going back to his papers. “I would rest if I were you, by the way. None of us are in the physique of those years ago, we better be fine for tomorrow.”

With no direct response to the brief provocation, Carrillo smirked when he heard the office door close after a brief 'good night' and thought that, at least that way, your father had received a dose of humility he so deserved.

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

The idea was not for Horacio to show up at your apartment so late, or to show up there anyway. It wasn't part of the plan. But Javier and Steve weren't there in the building and he wanted to know how you were, which took you by surprise when you saw him standing there in the doorway.

“I thought you were going to stay in the office all night to check the details.” You said with a frown of yours, closing the door and standing considerably close to him in the small space of your corridor.

“Changed my mind.”

“... Why?”

“You know why.”

It was a thought that lasted half a second and you only had this delay because the whole situation with your father was stressful, like there wasn't a single obvious possibility for what you two could do alone in that apartment. God knew how great it would be to have a good distraction from all that shit.

Without further questions or doubts, he pulled you by the hem of your sleep shorts and grabbed your neck for a hot kiss. The first contact of your body with his made you sigh, considering he was still chilled by the night air and you had slipped out from under the covers. It wasn't so uncertain; Carrillo has come to know your body well enough to have an idea of where to start.

A hand on your neck, the other grabbing a handful of your left ass cheek without a single reservation. That would be the style of it: messy, intense, necessary.

“No panties?” He whispered against your mouth after biting your bottom lip, pupils dilating with desire as he used the same hand to massage your buttock.

“As if you liked me that much with it.”

“Remembering the important things... Really sexy, you know?”

You had to lead him to your room, so you took him by the hand to lead him to the more discreet and simple bed that adorned the small space. He'd already shed his shirts and boots by the time you climbed into bed, and the sight of his bare torso had you biting your lip before pulling him by his belt closer.

With a bite to his left breast, he growled; when repeating the process on the right side, he grabbed your hair by the back of your neck and pushed you away, which made you smile before having your mouth attacked by another kiss, this time more intense. You were two angry people, frustrated with the day, impatient with the lack of contact recent events had created, wanting more than what appeared to be just a glimpse of what you could do with the other.

This time you didn't let him rip any of your clothes off and he chuckled at your haste to get rid of the tank top you were wearing. When your hand stopped his motion to lean towards the bed, he lost some of that humor to confusion, but before he could ask, you wrapped your arms around his neck and draped your torso over his. The contact made him hiss, just to moan lowly at the way your nipples brushed on his, creating a delicious friction.

All that was left for him was to grab your waist and let you enjoy it as much as he did, while you watched every inch of the man's reactions with a smirk. It was your turn to pull him by the hair at the back of his neck, taking his attention from your breasts so he could kiss you.

The rest was improvised, he didn't even take all his pants off and you only pulled out one side of the shorts as soon as you both lay on the mattress; the garment was hanging from your leg as he put your knees on his shoulders and entered you in one fell swoop. That poor bed, miserable and cheap compared to his, creaked more than anything with the movements of his hips, the simple headboard hitting the wall with such force of the thrusts.

You were left to surrender to the moment, eyes closed to focus on the sensation of that moment and your mind lost in the pleasure he was providing you. He literally started to pound inside of you, making your voice weak in moans and whimpers, surrendered by that intercourse that took you to a strong and magnificent orgasm.

“... Where?” Was all Carrillo managed to say as he panted above you, pulling his face from your neck to look into your eyes as he asked.

“Inside,” You said with a mewl, legs still shaking from your high. “I want you inside.”

Perhaps on other occasions he would say something quite indecent, but hearing you say that seemed enough for him to spill his cum all over your pussy, groaning loudly at the sensation of filling you so good just like that.

It was like getting rid of a giant weight.

You and him, surprised as if the sex between you hadn't felt so good already, as if the weight of his body on top of yours was new. There was no other thought in that moment, just the certainty that that protective instinct could be a reality and he was making sure he would use his words and his body to make sure you were okay.

Dammit, you thought. It only took a man like that to appear in your life that you could already feel that idea in your fingertips, between the breath of post-sex and your mind coming back to reality.

That's what I was looking for.

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

Glossary

ELN: The National Liberation Army of Colombia (Ejército de Liberación Nacional) is a Colombian guerrilla organization,[1] of communist inspiration and political-military character, created in Simacota on July 4, 1964, by Fabio Vasquez Castaño, inspired by the successful experience of the Cuban Revolution.

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No pressure tags

@cheesybadgers

@padbrookcottage

#horacio carrillo #colonel carrillo #colonel carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo fic #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #maurice compte

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coffeeheartaddict2 · 1 year

Text

This life (9/13) No Escape

Book: Open Heart (book 1)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine

Warnings: ****trigger warning- this series deals with issues of abandonment and addiction- reader discretion advised****

Language, sexual references, mentions of characters deaths, punch thrown

Rating: 18+

Summary: A trip to Providence gives Ethan a different perspective and a plan in the background, a realization gives another dynamic change and the fallout. Louise’s past finally catches up with her and a news article she sees gives her the courage to reach out.

Disclaimer: Characters, dialogue (actual and paraphrased) belong to Pixelberry.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

It was the morning after he spectacularly quit from Edenbrook, the place where he had given a decade of his life only to have it all come crashing down. The face of a distraught Casey haunting him all night. He felt bad that she had become collateral damage in his fall from grace but he had let her in and when he let people in it always ends badly. He had a shower and packed a bag. He went via Naveen’s lakehouse, he saw him sitting on the deck reading a book. He was relieved about that. He then left. He knew he needed to get out of Boston but had no idea where. He was on autopilot so he was not surprised that he pulled up at the place where his pain started, his childhood home.

Alan was not home, Ethan surmised that he must be at work. He let himself in and was greeted by Jenner. He took him for a walk. His old neighbourhood was a far cry from the Boston Waterfront and even though it looked the same, everything had changed and it was where everything changed for him that fateful august day 25 years ago. Jenner enjoyed his walk and Ethan decided to make a start on dinner.

Alan turned into his street after a shift. He had to look twice as he approached his house. Ethan’s car was not what he was expecting to see. He was always happy to see his son and it had been awhile but he knew he was busy. He pulled up and entered the house. He was greeted by dinner being cooked.

“Don’t get me wrong Ethan, I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just come and visit my dad and my dog?” Ethan retorted. Alan was taken aback, he had not seen Ethan this upset and dejected since the falling out with Tobias.

“Of course you can Ethan, not what I meant, I am

Happy to see you but also surprised.” Said Alan. “You never come down mid week unless it is a holiday so what is wrong?”

Ethan took a breath to compose himself but to no avail. He started to cry.

“Naveen is dying, my good friend Delores died and Casey, who has been helping me with Naveen I don’t think I can help, especially with raising suspicions of anything untoward happening between us even though it has not.

Alan was shocked. He knew of his disdain for interns generally and he was surprised that there had been one that he had spoken somewhat fondly about but to see his son in his kitchen devastated and broken partly because of her was a shock. Alan had to ask if his feelings for Casey were more than professional.

“Of course they are dad, I do not know if it is love but certainly more than what I should be feeling.”

Alan does not know what to say. He had never had too many girlfriends and he certainly never suspected that Ethan thought it maybe love with any of them. It was moments like this that he missed Louise. He and Ethan were also closer and also offering a female perspective that he could not. All Alan could do was state you will figure something out. Alan was also saddened about Naveen. He knew that Ethan looked upto Naveen but also Naveen was a father figure that Alan wished he could be but was not. The resentment from Alan was brief. Alan knew that he would go on to do great things and was glad there was someone there to push him in the way he could not bring himself to do.

Ethan went to bed after dinner he was exhausted, the troubled and lack of sleep catching up with him. He is awoken by his phone. It is Harper. He answers it.

“Hello Ethan, I am glad you answered. I was calling to make sure you are ok.” Said Harper.

“I am not ok Harper. I need time to figure some stuff out. I am safe though, I am in Providence with dad.” Replied Ethan.

“Glad to know you are safe Ethan…”

“How is the investigation going against case…I mean Dr Valentine” asksEthan, hoping her association with him has not tarnished her. Harper sighs before continuing.

“I know you have maintained that you have not favoured Dr Valentine in anyway Ethan but that slip of the tongue was telling. I am glad you are well Ethan”. The call ends.

The next day he calls Harper. He feels like he is in a slightly better head space and wants to talk about his quitting and getting all of his paperwork finalised. He is informed that Casey has requested an Ethics hearing. Ethan does not hesitate in asking if he can testify for her.

“Absolutely not Ethan. The hospital has been awash with rumours of something going on for awhile now. I have seen some interactions that give some of the rumours creedance. You getting up there and testifying is only going to add fuel to the fire.”

“I can be impartial Harper, you know it, I know it.”

“The answer is no Ethan. End of discussion.”

Ethan hangs up in frustration, the original reason forgotten. Despite Harper telling him he can not testify, he feels he has to do something. He knows that Casey will be hard pushed for a fair hearing. He thinks to the email he received from Teresa when she made it to Paris, how happy she was to have made it there. All of which was made possible by Casey. She did not give up when others did. He also had the contact details for Luis. He sent the following email.

To Luis

My name is Ethan Ramsey. I was one of the many doctors who got to know your mother, Teresa. We were all saddened by her passing. As you know she embarked on a journey she had been wanting to take her whole life. Enclosed is a picture she sent us of her at the Sacre Couer . As you know she wanted more than anything to go there. I know she passed away but shouldn’t we be glad that she got to go on her own terms. As you know she did resent the treatment for Rhodes Disease. Being couped up in hospital all that time. The doctor who gave Teresa the drug did give her the chances and risks and Teresa s chose to go ahead with it. She was doing what it took to give your mum quality as well as maintaining quantity. Sadly there was no quantity but surely the quality of what she did have is worth it. If you have any further questions please feel free to contact me.

Regards

Ethan Ramsey.

Next he contacted Alma, he knew that she was appreciative for what Casey did for Delores and baby Ethan. Alma was thankfully willing and able. I hoped it would help her but I was still feeling like a poison chalice so I did not hold out too much hope. I head back to Boston again via the lake house. Naveen is still alive.

I have been back a day and a half. I am again wallowing. My mind turns to Casey, hoping that she will get a fair hearing, how I wish I could do more to help her. I receive a message from Casey wanting to talk. I ask her to come here, I do not like texting. About 30mins later she arrives at my door. I make comments about joining a cult, even though all I want to do is rip her dress off and take her where she stands. I offer her a scotch. She takes it. The question I dread comes.

“Will you testify for me at the Ethics hearing.”

I tell her I can’t. That I am too damn biased. In that moment I know Harper is right no matter how hard I tried to deny it. She tells me she came to learn from the best, to learn from me and I tell her this is me. She reminds me that I taught her to never give up and that is what she is doing. I tell her that I no longer work there and in all reality she will not be for much longer. A realization dawns on me and I can see Casey coming to the same realization. I do not know who moved first but when out lips hungrily meet again, all I wish I did at Miami come flooding back. I carry her to my room. Our lips only separating to get her dress off. She asks to show me the view from the windows. I oblige but Casey in her underwear is at that moment a better view. I stand behind her, kissing her neck. I then start to caress her breast. It is as beautiful as I remember it. A rush of carnal hunger washes over me. I turn her around, fall down to my knees and worship her the way she should be. Reality is no comparison to what my imagination had conjured. Watching Casey succumb to her climax was exhilarating. Casey gets me out of the rest of my clothing whilst we make our way to my bed. She says she does not want to forget this night and I said neither will I. I kiss her, pouring all my emotion into it as I slowly enter her. She feels even better than what I imagined. I start off slow, wanting to savour and enjoy Casey. This is more than just sex for me. I quicken my pace and and she starts to clench. I moan as a kiss my way down to her breasts. Casey’s moans get loader, bordering on screaming. She moans my name and tries to get out how close I know she is. I assure her that I have her. She falls, her climax triggering mine. In my wildest dreams I could not have imagined a more perfect time together. Over the course of the evening we go another two rounds. I fall into an exhausted but satisfied sleep.

I am awoken the next afternoon by Casey. Telling me she has figured it out. In my hangover induced confusion I ask her what. She tells me it is Naveen. She runs through her methodology and I agree with her conclusions. She tells me that need to do phage therapy and have what is making Naveen unwell. I get up but the room spins. Casey goes to make her hangover cure. It is disgusting but it does the job. She kisses me, telling me it is for luck. I tell her I am going to need more luck before I kiss her again. The only thing stopping me from going further is the fact Naveen needs saving. We get the therapy made. On the way to Naveen’s lake house I can not help but be proud of her. She had not given up when I had. We arrive at Naveen’s. He is still alive and I administer the phage therapy. The scrawny intern is there. The only thing stopping me from ripping him to shreds is that he helped Casey with Naveen. He says he is leaving to go to Kenmore. I said I would give him a satisfactory reference. Casey leaves with him. She wants to stay but she has a trial to prepare for. She asks me if I will attend and I will be there if she wants me too. I state that I will be.

Trial day arrives and the suit Casey chose is very distracting. I stay up the back. Alma is there ready to testify. My biggest card is Luis Martinez. I have not heard back from him. Surprisingly so far Casey is holding her own. She has picked patients well. She also has Dr Yannick, Dr Calais and Dr Myles come in and speak in support of Casey. Now the country club is making sense. Then Luis comes. Walks up to Casey and hugs are and announces that he is dropping the lawsuit. I breathe a sigh of relief. Then the door opens. It is Naveen. The panel are of course shocked. Naveen then goes on to explain what was happening and how Casey gave up her time preparing for the trial in solving his case. He calls for a vote. It ends up being unanimous in Casey’s favour. In that moment I never felt more wrong about anything. Naveen was saved, my work in the background I think helped and Casey still had a career. I slowly make my way down to congratulate her. She then punched Declan Nash. I shouldn’t but I do feel proud of her especially if some of that punch was for Mrs Martinez. I let her go with her friends. I make my way to Naveen and he is regaling Harper about how I was treating him. He requested there be no action taken. I am relieved to hear this. I chat to Alma and I am glad to hear that baby Ethan is going well. Finally I get to see Harper. I know there is stuff from my quitting that needs finalization but instead of that I am offered my job back. There is no mention of if the competition is still running. I go through all the paperwork. I finally make my way to Donahue’s. I am met by Casey who proposes that we head to her place before we return to our roles. I am saddened but agree with the reasoning. We have a night filled with passion and tenderness and it is then that I know I can not go back to a pre-Miami footing with her. It is then I decide to put an expression of interest to go down to Brazil. I end up staying and we are busted by two of her friends. We are eventually back at work for announcements. Harper is stepping down as chief and instills Naveen. Then the kicker, Casey is awarded the Junior fellowship on the team. On one level I am proud but the rest of me is in a panic. All I know is that if I continue a romantic relationship her achievements would be tarnished by the rumour mill. I say that we sort this out but I have no idea how. The day goes on and the week. I note that Casey is only talking to me on work related matters which I am thankful for as I have no answers. I then get the email I am hoping for. I am wanted on the Amazon team. I make a meeting with Naveen. He questions my intent and I could not hide the ulterior motive. He asks me to tell Casey but I can’t. The hospital is not safe and I do not want to do so at Derry’s.

That left her coming to mine and I know that if I tell her at mine it would lead to her convincing not too and given how I think I feel I know she could be successful. So I decided to be a coward. The morning I fly out I am torn. I realize that I am no better than the woman that abandoned me all those years ago. Whilst waiting to board at Logan I text that I am

sorry but did not say what for. What they had started to build meant a lot to him but he could not have that ruin her. As much as it was going to hurt I needed to rid myself of the feelings he had in order to be the mentor I needed to be.

I hit the ground running work wise but the evening after dinner is my downfall. My mind shifting between the nights we were intimate and the rest haunted by the hurt that I know I have caused. After a week I know the plan is futile. I pen letters that I know will never be sent. In a way I am dreading going back. I doubt that Casey would want to give me the time of day when I return but it is the medicine I have to take. I take solace in that I am returning to her in some way. The knowing that I am acting just like the one person I never wanted to be like haunting me. Various media outlets are with us too, sharing the work that the team is doing. I begrudgingly do my part but I am there to work.

Two months fly by. It is time to face the music of my cowardice. I hear her friends before I see them then I see Casey. I make my way over, calling her rookie. She tells me she is not one anymore as she is now officially a second year. I tell her it was a force of habit whilst I am internally chastising myself for calling her something so familiar. She stays back after last call which surprises me. She tells me why I did not contact her. I tell her we were in the depths of the Amazon. I then tell her we needed to reset and that is why I went. I do badly wanted to kiss her but I could not. How I don’t return her kiss surprises me. I tell her it is not a matter of want, because I do but I can’t. I can tell she is angry at me but I know in that moment that I will be struggling to keep those feelings buried.

Whilst in the Amazon Louise sees a news article in a waiting room of a community clinic in Southy. She reads it and takes a double take at a photo she sees. It may have been nearly 26 ago but she knew that was Ethan. She knew he would go on to do great things in life but in her wildest dreams did not think he would be a leading doctor helping those less fortunate. Louise’s addictions were starting to take a serious toll on her health. She was only 59 but most days she felt so much older. She was seeking treatment for an infection which she was able to get but she knew she could not keep this up forever. Rehab was not an option due to the cost. She did not know how much time she had left on this earth but she knew she needed to apologise to Ethan for the harm she caused him. She decided though to reach out to Alan. It took her a week to get the courage to make the call. She calls the number that she is surprised she remembered.

“Hello, you have reached Alan Ramsey” said Alan as he answered.

“Hello Alan. It is Louise”

Alan is shocked and did not know what to say.

Louise then said.

“I want to contact Ethan, can you help me?”

Alan was shocked. He had hoped this day would come but as time went on the hope got smaller.

“I need to think on this Louise, it is a shock. Can I call you another time?”

Louise gives Alan her number and hangs up.

Alan is shocked, he always suspected that if Louise ever called it would be to speak with Ethan but did he have the right to give his details out. He thought the best case would be to get more information and pass onto Ethan and let him decide but he was troubled too, nearly 26 years had passed and he could not help but be suspicious of any intent.

Louise is surprised that Alan took her call but was relieved that he wanted to have a think about getting her in contact with Ethan. While she waited she took another hit hoping it will dull the pain of the thoughts in her head.

Authors note : well this seemed to get long but I had alot yo cover and some that I have done in various fics as well so I was straddling thr line of repeating myself but meaningful to this story.

Coming chapters we will see more of Alan and Louise so fair warning there and as stated before when we get to post attack we will be following my timeline.

Tagging: @jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @potionsprefect @liaromancewriter @tessa-liam @cariantha @genevievemd @binny1985 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ofmischiefandmedicine @crazy-loca-blog @a-crepusculo @bex-la-get @lucy-268

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #ethan ramsey #choices fanfic writers creations #casey valentine #Louise Ramsey #Alan Ramsey #Naveen Banerji #this life #fotw

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oldshrewsburyian · 3 years

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Hello! I recently found your Bond tag, and, basically - I've been inspired by a special interest feat: Cold War spies (it's Metal Gear. It's Metal Gear Solid, but anyway) and have started looking for spy novel recs. So far I've read The Spy Who Came In From The Cold (I liked all the antagonists more than the protagonist) and Agatha Christie's The Secret Adversary (which is very fun but much less grounded). Do you have any recs for someone new to the genre? Bonus points for dark comedy, and (cont

cont) amoral or morally complicated PoV characters who /aren't/ Stoic Straight White Men. Thanks!

Hello! This is a delightful ask to receive. I'm afraid that my response may expose a mixture of my ignorance of the genre and lacunae in the genre itself. But let me say straightaway that even the straight white men of the best spy fiction are rarely stoic. At best, they're pretending to be stoic while secretly being emotional messes. I love John Le Carré for this. Anyway, herewith a list, with the caveat that it won't all be Cold War, but I'll try to indicate where/when the novels take place.

Helen MacInnes was prolific, and wrote about WWII and Cold War-era spying. Also, she has the distinction of being a woman writing in this genre! My mother's favorite MacInnes novel is Assignment in Brittany (WWII); mine is The Salzburg Connection (Cold War). I confess that I've never really become a devotee of MacInnes, largely because of the stoicism of her men. But the protagonist in TSC is not so secretly a ball of angst who reads Rilke (I have a type.)

Alan Furst (interwar period!) I love Alan Furst, and while his POV protagonists are, so far, all male, I love his women a lot. Also, they may be cool under pressure, but these men, generally speaking, have no chill. Varying degrees of chill, I grant you, but still. I recommend Night Soldiers (his first), for a taste of one with brutality and absurdity, and Mission to Paris (one of the most recent) for one with a gentler approach, but not without humor.

John Buchan, The 39 Steps (pre-WWI.) Possibly a stoic protagonist... but makes up for it by being hilarious.

John!! Le!! Carré!! I know you've already read TSWCIFTC, but while I revere it, it's not my favorite. Three of my favorites are Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (peak Cold War, everyone is a mess and I love them); The Russia House (late Cold War, peak mess); The Constant Gardner (early 21st century, heartwrenching, great, not so much a spy novel, but... a favorite.)

Geoffrey Household, Rogue Male (pre-WWII). I've been trying to think of how to describe this book and failing signally, but I think the best way to explain its premise is that it is a breathless, dark send-up of the trope of the lone, stoic spy, showing how horrifically such a mission might go wrong.

Rudyard Kipling, Kim (late C19). Stick with me here. This is the novel that gives us spying as the Great Game. And you may be thinking to yourself: Kipling?? But the main protagonist of this book is an irreverent biracial adolescent (Kim!) who is mentored by a wise Buddhist lama into the realization that he can forge a hybrid identity in a troubled empire. The self-aggrandizement of the British Empire is constantly presented as slightly ridiculous against the background of everything else.

You mentioned that you found my blog via Bond posts, but not that you've read Bond, but... you have read Bond, right? in all its no-holds-barred pacing and not-infrequent hilarity? I think the moment where I first became seriously attached to the series is the bit in Casino Royale where Fleming is essentially making fun of Bond for becoming (more) sexist when he's nervous.

Finally, an overview of the rise of the genre is here, in case you're interested in taking that as a starting point. Followers may have further recommendations!

#espionage #spy novel #books #adultbooklr #asks and answers

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soniabigcheese · 2 years

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Advent Calendar Day Eight - Crackers

The TV was running in the background whilst everyone was busy with .. something or other. They all had their allocated tasks

Decorate the tree Put up some garlands Wrap presents (and pretend they didn't see what they were getting) And cook dinner

Virgil was in charge of the kitchen this time, since Gordon managed to convince (drag) grandma to help with the tree. Alan, bored with the channel, flicked it over to a shopping channel ... and was going to turn it over when ....

"Wait!" Virgil put his vegetable peeler down, "turn it back."

So Alan obliged ... and they were faced with ... Langstrom Fischler of all people."

"Please," Scott groaned, " ... tell me he's planning on retiring." "Nu uh," Alan waved the remote around, "it's a shopping channel. They're only interested in selling things. Not announcing that they're .... wait ... what the ..." "Alan!"

He turned the volume up so that they could hear.

"Hello ladies and gentlemen, this is Langstrom Fischler here from Fischler Industries. Coming live to you from ..... what channel is this? Oh never mind. I am here to sell to you ... our very exclusive, limited edition ... Super Crackers!"

He waved one around dramatically, the presenter started leaning away, she appeared very nervous indeed.

"Oh come now," he edged closer, she was ready to bolt, "I can assure you that these are very safe. I did the tests and everything."

He looked at the camera, cracker still in hand.

"They have the standard safety marks on them and everything. I printed them off myself! You know how it is at Christmas, you pull a cracker and the snap barely makes a sound ... or doesn't work at all. How disappointing."

Back on Tracy Island, everyone stood there, disbelief all around.

"Should we start suiting up?" Virgil was the first one to voice concern, "I've a very bad feeling of foreboding here."

The background chatter between Fischler and the host was reaching a tense moment as he tried to thrust the cracker into her hand. She politely refused but the producer yelled in her ear to 'take the damned thing and get that idiot off the air' "Yeah," Scott replied, already heading for his launch station, "sorry grandma we won't be that long...."

"It's perfectly fine," Fischler insisted, "it's just a Christmas cracker with a little extra oomph, that's all. All you have to do is to pull my cracker and ..."

Nervous fingers clasped the end of the cracker, poked a finger into her ear, cringed and gave it a quick tug and ...

BOOM!

The TV station went off the air. News reports flashed up telling reports of an explosion at one of the broadcasting houses. Foul play and terrorism were instantly ruled out. And International Rescue were on their way.

Sorry if it is scrappily written. I wanted to write it as fast as possible before it disappeared. A big thank you to @janetm74 for the 'hell yeah!' I pitched the idea to hubby and he said .... nah.

#thunderbirds are go #advent calendar #Langstrom Fischler #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Alan Tracy

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senorarelojes · 4 years

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Fic: But Not Tonight (5/?)

Summary: Dave asks his best friend Alan to go to the prom with him. Pairing: Dave/Alan Notes: One of the silly little things I wrote for @pinksyndication @what-could-have-been @songsofgayanddevotion @rvphinas-blog!

Notes: Just a warning that future parts may contain underage smut! Also, click here if you want some idea what Alan is wearing. Part 1: here. Part 2: here. Part 3: here. Part 4: here.

. Dave has fifteen minutes to walk over to Alan’s house before Fletch and Martin come by with the limo. Well, thirteen minutes, technically, but Dave still ends up checking his reflection in Sue’s full-length mirror a grand total of eight times before Sue scolds him for fussing needlessly over his appearance. “It’s Alan”, she reminds him, straightening his tie which he’d deliberately tilted to the right. “He’s seen you in your sorriest state and he hasn’t run away yet. Why would he do so now, hmm?”

Dave can’t quite conjure up an answer for that, too nervous to think logically. His hands feel like he’s dipped them in ice, and sweat keeps beading on his forehead and temples. “How do I look?” he asks desperately, for the millionth time.

Instead of rolling her eyes, Sue just gives him a little smile. “He’s going to love you,” she says gently. “If he doesn’t already.”

Dave blinks a little too quickly, swiping a hand across his eyes before he hugs his sister tight. Sue squeezes back before she begins shoving him out of her room. “You better hurry, you’ve eleven minutes left,” she yells as he thunders down the stairs. “Don’t forget the corsage!”

It’s a warm summer night, so Dave ends up loosening his tie as he crosses the two streets to Alan’s house. He walks quickly, holding the corsage box with both hands and great care. The corsage is almost identical to the red rose he offered Alan when he asked him to the prom, and he’s thankful for his mum’s discount at the flower shop where she works.

His heart starts beating faster as he turns round the corner, Alan’s home coming into sight. It’s a palace, compared to the grubby corner terrace he shares with his mum, Sue and the twins, but the Wilders have always welcomed Dave like one of their own, despite his much humbler background.

Dave checks his phone. Shit, Fletch and Martin would be along any minute with the limo. Running the last few steps to Alan’s house, Dave hesitates only once before knocking rapidly on the door.

This time, it is Mr Wilder who opens the door, huffing on his pipe. “Oh, hello Dave,” he says, smiling kindly. “Very smart blazer, you look ready for the dance. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks very much, sir.” Dave is still a little cautious with Alan’s father, who is a bit quiet and old-fashioned. But the way he pats Dave’s shoulder in approval seems to be a good sign, so Dave figures it’s safer to keep quiet in case he makes some stupid inappropriate joke about getting Alan pregnant.

Mr Wilder calls up the stairs: “Charlie, Dave’s here!”

Alan shouts back that he’ll be right down, so Dave paces near the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Alan to come down. His hands are starting to get cold again. Luckily, Mr Wilder seems to have disappeared into the kitchen so Dave is left alone to wallow in his nerves.

He doesn’t have to wallow for long. Once he hears footsteps clattering down the stairs, his head whips up immediately, his lungs instantly robbed of breath.

Alan is almost entirely dressed in black; he has the exact same blazer from Topman but it’s in Deep Midnight instead of Ivory White, thrown over a plain black shirt and neatly pressed trousers. The only pop of colour comes from the red rose Dave had given him five days ago, carefully preserved and pinned to the lapel of his jacket. He’s smiling at Dave, his eyes more grey than blue in the warm glow of the Wilder home’s chandelier, his hair neatly swept back in a quiff.

He looks utterly suave and gorgeous and heartrendingly beautiful, yet so achingly familiar that Dave’s heart hurts in his chest. He feels hypoxic, like Alan holds the key to all the air in his lungs.

“You alright?” Alan’s smile starts to waver a bit out of concern. “You look like you’re going to faint.”

“I--” Dave licks his lips, his throat dry as sandpaper. Instead he blinks down at the corsage, and Alan’s smile returns to full brightness when he sees it.

“Oh, we match in more ways than one.” Alan gestures towards the rose on his lapel. To Dave’s surprise, Alan starts removing it, but only so he can pin it on Dave’s jacket now. Then Alan hikes up his sleeve, exposing his delicate, bony wrist and his elegant pianist’s fingers. He clears his throat meaningfully, arching an eyebrow at Dave who is still gawking at him.

“Fuck, sorry.” Dave quickly takes the corsage out of the box, sliding it onto Alan’s wrist and tying it carefully. It’s a good thing that Alan’s one of those blokes secure enough in his masculinity to hardly bother about wearing a flowery corsage. It’s one of the many things Dave loves about him.

Alan examines it with a warm smile. “Your mum’s shop?”

Dave’s still drinking in the sight of Alan, dizzy with how lucky he feels. “Erm, yeah, I think.”

Alan’s smile curls upward into a smirk. The bastard is most definitely aware of the effect he’s having on Dave.

Thankfully, Alan’s parents choose this opportune moment to emerge from the kitchen. “Don’t come home too late, boys,” Mrs Wilder reminds them. “Have a good time!”

There’s the sounds of a blaring car horn outside the house, signaling the arrival of the limo. They kiss Alan’s mother goodbye, and when they’re shaking hands, Mr Wilder’s grip is a bit too firm, possibly as a reminder that they have to behave just as if this were any other date. By the time they step out of the house, Dave is a little light-headed and shell-shocked, unable to believe that this is really happening.

“Hey.” Alan’s right beside him, loosely curling his fingers around Dave’s. “I’m really glad you asked me.”

And just like that, Dave’s nerves and anxiety evaporate into the shimmery night air. He’s right here, with his best friend and the love of his life, and they’re going to prom together. He wouldn’t want it any other way. “Me too,” Dave confesses, as Alan’s smile widens. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Fletch’s spiky red head sticks out of the sun roof. “About bloody time!” he yells. “You ready for prom, lads?”

“I’ve been ready for a long time,” Alan says with a laugh, and somehow Dave gets the feeling he’s not just talking about the prom.

#dalan #fanfic #but not tonight

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florbelles · 3 years

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30 questions tag game

rules. answer 30 questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to know better ( i’m not tagging 20 of you and you are not contractually obligated but alas )

tagged by @ohfaiths, @strafethesesinners, @xbaebsae and @nightwingshero, thank you loves! <3

tagging @foofygoldfish , @risenlucifer , @tomexraider , @goodboiboomer-fc5 , @vdoe , @harleenquinsel , @tommymillers , @softmillers , @proudspires , @shallow-gravy , @chuckhansen , @spicevalleys , @honesthearts , @raisinghellinotherworlds and anyone else can @ me

name/nickname: stella

gender: she/her

star sign: pisces

height: 5′6″ ish

time: 10:00 am

birthday: 26 february

favorite bands: ( don’t ask me this i have suddenly never heard a band in my life ) uhhh spotify says fleetwood mac, the oh hellos, lord huron, florence + the machine and the decemberists but this is definitely distorted by mixes tbh

favorite solo artists: spotify tells me billie holiday, peggy lee, gregory alan isakov, iron & wine & chelsea wolfe ( this does not sound correct but i wil not question it )

song stuck in my head: ...head like a hole, nine inch nails

last movie: not sure, probably something on for background noise

last show: the queen’s gambit

when did i create this blog: april 2020

what do i post: mostly video game ocs tbh

last thing googled: song lyrics, i’m attempting to sort my spotify likes ( i think the last song was the run by msmx )

other blogs: none

do i get asks: yes, thank you for enduring my horrible response times :’’)

why i chose my url: for my best girl

following: 126

followers: too many, thank you lovelies

average hours of sleep: no don’t look at me ( it’s like. 3-4 consecutively and a nap at some point )

lucky number: am i meant to have one of these, is this the source of all the problems in my life

instruments: no

what am i wearing: miraculously i am dressed because it’s too cold not to be, black sweater & leggings

dream job: solitary cave dweller, 2020 really renewed my belief it’s attainable ( novelist would be ideal at this point, i once had theater aspirations but alas i am washed up at this the age of 24 )

dream trip: uhhh anywhere that isn’t within a five mile radius of my house at this point

favorite food: sushi

nationality: us american

favorite song: i could not possibly narrow this down so have the last song i listened to instead, the kingdom — jesca hoop ( guess whose mix smdh )

last book read: people of abandoned character by clare whitfield ( it was eh to me? )

top three fictional universes i’d like to live in: i have mentally lived almost exclusively in fictional universes this year and i would survive exactly none of them, thanks

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fallenfurther · 4 years

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Thirty

Happy Birthday Scott! My fav. Had to write him a birthday post, especially because I hurt in the next on my posting schedule.

******

The smoke was filling the room, the heat from the fire starting to warm the metal beneath his hand. Trust a fire to start halfway through a rescue. The two children in front of him, cowering on the observation platform, stared at him with fear, tears streaming down their face. They were coughing, having been too scared to move, separated from their parents during the commotion. The smoke was starting to get thick, the exit already hazy, and he was starting to feel the heat himself. Normally he would take the children one by one, or lead them by the handout together, but it was getting too hot and the metal walkway would be too hot for their feet.

"It's okay. I'm going to get you out of here. Then we'll find Mummy and Daddy."

Scott placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, before pulling the little girl into his arms. He wrapped her legs around his waist and held her close. She hacked her lungs out against his chest. He wished he'd know that she needed a respirator, some clean air. He felt a little guilt for the filtration system his helmet housed.

"Son, I need you to climb on my back so I can get you both out of here."

The boy nodded and slowly moved behind him. Scott felt his arms slip around his neck and then his feet brace against the belt of his baldric. It wasn't the safest way but with his sister's legs in the way it'd have to do. Scott forced himself from his one-legged keel to stand, his legs aching against the extra weight. He'd already spent hours rounding people up, his body was starting to feel the toll. Taking a deep breath, he stood tall and started to make his slow way to the exit. The lad’s arms squeezed tighter as he had a coughing fit. Scott tried to pick up the pace, his leg muscles already starting to hurt. Reaching the door, he carefully removed one hand from the girl and turned the handle. The corridor was thankful much clearer, the smoke trapped in the room behind them. Scott followed the Fire Exit signs and left through the nearest exit. He knew where the ambulances were and headed straight there, the coughing coming from both children causing the rescuer to worry. The paramedics ran to him and quickly pulled the children from his body. Scott watched as they were taken into separate ambulances and put on oxygen. A woman running towards him caught his eye. She immediately looked into both ambulances, tears streaming down her face as Scott watched relief replace the fear in her features. She turned to him as she climbed into the ambulance with the boy.

"Thank you."

Scott nodded. It was worth it. The boy threw his arms around his mother. Scott turned, giving them privacy and headed to the command centre.

"Anyone else trapped?" Scott asked the man in charge.

"The fire service have just retrieved the last group. Everyone is out and they'll start fighting the fire. Thanks for your help International Rescue."

"All in a day's work." Scott shook the man's hand, before heading back to Thunderbird One.

Scott sat back into his seat and let it carry him up into One. Exhausted, he paused, resting just a little, but knowing the sooner he got home the better. He rolled his shoulders before starting pre-flight checks.

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird 5."

"Hello Scott."

Scott jumped slightly at the voice of the AI, the holographic image of EOS now floating in front of him.

"Where's John?"

"John is sleeping. I am monitoring all calls."

"Right. Do Virgil, Gordon and Alan need any help with their rescue?" Scott yawned.

"That rescue was completed at 23:42 yesterday. They debriefed and are all in bed."

"Right, well, I'm heading back."

"Would you like to debrief while enroute so you can head straight to bed?"

Scott sighed, it wasn't quite protocol, but the offer was just too tempting. "That would be appreciated."

EOS disappeared, allowing Scott to take off and set Thunderbird One cruising. Once on course she appeared again and Scott debriefed to the AI, thankful that the report would be written up for his review by the time he woke up later. They had to pause so Scott could land, then finished from the pilot’s chair. With debrief and post-flight checks complete, Scott was ready to head to bed. It was gone four in the morning. As he waited for the platform to extend EOS popped back.

"Goodnight and Happy Birthday Scott."

Scott smiled, "Thank you, EOS." He stepped onto the platform and was thankful for the instincts he'd built up. When he first started entering One this way, he'd had almost fallen on so many occasions that he often clipped himself to the platform, just in case. The safety line was still available, if he ever did need it.

Scott managed to make it to the changing rooms, where he dumped his suit, which smelt so strongly of smoke that he was sure his brothers would be complaining later. He had a quick shower and pulled on the jogging bottoms he kept in the room for these kinds of scenarios. He took the lift and made his way to the bedroom. A quick glance at his ensuite, Grandma's voice nagging him from the back of his mind that he really should clean his teeth, before he collapsed into bed. Pulling the duvet over himself he fell straight to sleep.

***

Scott opened his eyes to his darkened room. A glance at the old alarm clock on his nightstand told him it was just gone midday. Scott sighed. He was normally such an early bird. This was going to throw him for a few days. He lay in bed a moment, his mind going over the rescue. The smell of smoke still tickled his nose. He hated smoke. It clung to everything. Throwing off the covers Scott headed for his ensuite, determined to scrub the last of the smell from his body. The warm water washed over aching muscles as Scott lathered up the shampoo on his hair. After washing his body twice, he stepped out and got dressed. He cleaned his teeth thoroughly, after not doing so last night, before brandishing his razor and shaving. The last thing he did was sort out his hair, his comb and gel working efficiently to put it in the right style. Once happy, Scott headed out his room in the search of food.

Heading down the stairs to the lounge, Scott was struck by how quiet it was. The living room was empty. He hadn't heard the emergency alarm, but then his brothers could be doing maintenance, or be in their rooms. Scott headed to the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. He sat at the table, looking out over the pool, its waters still. The eerie silence and lack of family was unnerving. A quick look on the schedule and there was nothing of note. Nothing to explain the absence of his family. Sure, he was thirty and he didn't expect a big party, but there should be at least someone to say happy birthday. Looking at his comm had shown him the time. It was getting on and Scott had planned to visit Dad that afternoon. He didn't want to miss visiting hours. Clearing up, Scott headed to the hangers. The hangers were normally quiet, with the exception of maintenance and launches, but the lack of anyone made it feel sinister. Walking past Thunderbird Two, standing proud on her struts, Scott's unease grew. He could normally find Virgil here. Scott entered the smaller hanger to the side, where the light aircraft were kept. Tracy One was missing but that was to be expected. Grandma always spent the weekend with Dad, flying out the Friday night and coming back on the Sunday. None of the other planes were missing. Scott climbed into Tracy Two and started pre-flight checks, ignoring the niggle in the back of his mind. Gordon was one to play tricks on him, but had he gone a step further today? Scott opened a comm to John. His space bound brother floated before him.

"Happy Birthday Scott."

"Thanks John," Scott smiled. "Any chance you can clear me a landing spot so I can visit Dad?"

Scott watched John as he switched lines, keeping the comm to Scott open. He could have called through himself but going through John had become a way of checking up on his brother. John turned back to him.

"All clear. Contact ground control as you get close."

"I know the drill. Any chance of you coming down this evening?"

"If I can get the last of the maintenance done up here, I will."

John signed off and Scott tried not to be downhearted. It wasn't the first time John hadn't come down for his birthday, but this year was different. Scott taxied along Thunderbird Two's runway and took to the air. Flying was second nature to him, the controls an extension of his body, and in no time at all Scott was landing in on the runway and parking Tracy Two next to her sister. A car was already waiting, security which were now part of the background noise for him, stood beside it. They were always there, paid to keep the CEO and his family alive. The rehabilitation centre was the best they could find which could still be classed as local, and if Dad continued improving as he was, he'd be starting to spend the weekends in the island, making these trips less frequent. They were all looking forward to that. The big welcome home. Scott climbed out the car, gave the receptionist a smile as he signed in before heading to his father's room. He knocked before entering. The sight that met him was everything he wanted. Steamers hung from every surface, balloons bobbed about, and every member of his family was standing around the chair his Dad was occupying in the middle of the room.

"Happy Birthday to you"

There was a large cake, covered in what he could only guess was thirty candles, on the coffee table in front of his father. The candles were positioned in such a way that the image of Thunderbird One was left intact. He was now the recipient of his own marketing scheme.

"Happy Birthday to you"

Scott grinned at his family, his eyes going over every one of them. Alan and Virgil were standing next to each other, presents in their hands. Gordon was next with Penelope hanging off his arm.

"Happy Birthday dear Scott"

Grandma was standing behind Dad, her arm on the back of his chair. Kayo was to her left with John, in his normal clothes and not his uniform, was standing beside her. Brains, Max and Parker were standing a little way off to the side, Max beeping along with the tune.

"Happy Birthday to you!"

Scott knelt down on front of the cake and inhaled. He attempted to blow out all the candles, going around in a circle, but there were just too many. A second blow got all but two and with one final puff they were all out. Cheers and applause came from his family as he stood up. Alan came over and gave Scott a hug.

"Happy Birthday Scott. Can we have cake before you open your presents?"

"Go for it." Scott chuckled.

Alan quickly removed all the candles, though he did pass the knife to Scott. Cutting Thunderbird One in half, Scott sliced up the cake and passed out the first few pieces. Virgil then took over, and Scott was guided to a chair that had been pulled up next to his father's. A plate of cake was put in his hand and he took a bite, the smile never leaving his face.

"Heard you had an early rescue, Scott. Not too tired for a birthday party I hope."

"No Dad. I'm never too tired for a birthday party."

Scott sat in the chair, content beyond belief. It may have just been a room in a rehabilitation centre, and it may not be the biggest gathering in the world, but Scott's thirty birthday party was perfect. All made right by the fact that his Dad was by his side. There was nowhere in the world he'd rather be than in that room, brothers laughing over a Thunderbird cake, presents still unopened and many more years to come with his Dad in his life. Best thirtieth birthday party ever.

#thunderbirds are go #Scott Tracy #Happy Birthday #thirty #family #tracy family #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #kayo kyrano #lady penelope #birthday party

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ambitionsource · 4 years

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Hi, I am so here for all this ambition content right now. I check this page every day! I remember u guys mentioning about a rl and dasher road trip and I was wondering about that! Thank you!

hello pal!! literally so honored and happy that you’re enjoying ambition and the fact that you check our page every day... ugh you’re too sweet. hopefully the nonsense we do around here is entertaining! very happy to have you in our fandom community <3

so yes, rl + da road trip! i hope it’s okay that i took a bit to answer this, bc i wanted to ruminate on it for a bit before typing it up. so as y’all know we refer to the summer between s1 and 2 as “cruel summer” (thank u tswift), and similarly we have a code name for the summer between s2 and 3 which is “summer of love.” this is admittedly mainly because of rl, but also because a majority of the characters are in such a better headspace this summer than they were last.

boppin the rest under a read more, because i just go on... and on... and on............. (i really love rl & da)

-- Maggie

one facet of this summer is that around... july sometime, dylucasher decide they want to take a trip down to virginia beach (or the beaches in that general vicinity) because they want to check out a beach that isnt grey and cold like the ones close to them in ny, and because a trip before their last year of school together seems like a fun and Classic idea. originally they plan it for just the three of them, but somehow riley comes up and all of them agree -- especially dylan -- that it would be way more fun if she came along too. so they try to convince her to come along, which doesn’t take much convincing, it’s more so about figuring out how she’s going to get around cory because if he knew she wanted to go on a like week long trip with her boyfriend (who he doesn’t really trust) and two other boys he would probably have a heart attack.

you know, it would be like “you can’t go on an overnight trip with three boys!!!” “dad, you know dylan and asher. they’re gay. they’ve been dating for three years. they’re GAY. i do not think i’m at ALL at risk in that scenario???” fsdfSDKGDL

so riley devises a plan / cover story that involves like “going to stay with mom” for a few days, maybe a lie about staying over at isa’s or yindra’s for a couple days in there, you know, she lays out the whole lie and then bribes maya to go along with it and help cover her tracks (rl have very inverse influences on one another -- where riley sort of tames lucas and helps calm him and make him less feral, she develops a bit of a rebellious streak from him or just better identifies the nuances of which rules should be followed vs which were meant to be bent or broken..)

the good thing about this road trip is that it’s what truly cements riley’s friendship with dylan and asher. they’ve been toeing the line of friendship for like two years now (as riley said in cruel summer, she regretted not taking the time and establish a friendship with them in sophomore year before everything fell apart), and it’s kind of like it’s bound to happen. riley and asher takes a little more time to grow and develop just because of the kind of person asher is, but on this road trip dylan and riley just Click. like they were basically made to be best friends, dylan is the first person who kind intrinsically Gets riley and they match each other in terms of enthusiasm / personality / brightness. again, a friendship that’s just been Waiting to happen, and this trip really brings that to the forefront.

(on that note, i once joked that when dylan and riley get really into chatting about something and lucas zones out, they start sounding like the villagers in animal crossing to him. like if he stops paying attention for even a second suddenly dyley sound like this. and i stand by that claim.)

as for the trip itself, its not like i have the whole thing perfectly plotted or anything like that, more just... musings and ideas. oh and a playlist, of course i have a playlist. obviously they’re really good about swapping around drivers and sort of organizing their time since they only have a week, and i think it’s mainly funded by dylan’s youtube vlogger coin. asher helps and riley chips in her fair share, but dylan basically covers lucas because obviously he can’t pay but they all want him there. he makes up for this by driving the most even tho the other three insist its not a big deal.

when it comes to sharing space, the quartet of them are pretty good at it. obviously when they stop for the night they just share beds by couple, but it is interesting to think about how different these two relationships are in terms of like... you know, where they’re at. like its super easy for da to share a bed because they basically do that all the time now, but for rl breaking that boundary would be a kind of unspoken big deal and lucas would be so cautious about it. like they spend most of the summer in riley’s car (can’t hang out at her place with cory there and no one is going to lucas’s) and so theyve probably like fallen asleep together there once or twice and maybe napped ONCE at riley’s place when maya and cory were both gone in the 2.5 months they’ve been together, but it’s still... not the same. so at first lucas would be really nervous about it, but after the first couple of nights he’d relax and realize its really not that big a deal -- esp since riley seems pretty confident and comfortable with it. by the end of the week, lucas wakes up in the middle of the night and riley has cuddled up next to him and he’s like... okay MAYBE sharing a bed with someone makes points. perhaps.

one of the nights on the way down the coast, what truly breaks the ice for dylan and riley is that they break out a SMALL amount of alcohol and both get tipsy (which for them is just like. giddy and giggly and very chatty. they’re both happy drunks without a doubt). lucas and asher don’t indulge bc lucas doesn’t trust himself getting intoxicated and asher is just wary of it in general, but they figure dyley can do it as long as they’re both supervising. so dylan and riley talk A LOT that night and truly form their Kindred Spirit bond and also lucasher end up regretting letting them drink bc for like a half an hour dyley do this thing where they just pretend to share secrets with one another. like they theatrically whisper in one another’s ears and look at lucasher while they’re doing it and then start laughing and they’re literally not saying anything Important (like it’s probably like riley being like “psst... i think lucas is... hee hee... lucas is hot”) and then dylan cracking up and agreeing but bc lucasher don’t know what they’re saying they’re like ha ha very funny........... but y’all aren’t talking about us doe right. wait, what did you say. hold on --

a lot of the trip is also based around being in nature and the outdoors, since they don’t get to do much of that day-to-day in manhattan. considering one of their favorite spots to hang out as a group during senior year is at central park, they’re all definitely fresh air outdoorsy kind of people to a degree. so like, stopping at parks, going on hikes, and of course the beach itself. i made an instagram edit of one of said hikes when i was testing a template i made:

naturally, and i swear this happens at least once on a long road trip whether it is with family or friends or any combo of people, but you hit a point where you get irritable and start to get a little sick of one another. i think in this case that mainly starts between lucas and asher, because although they’re Best Friends i think lucas has a knack for finding ways of irritating him. and also lucas probably gets irritated by dylan’s high energy after too much time with no breaks, so he’s also snappy, and as they’re on the way back up to nyc people are spatting at one another or getting snippy over stupid things so riles is like. here’s an idea! how about we split up for the day when we get to philadelphia. this is an excellent idea and none of them are opposed, so when they arrive in philly, dylan and asher split off to go explore the city + historical sites.

what do riley and lucas do? well, riley takes lucas to meet her grandparents, of course.

at first lucas is like ummmmmmm no because he’s SUPER nervous about meeting her family -- the only family he’s met is cory and we know that’s... unideal, and eric, both of whom have a completely different perception of him bc of school and his behavioral record. he’s yet to meet topanga or auggie yet or anything like that -- but riley assures him that her grandparents are chill and she has no doubt she’ll like them. they’re also meeting lucas with a completely blank slate (i.e. no preconceived notions about him like those who work at aaa), so it’s not hard for lucas to make a good impression since he really is like... a good guy. not to mention no way is he snarky or deadpan in situations where he doesn’t feel comfortable or like he has the right lmao, so he’s on his BEST behavior around amy and alan.

the good thing is that alan himself kind of had a similar background and run on the wild side that lucas does (kind of like jack, altho jack was never as troubled as lucas), and so i think he would kind of... inherently Get him. like he’d strike up a conversation with him and at first lucas would be like omg why is this man speaking to me please i’m invisible pretend i’m not here... but after a bit he’d find it’s surprisingly easy to talk to alan. and they’d talk for like an hour and get on pretty well. meanwhile, amy is talking to riley and is like so... let me guess. cory does not know you’re traveling with your boyfriend???? and riley is like... perhaps. maybe don’t tell him? pretty please? and once amy convenes with alan and is like how is he and alan is all “he’s fine, we can approve,” then they agree not to rat riley out.

riley and lucas also climb up into the matthews tree house and take a look around and they comment on how strange it is that cory and eric once used to like, hang out in there and in that house and were once teenagers (lucas: be careful this is humanizing your father too much for me). and i’d think they’d sit up in the treehouse for a little bit and just talk and riley would talk about how nice it must’ve been to grow up in the suburbs like this, and she’s surprised when lucas agrees and he admits he fucking hates living in manhattan. and that kind of prompts this subtle internal thinking in both of them of like hmm well... maybe in the future when things are different and we can make our own rules maybe we’ll move out of the city and into a quieter life... they don’t say any of that out loud, but they’re both thinking it. and at the tail end of that conversation riley kisses lucas which turns into a Really Good Kiss... but then they’re interrupted by amy calling for them to come down for dinner and its kind of like lmao, they’re both a little bashful but in a casual silly way

#riley x lucas #dylan x asher #riley x dylan #rl x da #SOL #bonus content #kind of lol #is this readable? who knows. i just really Love them #thank you for asking about them!!!#there's also an insta edit buried in here gJFDLGH #Anonymous #answered #high praise tag

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just-a-spark · 4 years

Text

The Before, and The After Part 2

A Knives Out Story

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (18+ to be safe, but it’s still mild here)

Summery: A wealthy classmate of Meg’s becomes close to the family, a little too close to the playboy grandson of Harlan Thrombey. The events leading up to, and following, Harlan Thrombey’s death.

It was cool outside the day of Harlan Thrombey’s funeral. Elizabeth scrolled through her news feed, reading all the articles about Harlan’s death. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I know.” Elizabeth’s husband Phil murmured, reaching over and taking her hand. He pulled it to his lips and kissed it, taking his eyes off the road to gaze at his wife, “When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“When we were there last month for Linda and Richard’s anniversary party.” Elizabeth whispered, looking out the window as she tried not to cry, “He didn’t really want to talk to me, though. Things were never the same after his birthday last year.” Elizabeth mumbled, brushing her fiery hair back over her head into the messy bun at the nape of her neck. “Maybe if we had patched things up we could have been at this last one.”

Elizabeth felt her grief wash over her, knowing Phil would never fully understand why she was so broken over Harlan’s death. She’d always wonder, if she was around the night of his eighty-fifth birthday, could she have convinced him not to do it? To not end his own life and leave his poor family in ruins.

“We’ll be there for his family now. They’ll appreciate it.”

“Also, can we talk about how your father suggested I talk to the cops about Harlan’s death? What the hell gave him that idea?” Elizabeth turned to Phillip and he just shrugged as he parked their Mercedes Benz into the cemetery parking lot.

Philip quickly exited the car and came around to open Elizabeth’s door, holding out his hand to help his pregnant wife out of the car. The pregnancy was new, they’d only known about a month and were keeping it under wraps. There was no need to draw attention to their future at a funeral.

She smoothed down the black dress she wore, hitting mid-calf and hanging loosely over her slim stomach. If there had been any bump to show, Elizabeth had hidden it with the loose, simple frock. She didn’t want any attention. She just wanted to come in and pay her respects to her idol and friend.

Elizabeth kept her head down as her husband escorted her toward the group gathered in front of an intricate mausoleum. She clipped in a black fascinator and veil to cover her face, wanting to shrink into the background as Linda Drysdale took her place in front of the crowd to speak, but Elizabeth didn’t hear her speech.

She scanned the crowd with her bright emerald eyes in a daze, feeling her head begin to swim. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, leaning against her husband as her legs began to quiver.

“Are you okay?” Phil whispered in her ear, and she nodded.

“I’m fine. It’s just a lot.”

“We won’t stay long.” Phil told her as he squeezed her arm, then noticed his dad walking toward them after Linda finished speaking.

“Hello, how are you two?” Alan Stevens pulled his son into a hug before turning to his daughter-in-law, “How’s my grandson?”

Elizabeth blinked rapidly, swaying her head back and forth. She could have sworn she’d heard Harlan’s voice, “What?”

“I said how is my grandchild?” Alan repeated, looking to his son nervously, “I’m going to speak with the family, set up a time for the will reading. You two will come over for dinner this evening?”

“We wouldn’t miss it. She just wants to check on Meg before we head out.” Phil explained, but Elizabeth didn’t confirm or deny this. She just stumbled over a step away from her husband and looked back toward the casket in front of the mausoleum.

The world felt like it was spinning by the time she reached it, but Elizabeth pressed her hand to the casket, finally allowing herself to cry, “I’m so sorry I let you down.”

Lizzie leaned into the cushions of Harlan’s vintage couch as she nursed her beer. She’d pulled her hair up into a high pony tail as afternoon turned to evening and the Thrombey family had gotten louder and more opinionated.

She eyed Meg as her friend snuck a drink of her mother’s wine, a warning that a safe drive home wasn’t on the horizon- for anyone in the family.

“All I’m saying is, if we don’t clean up our act, we’re going to have to leave Earth. Our actual planet won’t be inhabitable anymore, global warming is not that controversial.” Joni stumbled forward a step when she realized her wine glass was empty, “I’m getting another glass, Liz- you want another-”

“No thank you. I’m fine.” Lizzie answered sweetly, swishing around the half-full bottle.

“Mom, we’re probably going to stay the night, let me have one glass!” Meg slurred, which only set off Richard more than Joni’s global warming talk had.

“Joni, you can’t be serious, she’s eighteen. She’s already been drinking all your alcohol, she’s not legal!” Richard called as Joni reappeared with a sloppy grin and a glass of wine in each hand. Richard rolled his eyes and turned to his wife, “Linda, are you fucking kidding me with this bullshit?”

“It’s her daughter, she can do what she wants.” Linda answered and Richard stared at Joni with pure shock as she handed her daughter the glass.

Walt looked over at his young son’s phone, then grabbed it harshly and handed it to his wife, “Jacob, I swear, if I catch you on that site again-”

“You liberal hippies and your free-spirited parenting techniques! You’re the reason this country has so many drug addicts, nobody understands the repercussions of their actions!” Richard yelled back at Joni, but she just swayed to whatever music played in her head, causing Elizabeth to bite her lip to hold back her laughter.

Harlan had bid them goodbye an hour ago, retreating to his room with his nurse to get some rest while his family continued on with their partying. The smell of cigar smoke was thick in the air, mingling with the burning of the fireplace just outside the sitting room. Meg had long discarded her shoes and jacket, and Lizzie began to realize it would be smart for her to do the same. She wasn’t getting back to Amherst tonight.

Lizzie cleared her throat, getting the attention of Walt’s wife Donna nearby, “I need to use the restroom? Great Nana seems to have taken up residence in the downstairs one.”

“Oh! I’ll go check on her. Go up the stairs, down the hall, you’ll find it on the left.” Donna tried to stand, then quickly fell back down into her chair. “I’ll get to Great Nana in a few minutes.”

“Take your time, I’m sure she’s fine.” Lizzie answered, having noticed Great Nana peak out of the restroom every twenty to thirty minutes to make sure everyone was still there. She wasn’t sick, she was hiding.

Lizzie couldn’t blame her.

She followed Donna’s directions up the twisted staircase, taking her time to examine Harlan’s framed posters on the walls on her way up. When she reached the second floor of the dark mansion, she bent down and pulled off her heels so she could walk barefoot along the rug.

Looking down over the banister, she could hear the family’s arguing intensifying and began to question if they’d even realize if she took Meg’s car home and came back for her tomorrow. Lizzie looked to the left for the bathroom, but was startled by a deep voice behind her.

“It’s the other way. Don’t use the guest bathroom after Walt, that’s a recipe for disaster.”

Lizzie twirled around to see Ransom sitting on the next staircase leading farther up into the house, nursing his own beer. She hadn’t realized he was still around after he disappeared hours earlier. She clamped her hands together and looked to her right, “Thanks for the tip.”

Ransom groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. He pushed his hand through his dark hair and scowled downstairs, “You needed a break from them, too?”

“I didn’t realize you were even still here.” Lizzie admitted, studying Ransom’s pretty face as he focused on his family, “Where have you been?”

He scoffed, gesturing down the hallway to the right, “I’ve been around. Played a couple rounds of Go with my grandfather and then grabbed another beer when what’s her name came up to put him to bed.”

“Marta.” Lizzie corrected and Ransom eyed her lazily. She stopped walking and turned to face him, “Her name is Marta. She’s a nurse.”

“Okay. I don’t care.”

“You should. She’s a person.” Lizzie peaked into the room Ransom was leading her too, seeing a bathroom beyond the far wall. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m pretty sure I can see myself to the restroom. I don’t need a babysitter, especially not a misogynist like you.”

“That’s a big word for, what, an eighteen year old? You’re one of Meg’s classmates, right?” Ransom challenged and Lizzie responded by going into the bathroom and slamming the door in his face. She stared at her reflection for a moment, torn between wanting to hide like Great Nana and wanting to banter with Harlan Thrombey’s grandson some more.

Lizzie turned when she heard the door outside the bathroom close, making her decision for her. After a few minutes she emerged, fully expecting to be alone, but she was wrong.

Ransom sat on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He’d closed the door, but seemed to lock himself in with the woman. She piqued her brow and decided banter it was. “Oh, so you make a habit of locking yourself in bedrooms with eighteen year olds? Real classy, I’m sure your parents are so proud.”

“You aren’t eighteen. You’re a senior. Writing major. Your father is the Dean of your college and your mother is a Senator.” Ransom looked up and met Lizzie’s eyes with renewed interest, “And here I thought you were the help.”

“You seem to be under the impression you’re the only person in the world with money, but if I had to guess I’d say you’ve never earned a dollar of your own.” Lizzie crossed her arms and leaned against the nineteenth century dresser across from the bed. “What do you do? Model? Act?”

“I do whatever I want.” Ransom answered, leaning back onto his elbows to stretch out on the bed. Lizzie ran her eyes up his long torso, but she dared to linger on the little bit of exposed skin of his waist where his grey sweater rode up.

“Uh huh. So no job? Just... living off of Grandpa’s money, right?” Lizzie shoved herself off of the dresser, feeling a head ache growing in the back of her skull. “Where do you live?”

“I’ve got my own place. I can take you there, if you want?” Ransom asked boldly, licking his lip as he stared up at the beautiful redhead. She was stunning. From her pale skin to her tiny waist, Ransom drank her in as she stood before him, but she made him wait for his answer.

Lizzie shook her head slightly, just enough to get her message across, “No. You’ve got to earn it.”

Ransom sat up and lulled his head to the side as he squinted up at her,“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“It’ll be worth it if you do.” Lizzie answered and closed the gap between them and caught his lips with hers, using one hand to tug on his messy hair and the other to hold the nape of his neck so he couldn’t escape. She fought herself into his mouth, tasting him for a long moment before pulling away to leave the bedroom.

Before her fingers could brush the door knob, a strong hand grabbed her other wrist and gently pulled her back into a kiss that was too soft, too sweet, and too out of character for the asshole Lizzie believed Ransom to be. But with some hard work on is part, she made his efforts worth it that night.

#knives out #knives out fanfic #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 3.4

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Three - If not for the courage of the fearless crew – Part 4

Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3

Author: Gumnut

29 Dec 2019 - 4 Jan 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 4342

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D I hope you enjoy it.

I’m probably posting this before it is ready and I’m not happy with the ending so may change where it ends when I start writing the next part, but I really need a little cheering up today, so here be the next 4000-odd words of this fic. I hope you enjoy them :D

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

They stashed their luggage in the hostel, a large white and wooden building that had obviously seen many residents over the years, but was well loved and maintained.

Melissa gave them a quick tour of the compound. It consisted of series of buildings similar to the hostel but of varying sizes over looking the ocean and the adjacent Oneraki Beach. The island was basically a triangle with the encampment on the north facing side high up on Fleetwood Bluff. There was something about a Flagstaff but Virgil missed it...mainly due to the conversation Gordon and Sam were laughing over behind him.

Whatever it was called, the view was magnificent. Far below in the bay, A Little Lightning was a small white smudge on the blue of the Pacific.

Melissa ran them through the rules of conduct on the island. No one was to venture anywhere on the island outside the compound unaccompanied by a DOC employee. Please keep your luggage inside the hostel. All life is protected on the island and in the waters. It was illegal to damage or remove anything. No littering. The list went on.

It was a long one.

Apart from being a cetacean biologist and a loud talker, Sam was also apparently the resident cook on the island. Melissa put no claim to any culinary skills, so had left it to Sam.

The man had baked a cake.

A Christmas cake.

In their isolation on the boat, despite their aim to be home for Christmas, Virgil had forgotten it was the day before Christmas Eve. December twenty-three.

It wasn’t the first time he had forgotten Christmas. Three years ago he had spent Christmas dragging survivors off the Amazon flood plain when the river engulfed an entire city. Christmas had been obliterated. As had the two months after due to the damn fever he had caught from those flood waters. It hadn’t been a great start to the year.

But this year it was different. They were on vacation. A forced vacation, but a vacation nonetheless, of which the whole purpose was to get home in time for Christmas. Yet the decorations and the tree in the corner of the communal hall had taken him by surprise.

The cake was very nice. He had to hold Alan back from grabbing seconds. But it got him thinking about the day after next and what they would be doing as a family.

“He sang to the whales?!”

Virgil jumped at Sam’s exclamation somewhere behind him.

“Yeah, he did. You should have heard it. It was incredible.” Virgil’s eyes widened at the pride in Gordon’s voice.

“They didn’t pay any attention, though, did they? All previous attempts have failed.”

“Ho, Sam, I have to show you the recordings. They responded alright. Virg may not speak whale, but he knows how to speak emotion. Mamma whale definitely understood something.”

Virgil buried his face in his coffee. The experience was still raw. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it and it was inevitable that he would be asked.

“What did he use?” And the conversation dropped to normal levels. Virgil’s name was mentioned several times along with John’s. Sam was eager and excited.

Virgil felt dread.

“You okay, bro?” Alan was frowning at him while hoovering the second piece of cake Virgil had already told him he couldn’t have.

Why did he bother?

“So I guess we’ll be hauling in extra food supplies for these people after you’ve finished with them.”

“It was one piece of cake.”

“It’s the only cake, Alan.”

His brother’s eyes widened in realisation. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“I’ll bring them something before New Years.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Or maybe Scott can. He might want to visit.”

“What? Why?” But Alan was gesturing with his head in the direction of their eldest brother.

Deep in conversation with Melissa Fisher.

Virgil raised an eyebrow.

-o-o-o-

“So by claiming for twenty one instead of twenty volunteers we get just that extra bit of funding.”

“Clever move.” Scott had finished his cake and was drinking tea. Virgil had shot him an incredulous look when he asked for it, but if there was one thing Scott remembered about this place, it was the herbal tea. Melissa knew how to brew a great drink...even if she had to threaten him and his father to try it the first time.

“Are you still using Jack Dunning?”

“Oh, yes, the man is brilliant. And he does all our work pro bono which saves us so much. Thank you for the recommendation.”

Scott was not going to mention one Gordon Tracy jumping up and down in front of him one afternoon several years ago. His aquanaut brother had been apoplectic and at the end of a very sharp conversation, Scott had been more than willing to call in their lawyers to act on behalf of the DOC Kermadec Expedition. The fishery megacorporation challenging the validity of the Sanctuary hadn’t known what hit them.

And if Scott wanted Jack to send him all the bills, that was his prerogative. Melissa didn’t have to know everything.

“So how is Virgil?” It was a quiet question as she picked up her own cup of tea.

He eyed her a moment. He was well aware of her attraction to his brother. Gordon had made a point of stirring Virgil until his quiet brother had clapped him around the ears.

“He’s recovering. I’ll be happier when he is home.”

She eyed him as if considering whether she should breach a topic or not. Something flickered in her eyes. “How goes Tracy Island? Is the regrowth flourishing as we hoped?”

He thought back at the tracts of native vegetation his father had planted all those years ago, mostly on the other side of the island, though some covered scars from the IR excavations.The pōhutukawa and palm trees seemed to be okay, but his mind was usually on other things when he ran past them.

He shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t know. You could ask Gordon?”

She peered closer at him. “Are you okay?”

He straightened where he sat. “I’m good.” He stretched. “Got any recommendations for a good place to run? Need to stretch my legs.”

She swallowed the last of her drink. “I can show you.”

“No need, just point me in the right direction and I’ll find my way.”

A snort. “You’re not on Tracy Island, Commander. No visitors go unaccompanied on Raoul, remember. You’ve got a choice between me and Sam.” A smirk. “And you won’t get much distance out of him unless you prefer swimming.”

Internally he groaned. He had been looking forward to time alone.

“I can show you around the crater rim. You’ll get a great workout.”

The thought of finding the physical relief was just too tempting. The hike up the hill had been a teaser and he wanted more. He sculled the last of his tea. “Fine. Lead the way.” He hoped she could keep up.

Her smile was a challenge in itself. “I’ll go grab my running gear. Meet you out front in ten.”

“FAB.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon watched as Scott stood up, brushed past Virgil and said something, before following Mel out the door.

“Do you think Virgil would be willing to talk about his experience?”

Gordon glanced at Sam and then eyed his brother. His linen shirt was tight across his shoulders as the man hunched over his coffee. “I don’t know.”

“Can you ask?” Sam was all eagerness. It was understandable. The surfer had made cetaceans his life’s work and this was a fantastic opportunity.

A sucked in breath. “Leave it with me, I’ll see what I can do.”

-o-o-o-

John, drink in hand, had taken the opportunity to find himself a vantage point on the cliff. The island was very quiet, even quieter than Tracy Island was at times and considerably bigger.

He appreciated the solitude.

Of course, the boat hadn’t exactly been loud or even crowded. He truly enjoyed the time with his brothers. But it was nice to step away, even if only for a little time.

He parked himself in the long grass at the edge of the bluff and stared out into the blue of the Pacific.

An idle thought.

“Eos?”

“Hello, John.”

“Hello, Eos. Status?”

“All emergency calls are being fielded by the appropriate agencies. Mr Lemaire has entombed himself in ice at the South Pole in an attempt to locate Santa Claus. I have advised the GDF. He is safe and secure for the moment.”

John’s thoughts locked up for a second. “The South Pole? Santa Claus lives in the North Pole.”

“Ignoring the fact that Santa Claus is a myth, Mr Lemaire claimed that ‘the North Pole is an ocean and only an idiot would build a house on an ice floe that melts every summer, therefore he must be hidden at the South Pole.’ He planned to be the first human to interview the father of Christmas and used a specialised drilling machine to dig into the ice...which promptly collapsed on him twenty metres down.”

John sighed. “You are sure he is safe?”

“Colonel Casey has sent a specialist team. He and his wife have enough survival supplies to make it through to New Years if necessary.”

“Monitor the situation. Call us in only if there is no alternative.” A trip to the South Pole was something they did not need.

“FAB, John.”

“And how are you?”

“I am functioning well.”

“Do you have any results from the problem I set you?”

“I have analysed three thousand two hundred and twenty-three recordings of humpback whale communications. Unfortunately, many of the recordings are missing the lower frequencies as the equipment used was not sufficient. I do have some translation possibilities, however I am still calculating multiple variables and am hesitant to postulate a theory.”

He had expected as much. She had only been working on it for a few hours. “Are you enjoying the work?” To be honest, he wasn’t expecting a positive result. It did, however, keep a bored AI occupied.

“It is very interesting. Virgil’s response shows no pattern relative to the language he was attempting to respond to, yet he received a result.”

“I suspect there is an element of synergy in the language that enables it to become more than a sum of its parts. Perhaps that is what Virgil was able to tap into.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, John.”

John sucked in a breath. “You are a computer program, yet you are more than lines of code, you are a person. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps this language is a step beyond simple complexity. Perhaps the elements combined create a new level of communication? One that is not entirely on the conscious level.”

His daughter was silent for a moment. “How does interpretation differ between the human conscious and subconscious? The literature claims a lack of cognitive recognition of events created or observed subconsciously. How could Virgil create something he is not aware of?”

“There is much we do not yet understand. The human subconscious is well known for gathering multiple observed factors and combining them into instinct, all without conscious control. Perhaps you should explore that region of research?” Come to think of it, Virgil’s instincts in the field were very sharp. There were multiple examples of his brother acting against orders and ultimately saving lives that otherwise would have been lost, including those of his brothers.

“I will, John, thank you.”

“You are welcome.” His lips curled into a smile. “Enjoy yourself.”

-o-o-o-

It was amazing to finally get his feet moving.

Scott’s shoes pounded volcanic dust and rock so familiar it was almost as if he was home. A regular thud-thud-thud, the sea breeze, the rock, the vegetation...energy flowed through him and was used, muscles firing, skin tingling in the afternoon air. God, it was so good to get out.

Melissa said nothing to him beyond directing which path to take. She had removed her DOC uniform, reducing her clothing to a tight crop top, shorts and running shoes, and if he was honest, he had to admit he was appreciating the view.

The woman was all slim muscle. Tight waist, lightly browned skin. Her pale hair bounced behind her in a hastily tied ponytail and he found himself following it as she leapt from path to rock and over logs.

She had no trouble keeping up. In fact, it was more the other way around. He had to work to keep up with her, despite the difference in stride. She knew exactly where she was going and she was offering no handicap.

They pushed up a steep incline for some time. She had taken them off the main track and deep into the forest. Birds sung all around and the wind rustled through the blossoming trees. The pōhutukawa were in their brilliant crimson Christmas flowers, festooning the island as if to decorate for the season.

Grandma loved the pōhutukawa trees on Tracy Island and was in fact the only reason he knew the name of the plant. She cut flowers every year for their Christmas table to acknowledge the beautiful piece of land they lived on.

They reminded him of home.

This whole island reminded him of home.

Melissa ran around a particularly large tree and he followed only to come to a screeching halt as the path suddenly changed direction. A huge crater appeared in front of him.

Melissa was running on the spot. She nodded down at the lake at the bottom of the volcanic bowl. “Blue Lake.”

And it was.

A stunning, almost unnatural cobalt blue. He stared down at it, panting from his exertions. His thin grey tank top clung to his sweaty body.

She grinned at him before darting off along the crater rim.

Hmmm. An indrawn breath and he took off after her.

The crater wasn’t massive on a volcanic scale, but it was impressive nonetheless. The late afternoon sun shadowed the mountain, emphasising the extremes of the landscape.

“The far lake is Green Lake.” Melissa had stopped and was running on the spot again. A fine sheen of perspiration glistened on her skin.

He did know the geography, he had flown over the island often enough, but this perspective was considerably different. “It’s beautiful.” Not unlike its caretaker.

The random thought shook him out of contemplation and forced himself to look out at the smaller green lake in the distance.

Where the hell had that come from? A sideways glance in her direction and he found her gaze caught on the spectacle before them, her love for the island obvious.

Well, he had to admit that he did have his own island love. Just not this island.

“C’mon, slow poke, let’s up the pace.” And she darted off into the forest again.

Really?

Thighs pumping, he followed her under the trees, down the slope a little before he found himself climbing again.

She called back to him from several metres in front. “Got a full body workout coming up. I hope you’re up to it.” Her grin bounced down the mountain and off his head.

She was challenging him? Well, he had been known to hang off rocket ships and climb vertical cliff faces. Bring it on.

She did.

The path dissolved. There was no other real word for it. It became a mass of black jagged volcanic rocks, interspersed with tree regrowth.

“This was dumped here last time Virgil yanked us off the Island.” Her words were interspersed with harsh breathing as she clambered over the obstacle. As he climbed the crater once again came into view and the scar in the side of the mountain became clear.

Wow.

There was a swath of dead forest dotted with regrowth. He remembered Virgil’s report. The footage had involved billowing smoke and steam, but his brother had confined most of his readings to the encampment, his concern more for the lives endangered than any geological happenings. Brains had taken readings and read GeoNet’s reports as he did for any activity on the Kermadec Ridge, but he had reported it small and unremarkable.

Looked far more remarkable in person.

Melissa reached the top of the pile of rock and finally stopped.

He was grateful. The woman knew how to push it. He clambered up the last few and stood next to her.

The view was magnificent.

“She risks our lives, but I have to say she is beautiful.” Her love was there again, in her eyes. It was a similar expression to what he saw on Gordon’s face when he stared out across the ocean.

“You love this island, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

She turned to stare at him and he realised that her eyes were a startling multicoloured grey. “I love this place. It’s mountains, its plants, its ocean, its everything. It is one of the truly saved places on our planet. There aren’t many left.” She shrugged. “I’m just lucky to be able to experience it and contribute my little bit of help.”

He snorted. “Even I know what you are doing is anything but little. You’ve expanded the Sanctuary by hundreds of kilometres since you’ve been here.”

Her gaze turned back to him. “You’ve been reading up on me?”

Half a grin. “I like to know who I am dealing with.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And what did you find, Commander?”

His smile spread. “Someone remarkable.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil hid for the rest of the afternoon. He slunk away to the hostel, found himself a bed and curled up. At some point, he heard a brother open the door to the communal room and another brother, Alan maybe, mutter something, but they went away and he was glad for it.

The wood of the building creaked in the sun and birds squawked almost continually, but despite, or perhaps because of the soundscape, he fell into a much better sleep than he had had the entire week. Deep and complete.

The sun was heading towards the horizon when he woke, yellowing rays cutting across the hostel windows, turning the white paintwork gold.

Gordon was in the room, fossicking through a bag. “G’don?” He blinked and screwed up his face.

“Hey, Virg! Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No. Don’t think so?”

“How are you feeling?”

Virgil rolled over and pushed himself up, sitting on the side of the bed. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Okay, I guess.”

His brother snorted. “I’ll ask you again in half an hour after coffee and brain activation.”

The grunt he sent in the aquanaut’s direction only proved his point.

“Sam is very interested in what you did today.”

Crap. Another grunt.

That earned him a querying look. Virgil had no idea what his brother expected. If a simple question about how he was feeling was a stumbler, the complex concepts involving what had happened earlier in the day were a complete brain frier.

“You up for dinner?” Gordon was suddenly sitting on the bed next to him. When had he moved? “Sam’s dragged out the barbecue. Claims he wants to test the theory of ‘throwing a prawn on the barbie’. Apparently, as an Australian he’s never cooked a shrimp on a barbecue before.” As if to punctuate the statement, the smell of cooking meat wafted in through the window.

Virgil stared at his brother.

“They had to import the shrimp for Christmas.”

The staring continued.

“They’re throwing a party because we’re here and using their Christmas supplies to do it...why the hell are you staring at me like that?”

Virgil didn’t answer him. He just wrapped an arm around him and hugged Gordon to his side.

His brother didn’t resist, but did look at him strangely. “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

Gordon didn’t say anything further and for a moment they sat there together.

Virgil’s stomach rumbled.

Gordon snorted. “C’mon, bro, food awaits.” He slipped Virgil’s hold and, turning around, offered him a hand up.

Without another word, Virgil took it and stood up beside his brother, his hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing.

That earned him another questioning look, but he ignored it.

The grassed central area of the compound had been transformed both by the golden sunlight and the lights strung between the trees. Sam was standing in front of a sizzling barbecue, someone Virgil didn’t know, laughing and holding him close. Alan and John were deep in discussion with another new person. All three of them had drinks in hand. John’s hair flickered about as if it was on fire, the sun catching it as the breeze tossed it around. And Scott...

Virgil stared.

Scott was laughing his ass off.

With Melissa Fisher.

The two of them sat beside each other in a couple of deck chairs. His brother appearing more relaxed than Virgil had seen him in a long time.

“What happened?” It came out without thought.

“They went for a run. Came back friendly as can be. I think Scott may have fallen for her charms.”

Charms? The woman was a handful. Virgil wasn’t afraid to admit he found her a challenge. Her gratitude the last time he had airlifted her and her squad of staff and volunteers off Raoul had been...exuberant.

If Kayo hadn’t escorted her out of his cockpit, he wasn’t sure what he would have done. As it was, Gordon had ribbed him until he cracked and thwapped him one.

But Scott seemed almost enthusiastic. Despite himself, Virgil broke into a grin.

Gordon echoed it. “Yeah, it’s great to finally see him relaxing.”

Quiet. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Gordon grabbed his arm and nudged him in the direction of a table piled with food and drink. “Let’s get you fuelled up so I can introduce you to Liam and Elspeth.”

Coffee, as always, solved a lot of problems and, hugging his mug like the lifeline it was, Virgil was introduced to Sam’s husband.

Liam turned out to be a meteorologist. Raoul was not only important as a wildlife sanctuary, but also supported this corner of the Pacific’s meteorological station, providing atmospheric readings crucial to both weather and climate studies.

Having no shortage of interest in weather conditions, both as a pilot and a rescue operative who often found himself in the extremes of all kinds of those conditions, Virgil fell into in a very interesting discussion regarding navigating tropical cyclones.

In appearance, Liam was taller than Sam, blond and much more reserved than his husband. Hell, it was almost like someone had grabbed John and Gordon, thrown their physical characteristics in a blender and then assembled Liam and Sam. Liam even had a similar flick of blond hair on his forehead that John had in his red hair.

Almost in contrast, where Liam was pale and tall, Elspeth was dark and petite. Long plaited black hair hung to her waist, her features in shades of sepia. The artist in him was quite drawn to her.

But not as much as his two starbound brothers, because Elspeth was an astronomer. She and Liam had been on the other side of the island earlier in the day collecting readings from the observatory. Something about a rogue object passing through the Solar System. Virgil lost the discussion at some point between the Oort cloud and the orbit of Jupiter. He kept getting distracted by Scott laughing.

Virgil hadn’t heard his brother laugh so freely in a long time. Melissa appeared to be enjoying herself. It was as if a bubble had surrounded them and cut them off from everyone else. Stuck in their own happy little world.

An irrational spark of envy and the inevitable smirk at his brother deploying his well played charms were all completely smothered by the happiness he felt seeing Scott finally relaxing and enjoying himself.

As the evening became night, Virgil continued to hover on the edges of conversation, more Gordon, Sam and Liam than John, Alan and Elspeth. The latter group’s discussion had dissolved into equations and while Virgil loved a good piece of math like any engineer, theoreticals were more than he was willing to think about right at the moment.

The food was delicious and he complimented Sam thoroughly. Liam smiled and waxed poetic about some of the meals his husband had cooked in the past. Sam blushed appropriately red on several occasions, setting Gordon off into ribbing the poor man.

A thumb in Gordon’s direction. “Ignore him, he’s just jealous. There are days on end where we don’t get time to cook a decent meal.”

“You don’t have a cook?” Sam was frowning.

“We have Grandma.” Gordon was smiling ruefully.

“She’s a good cook?”

Virgil cut in. “Grandma is the backbone of International Rescue.”

“Your grandmother works with you?”

“Often, yes.”

“A truly family business.”

“Yes, it is.”

The conversation fell quiet a moment and Virgil took a swig of the beer in his hand.

“So, how did you become a cetacean biologist?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh, um, had an encounter, fell in love, now devoted to them forever.”

Liam snorted. “He asked about you and whales, not for our love story.”

His husband shrugged. “Pretty much the same story really. Found myself in dire straits off Waitpinga Beach while surfing, dolphin saved me.”

Gordon had obviously heard the story before. He grinned. “For a surfer, you really are crap at surfing.”

“It’s all about the image, Gordo. You know that.” But Sam was grinning as much as Gordon. “But on a more serious note,” and the grin turned into a mock glare at Virgil’s brother, “she saved my life. It was a big, life changing moment. Been saving the whales ever since.”

“I can understand that.” All the Tracys could understand that.

Sam sparked up, all eagerness and bright eyes. “So, you spoke to a whale today?”

-o-o-o-

End Day Three, Part Four

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy

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sunflowersbymonet · 4 years

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hello I have been tagged (by the lovely @ladyinshiningarmor!) to list off ten songs i’ve been thinking about lately~

1. ‘moderation’ by florence and the machine (released over a year ago and I have thought about it at least once a week ever since. her lyrics are as raw and exposed as the love she sings about, I can hardly handle it)

2. ‘john my beloved’ by vérité (blasphemy but I prefer this cover over sufjan’s original - vérité’s voice is sweet as a bell and somehow that adds an entirely different dimension to the already painfully lovely lyrics)

3. ‘breathe deeper’ by tame impala (the entire album is excellent & this song is my favourite from it; it’s very cool house party background music, second-hand smoke hazy and red wine warm)

4. ‘love’ by lana del rey (literally every word of this song feels like it was written about my life in this moment - ever since last summer it’s played gently over and over in my mind)

5. ‘physical’ by dua lipa (the most exuberant song I’ve heard in a while! I can’t listen to it without wanting to dance wherever I am)

6. ‘unwritable girl’ by gregory alan isakov (feels like a tender goodnight kiss in the form of a folk song. incredibly soothing and somehow quite personal)

7. ‘immortal’ by marina (absolutely haunting. ‘everybody dies chasing after time’, the only survivor at the end of the world is ‘the memory that I was yours and you were mine’, I mean... damn)

8. ‘i want to hold your hand’ by the beatles (because I saw jojo rabbit the other day and now I keep hearing this song in my head BUT half of the words are in german which makes for a very interesting sensory experience)

9. ‘tompkins square park’ by mumford & sons (I’ve been going back and listening to some of their older stuff recently and this song is one of their very loveliest, it’s so tender and wistful I can’t stop listening to it!)

10. last but not least, the song that plays during every game of gwent in witcher 3. we are one now, me and the gwent song. it will never leave my head. help me

tagging @ladydivinity @younglione @midmayseldestchild @waltermeadows @moriemur

#thanks bree this was fun!!#even though my music taste hasn't been v adventurous recently lmao #about me

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metalandmagi · 5 years

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April Media Madness!

Hello, and welcome to what is most likely the last list of all the media I consumed this month! Because it’s been a whole year since I started doing this, and I’m starting to repeat myself a lot. But it’s been interesting, and I hope maybe someone found something to watch or read or whatever along the way.

And this doesn’t include all the new seasonal anime I started watching...because otherwise this would be 10 pages long.

March Media

Movies!

Avengers Endgame: *No Spoilers* The final act in this stage of the Avengers as we know it is finally here. And man they stuck the landing. I have so many emotions. Of course there are things I have issues with, but I really don’t care that much. I’m just trying not to cry like a baby just thinking about it. 100000/10

Aquaman: It’s Aquaman guys. It’s a bunch of fish, people, and fish people going to war in a brightly colored mess of explosions and underwater politics. This movie is ridiculous, but I like it a lot. Sometimes you just need a movie where people ride giant seahorses and an octopus plays the drums. Who cares about plot holes? Jason Mamoa just lifted up a submarine! 8/10

The Princess Bride: You all know The Princess Bride. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it after season 2 of The Tick so...8/10

Loving Vincent: An animated feature telling the story of a man trying to deliver a letter written by Vincent Van Gogh right before his death. Oh yeah, and every frame is hand painted! It has the basic feel of an old timey detective story because the plot is literally a guy going around talking to people who knew Vincent who all have different accounts of his personality and the events leading up to his suicide. It starts out a little slow, but I ended up getting into it. The overall moral is that you never really know anyone; we are survived by what others think about us. Even if you have no interest in the story, if you love animation or any visually creative movies, this is a must watch. Every frame of this movie is a literal work of art, and it doesn’t get nearly the recognition it deserves. 8/10

Books!

Reign the Earth by A.C. Gaughen: The teenage daughter of a desert clan becomes a queen when she is forced to marry the king of a rival country to bring peace to the land. News flash, the king is an asshole, and no one brings peace to the land. Also there are elemental powers like in Avatar the Last Airbender. This is a good book, with a solid main character, strong world building, and an intriguing plot. It can be heavy handed in its messages, but they’re messages that need to exist. I’d also give it some major trigger warnings for abuse, torture, and gas-lighting. Our main villain is a very well written abuser because his actions are so accurate to real life, but the last one hundred pages were pretty much just suffer porn. Also the most interesting character in this book gets majorly sidelined, and I need her to have her own book. But if you like culture rich world building, interesting characters, Avatar-like bending powers, and a plot with lots of twists and turns, this is the book for you. 8/10

Captive Prince by C.S. Pacat: Prince Damen, local disaster bisexual and the rightful heir to the throne of his country, is captured in a coup by his brother and is sent to live as a slave to the prince of an enemy country...whose brother Damen just happens to have murdered. It’s basically a 250 page discount version of Game of Thrones where a precious cinnamon roll must navigate a dangerous political landscape without anyone finding out his real identity. This an amazing series, but the first book is so intentionally horrifying that it scares some people off. It is meant to make the reader as uncomfortable as possible in the beginning so we can spend the other two books trying to fix the problems in both countries and watching the main characters have adventures and fall in love. The writing is fine but not quite up to par with the other two books. But hey, it’s a hard R, high stakes political drama with one of the best couples I’ve ever seen, and my number one most hated villain of all time. If you’re into Game of Thrones, you’ll probably love this series too...even if there are no dragons. 9/10

Prince’s Gambit by C.S. Pacat: The second book in the Captive Prince trilogy in which our princes basically perform Mulan’s I’ll Man Out of You while training a bunch of terrible soldiers and riding across the country in the slowest slow burn romance to ever burn slowly. The whole book is our main characters trying to figure out what they are to each other, going on adventures, and playing mind games with their enemies. Personally, I think it has the best plot, the best side adventures, the most tension, and the best representation of going from enemies to reluctant allies to confused friends to lovers ever. This is the book where people who weren’t into the first one go “oh I get the hype” because we’re finally out of the castle and don’t have to be creeped out every five minutes. 10/10

King’s Rising by C.S. Pacat: The final book in the Captive Prince trilogy, where Damen and Laurent must sneak across enemy territory make their final stand and gain back both of their kingdoms. There are a lot of great things about this finale, but pretty much everyone agrees that the big climactic take down moment of the entire series is based around some extremely convenient coincidences and should have had more...build up. Oh well, it gives us a happy ending one way or another so I can’t be too mad. 9/10

The Promised Neverland: Another manga, and technically I didn’t start from the beginning, but I’m counting it anyway. A horror/thriller story focusing on the children of Grace Field House, an orphanage where everyone is a happy family and there are definitely no deep dark secrets about what happens to the children who leave the house...right? It was made into an anime that premiered in January, and it was so good that I picked up the manga where the anime finished because I just couldn’t wait for the next season. And yes, the manga is also awesome. Please read it, or watch the anime. It is my contender for anime of the year, and it’s the most consistently well written mysterious manga I have read in a long time. 10000/10

TV Shows!

The Tick (2016 season 2): The Amazon Prime original series based on the comic wherein an awkward accountant becomes a superhero with the help of a big blue suited man going only by the name “The Tick.” AND I’M SO HAPPY THIS GOT A SECOND SEASON! This season is a lot more about The Tick and Arthur being recognized as actual superheroes and goes through a very...One Punch Man style plot of hero bureaucracy. This is a prime example of how a superhero comic adaption should feel. It takes itself just seriously enough to get by, but it laughs at itself a lot too. I’ve seen the 2001 live action series and a few episodes of the cartoon, but every adaptation is special in its own way, with different side characters and overarching plots. If nothing else, watch it for Dangerboat, the sentient gay AI played by Alan Tudyk who is in love with the main character. It has all the background absurdity of Umbrella Academy with its own quiet commentary on mental illness and government corruption…There is so much material to work with and no one else knows about this show! Now, if only we’d get a live action version of Chairface... 10/10

Kim’s Convenience (season 3): I talked about this show in my November media. It’s the sitcom about a Korean-Canadian family who runs a convenience store, and I love it so much. It’s a bit predictable in its plots, but it has fun, diverse characters, accurate family dynamics, and my favorite thing about it is the fact that it promotes strong male-female friendships with no romantic intentions at all. If you want something light and fluffy, please give it a chance! 9/10

Honorable Mentions

I finally started reading Always and Forever, Lara Jean, the final book in the To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before trilogy, and it’s adorable.

Crazy Ex Girlfriend has ended with a perfect finale, and I’m sad. This was hands down the best show on the CW, and it doesn’t get nearly the love it deserves.

Shadowhunters only has one episode left, and now I’m VERY SAD. This show was a mess, but it was our mess. It may be far from perfect, but it included so many important topics that deserve a spot on television. It has evolved so much from season one into the point where each episode is actually emotionally impactful, and I’m going to miss it so much.

#long post #media madness #avengers endgame #aquaman #the princess bride #loving vincent #reign the earth #captive prince #the promised neverland #the tick #kims convenience #crazy ex girlfriend #tales from shadowhunter academy #to all the boys i've loved before #always and forever lara jean

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