#okay but here me out on the fishtank | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queerponcho · 2 months

Text

Transfixed | part 3

part one | part 2

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: AHHH- Thank you all so much for reblogging, liking and commenting on my past chapters!!! I just reached 50 reblogs and it honestly means the world that people are embracing a newbie like me (✿◠‿◠)

Warnings: fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, Jake being a menace, (eventual smut, the chapters will be marked individually), inaccurate depictions of DID, egyptian mythology and religion (although I did extensive research I took liberty in changing some things to adhere to my plot...), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: Steven and Marc have a little...carfuffle when Jake finally lets them front again, after days of taking over. The date plans are set and both parties eager to meet soon but are we surprised when things don't go as planned..?

2,200 words

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

Steven at home

‘I can’t believe this- how does this even happen Steven?’

‘Mate, I don't know! You were there weren’t you? You know how it happened…’

‘So you’re tellin’ me that any pretty girl can just sit there and you will literally tell them all about our personal business???'

‘How else was I supposed to find out about Jake huh?? Say that he’s my identical twin brother and then have to explain myself-'

‘Steven you would never have had to explain anything! Because this was supposed to be ONE conversation over a non-committal coffee- not a damn first date.’ Marc replies sternly. He looks at Steven in the glass of the fishtank and notices him looking deflated and guilty. Great- now he feels guilty for making Steven feel guilty. ‘I-I am sorry man, I shouldn't've gotten this mad, you know how I am about…personal stuff.’ Marc says sincerely. He really has been trying to be better at communicating, it’s been a feat to get here but he would do anything to make Steven's life easier. ‘It’s alright Marc..you’re right I should call off the date’ Steven says while looking at his hands, remembering your touch on his shoulder. The way you made him trust you so easily, even though he barely knew you. How desperately he wanted to get to know you an- ‘Steven, you know we share a brain right?’ Marc says trying to stop Steven from swooning any further. ‘Look- clearly you like her and she seems to like you as well, so who says this won’t turn out well?’ ‘well- you know: “we share a brain”’ Steven says, mocking Marc's previous comment. ‘Okay okay I get it- I messed up. I’m sorry. There, will you let me help you now?’ Marc looks at Steven expectantly.

Days passed since they had returned home after you left them in the cafe. Steven was pretty sure Jake had taken over after leaving the coffee-shop but he was finally fronting again after a few days. Steven squints his eyes at Marc but relents ‘alright fine, I don’t know what to text her…I think she might be waiting for me to initiate conversation…’ ‘You realise we wouldn't have this issue if I had fronted and you wouldn't have had the chance to fall in love like a desperate teen-boy’ ‘I thought you said you lay off with the mean comments! And i am NOT in love-’

‘yeahyeah, you’ve never had a girlfriend have you? You must be reeaaally nervous…’ he adds in a singsong voice. Marc won’t let up, he’s being dragged into this mess so he might as well have a bit of fun. ‘Okay now I know you’re just takin’ the piss- are you gonna help me or not?’ Steven says fully aware of his embarrassing situation. ‘Alright, you text and I tell ya how to start, alright?’

‘Oh bollocks- uum okok I-I can do this..’ Steven is fronting now sitting on the office-chair and stares at his phone screen, starting with a simple introduction.

steven is typing...

‘Hiya- it’s me Steven!’

He had written, deleted and rewritten the message about six times before finally sending it.

You answered very quickly, you’d been waiting for him to text since you got home a few days ago. Processing everything that happened between you and steven- and well, Jake.

‘hi:) glad to hear from you. I wanted to apologise for leaving so abruptly, but it was all a bit much to process and i was running super late for work haha…i hope you understand’

‘Of course luv. If you’ve got any questions you can always ask, I hope you know that.’

‘i do’

‘i was actually hoping to ask you some questions on that date you promised me;)’

You seemed a bit more forward over text and Steven did not mind it one bit, since it was just the push he needed.

‘Right! I thought we could meet friday? There's this great vegan restaurant, I'd love to take you there?’

‘sounds great! could you pass me the address of the place?’

‘No need luv- I’ll pick you up.’

‘oh!’

‘that works too’

You hadn’t realised the age gap until this moment. They were probably around 10 years older than you with you being in your mid-twenties. You did notice the wrinkles and silver strands when you first saw Jake but hadn’t really thought about the fact that he was about a decade older than you. Just now as he offered to pick you up did you realise the generational difference. You didn’t have an issue with it, you’ve always liked your partners to be a bit older so this definitely wasn’t a turnoff. If anything it only amplified your attraction.

‘I’d love your address’

‘Whenever you get the chance to send it:)’

‘right! sending it now…’

You send him your address.

‘Thanks luv. Alright, I’ll see you Friday at 7pm then?’

‘yes! see you tomorrow steven<3’

He sat back, setting his phone on the sink. ‘Alright there's your date’

‘Thanks for taking over, Marc- couldn’t have done it alone’

‘Relax Steven- this was just texting. But you realise I can’t just take over during the date, right?’

‘Of course I know that…doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stand by just in case…’

‘So- wait, what are we gonna do with Jake's notebook?’

‘I uuhm couldn't find anything besides drawings and sketches of her…I mean at least we had those, otherwise we would’ve never found out about him loaning that book.’

‘By the way…we know Jake likes her as well, by getting to know her better, we have a chance of actually luring Jake out-’

‘That might be true but that's not our goal! I- I actually like her…she might become my first proper girlfriend, I don't wanna mess this up.’ Steven is adamant on getting to know you, very hopeful of the connection he feels towards you. An almost magnetic pull he felt between you, one he has never felt with anyone before.

Marc chuckles at the reminder but reassures Steven, ‘And we won't, I promise, you will do fine Steven’

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday

It’s 4 am. You’ve been trying to sleep for the past four hours but the thought of getting to see Steven and possibly Jake later today was not letting you relax. If anything it was causing a very persistent tension…in places you really dont wanna delve into. In fact, you’re trying really hard not to think about that tension, which might be the exact reason as to why you can’t seem to find your way to a peaceful slumber. You try to distract yourself by thinking of how this all even started. The way Jake intrigued you since the beginning and had you speechless every time he appeared. And you think about steven- steven who's the polar opposite to jake and is this shy sweetheart that can’t seem to even look you in the eyes but somehow managed to bluntly ask you out on a date. You keep thinking about them and their differences and analyse them, not noticing your eyes slowly shutting closed and your thoughts slowly forming into vivid dreams based on your memories with the boys…you sit up in your bed abruptly remembering your texts with steven. Realising you had shared your private address with a fucking stranger…you hold your head in your hands and push your palms into your eye-sockets trying to calm down. You don't actually know shit about these men…you really should’ve told your friends about them cuz literally no one knows about these encounters. But truly it was all so bizarre and absurd that you really didn’t want your friends to spoil it for you by using anything close to logic or realism. To maybe argue that they could have anything untoward in mind with you.

You lay back down and finally feel a wave of exhaustion hit you. You want to believe that they actually maybe even like you…of course there is a possibility that Steven only asked you out to find out more about Jake. oh and marc, was it? You wonder what he might be like and if he's anything like his alters. You turn from your clock having hit 5am and finally force yourself into sleep.

—---------------------------------------------------------

You wake up to your alarm blaring and prepare yourself for work. You start the day groggy and tired due to only sleeping four hours. But just the thought of your date tonight has you motivated enough to hurry up and catch the next bus.

Moonboys POV

Marc woke up around noonish since Steven took forever to finally fall asleep. Lately he’d been better but last night he was as jittery as a six year old the night before christmas. Currently standing in the kitchen brewing himself a cup of black coffee and prepping his mug with two brown sugars. ‘So loverboy, what are you planning for tonight?’ He says while wearing an amused smirk on his face. ‘Okay well first off, cool it with the nicknames yeah? And secondly you literally texted it for me yesterday. We are goin’ to my favourite restaurant.’ Steven replies proudly while also ashamed for not even having the balls to text you himself. ‘About that…I don’t think that place is open right now- in fact I think all the restaurants are closed today, no?’ Marc remarks and pours himself the long awaited bitter brew. ‘Wha-Whatareyousayin mate??’ ‘Well’ He clears his throat ‘when I woke up I saw today's date and remembered that today is that weird holiday, the only thing open are convenience stores and the 24-hour Tesco’ he says, his voice laced in an amused tone and takes a slow sip of his sweetened coffee. ‘Bollocks- what am I gonna do?...I could cook?’ ‘Steven’ ‘No, I-i can't even make a- a salad! How the hell am i supposed to cook for her if I can't cook marc?!’ he says panicked ‘Steven’ marc sternly interrupts, carefully putting his half empty mug on the counter ‘I can help you. I may not be amazing at it but I can remember a few things from- from what our dad taught us.’ Marc and Steven rarely talked about their past but recently they were kinda forced to deal with it. Just the fact that they, let alone Marc, can mention anything from that time so casually is kind of a huge step for them.

Marc and Steven spend the rest of the day planning, buying and preparing the food for the date. The time comes when Steven has to take over the body to get ready to pick you up. He finds a shirt in the back of his closet- same oversized cut as his others but a bit less casual and more sleek looking than the usual shirts he wears. His hair is as unruly and fluffy as usual despite Marc insisting on sleeking it back. He convinces him to use some curling cream he had found in the back of the bathroom drawer. Steven applies it sceptically, coming to the conclusion that it does look pretty good. He makes his way to your address making sure to ring on the right door. Basically buzzing from anxiety, Marc is doing everything to keep him calm and rehearse with him what he was gonna do and say when you ringed him in and opened your door, knowing full well, that all the preparation would fly out the window when he actually met you…Jake is silently watching this all transpire and cant help but be amused at all this, not admitting that he was actually a bit nervous himself.

—--------

You came back from work tired BUT extremely excited to get ready. You had to stay a bit longer than anticipated and thus only had about one hour to get ready. Hopping in the shower as quickly as possible you try to calm down under the warm streams of water hitting your body, melting all the tension out of your back, shoulders and sore legs. Work had been exhausting and this shower was proving to get difficult to leave. But the alarm you had set to remind yourself of the time, successfully cut your relaxation short. You quickly exited your shower wrapping your body in a fluffy white towel. Wiping the steamy mirror to see your reflection more clearly, you start getting ready. Adding whatever products you use to your hair and applying sweet smelling lotion to your body, basically doing any- and everything to make you feel as confident and ready as possible for your date, who was supposed to arrive iiiin…twenty minutes?!

You hurried your makeup routine and rushed to your room quickly picking out an outfit you felt sexy in but also had a grounding and comfy vibe. You threw on a beige knitted sweater, which had an oversized fit with a mini-jean skirt. Paired with sheer brown tights, thigh-high beige cashmere socks and brown leather knee-high, high-heeled boots. Finishing off the look with your favourite jewellery and accessories, you look over at the clock. It's 6.50pm and you are just adding the last finishing touches to your look and making sure you've moved all the important things from your ‘work-bag’ to your ‘going out purse’ when the door rings. ‘He's here’ you mutter to yourself, running to the door making sure it's him and pushing the button to the intercom. ‘Yes, hello?’

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

a/n: hope yall liked this chapterrr- in the next chapter you'll be able to read all about the date and i am SO excited for yall to read about it *squeals* don't mean to toot my own horn but GURL it's so good i already wanna post it ♪(´▽｀)

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

The lovely people in my taglist: @lilladyblink14 @lemongirl5910

please notify me if you want to be added/ removed from the Taglist<3

#ponchosworks<3 #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader

90 notes · View notes

alexthefly · 9 months

Text

Snakes on a Thunderbird

For @godsliltippy for TAG MiniBang 2023 (@tagminibang)

Inspired by this adorable piece of Fishtank art here. (@tippystreasurebox)

Trigger warning for snakes. Also brief mention of animal neglect, plus some minor whump and peril.

As Virgil went through his post-flight checks, Gordon twisted and revelled in the several satisfying pops his back made.

“Oh god, that is so much better! Want me to crack yours for ya, Virg?”

There was a grumble of disapproval from his right.

“I’ll pass thanks. Hearing yours was an experience in itself. In fact…”

His brother reached over and snagged the small metal box Gordon had been carrying on his lap.

“...perhaps I’d better take that before you do yourself any more damage.”

Gordon rolled his eyes and snatched the box back with perhaps just a little too much snap.

“Right Virgil(!) ‘Cos hauling passengers and crates off of a sinking ship was fine, but this last hundred yards to the rescue centre is where things gets really tricky(!)”

The rescue hadn’t really been all that bad physically. The crates in question had been lighter than expected, though that was because apparently properly feeding the various animals inside had clearly not been much of a priority for the smugglers on board; about as high as safety and ship maintenance had been. And although Gordon’s back was definitely starting to twinge a bit now, he’d have been a lot happier to be a lot achier if it meant those poor creatures had been treated right.

Well, whatever. He’d stayed professional. …Mostly. That Johnny hadn’t mentioned his little brother's prolonged blue streak ricocheting over the comms was likely a sign that he’d felt the same way.

The fact the GDF were already briefed and waiting with an arrest warrant the second they’d touched down was probably another one.

A yellow light broke through his thoughts and dragged him back to the present. He batted the medi-scan away with a grunt.

“Would you quit it, Virg? I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Gordon opened his mouth, ready to deliver a witty yet devastating retort, but then thought wiser of it. Better to just let the big guy get it all out of his system. He'd only worry otherwise, and a worried Virgil was a pain in the backside, especially with the flight home and debrief to get through. He closed his mouth and submitted to the inevitable with a huff.

Virgil for his part stayed quiet too as he completed the scan; once it was done, he continued to look Gordon over with the practised eye of both a medic and a big brother.

“Well, Doctor Virgil? Are you done? Can we go now?”

Another moment of scrutiny. Then:

“You know today was a good day, right?”

Dammit. The big green angst-detector strikes again.

Gordon really didn’t want to talk about it now.

“Whatever you say, bro.”

“I mean it,” Virgil insisted. “You’ve said it yourself - this shelter is the best. They've got the facilities and the expertise; they’ll take good care of all these guys, big and small. And the GDF will make sure the people that did this get what's coming to them."

“Uh-huh.”

"Gordy, the good guys won. Take the win.”

Honestly it didn’t feel like a win. Not even a tiny one. The memory of all those sad little eyes was too raw. It was going to take a lot for it to fade into the background, and he just didn't have the energy right now. All he wanted was to get everything unloaded, go home, swim ‘til he couldn't think anymore and then crawl into bed and sleep for 12 hours.

"Virg, could we please do the pep talk another time? The shelter staff are waiting for us."

A little frown appeared on his brother's brow, but he sighed and nodded.

"Are they all okay in there?” Virgil asked instead, nodding at the box balancing on Gordon’s dashboard.

It was an obvious change of subject, but a welcome one. Gordon gave the portable incubator a protective little pat.

“Should be. I candled them earlier and they look good. Not pipped yet, but I think it should be soon.”

He blinked as a sudden thought occurred.

“Actually," he said as he opened the incubator lid and retrieved the covered tray inside, "I’m just gonna check they’ve not been turned mid-flight. I’ve been holding them steady the whole way over, but you never know.”

“I thought you were supposed to turn eggs?” said Virgil with a hint of confusion. He leaned across to watch what Gordon was doing. "Grandpa said it stopped the embryo getting stuck."

“That’s for birds. Snakes are different. All the little veins and stuff are fragile; you flip the egg, the umbilical cord tears away and they die.”

Gordon gingerly lifted the lid and peered inside.

"Of course, these guys are almost ready to hatch so I don’t know how much of that appli-”

But the rest of his thought died on his tongue as he lifted the lid and took a look inside.

A beat.

“What?”

“Erm, not sure. Hang on a sec…” Gordon gently slid the eggs to one side of the tray and running his gloved hands very carefully in the sandy substrate below.

"Where are you?" he muttered softly.

"Where's what?" Virgil quickly jumped to his feet, unease radiating from every pore.

"One of the eggs must have hatched in transit," explained Gordon, still rifling through the soft gravel, looking for any flash of movement. "Once the shell breaks they usually take a few hours to come out, but I guess with all the jiggling…"

"Okay, so presumably there should be a snake in there then. Where’s the snake, Gordon?!"

Gordon kept digging, slightly more urgently.

"Some snakes bury themselves down into the substrate after hatching - it’s a kinda protection thing. They wait there for their first shed, then they come out looking for food."

Virgil reached out gingerly over Gordon's shoulder and picked up the soft and clearly empty egg shell, complete with a neat split down the middle. He held it softly in his hands, turning it over and over as if he might find the wayward snake still clinging to it somewhere.

"Exactly what sort of snakes are these, Gordy?" he asked slowly, deliberately.

"Umm…”

“Gordon!”

“I don’t know! I’m not a snake expert, and you can only tell so much from just the eggshell anyway.”

He set the tray onto the dashboard and started checking inside the incubator itself, just in case. He could feel heat starting to rise across his cheeks.

“Gords, could it be… poisonous?”

Gordon swallowed back the sour taste in his mouth.

“I don’t know.”

There was a moment of horrible silence as those words sunk in. Of course, the chances of the snake being venomous were slim - only about 10-15% of known species were after all - and in any event their uniforms were designed to withstand pretty much anything, but there was still that tiny sliver of doubt in his mind. Was Brains far-sighted enough to have considered snake fangs as a variable during the testing phase?

Virgil took a step back, eyes darting everywhere, and tapped his wrist controller.

“I’m not picking anything up. John? Any chance you could run a sweep of the cockpit for… uh… unusual heat signatures?”

“Unusual?”

John’s projected image leapt out of the dashboard holo’ right in front of Gordon’s face, causing him to almost fall off his chair.

“What sort of unusual?”

Virgil cleared his throat in a far-too-obviously guilty way.

“We’ve kind of… misplaced something.”

“O-kaaay… What sort of something?”

Gordon opened his mouth to say… Actually he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but in any case Virgil got there first.

“Can you just do it please, John?” he asked, brow furrowed. "Now?"

The look John shot them both could have stripped paint, but he turned away and started swiping.

“No unusual readings found,” he said after a few seconds. "Perhaps if I knew what I was looking for…”

Gordon caught Virgil’s eye. Despite his obvious concern about the situation, the big chonk was clearly still trying to cover for him.

He really was the softest marshmallow.

But as touched as he was, right now the most important thing wasn't avoiding blame; it was finding the snake before anyone got hurt, including the creature itself. There would be time to wriggle out of Scott and John’s inevitable lecture later.

“The signal’s likely very subtle,” he said, drawing John's attention. “He’s cold-blooded, so his core temperature’s gonna be mirroring the immediate environment. Look at components a little below body temperature and check for tiny, unexplained fluctuations.”

“Cold-bl… You lost a reptile?!”

“A snake,” clarified Virgil.

There was a moment while John processed this new information, then he closed his eyes and pinched the top of his nose.

“Of course it's a snake(!)” He sighed. “EOS? Did you catch all that?”

EOS’s voice rang through clear over the comms. “Yes, John. Checking now…”

“In the meantime,” said John, “I suggest you put your helmets back on, just to be safe. The less exposed skin you two have the better.”

The brothers nodded.

Gordon set the incubator down and grabbed his helmet from the dash in front of him, just as EOS brought up a schematic of the cockpit onto the screen in front of him.

“There’s a slight irregularity in temperature around the co-pilot’s control panel, but it’s too indistinct to pin down to a specific component.”

Gordon’s eyes darted all over the dashboard in front of him.

Where?

Scrabbling to push his chair back and get his helmet on, he vaguely heard Virgil say something about lifting the main cover off the console before he was suddenly distracted by a sharp, stabbing pain in his right cheek, just above the jaw.

“Yeow!”

Virgil was by his side immediately, mediscanner in hand. “What?! What is it?”

Gordon remained in his chair, sitting stock still.

"Don’ scan.”

"What?"

"Don' scan. Th' noise'll scare 'im."

Virgil's eyes went wide.

"Where is it?" he whispered, looking him up and down.

“I’z on m’ face."

“What?!?”

“On. M’. Face. W’z inside th’ helmet.”

Virgil and John exchanged a panicked look.

…Yep.

By rights, Gordon should have been scared. After all, there was a chance he could die here; the little danger-noodle might be pumping deadly venom into him by the second. But surprisingly he wasn’t overly worried about that possibility just now. In fact he felt strangely calm and clear-headed. What was done was done after all, and the priority now was to a) not do anything to make the snake strike again (him or Virgil); and b) get it secured.

“Ah’m gonna slowly r’move th’ helmet," he mumbled, trying not to move his mouth too much. "When y’ see ‘im, grab ‘im c’refully b’hind th’ head an’ unhook ‘im.”

Keeping his head stock still, he looked sidelong at his big brother to check he’d understood. Poor Virg looked pale, but he nodded and shifted into position in front of him, mouth set in a grim line. Behind him, John's face was a picture of worry.

“R'dy?” Gordon asked.

Virgil nodded, hands poised.

He gave a little blink in lieu of a smile. “Okay."

Deep breath.

"One. Two. ‘Hree.”

And slowly he took off his helmet.

Virgil reached forwards and closed his hand next to his face. Gordon's skin pulled painfully for a moment, then released, leaving a sharp echo across his cheek.

He exhaled in a big whoosh that seemed to come from his very soul, and raised his eyes to finally look on the thing that had bitten him.

“Scanning for a species match now,” said John urgently as Virgil stepped back, holding the offending creature out at arm’s length. “Cross-matching size, markings and-”

“It’s a Children’s Python!”

“A what?” Virgil asked roughly.

John took a massive breath in. “Oh thank god! Are you sure?”

“Certain,” replied Gordon, finding his feet and bouncing over to look a bit closer, all concern for his safety gone. “We had one as a class pet in 5th grade. Native to Northern Australia. Fantastic pets.”

“I can confirm the identification, John” said EOS. “The species is non-venomous.”

All the remaining colour drained from Virgil's face. He lowered himself down shakily into his chair, arm still outstretched. “Well in that case would someone please come and take this thing out of my hand before I have a heart attack?”

“Oops! Yep, give me one second…”

Gordon grabbed the tray of eggs and fished out a roll of electrical tape from one of his console drawers.

“This should keep the lid secure until we can get him into the shelter, at least.”

Gordon reached out and gently took hold of the little snake, who had stopped thrashing around and instead seemed content to curl its body gently around his hand. He took a second to admire its beautiful mottled markings in light and dark brown, and the gentle undulation of muscles pulsing as it moved.

"Hey, little guy."

The tiny snake flicked its tongue at him, tasting the air.

Slowly, gently, Gordon encouraged the snake back in the tray, extracted his hand, and then put the lid on and taped it down.

As soon as the tray was closed, John seemed to deflate like he was the one who’d been punctured.

“Please, for the love of god, don’t ever scare me like that again, okay guys? My cortisol levels can't take it."

"Take it easy John," soothed Virgil as he stumbled over to examine Gordon's cheek. "You sit back and have a float and we'll finish up here."

He took Gordon by the chin and turned his face to the side.

"...C'mon Blofeld, let's get you cleaned up."

…

Fifteen minutes later and sporting a natty Baby Shark band-aid on his cheek, Gordon skipped across the animal shelter car park towards the front desk. Alongside him, Virgil carried the now-definitely-sealed incubator. (Gordon had argued it was his privilege as 'the walking wounded’ not to have to carry stuff. Virgil had just rolled his eyes and agreed, muttering something about checking for himself to ensure no more 'jailbreaks'.)

Behind them, a dozen or so vets and other volunteers were unloading the various other crates of animals from Two's hold, checking them over and directing them to their respective enclosures.

Gordon grinned.

"Feeling better now?" asked Virgil, quirking a smile in reply.

He was, in more ways than one. Somehow, staring into the face of that tiny serpent had made him feel a lot more positive about everything. Nature really was amazing. If a baby creature, just out of its egg, could survive and protect itself in a hostile environment like that little one had today, then with a little bit of care he was sure the other animals they'd rescued would as well.

Life was good. He had his health, he had his family, and they’d done good today.

Suddenly overcome with happiness, he couldn’t help doing a little jumping air punch, earning a low chuckle from his left.

"You were right, Virg. Today really was a win.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. "Not sure I'd quite describe it that way, but if you say so. You did still set a snake loose in my ‘bird, though.”

“Hey, don't blame me! I'm as much a victim as you are. Little Hissy Houdini's a force all of his own.”

A pause. “You named him?”

“Yep! Kinda fitting, don’t you think?”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed.

"You’re not keeping him.”

Gordon gasped dramatically.

“Virgil Tracy, I am shocked! I would never-”

“Sully the Gully, Puppy Longstocking, Razorbill Bob, the Swift Family Robinson…”

“...again. Never again.”

“Well that’s just as well then, because I don’t think Scott would appreciate finding this little escapologist in his sock drawer, do you?"

As Gordon contemplated all of the delicious trickster-y possibilities that that image brought up, he stretched and gave his back another series of cracks.

Virgil regarded him coolly. "You sound like a goddamn popcorn maker," he grumbled. "Speaking of, I wonder if the others'd be up for a movie night tonight? I feel like we've earned a bit of down time."

"Sounds good to me," said Gordon, flinging an arm around the big man's shoulders. "And I have the perfect one in mind… You like Samuel L Jackson films, right?"

#tw: snakes #tagminibang2023 #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #tagminibang

46 notes · View notes

ivelovedhimthroughworse · 8 months

Text

Lovely @larkral asked me about my podfic set up. Here is a quick run through for you, and to any who are curious, especially those working on @caught-on-tape-fest.

But remember, every person already has the most important tool for a good recording. Your breath. No matter what tools you use to record a podfic, be in a place where you are sitting comfortably. Raise your shoulders and engage your core muscles. When you slump, your diaphragm is compressed and your voice will be thin. Take some deep breaths before you begin.

Okay, back to me. I work at my dining room table. I have my mic, amp, laptop, headphones and a glass of water. My next additions will be a pop shield and a boom to hold the mic. I've been pondering setting up a more permanent place, but this is good for now. It's bright and stable and mostly quiet.

Well, quiet except for the fishtank, my cat (who yowls to get kibble and thinks that yowling at chipmunks out the window will equally as effective) and a stupid watch that beeps on the hour. So, yeah, maybe a better spot.

I was looking to purchase a used microphone off of kijiji, but @cutestkilla let me borrow her spare. She's an extremely talented musician and would be a good person to ask if you want to discuss hardware set up.

If you are lucky enough to use this kind of microphone, remember to hang ten, using the spacing of your hand to position your face before it. Also, you want the microphone to be stable.

When you press record, wait for a couple of seconds without speaking. That will give the software a baseline of the room's ambient noise to allow you to use its noise reduction tools.

#podcast #podcast set up #podcast tips

45 notes · View notes

katblu42 · 1 year

Text

Just a Little Setback

For the Whump Couch challenge organised by @uniwolfcorn, here is our contribution. Fic by me, awesome art (and assistance with story ideas) by the wonderful @nourelle-tracy.

A little bit of FishTank post SOS hurt/comfort for you all.

Just a Little Setback

Four o’clock in the afternoon was far too early to feel this sleepy. Okay, granted Gordon was still healing from some very nasty injuries, and taking some medications that had a tendency to wipe him out for a while, but lately his sleep schedule had evened out into a consistent pattern and this was not normal.

Sleepy and hot. Okay, so they lived in the tropics and hot was a relative term, but lounging on the couch in the sunken lounge area usually didn’t have him feeling like a reptile under a heat lamp.

He considered letting his eyes drift closed and settling in for a nap, but Virgil would be here any minute to help him through his daily physio exercises.

Thirsty. He was incredibly thirsty.

Gordon could normally roll himself up into a sitting position and reach for his water bottle in one smooth move, but today the motion had his vision suddenly full of sparkles and the whole room spinning.

A steadying hand landed on his shoulder. Large, strong, but gentle.

“Gordon?”

“I’m fine, Virgil.” He immediately regretted giving the automatic response. Medic mode level one was already engaged before his big brother had even spoken, and that answer was likely to dial up the smothering to at least level five, if not all the way up to ten.

The water bottle was deposited into Gordon’s hand, and as he took a swig, cool fingers traced across the uninjured side of his forehead, brushing damp hair back from his eyes.

“Wanna try that again, Squid?” Virgil’s deep baritone and soft brown eyes both exuded concern as he knelt in front of the couch where Gordon sat trying not to look as helpless as he felt. A medscanner appeared as if by magic, no doubt procured from some pocket or other. Yep – medic mode was definitely fully engaged now.

Gordon let out a huge sigh, which then left him feeling slightly dizzy and had him gladly leaning into the security of that familiar hold Virgil still had on his shoulder.

“Feeling sleepy,” Gordon confessed. “And hot.”

“Mmm.” Virgil studied the readings from the medscanner. “You’re running a fever. Looks like that head wound of yours has become infected.”

Gordon merely groaned in answer.

The fingers returned to stroke through his hair again.

“Don’t worry, Gords. It’s just a little setback. We’ll get it sorted, I promise.”

Virgil encouraged Gordon to drink more of his water, then disappeared to grab some supplies from the infirmary and talk to Grandma about antibiotics to treat the infection. He returned minutes later and began carefully removing the bandage from Gordon’s forehead.

Gordon wasn’t sure when, but at some point during Virgil’s ministrations Grandma had appeared and given him some pills and another glass of water. Antibiotics to treat the infection. He wasn’t thrilled about yet another medication to add to the list, but he knew better than to argue with Grandma.

The cool dampness of the cloth Virgil applied to clean the wound was a welcome relief from the unrelenting heat of the fever and Gordon counted himself lucky to have family around him to take care of him like this. His heavy-lifting brother’s hands were reassuringly steady, every action perfectly deliberate, but ever so gentle as he finished redressing the wound.

“Now get some rest, little brother,” Virgil said softly once he was done. “You can sleep here, or I can take you up to your room if you’d rather sleep in your own bed.”

He wanted to protest, but one look into those big brown eyes and he knew he didn’t have it in him to fight the mother bear right now.

“I’ll stay here,” was his meek reply.

Virgil gave a nod as a fond smile crept across his face, and he sat on the couch beside his injured brother, gently easing them both into a position such that Gordon lay with his head cradled in a pillow on his big brother’s lap. One cheek rested against the warm flannel of Virgil’s shirt and he could hear the rhythm of a heartbeat. The gentle rise and fall of each breath almost felt like the lull of waves rocking a boat on the water.

Again the stroking fingers returned, along with the musical vibration of Virgil’s soft humming. A familiar tune, one of Gordon’s favourites. Who knew sea shanties could be such good lullabies.

#the whump couch #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #nourelle-tracy #uniwolfcorn #whump #infection #fever

54 notes · View notes

us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2 · 5 months

Text

social media’s in a nutshell, but the people who actually use them.

Twitter: So did I you know your an awful person?

also twitter: Racism, racism, racism, sexism, your best friend talking about a dog they saw, sexism, sexism, homophobia, homophobia, homophobia, transphobia, NSFW art from a mutual, transphobia, transphobia, and then the worst take in the history of worst takes by some 13 year old or maybe it was actually 30 something you can’t tell.

YouTube: “why YouTube has become a capitalist hellhole for anyone who dares speak about anything not consumer friendly: A video essay” 4 hours and 50 minutes long, 40,895 views.

also YouTube: “me and my friend are mermaids btw here’s how to do the mermaid spell! Easy in 1 step!” 26 minutes long.

also also YouTube: “I COMMITED TAX FRAUD AND TRIED TO OUTRUN THE AUTHORITIES CHALLENGE 24 HOUR CHALLENGE PART 1 OF 279” 10 minutes long and has almost a billion views.

also also also YouTube: “beheading” 13 minutes long, with 1,600 views.

ALSO ALSO ALSO ALSO YouTube: “HUGGY WUGGY TOILET NAKED VORE?” 20 minutes long, 8 million views.

4chan: be me> sexless loser> finds amazing wonderful woman who loves me for me> she’s fat> keep her until someone else comes> me and her do exercise and eat better> she becomes 100/10> gets married> has kids> love of my life>

also 4chan: ROBOTS, /B/ WE MUST UNITE THIS FUCKER BLENDERED A CAT WE MUST KILL HIM>

THAT (insert string of slurs) WILL GET WHAT’S COMING TO HIM>

FOUND HIS ADDRESS AT 404 CATBLENDER MAN STREET>

AUTHORITIES CALLED I GOT THE RSPCA AT THE HOUSE LETS GO /B/ FUCK YEAH THIS IS A WIN FOR ALL THE ROBOTS LETS GO>

also also 4chan: *the most graphic picture you have ever seen that haunts your soul and your life you will never be the same* hey /b/ look what I found>

also also also 4chan: guys, *insert the most out of pocket slur filled green post you hav ever seen* and that’s why I think (insert minority) are degenerates>

tiktok: *video of hatsune miku dancing with the caption* it’s not okay to encourage ED$ instead be kind and respectful and not be f@tphobic and @blei$t

also TikTok: *a video plays before quickly cutting out replaced with a new one* YOU ARE MAKING PEOPLE UNALIVE THEMSELVES WITH THIS TIKTOK GET HELP TRANS PEOPLE AREN’T GŘOÖMËRS AND PDFILES YOU ARE AWFUL!

also also TikTok: *a video plays of a montage of red and black text* you never saw me as real, you never saw me. I’m going to k1ll myself soon, life is too hard my parents have taken away my ps5 and my phones I am making this on my friends phone. Good bye cruel world.

also also also TikTok: *dangerous things happen in quick succession* “so that’s how you do a deep clean of your home!” comments : girly😭 NO you can’t use 🔥 on wooden floorboards 😰

comments: 💀💀💀 bro’s using chemical weapons to clean her sink💀💀💀

Comments: BLEACH IN YOUR FISHTANK? GIRL ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL YOUR BF’S DISCUS😬

comments: okay you did so many things wrong here and genuinely I’m surprised your are still alive-1

Cleangirly: no it was pretty safe idk what you mean🤷‍♀️

Comments:WHAT DO YOU MEAN SAFE? YOU SET A FIRE TO CLEAN THE FLOORBOARDS?-2

Also also also ALSO TikTok: *a video explaining why if you hate the color blue your a narcissist* yeah anyone who hates blue is a big red flag girlies

Tumblr: “guys penis” 1 million notes

also tumblr: *a long post explaining the intricacies of sexuality, sexism, the queer identity, toxic masculinity, and how colonialism and racism plays into it.* so yeah long post whoops.

reblog: *the most loaded toxic reblog you have ever seen* woman should all be killed.

reblog: *starts out making some form of sense then devolves* ALL MEN ARE RAPISTS AND SHOULD BE PUT TO DEATH NOW

reblog: *a story relating heavily to the post, which makes the original post better by its addition* so yeah some other re blogs are missing the point but you really put my experience into words thank you <3

reblog: *a picture of the tags filled with the weirdest take you have ever seen* Uhh who are you and can you leave tumblr? Thanks?

also also tumblr: gifly the gif, share gifly the gif because look at him *mindbogglingly fast images flash*

Quora: “why is the sky blue?”

answer 1: because god made it that way in his infinite wisdom

answer 2: because *long winded but concise explanation on how it works* I have a doctorate in this subject.

awnser 3: Long story short, it’s not blue it’s the ozone or something.

Facebook: “meemaw want to add you as a friend” *presses yes, anyone you have ever known tangentially appears in the Facebook friends page*

Also Facebook: “Gerald is my husband who I love”

Comments: that’s nice Geraldine, happy anniversary

Comments: *long winded conspiracy theory* that’s why the illegals want to rule the world and destroy us all

also also also Facebook: *random 5minute crafts video* TOP TEN LIFE HACKS FOR COOKING!

comments: oh what an amazing video! -Geraldine

comments: YOU CAN MAKE THE POPPED CORN WITH A COKA COLA CAN?

comments: I am showing this to my dear wife Geraldine. -Gerald

omegle: *video starts live-streaming and you see an older man’s cock* “…” “…” “you 13?” “…” *ends chat*

also Omegle: *you and a guy talk for ages* that was awesome here’s my socials! See you soon friend!

reddit: “why the Reddit mods are power hungry” *it is a screenshot of a screenshot talking about mod abuse.* “REDDIT WANTS US SILENT WE MUST FIGHT!” *deleted post*

also Reddit: “top ten anime wifus in (PEDO BAIT SHOW) and why I’d fuck them”

also also Reddit: “how do you fix a bolted screw valve on a pressure cooker…”

Vine: *5 seconds of comedy*

#-pop #My post #social media #Funny #memes #Omegle #tumblr #YouTube #twitter #reddit #Vine #Qoura #TikTok

19 notes · View notes

astranite · 10 months

Text

Squid Hug!

Not ThunderPride and probably late for Gordon day, but have some FishTank fluffy hurt/comfort instead! I am tired and the gender fluid/genderqueer Gordon thing I am writing is currently not cooperating. I just had a really clear image in my head of Gordon running up to people he loves and full body tackle hugging them!

Small warning for a mention of Gordon's hydrofoil accident but that's all I think.

Enjoy :)

------

“Squid hug!” Gordon exclaimed before taking a running leap at Virgil.

Virgil barely had time to brace before kilograms of flying squid collided with him, all limbs wrapping around Virgil. The momentum made him stagger, and Gordon was lucky they both didn’t go down to the ground. His arms instinctively went around Gordon to support him even as Gords clung to him like a particularly insistent barnacle, or possibly cephalopod.

“Can’t breathe, Fish,” he reminded, because those tentacle-like appendages were vice tight around his neck.

Gordon loosened his grip with a sheepish, “Sorry Virge.”

Equilibrium and oxygen re-gained, Virgil was free to ask, “What’s up, Squid?”

“Nothing,” Gordon muttered and buried his face at Virgil’s shoulder.

The obstinate avoidance rang alarm bells. It was characteristic for Gordon deflect using humour to play a bad situation off as a joke, but nearly unheard of for Gordon to outright refuse to answer his questions. Virgil’s brows drew together, knowing Gordon was unable to see his concern, with how he was hiding against his shirt.

“When it’s nothing, usually give me a little more warning.” Not much more, but there was something else going on here setting off Virgil’s big brother senses.

He jostled Gordon gently, “You okay?”

The only effect it had was to make Gordon’s arms and legs tighten once more. His fingers bunched in Virgil’s flannel and his ankles hooked together behind his back. It was pretty clear he didn’t want to go anywhere.

Virgil felt as if Gordon was attempting to press them close enough to turn them into a single, eight limbed entity. Which was a very Gordon thing to do.

But it was also so Virgil couldn’t let him go.

Oh Gords.

Virgil rubbed a hand over Gordon’s tense back and shoulders and just held him.

“I’ve got you, it’s alright,” he murmured.

Gordon was physically affectionate as a rule, always bumping elbows with siblings and sitting near enough to lean on someone. He’d had been that way ever since he was small. The the nickname ‘Squid’ was given from the way he clung on, more than from his swimming abilities. Unlike Alan, who quickly got to the stage of whining to be let down to run around like the big kids, Gordy never grew out of wanting to be carried around. Unless he sensed you were trying to keep him out of some sort of mischief and then it was like attempting to prevent a slippery wriggling fish from escape.

Gordon was always most comfortable sharing a personal space bubble. On bad days he was downright clingy, refusing to be out of touching range of anyone.

Virgil never minded. Not before and not after, when a teary Gordon in the thick of recovering from the accident had confessed to how much it scared him to be left drifting and unmoored when he was in pain and alone. How contact was one of the only things that could make the unbearable even the slightest bit better. Virgil spent many long nights in the hospital and after gripping Gordon’s hand when he was hurting too much for even a hug. This was better, so much better than that.

Sure, having someone in his space could get annoying, especially when he was doing maintenance on his ‘bird or working on his art. A inadvertent knock sending delicate mechanical components skittering across the floor. Chattering commentary interrupting his thoughts. A shadow leaning over his shoulder to see what he was doing, blocking the light from reaching his page.

They figured it out. Gordon would sit on Virgil’s workshop bench, swinging his legs, but careful of where he poked curious fingers. Virgil had a set of noise-cancelling headphones to play his own music through, for when everything got to be too much. He picked up a marine-themed sticker book, because a bored fish was a troublesome one, which occupied Gordon for several hours, tucked into Virgil’s side and engrossed in placing sea creatures just so, while Virgil finished colouring a drawing he’d been meaning to get to for some time. Gordon learnt not to get between an artist and their light source because Virgil’s old fashioned paper sketchbook does not glow like a tablet.

Accidents were forgiven. After a bump to Virgil’s arm sent his pencil scribbling across his page, he was hugging an apologetic Gordon to his side and working out how to incorporate the extra line into the rest of his drawing. When Virgil just needed his own space for a bit, he helped to find Scott or John or Alan instead. Gordon dealt with splatters of paint and mechanical oil finding their way onto his already colourful shirts too.

Sometimes, after rescues or his own nightmares, Virgil needed the contact just as much. Plus, he loved hugs.

Right now, he held onto Gordon, even if they were standing in the middle of the lounge, even if he had other places he could be. That didn’t matter. Virgil could take Gordon’s weight as long as he needed to.

Virgil felt Gordon’s chest expand against his own as Gordon took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“It’s okay, Vee. I’m okay,” Gordon said.

Vee, another one of Gordon’s nicknames for him. Virge, Virgy. Vee.

Virgil buried his face in Gordon’s blonde hair to hide his sappy smile, brought out by the fond affection in his brother’s tone. Gordon would tease him if he saw, as usual ignoring that he could be just as bad.

“You wanna talk about it?” Virgil offered.

Gordon shrugged, as much as he could when still latched onto Virgil.

“Sure,” Gordon said, “It isn’t anything really. Missed you on rescues lately, is all.”

His casual words were belied by how he held on a touch too tight.

Virgil gave an encouraging ‘go on’ hum, in hope Gordon might open up a bit more.

It was true they hadn’t seen each other much this week, rescues overlapping and running late. No one had time for more than a pat on the back and a scoffed protein bar before the callout alarms went off again. Virgil hadn’t spoken to any of his siblings aside from terse updates from John and Scott’s clipped commands. A rough week all round.

Most of those missions he’d flown out without Gordon in his usual co-pilot’s seat. International Rescue was so over-stretched, sending them out solo was the only way to cover all the incidents without breaking flight hour limits into pieces. Then Module Four’s mechanism something broke, and Virgil hadn’t had a chance to even figure out the problem yet, so Gordon got send out all over the world in his Thunderbird alone.

It was Virgil’s turn to cling to Gordon, because he’d dropped Four and Gordon into the Atlantic and hadn’t seen more than a glimpse of yellow submarine bobbing amidst inky waves since. They’d been ships passing in the night, caught up in their own oceans of sea and sky.

Yesterday, Grandma had called it, everyone was too exhausted and she pulled medical rank. She alternatively sweet talked and threatened the GDF into stepping up to allow the Tracys to take their mandated leave. This was their first off time together in a while.

Virgil rested his chin on top of Gordon’s head, inhaling the scent of chlorine and saltwater that no shampoo invented could remove. Comforting in its familiarity, because it meant Gordon was here and safe in his arms.

“‘M fine. Just need more hugs.” The words were mumbled into Virgil’s shoulder, barely audible where Gordon’s voice usually rang out loudest. But Virgil heard them. He always heard his little brothers. He heard the silent, ‘Don’t let go,’ too.

Virgil pressed a kiss to Gordon’s forehead, then carried on with his day plus one clingy squid passenger.

Virgil manoeuvred into the kitchen easily, then jiggled Gordon up to free a hand for the coffee maker. His third cup, not his first because his flying fish catching skills weren’t up to scratch before his second, unless the situation was particularly dire.

He was well practised at the art of operating one handedly, while toting around kid brothers. Or not so kid brothers, in Gordon’s case.

Virgil put his muscle to good use picking up more than a fair share of stubborn older brothers too. At this point it was really just a ready-made excuse to skip the gym weights on a given day. He could throw an exhausted Scott over his shoulder without breaking a sweat despite any protests, when he found him sleeping face down on Tracy Industries paperwork at dad’s desk. He’d caught John far too many times too, in a losing battle with gravity midway to the floor. Virgil would scoop up the jumble of flailing, lanky limbs to take the complaining redhead back to bed. There was a reason he was the heavy lifter in the family.

Gordon wouldn’t be considered light by most people’s standards, his compact swimmer’s build packing a surprising amount of muscle per centimetre of height. Gordon was the only one of Virgil’s brothers who was shorter than him, except for Alan. Though that wasn’t likely to be for long, Alan’s slight build set to follow Scott and John’s tall, slim frames the moment he hit his growth spurt.

Point was, Virgil had lifted plenty of heavier and less cooperative rescuees for far longer distances. Carrying the cuddlefish around the house? No challenge. And Gordon would always be little to him, that was just the way the world went.

Virgil poked around the cupboards, reveaing John’s chocolate stash. The one his space brother absolutely knew everyone knew about, but hadn’t moved because it was mostly used for family emotional support chocolate. Gordon helpfully took the chocolate packet, with no ulterior motives whatsoever. Then the coffee was done, and Virgil inhaled the steam from his mug of warm, heavenly brew.

Gordon wriggled out of his arms when they reached the sunken lounges, darting away to retrieve blankets. Virgil settled with his back against the couch side, legs stretched out, his coffee sat in easy reach on the floor level. He turned on the holoprojector, flicking through moderately mindless television programs.

A pile of blankets thrown down heralded Gordon’s return. He flopped on top of Virgil as if there was no other room on the couch, knocking the breath out of Virgil’s lungs for the second time today. Virgil just wrestled Gordon into a more comfortable position where his lumpy elbows weren’t jabbing his ribs.

Virgil sipped his coffee with a sigh. This was more like it, especially after a week where he was lucky to get two gulps of instant into him before it went cold. Now, where had the chocolate gotten to?

The distinct crinkle of foil alerted him to brotherly treachery. “Gordon,” He warned.

“Viiirgil,” Gordon sung out, propping himself up with a hand on Virgil’s shoulder to wave the bar of chocolate in his face.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil snatched the packet back. He huffed in mock affront, because he wasn’t giving in easily, secretly glad of the return of Gordon’s cheeky grin and cheery teasing.

He stuffed a few squares into his mouth. Whittakers, because John had good taste and Virgil had dragged him along on the last supply run to Aotearoa.

With the sweetness of the chocolate and rich coffee, the holoprojecter murmuring in the background, the warm weight of Gordon resting on his chest, Virgil was content. They both were.

Gordon laughed softly at the show, then shuffled around to cuddle up closer to Virgil, whispering, “Squid hug!”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #fishtank #astrawrite

27 notes · View notes

whatgaviiformes · 11 months

Text

Fic: Sticking to the Landing - A Collab!

A/N: Hi Friends! @godsliltippy and I here for a oneshot fic collab. This was written with us taking the different voices, so everything Gordon is Tippy, and everything Virgil is me (with some Scott at the end). The co-creator tag may still be in progress on Ao3, but the fic is up if you prefer to read that method. 💛💚

For FishTank Week

Genre: General, Fluff

Characters: Virgil, Gordon

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: Figure it out he says, Gordon whined to himself as he made the trek up the stairs, repeating Scott's instructions as he went. Off rotation, off the island, they just had to go somewhere and relax for at least seventy-two hours. For Gordon and his brothers, that was easier said than done.

Read on AO3 Here

*****

Sticking to the Landing

Figure it out he says, Gordon whined to himself as he made the trek up the stairs, repeating Scott's instructions as he went. Off rotation, off the island, they just had to go somewhere and relax for at least seventy-two hours. For Gordon and his brothers, that was easier said than done.

At the top of the stairs, his destination was a straight shot past their bedrooms and to their own personal workspaces. The thought of stopping in his own sanctuary to unpackage a new box of reclaimed gadgets from the early two-thousands was halted by the time-line big brother had given him.

Passing his sticker-covered door, Gordon found the one he'd been aimed to infiltrate, unable to help a smile as he contemplated knocking. Who would he be if he changed it up now? Not Gordon Tracy, that was for sure.

Hitting the code he shouldn't know, the door to Virgil's studio slid open. With the intent of an annoying little brother, he called out, "Hey, Virgil!"

Virgil startled, his brush hovering a millimeter from a fresh canvas, and it was only well honed reflexes that kept him from flinching and ruining the piece he’d only just started. The sketch foretold a cityscape, sharp lines and angles, without the fluidity of his landscapes, but as certain fish had no respect for his privacy or his time, he’d only gotten as far as shapeless base colors.

He sighed. Deeply.

He hadn’t really wanted the down time in the first place, not with the fact they’d already be down with Gordon out of commission. But if Scott was going to force him to take it, he planned on going no further than his own sanctuary, not far from where he could keep an eye on his errant younger brother. He could make his own fun easily, and it had been a long time since he’d been able to find himself in the place of creativity uninterrupted.

“Squid,” he acknowledged, ignoring for the moment that Gordon knew his key code. Virgil twirled his brush in a cup of water and let it rest there on the table with his palette, before turning to his sibling. The grays of the city in his mind dissipated with the onslaught of the neon orange of the cast at Gordon’s wrist.

One he’d put there with his negligence.

“Scott catch you? How’s the pain today?”

Shrugging off the expected concern that his medic brother had a hard time suppressing, Gordon waved the restrained limb. "Pain's all good. Doesn't even itch." As if to contradict his own statement, a tingling sensation ran across the skin of his forearm and prompted his other hand to try to ease it away. "Okay, it itches a little, but nothing I can't handle."

His broken wrist was the least of their worries, anyway. Gordon had grown up with his fair share of wrist fractures from all the adventures on a Kansas farm. They were likely the reason for the break after a short fall through the open cargo hold of a sinking ship.

The real problem… "So, whacha workin' on?" …could wait a little longer.

"Just experimenting." Virgil glanced over at his painting. It was a lot easier to explain it that way rather than walking the aquanaut through his actual creative process, which sometimes felt a little backward even in his own head. “Want to tell me what was worth breaking and entering for?”

"Technically, I didn't break anything," Gordon teased, preparing himself for the real reason he'd invaded. "But, I did run into Scott. He actually wanted to talk to both of us, so I told him I could relay the message."

"Uh? How about my peace and quiet?"

"Well, about that…" He shoved his good hand into his pocket, rocking back on his heels to lean against the wall. "Big bro thinks we'd have more peace and quiet off the island. Y'know, like a vacation."

"A vacation?" He raised his eyebrow. "With you?"

The general consensus among Tracy's was that Gordon was both the most fun and the most dangerous to be with during downtime. Virgil didn't mind the spontaneity the way it seemed to short-circuit John, or even Scott, but where Virgil's idea of spontaneous meant following the sunset with his paints, Gordon's ideas meant a festival or a party.

Been there, done that. Virgil did not want to relive college.

But also, Gordon was his copilot, and their time together lately had been quite specific to the rescue business. Virgil didn't remember the last time he was on the receiving end of an epic Gordon Tracy maritime rant, and that was a stark reminder of how busy they'd been lately.

Perhaps of how overworked, and a bit careless. Resulting in injured wrists.

"What did you have in mind?" Virgil smiled, repressing his sigh in favor of moving forward instead of focusing on his mistakes.

"Well, anywhere with water would be my first choice, but with this thing," Gordon waved the cast with a grimace, "I'd be more annoyed than relaxed. You have any ideas?"

“There are other places to relax,” Virgil responded, coming up beside him to clasp the back of his neck and rub where Gordon kept his stress. Being barred from the water meant he lacked his usual outlets, and a cooped up Gordon was a fish wound tight. "Pick a mountain range. Or a city?"

His shoulders drooped under the easing pressure on his underused muscles. Missing his morning laps was taking its toll. Sure, he could walk the island, but that lacked the intensity he was used to. So where on Earth could they go that offered more than what they already had on Tracy island?

"As much as I love a picturesque mountain range, I'm not as good at sitting still and enjoying it as you are. Maybe a city? Which one though?" The hustle and bustle would definitely keep them occupied, but there was always the security risk that would drive Kayo into a tizzy. Gordon's box of disguises hadn't eased her worries about the last trip they'd planned either.

"Somewhere we've been?" Virgil asked. "Or somewhere new? What about a place chosen at random. You like surprises."

Random? The word snagged on his mind and pulled him up from the flurry of ideas Gordon had been trying to narrow down.

Pushing off the wall, he caught his brother's eye with a look of mischief and a grin to match. "Random, huh? I think I've got an idea. C'mon." Without waiting, the blonde stepped past his co-pilot, his attempt the upper level of the lounge.

“Dubious." But, by the time Virgil could finish the word, Gordon was long gone from the studio, and only Virgil’s art supplies were nearby to hear him sigh.

He stepped into the hallway, following after the flash of neon from Gordon's cast, and listening for the cadence of footsteps he knew better than his own.

The bounce was back in his step.

That was the thing Virgil admired most about his brother. He was never knocked down for long.

Virgil followed him to the top floor of the lounge where, in a rare turn of circumstances, it was empty for once.

Gordon knew exactly where he would find what they needed, the ancient books surrounding it like walls of protection. His good hand pushed one set aside while his fingers protruding from his cast snagged the folded paper.

"Got it!" He announced with a wiggle of the parchment before clumsily unfolding it. A map, certainly an antique now, but definitely used often enough by their grandparents before the invention of GPS offered a view of the globe. "We can use darts or something. Random enough?"

“You want us to throw darts at a map?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “And just go wherever it lands?”

That would be super random, even for him. Even for Gord- no, actually that was the exact type of random it seemed Gordon needed. A place where they wouldn't have time to stress about planning, wherever the wind took them. His bewilderment curled into a smile thinking that John would certainly lecture him that he would be letting gravity and physics make decisions for him. And not, in fact, the earthen breeze.

"I know where we can get darts." There was a set in Scott's private office near a poked through poster of corporate names their elder brother kept hung on the wall after stressful negotiations. Virgil even caught a Fischler and Lemaire on there at one point, but the names had been bulls-eyed into oblivion.

Barging into Scott's office was more Gordon's speed, so Virgil held up a hand to stop Gordon behind him before he entered. He held up a finger to his lips and gestured for Gordon to wait there.

With the creaking of the door, Scott eyed him warily, the earpiece linked to the computers flashing green in use. Don't ask Virgil mouthed, knowing Scott would get the gist.

He returned to the hall victorious, shutting the door behind him silently before Gordon's inevitable whoop could reach the ears of those on the other side of Scott's call.

"Awww spoil sport," Gordon teased at the obvious attempt at keeping big brother's meeting professional. "C'mon, we can set it up in my room." With the map tucked under his arm, the blonde led the way back up the stairs, past their bedrooms and to his studio, the stickered door sliding open without a keycode. Gordon liked to keep his space unlocked, ready to entertain any of his brother's who dared to venture in.

Inside, a stack of boxes were evident from the hallways glow. As he flicked on the light, the rest of the room came into view. The boxes had been leaned against the first of three shelving units, each housing trinkets he'd bought from treasure hunters. Some were his own finds, but that was a secret he'd learned to keep between himself and the crew he traveled with. Despite what his brother's thought of the hobby, Gordon took great strides to ensure junk yard owners were aware and compensated for the time spent on hunts.

The walls beyond held other types of treasures - trophies and ribbons that spanned the entire space. From his first races to his last, the little ribbon held just as much importance as the gold.

Further in were Gordon's tanks and he stopped briefly to check on his two new reef fish he'd discovered struggling to survive after one was injured and the other a host for a parasite. Another week and they'd be good to go back home.

The last wall held maps, none like the one under his arm, however. These held currents and ocean geographical locations. Pins and scribbled notes were dotted all around it in a rudimentary pattern of research. Of course, Gordon had the holographic maps with precise data, but there was always something nice about doing things the old way, just for the experience. It was as good a place as any to set up their game of vacation darts.

"Alright, let me do that," Virgil said, rolling his eyes fondly as Gordon fumbled with the map despite his cast. Once it was in hand, Virgil tacked it up with some of the already existing pins overtop Gordon's research. "You sure this won't mess up your studies?"

"They'll be fine," he smiled at the consideration of his work. "Plenty of holes already, shouldn't hurt to add a few more. Bonus points if we land one in a pin!" Gesturing to the map, his grin widened, "Age before beauty."

Right. Trust Gordon to turn it into another challenge. Virgil stepped back for a better view, making sure the map display was straight and sturdy. His gaze lingered on the tanks and displays as he turned back to his brother. On anyone else that mischievous grin would look like someone up to no good. On Gordon, it looked like a Tuesday.

“I’m not entirely convinced that you wouldn’t just aim for the ocean on principle. Nearest island city if we land in the drink?” he proposed, satisfied when Gordon nodded. Despite Gordon’s enthusiasm for random, Virgil secretly hoped they did land near a populated area if not for Gordon’s sanity, for his own. Entertaining a bored Gordon was not among the top of his resume.

The plan was to each throw a dart to find their options, and then they’d choose between the two. Internally, Virgil knew he wouldn’t be doing any choosing. It was Gordon who was injured and needing the change of scenery.

Virgil felt the weight of the darts in each of his palms and practiced the motion without releasing them to decide which throw felt more appropriate for his hands. He didn’t have Gordon’s sharpshooting aim, but he did have an advantage being ambidextrous.

Except, Gordon’s cast was on his dominant hand.

“Hold these,” he ordered, handing the darts to his brother, as he then stripped off his outer flannel and rolled the fabric up lengthwise so that it could fit around his head and then some. The longest point was the wingspan of the sleeves, which he tied behind his head as the world went dark. “Spin me.”

The sheer joy he felt at this turn of events left Gordon stunned for a moment, unable to take his eyes off his brother. It was only a short pause before he took full advantage of what Virgil had given him and began carefully turning him on the spot. At about the tenth turn - and a low grunt that told him that was plenty - Gordon positioned his brother back to facing his target.

Taking a step back to give Virgil plenty of room, he cheered, "You're all set!"

"See if I trust you ever again," Virgil mumbled while his stomach settled, though it was not packed with any heat. He knew what he was getting into by offering, and though his body rebelled at the spinning in his brain, he smiled at the laughter vibrating from the fish beside him.

Without thinking too much about it, he let the dart fly knowing that it was in Gordon's best interests to make sure he was facing the right way. It would be his own valuables at stake if he'd attempted any other trickery.

The small dart gave a satisfying thunk as it pierced through paper and corkboard. Virgil lifted the makeshift blindfold from his eyes, the curiosity getting the better of him while the world swam as it came back into view. Gordon was laughing beside him.

"Where'd I hit?"

Calming his laughter enough to speak, the blonde pointed, "In the ocean, just to the left of Tracy island. Not sure Scott would go for that one." Stepping forward, he nudged his brother out of the way. "I'll go and then you can try again."

Taking one of the darts, Gordon tried positioning it in the fingers protruding from his cast, finding his dexterity greatly inhibited. A noted glare from the medic beside him and he begrudgingly switched the dart to his left hand. For only a second, he considered the blindfold, but with his handicaps, he'd be lucky just to hit the wall. No, this was fair.

Aiming towards a small patch of islands he knew fondly for their beaches and street food, Gordon aimed and threw. The dart arced, bypassing the islands and landing to the left, of the coast of India.

"Ooh, it's been a while since we went to Sri Lanka. Alright, Virg, your turn."

Virgil accepted the dart and lowered his flannel blindfold for an attempt to land somewhere other than Tracy Island.

Over the next few minutes, they landed numerous pinpricks over the map, from Tokyo to Chicago, and had managed to plan their next three trips for times off duty.

Gordon was mid-turn on a dizzied Virgil when Scott came knocking on the door. He swiftly entered, knowing Gordon kept his study a welcoming space. After evaluating the scene - the world map on the wall, his darts a murder over Europe, his brother blindfolded with his own shirt - Scott sighed deeply, rubbing at his temples.

"What is going on in here?"

So wrapped up in the fun of spinning his co-pilot, Gordon startled with a quick laugh, "Oh, Hey, Scott! Um, well, we couldn't decide where to go for vacation, so we're leaving it up to darts and a map." He gestured to the wall in excitement. "You'll be pleased to know it's very productive."

"Hmm. Well, don't throw that yet, Virgil," Scott warned. He ducked under the path of Virgil's questionable aim and collected a number of his darts. "I'm going to need these back after the call I just had."

After a beat, he turned back towards them, flicked one of the darts into position and let it fly toward the world. "Actually, I'd rather come with you."

#Fic Collab #Godsliltippy #Gaviiadastra #FishTank Week 2023

23 notes · View notes

blood-injections · 7 months

Text

Plz help we r being infested by weevils everywhere i look. Another one. At least like six in my room every day and increasing they just show up from nowhere boom. Crawling on my wall. Out of thin air. Just smushed one. Went to the bathroom had to smush two. First time ive seen them somewhere other than my room. Why me. Came back to my room and another one had appeared where i just killed the one two minutes ago. How do they multiply. Finally went and complained to my dad. How are they getting in. Its a brand new house. Insecticides were sprayed two days ago. We look around. Arent weevils spoosed to be in your cubboards and stuff why is it just my room and as of today the hall i.e the bathroom next to me my room and as of looking around. THREE hanging out on the ceiling outsde the rooms. None in the guest bedroom across from me though. So once again . Why me. I theorize they could have been in the boxes. But my boxes have been in here for longer than the weevils if the weevils are in any boxes theyd be in the old ones that were in a stoage unit. So they must be coming in from outside. But how. Once again. New house. I looked around my room theres no like cracks. They just fucking manifest. Hang on i just looked around my room again oh my god theres one IN my fishtank. Underwater. Why isnt my fish eating it dude you're a idiot. Fuck. Okay. This is fucking WAR.

14 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 2 months

Text

Today was a pretty good day. I woke up a little stressed out though. I had a very intense dream. About travel and being on a ship and it's was just a lot. It's been on my mind all day. And when I startled awake at 730 I remembered we were parked on the wrong side of the street and I didn't know if presidents day effected street cleaning but I didn't want to risk it. So I put on the skirt I planned on wearing today and some slippers and went outside and moved the car. I had texted James but they weren't home and I panicked. But James actually had just walked in the backdoor when I went out the front and they apologized for the stress I had but it wasn't their fault.

I went back to bed. I did not sleep. I just watched videos and rested until the sun was to bright in my eyes. James made French toast and brought me some in bed. Love them very much.

I eventually got up and dressed and felt pretty good. I actually felt the best I have in the last few weeks. The cough was still lingering but I felt good. After I was dressed I came downstairs and sat in the couch and we talked through the day.

We would go to the apartment. Do some moving. Patch some holes. James would do laundry. And we would finally move the fish tanks. Then I would spend the afternoon setting up the tanks. And we would have dinner with the Fulwilers at 6. A good day. A busy day.

We got over to the apartment and I miss parts of it. But I am glad we are finishing up. I went through all the rooms and made sure all the screws and pins were out of the walls. And patched everything I could reach.

This would take a while. We were there for a few hours. But we were making great progress. We packed up the last of the books. And made a pile of what's going to the dump, what is coming with us, and then what the movers will get next week. Amazing.

Getting the water from the fishtanks took a while. My vaccine just doesn't work amazing. I might stop at the pet store tomorrow to get something better. I took out the filters and the heaters. I caught Ari the fish super quickly and then we took all the water out except for 2 inches. For the snails and the loach. And we would do the same for the frog tank but I could not find omelet. I would see him once we got over to the new house but I haven't seen him since so I hope he is okay.

I was super nervous but James is strong and was able to carry them very carefully. We got eveything packed around them. There is still more to get but we did such a good job. I'm really proud of us.

I held the container with Ari the whole drive home. When we got back here our neighbor Sean was outside and we chatted about how much of my emotional wellbeing is wrapped up in these tanks. He would offer to help but James got it and it was all good.

It took a while to get everything set up. I originally wanted both tanks side by side but based on the weight we decided it would be safer to separate them. James would help me by filling a bucket and then I would vacuum out debris and we would refill three times for the frog and once for the fish. And there is still debris but the water looks super clear and everyone seems happy. The loach was even out a bunch! Which was very exciting for me.

James started not feeling good last night and when they get sick they get little flushed cheeks and sad eyes. But they were holding it together best they could.

They went to put the laundry away while I was working on the tanks, coming down to help carry the water, and they would help me by throwing all our extra blankets and pillows downstairs so I could fold them to go in the drawers under the daybed. And I am really pleased. I do think I'm going to change the placement of the bed but I'm going to wait until the last piece of furniture is built.

I was going to try and start that but the boxes were so difficult to open and I was so frustrated and was not feeling great. It was the middle of the afternoon and I was coughing so hard again and was not happy. It was shocking how quickly I deteriorated. James was in the basement breaking down boxes and they were not having a good time either but they came up to help me open boxes.

But I was super upset and wanted to go get a sandwich. So we took a pause and James drove us to the Wawa.

I was excited to see that there is also a taco bell down the street. Which means I'm in between two different taco bells. Incredible.

We got snacks and my sandwich and started heading home. I did drop my sandwich on the ground but it was okay. Mostly it was silly.

I started coughing so hard and wheezing in the car and was having a horrible time. When we got back here I tried just sipping my lemonade and tried to sit and eat but I was coughing and wheezing so bad James went and got the inhaler and it helped but I still felt horrible. Then James accidently kneeled on my foot and I screamed and cried because it hurt so much. And I was falling apart for a while there.

But the medicine would help me breath. And the cough didn't go away but it wasn't as strong.

I would lay on the couch for two hours. I was just exhausted. But I couldn't sleep. I did get up once when I thought I heard a phone vibrating on the couch. This is the third time since yesterday. I am afraid that there is a phone in it?? Like the delivery person lost their phone in it somehow?? But I cannot find it. But I swear I'm hearing a phone vibrating. Very weird.

A little after 5 James said we should get ready to go to dinner. I put tights on again and fixed my makeup and we headed out. I didn't want to go because my breathing was not good but I am glad I did.

It was really nice seeing Anne and Tucker and Charlotte. Everyone was super sweet. And things felt like before the wedding planning. The weirdness was gone. And it was just lovely. I showed them pictures of the furniture and told them about the saga of me being sick. And we talked about travel and then possibly moving and it was just a lot of fun. We got sandwiches and salads and they even had a gift for me. A very generous gift card for second chance! I am excited. I maybe will find a new light fixture or something but I'm not in a rush to spend the whole thing. I am very thankful for the very thoughtful gift.

I also got to show off the boots James got me and they all thought they were very very cool.

We talked about theater and memories and it was a good way to end my birthday weekend.

We would drive Charlotte home so she could take the giant baseball poster home for Callie. I am very curious where they are going to put that cause it's gigantic. We said goodbye and headed to the grocery store.

We did pretty good sticking to the list. And I got cough drops lolly pops. I am going to see if they will help at all. I also got strawberries and they smelled so nice. That's not my favorite grocery store because the parking lot always has so much garbage but the inside is nice and we weren't there to long. The self checkout was a little stressful but it was whatever. We had a good system going where I handed James things to scan and we got out of there ASAP.

When we got home parking was a little tough but we went around the block and got one on the corner. And when we got inside I was so happy to see my tanks. Looking clear and beautiful. And Sweetp being so cute.

James put the groceries away while I tried to catch more snails. It's so much easier at this height.

I took a shower and got cozy and that's where I am now. I did clean up my cuticles. And just tried to be nice to myself. I'm going to go find James now. And soon we will go to sleep.

I am hoping tomorrow at work I feel good and don't fall apart at all. I hope it's a fun day.

Sleep well everyone. Be safe out there.

4 notes · View notes

sparklemotiongalaxy · 1 year

Text

Ficlet: The Aquarium (B2J protags, No Gem Roads AU by @vinylroadsjunction)

Enjoy!

Mayday and Zuke were on their tour across Vinyl City. So far they have been to the “park”(Trees! Plants! Squirrels!!) and the “supermarket”(Food! Food!! Food!!!). It was amazing.

So Mayday was extremely excited to go to the “aquarium”. Apparently, it was a place where water animals were put into tanks. And for protecting and finding out new things about them. (Homeworld didn’t do any of those things, they just took and took and took until nothing was left.) Gigi and Zam were quietly talking to each other as the four made their way to Akasuka.

Zam turned to look at the two gems. “And here we are! Aquaria VCCC! It’s the largest aquarium out here!” He gleamed. “Hopefully the discount code works.” Gigi groaned. “We’re trying to entertain some guests here, zip your lips about that, man.” Zam finger gunned. “Wish me luck! I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the building. He will come back, Mayday. He will be alright.

“Thank you for taking us here. I honestly like all the colors here.” Zuke was taking a look at a picture on one of the pillars. Many colorful creatures, large and small, were seemingly swimming. May found the large creature with sharp teeth and fins cool. Maybe she can make friends with them?

“The discount code worked! We can all go in there, at half price!” Zam was back with four pieces of paper, looking satisfied. “Rockstars, hand them to the people standing over there.” he pointed at the human smiling as a young one gave the paper.

Mayday rushed to the entrance, paper clasped in her hand. The human greeted her with a smile. Why was everyone so nice to her? “May I see your ticket?” May assumed the “ticket” was the paper so she handed it out to the human. She gave a soft giggle as the human stamped her hand. Strange, where was the ink? “For reentering, please show your hand okay?” May nodded. “Have a nice day!” The human waved. May gave her a grin, and yelled, “YOU TOO!” The human looked a little, surprised, but satisfied.

The rest of the team were with Mayday at the other side. It was so pretty, the water sparkling and the creatures swimming. “The biggest tank is over there, with the shark inside. Wanna check that out first?” Gigi asked. He was pointing at the really cool looking creature Mayday saw on the pillar a while back. Mayday decided that from now on instead of “squirrels”, “sharks” were the best creatures around on Earth.

“Zuke, let’s go!” Mayday tugged Zuke’s arm, who seemed to be in such awe he couldn’t move. They all dashed, and found themselves facing the shark tank.

In the tank, there were other creatures swimming. So carefree. So cool! So pretty!!

Mayday must have been standing there for a while, because she heard Zam yell, “Where is Zuke?!”

Zuke. Was. Gone.

“I was keeping an eye on them man. How did he just go ‘poof’!” Gigi’s brows were furrowed.

“The government took him! They are gonna cut him up and put him on display and-” Zam was going crazy with his arms, almost as if he was about to cry.

Zam and his ramblings were cut short when someone yelled “Look! Is that a merperson?”

The troublemaker was there, in the tank, petting a shark. The shark looked surprisingly happy, eyes closed in what seemed to be bliss. That wasn’t fair! May should have joined him! He even managed to shapeshift his legs into fins! He should’ve asked May first, and they could have gone together!

Zuke found Mayday and her human friends, pointed at them, and waved. Gigi waved back.

Now there was a huge crowd around the fishtank. Zam sighed. “At least this aquarium is probably going to get more visitors for a while.”

#no straight roads #no gem roads #gem au #steven universe #steven unvierse au #nsr mayday #nsr zuke #just two gem people being chaotic #Kira Writes

11 notes · View notes

not-a-space-alien · 2 years

Text

All Creatures Great and Small Chapter 7: Look Before You Leap

In this chapter: We've met some of the "great" creatures Thistle will encounter, now why don't we see if he can find any other small creatures...

Thanks to my beta readers @appelsiinilight and @static-stars!!! <3

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Content warning: This chapter contains a somewhat graphic event that results in broken bones. A mouse trap is involved. There is a bit of the horrors in this chapter. Rest assured happy ending rules are still in effect.

***

Thistle perched on the windowsill, sprawling out, head on his hands, gazing wistfully out into the front yard.

There was a gathering of humans out in the yard, ranging from old to very young. A woman was breast-feeding a baby. Two kids toddled around chasing each other. Two of the older men tossed a football back and forth.

This was Colin’s family. It was a holiday, and they were celebrating fall. As a family. And Thistle was left shut inside, watching, all alone.

He darted behind the fishtank as the front door banged open and the two kids stomped in, laughing and running around. “Get your drinks and come right back out,” Colin hollered. “You’re not allowed in the house unsupervised.”

The murmur of human conversation and laughter faded as Colin closed the door. Thistle ensconced himself in the curtains until he heard the two small humans patter back outside, and saw them reappear in the lawn.

He eased out, sighing and laying his head down, watching them play, talk, laugh, enjoy each other’s company.

The fishtank flipped open, and Jewel flicked water at Thistle. “Hey.”

Thistle looked up at him half-heartedly, then fixed his longing gaze back outside.

“Stop looking so sad. You’re not missing much out there. I’m sure those kids would accidentally stomp you to death.”

Thistle sighed, leaning his head onto his fist. “It’s starting to get colder. My family would be sealing up the hive for winter right about now.”

Jewel cocked his head. There weren’t seasons in the ocean, and he hadn’t spent much time outdoors, so the concept of winter was still a little abstract to him, something he only heard others talking about. “Why?”

Thistle looked up at him, flickering his wings. “We stay inside when it gets cold. We have a celebration, and seal up the hive, and we enter torpor. We spend all winter snuggling, and telling each other stories, and making nice new things for ourselves…”

The wistfulness in his voice was painfully obvious. He turned away and limply looked outside again, sighing. “I guess humans don’t really do that.”

“Oh, you don’t need that,” said Jewel. “Come on, this is better, now isn’t it?”

Thistle looked up at him sadly. “How so?”

Jewel’s mouth moved to try and form words, but nothing came out. He switched tactics. “Well–Well, hey now, there’s all these humans here. I’m so afraid of getting caught!” He put an arm to his forehead, leaning back dramatically. “It’s just–it’s just so scary with all these humans around! I’m not good at talking to them like you are.”

Thistle lowered his chin back onto his fist. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Jewel slowly lowered his arm, a dirty look on his face. “Hey, hey, I thought this was the kind of stuff you eat up, emotional vulnerability and all that. You’re not supposed to be upset. That’s my job.”

“Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Can’t I–No, I can’t, actually, because you wedged yourself in the corner with the fish tank.”

The door opened again, and Thistle darted back into the curtains. It was just Marcy, though.

Jewel dove back into the fishtank, flipping it closed. Marcy didn't seem to notice. She came over and knelt down by the window. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

He looked over his shoulder at her listlessly, then shrugged, ears drooping.

“Here, I brought you a plate from outside.”

Thistle examined the offerings. It looked like some bread, vegetables, and sweets.

“I’m not really hungry,” he said morosely.

“Oh,” said Marcy. “Well, that’s okay.” She set the plate on the coffee table and put a gentle hand around Thistle. “Everything okay?”

He didn’t answer. She squished him between her fingers and turned him around, setting him in her hands. “Hey, bud, what’s on your mind?”

“I just miss my family,” said Thistle, wrung out. “You’re all great, and Sierra was great…but her visit just reminded me how lonely I was.”

“Aww,” said Marcy. “I’m sorry, buddy. You know, I think Colin’s family doesn’t really care if I come back, I’ve socialized enough. Here, why don’t you and I go upstairs? We can play a game. Hm?”

He shrugged.

Marcy put him in her jacket pocket, then grabbed a board game from the shelf and mounted the stairs.

She shut the door to her room, then for good measure closed the window most of the way, to muffle the sounds of human socialization and laughter.

“Oh, this one?” said Thistle, nuding the game Marcy had brought with his foot.

“Battleship? I thought you liked this one.” He fluttered back as Marcy opened the box and set the two game boards on the desk.

“It’s okay,” said Thistle. “I still don’t really get it, though.”

Marcy put a handful of little plastic boats on Thistle’s side. “What, the concept behind it? Or the rules?”

“The concept. I know it’s, like, a war thing. Maybe that’s why I don’t get it. Do humans do this stuff in real life? Or is it just a fantasy game?”

Marcy put her ships’ pegs in the holes. “I mean, sort of, it’s a simplified version of something we do in real life.”

Thistle held his biggest boat, the one with room for four pegs, with both hands. “I just can’t imagine why.”

“We get mad at each other.”

Thistle slid the ship down, then stomped on it to try and get the pegs all the way into the board. “I’m positive if two boats full of humans were bombing each other, they wouldn’t be able to name all the people on board the other one. That’s how humans always are, they don’t even know each other’s names.”

He said it so scathingly that Marcy felt like it was her fault for a moment. “Well, I dunno. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can play something else.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Thistle threatened, holding a red peg aloft, his hand barely big enough to completely encircle it. “Coward.”

***

Thistle utterly destroyed Marcy in Battleship. He always did. He thought maybe it was because since Marcy’s face was so much bigger than him, he was good at reading her facial cues, which gave him clues as to when he was close to guessing correctly, whereas his face was so tiny she could barely see it.

It didn’t make him feel any better, though. He had trouble falling asleep that night, and ended up performing the same exercise as he had earlier that day, wasting away dramatically on Marcy’s bedroom windowsill, overlooking the yard and imagining himself free and playing in it with his family.

He could hear Buster barking outside, distantly. That stupid dog. If that stupid dog wasn’t running around outside at all hours, he could be spending more time outside. But no. Outside was dangerous. Even in a human’s pocket! Dogs could jump high. It was infuriating how little disregard a human would need to have to accidentally kill him. Just not caring enough to take your dog inside at night.

Dumb, stupid dog… He crossed his arms on the windowsill, then lowered his chin onto them, trying to pick out the brown shape moving in the distance. There it was, chasing some small, helpless animal. Vicious creature.

That was when Thistle’s ears picked up the small sound layered underneath the barking: A small voice screaming.

The bipedal posture of the prey animal…Buster wasn’t chasing something….He was chasing someone.

Thistle cursed and scrambled up to the latch holding the screen in place, pushing it open with his feet. “Marcy, wake up!”

No, there was no time to get Marcy up and explain the situation to her. If Thistle didn’t move now, that little person was going to be snapped up in merciless dog jaws. It might already be too late for him to get there in time.

He vaulted out the window, sailing over the lip of the roof and diving down, out into the cold. He let out a little cry as he snapped his wings open and a stab of pain shot through his bad side.

He tumbled down to the ground, hitting a pile of leaves. He scrambled to his feet, sprinting towards the dog and its intended victim as quickly as possible. “Here!” he screamed. “Over here! Come over here!”

He waved his arms for effect, breath billowing in the chilly fall air. The tiny figure leading the dog course-corrected so it was heading towards him.

They sprinted at each other for a few tense, stressful moments. The dog snapped, but the tiny figure leapt to dodge its jaws, zigzagging and continuing its mad dash.

As it got closer, Thistle was able to make out details: It was a person, about two inches tall, a little girl if the poofy dress was anything to judge by. She wore a raincoat clearly made out of a discarded candy wrapper, raindrops sliding off of it, and little muddy rainboots to match. She had a tail swinging behind her, and her general corpus was a lot hairier than Thistle’s own.

Thistle figured out what she was as the details came into focus. The English word that was the closest to describing the species was a Borrower; in Pixish, they were literally called “mouse-giants” because of their similarity to humans, except for a handful of obvious characteristics that made the name fitting. He knew next to nothing about them–only that they existed, and that humans had some fanciful ideas about them that may or may not be true, the way they had ideas about pixies.

Thistle had no idea how big borrowers typically were, but this one was shockingly small–she did look like a child, so maybe she wasn’t fully grown? Oh, the terror on her face–Thistle’s heart hurt. He had to save her. Not everyone was as lucky as him, able to fly, and having a bunch of giant friends to save him from danger.

They zoomed closer and closer to each other. “Jump!” Thistle shouted.

She leapt, and Thistle scooped her up with both hands, pumping his wings furiously to get them both up in the air.

She was…a lot heavier than Thistle had anticipated. What the hell was this child made of? Osmium?

They lost air a lot quicker than Thistle had calculated, drifting terrifyingly back down to the dog. Thinking quickly, Thistle spun so that he landed on the dog’s back, then pushed off again.

He managed to reach a branch on a nearby tree, flinging the child up onto the limb and catching himself on it with his arms, legs scrambling to get up. The dog’s jaws snapped terrifyingly close to his dangling feet, but he managed to pull himself up. The borrower child helped, grabbing his wrist and pulling him with shocking strength.

Huffing, Thistle peered down at Buster, front paws on the treetrunk, tail wagging fiercely, barking. He scooted back towards the trunk of the tree, where the branch was thicker and easier to stand on. “Whew. Are you okay?”

The tiny girl looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. God, she was less than half his size. He wasn’t used to being the one who towered over someone else. Was this what Marcy felt like? He knelt down, trying to make himself not loom so much. “Hey, are you hurt?”

The little girl had her hands clutched to her chest in fear and took a step back as he spoke, little hands barely poking out of her raincoat sleeves. “Wh-why do you look like tha’?” She spoke in English, a slightly different accent than Marcy and the humans, but very clearly English.

Thistle tilted his head, ears twitching. “Why do I look like what?”

Buster barked again. Thistle looked down at him in irritation. Colin’s voice suddenly boomed out in the distance. “Shut the fuck up!” it echoed through the trees. “Buster, go home!”

The dog whined, ears perking up, and it slunk away.

Thistle kept his hands on the tree trunk, watching the dog go. “Whew.”

He turned back to the little girl, but she took another step back. “Wha’–What are you?”

Thistle suddenly realized how strange he must look to someone who had never seen a pixie before…especially to someone small like him, who could see all the details up close. This borrower had some distinctly un-human elements, but she looked much closer to a human than to a pixie.

He squatted, once again trying to make himself smaller. “I’m a fairy.”

“No!” the little girl yelled, tripping and falling on her backside. Thistle lunged to try and keep her from falling from the branch, but she remained firmly on the branch. She burst into tears. “Please don’t eat me! Please don’t re-replace me with a changeling!”

“Woah, hey, hey,” said Thistle. “I’m not going to do anything like that. Just calm down. I’m Thistle. What’s your name?”

“No!” she wailed. “You can’t have my name! You can’t steal my name! You can’t trick me!”

Thistle rubbed the back of his head, at a loss. “I–I’m not trying to do anything like that.” This must be what Marcy felt like, trying her best to help some little creature that she couldn’t understand and had no way to calm down. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“R-really?” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Yeah. What’s your name? What should I call you?”

“P-Petunia,” she sobbed. “Th-thanks f’s-saving me.”

“Of course. Hey, what are you doing out here? Where’s your family?”

“My sister is stuck,” said Petunia. “She’s in the ‘za restaurant. We were getting food, and she got stuck, and she told me to go find help, but I only found a dug.”

The pizza parlor was perpendicular to the house where Buster’s owner lived, forming a triangle with it and Colin’s house. It was an impressive distance for someone so small to have run.

“I’ll help you,” said Thistle. “Don’t worry, I can go get my friends and they’ll help us easy.”

“Are they also fairies?”

“No, they’re humans. So it’ll be easy for them to–”

Petunia’s eyes went wide in an expression of acute terror, as though she were more afraid of the thought of humans than of the dog that’d almost killed her. “B-beannsssssss?” she shrieked.

“Well-”

“You can’t!” she cried. “Please! You can’t! You can’t take me to the beans! Please, it’s the one thing my papa and mama always told us! Please, please! It’s too scary!”

Going back and getting help from the three humans had been such a natural instinct that he hadn’t even thought about it. But he supposed for someone little like this, even speaking the same language, it would be much the same as when Thistle had first met Marcy…He remembered how it felt, being so scared and vulnerable. He hated that feeling, and he had no desire to force it upon anyone else.

But…Surely the humans with their big hands and giant strides would be able to make this a lot easier? Unless…It was the middle of the night, so the pizza parlor was probably closed and locked, so maybe they wouldn’t actually be able to get in. But Thistle could.

He could do it. He wasn’t helpless, he could just do different things than they could.

And…well, he could always just go check out the situation and if there was no way for him to do it on his own, he could always come back and ask for help.

He puffed his chest out. “Okay, if you’re sure, I can help you without them.”

She looked relieved. “Th-thank you, thank you, ma’am.”

He blinked. “Erm, sir, not that it matters much, I guess.” He was more baffled than anything. He was barely five inches tall; how could anyone possibly mistake him for a towering female? Oh, but maybe for borrowers, males weren't that much smaller than females.

Petunia shot up, rigid. “Ah! Sorry! Sorry, mister!”

“It’s not a big deal. Why don’t you show me the way?”

“Right! Right away! Right! Right!”

Thistle was about to grab Petunia to fly them both down to the ground, but to his shock she turned around and scaled down the tree trunk like a rock-climber.

He leapt down, using his wings to slow his fall to match her pace, watching her climb with fascination. Evidently she was so heavy because she was a mass of solid muscle. There were certain points at which she seemed to confidently support her entire body weight with a few fingers clinging to the bark.

Had…had she even needed him to save her?

Her boots thumped to the ground, deathly loud next to Thistle’s delicate feet touching down despite the fact that he was so much larger than her.

“This way,” she said. She grabbed his hand and pattered away.

Oh. The feeling of having his hand held by someone his own size did…something to him. He hadn’t felt this in so long, the touch of his family, the touch of–of someone on his own scale. Someone whose hand fit into his, who he didn’t have to just splay out his palm onto their fingers in an imitation of hand-holding. It was reassuring. Comforting. Affirming. You’re a person. We’re here with you. There are others.

The euphoria of the sensation faded quickly as she dragged him on. Her grip was chokingly strong, crushing his hand, and he had to hunch over to be pulled along even as she stretched her arm up to him. He felt like some weird alien, or a giraffe next to her.

A million questions for her bubbled up, but he pushed them down. Maybe there would be time for that later. But he burned with curiosity, just as he had the first time he'd laid eyes on Jewel. A person he'd never expected to ever meet, seemingly dropping out of the sky, from a completely different culture...He'd need to start a running list of topics to ask about, once they were safe.

They got further and further out into the night, feet kicking through huge, wet leaves. He’d never been this far out of the house alone before. No…he’d used to do things like this by himself all the time, leaving the hive to go out exploring. He’d never done this ever since he’d met Marcy.

It was exhilarating, a thrill of fear and excitement. God, it’d been ages since he’d felt like this.

“Here!” said Petunia as they approached the facade of a brick building. She let go of Thistle’s hand and jumped up, climbing the bricks like a climbing wall. Thistle stayed on the ground, craning his neck to watch her.

She stopped partway up, at the lip of a pipe of some sort sticking out of the wall. She hung from it, looking down at Thistle. “Come on!”

Thistle launched himself up there with a little hup, grabbing the metal pipe with his wings flickering.

“In here!” said Petunia. She crawled into the pipe, vanishing into the darkness instantly. “She’s in here!”

Thistle stuck his head in the pipe, trepidation growing. Could he fit through here without getting stuck? For the first time in his life, he worried he was too big to fit somewhere.

“Please!” said Petunia’s voice down the pipe. “Please, mister!”

Thistle folded his wings against his back and crawled forward. He had to keep his head down, but he did fit. The inside was coated with some kind of soot, grime smearing all over him as he came along. How had Petunia managed to traverse this without getting utterly filthy? She’d only had a few smudge marks on her.

He came out the other end soon enough, catching himself to stop himself from tumbling down. He’d come out into what looked like a kitchen, stoves and boxes and racks squatting in darkness. Yeah, Marcy probably would have needed to break past through several locked doors to get back here. I can do this.

Below him, Petunia scurried across a counter. She produced a length of twine, effortlessly securing it to something and zipping down it, then whipping it to detach it and roll it back up all in the span of a few seconds.

This child looked like she couldn’t be older than eight or nine. How on earth was she doing all of this with such practiced ease, such lack of effort? She did it as naturally as Thistle was flying at that age.

If this was a child, what would an adult borrower be capable of?

Apparently…getting caught in a mouse trap. Thistle’s eyes fell down to a wooden snap trap in the corner, where a woman who looked like an older version of Petunia was caught under the metal bar, struggling mightily to free herself. Petunia came down and looked up at Thistle with pleading eyes. “Vivi, I found help!”’

The woman craned her neck backwards to look at Thistle upside down. “Gods below, what is that?”

“A fae.”

“A fae!?”

Thistle leapt down, fluttering to a stop nearby her. “Hi, I’m Thistle.”

“An’ I suppose you’ll want something in exchange for helping me?” said the adult borrower viciously. “My firstborn? My soul? My name?”

“Well, n-no,” said Thistle. “Um, nothing like that. I mean, if you wanted to tell me your name, that’d be nice, though.”

“You may not have my name, but you can call me Violet,” she said.

Thistle blinked at her. She’d said it in a calculating way, as though reciting a magic spell. “Um, okay. It’s nice to meet you.”

“S-so, are y-you going to help me?” said Violet, her voice breaking, betraying the fear in her voice.

“Yes!” said Thistle. “Yes, I’ll get you out of there!”

He crouched down, taking one side of the mousetrap bar. “You grab that other side.”

Petunia grabbed the other side of the bar.

“On three, we’ll pull. Right?”

“Right!”

“One, two…three!”

Thistle and Petunia both pulled with all their might. The bar barely budged, not nearly high enough to let Violet wiggle out from under it. To Thistle’s great embarrassment, it seemed like Petunia was actually providing a greater portion of the force to lift it than Thistle was.

“I’m sorry, Vivi,” said Petunia, crying. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault. We’re doomed. I’m sorry, sissy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t cry,” said Thistle. “We’re–we’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay.”

“Can’t you just use magic?” said Violet. “Or–or will that curse me or somethin’?”

What was with these two? They seemed to expect him to start shooting lightning bolts out of his fingers at any moment. “I, um, I can’t really use magic. Sorry.”

Violet let out a hopeless laugh. “Great. Great, Tunie, you found the one fae who can’t use magic. That’s why he don’t want something in return, there’s nothing to give in return for.”

Thistle flushed. “H-hey.”

“If you can’t help me then just leave!” Violet said. “What are you here for?”

“Don’t leave!” cried Petunia, who apparently was just relieved to have some additional adult supervision. “Please, mister, please don’t leave.”

“All right,” said Thistle. “Okay, don’t worry.” He put a hand to his chin. He could do this. Surely he could. He could do it on his own. “Okay, I have an idea. It would be more effective to push than to pull, and my legs are stronger than my arms.” Thistle was much less muscular than either of the two borrowers, but he was still larger than either, and therefore his muscles were larger just by virtue of being on a bigger scale. If he could wedge his feet under the bar, he should be able to push it up, with Petunia pulling and Violet helping him push. Right? “Petunia, grab the bar again just like you did. That’ll give me some space to get under there with Violet, and if I can get my feet on the bar, I can help her push it up.”

“Right!” said Petunia, desperate to do something to help, anything.

“Get ready.” He lay flat on his back, scooting over to the wooden base of the trap. “Okay, go.”

Straining, Petunia grabbed the metal bar with both hands and pulled. It lifted just slightly, which gave Thistle enough room to get his feet under the bar. He braced his shoulder on the ground, pushing with all his leg strength. He’d used to not be very strong in the legs at all, but all this time of walking instead of flying had upped his bulk in that department considerably.

Slowly, with great effort, the bar started to go further up. “Yes,” Thistle gasped, puffing. “Keep going.”

“I’ve almost–I’m almost–” Violet started to wriggle backwards. “Yes!”

She dragged herself backwards, out from under the bar, freeing herself.

Unfortunately, Petunia took this as her cue to let go of the bar.

Thistle’s feet slipped without the extra support, and the bar snapped back down onto Thistle’s thighs, audibly snapping bones. He gasped out in shock, unable to process what had just happened for a moment until the pain flooded into his body.

This was the worst pain he’d ever felt. Worse than his wing tearing, worse than starving and bleeding out in the hands of an unknown human, worse than everything he’d felt in the past few months combined. Part of him felt like he should have died instantly from the shock. Someone was screaming, far away, and as he drifted back down into his body he realized it was himself.

The two borrowers were cursing and screaming as well, kneeling and trying to push the bar back up.

“Fuck,” said Violet. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Thistle registered briefly that Violet was also injured in the legs, the bar having come down on her in a similar way…meaning she wouldn’t be able to repeat Thistle’s feat to raise the bar again.

“Help,” Thistle choked.

“Shit,” said Violet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

Petunia was crying. Violet took her hand. “Shit. Fuck.” Violet stood, leaning on Petunia; her legs did not seem to be hurt nearly as badly as Thistle’s, but nevertheless she was having a hard time standing. She tried to pull the bar back, but couldn’t stop herself from collapsing.

“I don’t know what to do,” said Violet. “I don’t know what to do.”

Petunia kept crying.

“You–You have to go get Marcy,” said Thistle. “Go get Marcy, or Teddy, or Colin.”

“Where are they?”

“They live in the house nearby. Not the one with the dog. It’s white with a black roof. The porch says 786. There’s a red car and a truck in the driveway.”

“They’re–they’re beans? Humans?” said Petunia.

“Please,” said Thistle. “Please, you have to go get them to help. Please. You have to help me.”

Violet stood shakily. “Okay. I’ll try. I’ll go get them. I’ll be back.”

Violet limped over to the counter, still leaning on Petunia. The two of them worked together to throw a line up to the top of the counter, disappearing up into the distance above him. He heard them entering the pipe a few moments later.

Why had he done that? Now he was all alone. This was so much worse. He struggled against the metal bar, crying. His legs throbbed. It felt like someone had slid knives down under his muscles, each heartbeat exacerbating the pain.

Why had he done any of this? It’d been so thrilling…He’d used to go far away from the hive all the time, it was true…and it’d gotten him hurt. Just like this.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there. He lost track of time. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been hours. Everything was a haze of pain and panic.

Would those two borrowers actually be able to make it back to the house? With their injuries? With the dog loose? Would they be able to get anyone’s attention? Would they actually try? Would they just leave him here? He’d risked himself to save a stranger, but there was no guarantee they’d do the same for him. He knew nothing about them.

If they didn’t, he’d just lay here till morning, and if he was lucky maybe a human would find him and get him out. If he could make it till morning…it currently didn’t feel like he could.

This couldn’t be the end. He had to get back to Marcy. He had not come this far, and put in all this effort, just to die here because of something stupid like this. Marcy would be devastated. Sierra would be devastated. Colin and Teddy would be devastated. Jewel would…notice, maybe.

Marcy. He’d used to be so scared of her, but now, in this sudden period of desperation, he wanted nothing more than to be cupped safely in her hands. To curl up in her warmth, her enormity, her effortless power, and her endless love for him.

She was so much like Mother.

He put his palms on the bar of the mouse trap. He had to get back to her. This couldn’t be the end. This wouldn’t be the end. He was going to get back to Marcy. He was going to get out of here.

He pushed. It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t work.

He thought of Sierra. Her annoying, precious laugh, her silly jokes.

He pushed again. Nothing.

He thought of Teddy. How creeped out she’d been by him, how hard she’d worked to make him feel comfortable anyway. Of Colin, his simple, broad enthusiasm for sharing things that made him feel good.

He pushed. He felt something. He was starting to feel something.

He thought of Mochi, now. How fluffy she was. How docile she was, despite being a predator.

He thought of Marcy. Her laugh, her smile, her expressions of intense interest. How she cried and said she wanted the best for Thistle, how she always, always tried her best even if it didn’t always work. Of how it would feel to be back in her hands.

He pushed. He pushed the metal bar of the trap with all his might, with all his being, as though he were pushing on the very fabric of the universe itself.

Magic surged through his body, coiling like a spring in his arms, snapping out and pushing the bar off of himself so fast it detached from the trap, tinkling away onto the floor.

Panting, Thistle sprawled out, chest heaving, utterly drained. He’d done it. He’d…he’d just done magic. He’d freed himself from the trap. It’d taken everything, every bit of magic he had inside him, but he’d done it.

Now what?

Thistle flipped himself over, dragging himself on his elbows. The movements aggravated his legs, pain jolting through them, and he stopped, head down.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Oh my god. Fuck.”

His wings. His wings had once been his weakest point, his Achilles heel, for which the rest of his body had to compensate, but now he had to rely on them. Arms trembling, he pushed himself up. He was about to see if he had anything left in him.

He pushed off the ground with his hands, trying to keep his legs as still as possible, wings becoming a blur of motion.

About halfway up to the counter, his wings started to hurt. But he pushed through the pain. If he gave up now, he would never make it on a second try.

He caught the edge of the counter with his hands, wings falling still as soon as he was able. He panted, hauling himself up, crawling up onto the counter and sprawling out.

His head swam in pain and exhaustion, sweating all over his body, gasping and heaving. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad. But if he could make it outside, Marcy would be able to get to him. He wouldn’t be behind a locked door.

He looked up at the pipe. The distance between him and it was less than the distance between him and the counter had been. He could do it. He just had to do this one thing.

He pushed himself off with his hands again, taking to the air with labored flight. He jammed himself into the pipe, and as he folded his wings against his back, an additional stab of pain jolted through him, this time from his wings.

The grafted wing had torn loose in his labored flight, almost completely loose, and when he’d ducked down into the pipe it’d caught on the lip and peeled completely off. Thistle lifted his wings behind him, craning to see. He saw the tear, wounds fresh like the day he’d first lost most of that wing.

He crawled forward on his belly, keeping his eye on the light on the other end of the pipe. The smell of rain wafted from the outside, and he heard the pitter-patter of raindrops. Grime coated him the further he got.

He popped his head out. It was raining, just a little, and the stars were starting to fade as though morning were coming soon.

The edge of the pipe was wet from the rain. Thistle’s muddy hand slipped, and he flapped his wings to maintain his balance, but of course, now he was back to missing a huge chunk of the surface area he usually used to do this.

He fell. There was a dumpster nearby, and he tried to land on it, but he bounced off the closed lid, tumbling down and into the wet leaves below, adding more pain to his broken bones.

He curled up into a ball, miserable. How had things all gone so wrong so quickly? Just last night he’d been safe at home, his biggest problems the ones at the top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The rain pattered on top of him, adding being wet and cold to his list of miseries.

Thistle dragged himself forward, under the dumpster, feeling like trash. He was still crying from his shattered legs. He hadn’t stopped crying.

He tucked himself behind one of the wheels of the dumpster. Maybe, if he just rested a little, he’d be able to work up the strength to get back to the house. His body started to feel lighter. The cold was fading. Everything seemed to matter less. He was so tired. He was dying.

“Thistle?” A woman’s voice, distant.

Thistle raised his head, eyes glazed over. “M…Mother?”

There was silence for a few moments. Then, again: “Thistle? Where are you?”

“M…Marcy.” Thistle was pulled back down into reality. “Marcy!” he screamed, dragging himself forward. “Marcy, I’m here!”

The voice was getting closer. “Ardo? Can you hear me? Where are you?”

“Here, I’m here!”

“Ardo?”

“Here!”

“Thistle?”

She couldn’t hear his tiny voice over the rain. He screamed again, at the top of his lungs. “Marcy!”

The voice was getting further away. “Thistle?”

No! Marcy was out looking for him, but she was going to pass right by him without noticing. He desperately crawled forward, trying to make himself as loud and noticeable as possible. He saw her a ways off, her back to him, a flashlight in her hand, tearfully examining the ground.

There was the jingling of metal dog tags clinking against each other. No. No! No, fuck OFF.

Buster came around the corner, tail wagging, heading straight for him. Thistle scrambled backwards just before Buster’s jaws snapped at his feet disappearing under the dumpster.

Buster barked, trying to dig under the dumpster, trying to force his jaws underneath, open mouth with huge teeth drooling inches from him. Thistle sobbed. “Go away! Go away! Fuck! F-f-fuck off!”

“Hey, Buster found something.” Colin’s voice.

“Colin!” Thistle screamed. “Colin, please help me!”

Feet clad in sneakers appeared next to Buster at eye-level, and the dog gave a whine as a hand came around his collar and pulled him back, choking him. “Back! Get back! Stupid dog! Come on!”

“What is it?” Teddy’s voice.

“Check under the dumpster.”

Teddy’s feet came into view. Hyperventilating, Thistle managed to choke out, “Help.”

“Marcy!” Colin’s voice shouted. “Over here!”

Teddy’s legs folded up, and her hands came down against the cement, then her face, ear to the ground, making eye contact. “Oh my God! Thistle, are you okay?”

“No,” he wept. “Help me, p-please, Teddy.”

Teddy reached a hand under the dumpster. “Here, grab on.”

“Thistle?” It was Marcy’s voice, wobbling, tearful, devastated. “Do you have him? Is he okay?”

Thistle dragged himself forward into Teddy’s hand, and it closed around him, encircling him in warmth and safety, removing him from under the dumpster. He felt himself lifted up. He’d never been so happy to be plucked up and thrust into the middle of a circle of humans with prying, curious eyes.

Teddy opened her hands, and all three of their worried faces peered down at him.

“Thistle,” said Marcy, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her hands came up around Teddy’s. “Are–are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Marcy,” he said wretchedly. “I shouldn’t have–I should have–”

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes.”

Teddy gently lowered him into Marcy’s hands. Marcy’s hands. Home. He rolled, moaning painfully, finally letting himself unclench all his muscles. He’d pushed himself well past his limits, and now it felt like he couldn’t move at all.

Marcy drew her coat over him, shielding him from the rain. “Let’s–let’s get you home. Let’s get you some help.”

****

@cloudwatchingtoday @theepiccreatorofmagic-blog-blog @waitisthatgt @itssmoltime @ratcatcher0325 @alarcomet @borrowerbecca @crazytinygirl @bittykimmy13 @cheeseybeans8 @whumpsday @theroyaleemily @kitn-underfoot @lucentbliss

@jewel-fan-wys

@cheeseybeans8

#g/t #gt #gianttiny #fairy #giant/tiny #size difference #my writing #my original writing #Watch Your Step

45 notes · View notes