#that is my fictional father goddamnit!!!!!

[broke-on-books]

☕

The live action Scooby-Doo movies?

I did not see this ask until RIGHT now (first time on desktop since crab day, second time since Nov 5 2020 [which was DOUBLY experience since I got my phone taken the same day]) so I'm going to assume this ask got eaten on mobile because tumblr, HOWEVER you poked a bear with this ask anon (as I'm sure you knew when asking) SO without further ado: my Scooby Doo live action opinions

So when you say 'live action Scooby-Doo movies' I'm assuming you're talking about the James Gunn films, starting with Scooby-Doo (2002) followed by Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed, just due to like, generally popularity and also the fact that I have actually seen those films. However shoot another ask if you wanted me to include Curse of the Lake Monster in this (because I will if anyone cares and turn this into a live-action scooby dissertation, i'd just need to like. watch the movie first) But anyways where I'm going with this is that this post is about the Gunn movies aka the ones with SMG, Freddie Prinze Jr., Linda Cardellini, and ofc our #1 man, Matthew Lilliard.

Okay so my take on these movies is... complicated. I wouldn't say it's as complicated as my feelings towards SDMI, because I watched the live actions way less as a kid and generally care less about them, but still no matter how much shit I throw at these two movies there are parts that I generally like (even love) that stops me from totally condemning them wholesale. Like the fact that these movies are FUNNY! There's so many moments from this duology that are just beyond iconic "like, that's one of my favorite names!" the whole thing with Scooby in the dress at the airport, ET. CETERA (like I can go on!)

The Gunn movies are genuinely SO fun and I can 100% see and understand how they've stood so well in the public view as a representation of Scooby. HOWEVER, this is where you start to see my problems with them. For the general American, (because that is the audience I'm familiar with) ESPECIALLY millennials and younger, who happen to make up the majority of both people on this site AND people I talk about Scooby with in real life, these movies, and the elements they introduced as "quintessential scooby tropes" are the base of their understanding of the Scooby franchise, along with likely some miscellaneous WAY episodes and maybe SDMI.

Which is where I get pissed off. In the pushing of the narrative of "breaking away" from the Scooby norm, Gunn basically invents (aka totally makes up) an idea of what classic era Scooby was like, cementing an idea of classic Scooby into the public mind that is totally disingenuous and just straight up false. For example, in attempting to portray Daphne as having taken strides to be seen more seriously in solving mysteries and defending herself, it pushes the narrative that in the classic era she WASN'T taken seriously, and only existed as a damsel-in-distress prop of a character, which is just not true??? Like yes, Daphne is clumsy, that's a part of her character, and her friends (because, fun fact, the gang ARE friends) joke about it sometimes because that's what friends DO. Framing that in some kind of sexist "that's all she does" lens is just total bull, especially as gang members fall into secret passageways/get lost etc. in WAY ALL THE DAMN TIME because that's how the plot functions! Like are we calling Velma ditzy for losing her glasses every other episode? Of course not, and Fred falls into passageways all the time, not to MENTION Shaggy and Scooby and all they get up to. Also one last thing on the topic of Daphne, like this idea of her mystery solving skills not being respected by the gang is just so supremely bullshit it amazes me sometimes, especially when she was the LEADER (or leader adjacent) through pretty much all of her appearances in the 1980s [Not that James Gunn could look at '80s era Scooby without spitting on it, but I digress]

AND THIS IS JUST DAPHNE! Like the perceptions pushed towards Fred (and Velma, but mostly Fred) through these movies are just as bad! Like okay, with Fred---In these movies Fred is just an asshole. I hate Gunn Movies!Fred. I mean yeah he can be funny but it's almost always so mean! Almost nothing makes me madder than a mean Fred by the way. If he's putting other gang members down (even halfway, like with his whole "dorky chicks like you turn me on too" line, which... ew) then to me something has gone very, very, VERY, wrong in your basic understanding of Frederick Herman Jones as a character. Like he's the cheerleader! He puts himself in between his friends and danger! He loves nets, and traps, and Elvis impressions, and wrestling, and the trapeze, and cars, and most of all he LOVES sharing the things he loves with his friends! (Sometimes to a bit of an extreme. No one wants to hear about your net facts, Fred) And the live action movies just don't understand that at all. And I know there's maybe something to say I suppose in that some of those aspects of his characterization hadn't been "established yet" by the time "Scooby-Doo" came out in 2002. But it's there if you look. For Fred Jones, being the leader means being the caretaker, (he's the Mom friend what can I say) and any version where he's cruel and arrogant and just DOESN'T CARE about his friends in the way he's shown to in the Gunn movies is just so far from Fred to me it's not even funny. And what makes it even worse for me is that this (or at least something similar) is the idea of Fred that has really spread to the popular culture. Just the "leader", the jock that makes the rules, the one that [insert X adaptation here] finally gave a personality and made interesting (something that has been said more times than I can count for pretty much every gang member, save Shaggy and Scooby).

And I haven't even touched on Velma, and how they gave her a bit of a early 2000s smart superiority girl complex against Daphne, plus the whole makeover thing and etc. etc. The Gunn Movies are pretty much what would happen if you took someone who hadn't seen Scooby since they were 7 years old (and honestly had a pretty negative outlook against it then) and tried to "fix" it, only his memory was so bad he just made up problems (and threw in a good helping of early 2000s style sexism with it) convincing pretty much the entirety of the popular culture that said problems exist and that Gunn was absolutely brilliant for fixing them (and then bringing up said "problems" whenever anyone wants to talk about Scooby) and this entire rant has been without even fucking MENTIONING what is probably the reason you, anonymous tumblr user sent this ask in the first place, to I, Swishy "Scrappy Doo Redemption Arc" Broke-on-books (dot tumblr dot com), which is his HIGHLY SUCESSFUL and utterly sadistic character assassination of my number one man, Scrappy Doo.

And I am going to try my damnedest here not to get totally into my highly passionate opinions over what James Gunn did to Scrappy in the first of his Scooby movies and how thoroughly it has pissed me the fuck off because I have been writing this post for over an hour now and if we start to really get into my feelings on this topic it will certainly be a couple of hours more but like. That Fucking Bitch. I give James Gunn personally a solid eighty-five percent of the blame for making my life as a Scrappy Doo fan UTTERLY unbearable with this stupid fucking movie alone, and just his Scrappy crimes would honestly be enough for me to say that I hate this movie, not even considering the numerous Scooby crimes I've been talking about here for the past million paragraphs, but the part about this movie that makes me the MOST mad the most pissed off is that it's actually a good fucking movie. James Gunn wrote two hilarious and entertaining movies that have become beloved in the popular culture for their successes in that arena, while at the same time pissing all over the core themes and messages of the franchise of which it was based, that of friendship.

TLDR; The Live Action Scooby Doo movies (written by James Gunn) are highly entertaining and fun pieces of media to watch, and are widely loved by the general public and looked at with fondness and nostalgia because of that. However, as a hardcore Scooby Doo fan (writing that phrase sounds so ridiculous but oh well) the existence of these movies and their impact on the popular culture can be extremely frustrating (despite any personal nostalgia said fan may have) due to their spreading of a misinformed picture of what "typical Scooby Doo" looks like. This picture is especially frustrating due to the fabrication or exaggeration of problems present in classic Scooby (such as sexism in regards to the girls), as well as giving more ammunition to other problems in Scooby fandom (such as oversexualization, and sexualization in general, which no one wants to see in regards to their children's cartoons, like HONESTLY.) Discussions of sexism and sexualization in Scooby (both of which ARE present and are issues, although not at their worst in WAY) can often lead to an overlooking of the issues that are very present and clear in WAY and have continued since then with far too little resistance (I'm 100% talking about the racism here) HOWEVER that topic deserves at least a dozen posts of its own that I am no way informed or qualified enough to even begin to think about writing. The Gunn Movies are frustrating to many longtime Scooby fans because of these reasons, but for me, and fellow Scrappy Doo fans there is also the added aspect of the demonization of Scrappy Doo in the live action movies and the affects that has had on the popular culture as well, making it uniquely inhospitable to like or enjoy the character of Scrappy. End post.

#that last sentence is such a weird tone jump btw but its because the topic flowed one way and i had to jump it back to a summary to actually #finish this monster of a post #SO anon i hope you're happy with this and this makes my opinion make some more sense. and you or anyone else is more than welcome to ask me #questions about anything i said here or my opinion on any and everything scooby related (and not) so if theres a specific aspect of this yo #would like expanded on i can definitely 100% do that for you or anyone who cares #also there are many complexities towards my feelings on these movies that i didnt get to hit on despite the monstrous size of this rant (il #check word count later but im not gonna fuck with it now because im terrified of deleting this post by accident) one of which is my lasting #fondness towards all of the actors in this movie. YES including freddie prinze jr. i may have major issues with his fred but hes also playe #characters i really really like. for example hes the va in this tv show i LOVE and havent watched in like 10 months despite the fact im on #the last season because freddie's character dies in like 7 episodes and i am NOT AT ALL emotionally prepared for that on any level because #that is my fictional father goddamnit!!!!! #also every buffy the vampire slayer gifset that crosses my dash gets me closer and closer to watching it because oh my god daphne!!!!! that #sarah michelle gellar thats daphne oh my god!!!! also i went and saw guardians of the galaxy 3 with my friend (despite not having seen a #marvel movie in 2+ years AND holding a grudge over james gunn's scooby doo crimes)[the things you do for {platonic} love amirite?] #and the title sequence SAID linda cardellini was in it and i got SO excited i was looking everywhere for her it was like wheres waldo in th #discount movie theatre FOR REAL and i just could NOT for the life of me find her (turns out she was VAing the ferret) so in a way linda mad #me cry with that role. whatever. istg i get so off topic i forget what i was even talking about but ANYWAYS <<<1 of my fave english words b #dubs (my favorite spanish word is el amanacer btw. it means sunrise. also burbujas because its bubbles and saying it sounds like bubbles #popping) BUT. AS I WAS SAYING. SEND ME ASKS IF YOU WANT SCOOBY DOO OPINIONS. DEAR GOD I GET SCATTERBRAINED SOMETIMES. #scooby doo #answered #anonymous #blah

[mythbringer-mayhem]

GODDAMNIT

man, I was just scrolling and now I'm a goddamn Raidioapple shipper what the FUCK

Ok ok-

And now I'm going to elaborate just because.

I was expecting someone out there to ship Lucifer and Alastor the second I heard Hell's Greatest Dad. I mean- two people singing/arguing over being father figures? Sounds gay to me /pos. The internet sure does love it's enemies to lovers (me included. I'm hopless lmao.)

BUT. I have specifics for this ship.

I hate it when people just look at Alastor's aromanticism/asexuallity and just go "nah. I'm just gonna do it anyways." I used to headcanon Alastor as complete aroace in the sense that he just can't feel that way for someone (this is not meant to sound like "oh he can't love anyone :( he's incapable" I mean specifically a romantic/sexual relationship.) Then fucking short ass king of hell arrives, and Alastor just IMMEDIATELY chooses violence.

I didn't think much of that besides "oh that's a little interesting," and then I stumbled across Radioapple and had to take a double take. My brain needed to figure out how that would work, like how it would start, flourish, ineract, yadda yadda-

.....so now I consider Alastor Demiromantic-

(I'm still goddamn writing jeez-)

Read on if you like random people looking wayyyyyy too much into fictional characters.

Headcanon timeeeeeeeee

When Lucifer and Alastor first meet, Alastor is surprised Lucifer doesn't know who he is. Up to this point, everyone knows about the terrifying radio demon, so it must be a little weird for someone to be completely ignorant to his existence. Especially when that person should probably know the ins and outs of what's going on- ....because he's the fucking king of hell.

This is something new for Alastor. It made him curious. When you're curious, you try to learn more right? So, Alastor starts pushing Lucifer's buttons, seeing how he reacts. On Lucifer's end, Alastor's just being a smug asshole. However his true intentions are information on the esteemed oh-so-powerful king of hell. Maybe Alastor doesn't quite know where this fascination comes from, but regardless he wants to learn more. I can picture him progressively bothering Lucifer more and more (this is his unique way of getting to know him semi-discreetly)

As well as figuring out what ticks him off, Alastor would also probably passively learn things Lucifer likes. For instance, he finds out what Lucifer's favorite alcoholic drink is or something- bare with me- Let’s say Lucifer has a rough day, and it's very clear to everyone in the hotel. While he's frustrated in his own room, he hears a knock at the door. Answering it, he finds his aforementioned favorite drink. At this point, he wouldn't know who left it. But after a while, he'd be able to figure out it's Alastor through process of elimination. (This is inspired by a comic I saw! :))

Now we've got Alastor trying to discreetly be kind to Lucifer, and Lucifer is aware without his knowledge. And Lucifer would call him out for it lmao. Slowly, they'd start acting friendlier towards each other. It would take a long, long time though. The slowest slow burn of them all. They'd hang out more, do things, kick angel ass, have friendly banter, do stuff with Charlie. Untill Alastor finally realizes that he might have a crush on Lucifer. Though, I feel he'd take a while to fully figure that out, do some soul searching, maybe go to Rosie for advice.

Then they'd confess. Or they wouldn't lol. I can totally see them going on what is essentially a date, even though they just consider it "hanging out". It would be a quiet relationship. Something you'd miss if you aren't looking for it, but it is there. They both just need someone they can rest with in my opinion.

These ideas are probably sporadic and nonsensical- but I ✨️don't care✨️ I just needed to rant about the old timey deer man and the short depressed apple gremlin.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #lucifer #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #shipping #rant post #headcanon #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel ship #Lucifer would have to use a box to give Alastor a kiss on the cheek. #Hazbin hotel show #hazbin hotel spoilers #That or Alastor would just pick him up and tease him about it #asexual #aromantic #aroace #arospec #aroace alastor #aroace character #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgbtq community #queer headcanons #character dynamics

[joyful-soul-collector]

Lovecraft Country Episode 1

My dad told me I'd love this show and I got nothin else better to do rn so let's fakkin GO

Oh wow there's a lot happening

Jackie Robinson just cut Cthulu in half with a baseball bat

OH ITS A DREAM okay that makes much more sense

Looks like this is the 40s or 50s? Idk my years very well, but segregation is a thing for sure (future Marko here, it's the 50s)

Aw man they gotta walk? That sucks

"Stories are like people. Loving them doesn't make them perfect. You just try and cherish them, overlook their flaws" GODDAMN I love that. I don't agree with overlooking their flaws (both in stories and people), but I understand the meaning and I love it so much

Father's gone missing womp womp

Hippolyta, that's a cool name, imma steal it

I gotta say Atticus is a very pretty man. I didn't see it as much when Johnathan Majors played Kang in Loki (mainly because he wasn't there for long I think), but he is v pretty

Oooh secret legacy?? Mysterious letters??? V interesting...

Oop dude literally in the middle of a BJ and just talks to Atticus like he wasn't A Bit Busy just then

Ooh those two sing well!

Fuck yeah bust open that hydrant

Oof I guess Leti isn't as close to her sister as I thought

Oh damn she drew a grim reaper right over where they need to go lol

Damn Atticus is probably so smart with all those books, if people weren't so damn racist maybe he wouldn't have had to join the army to move out, he could've been a writer or somethin

Oop there's a hole in the wall. Bet that's a fun memory...

Bruh who tf did he call in South Korea???

Oh gross, the monkey noises.... hate seeing how people act towards them

Bruh this red car is fuckin banger look at the wood?? If old cars like that weren't so unsafe I would love to drive one

Oh jeez I hope this diner isn't too awful an experience...

Oh my god what in the fuck is happening

LETITIA FUCKIN LEWIS

WAIT THAT'S THE CAR THEY SAID HIS DAD WAS DRIVING THE FANCY SILVER CAR

WAIT WHAT THE HELL DID THE TRUCK HIT??

WHO'S THIS RANDOM WHITE LADY

Okay so the diner was definitely a terrible experience. Love how smart Atticus is tho, he figured that shit out quick

This little girl is so creative I love her drawings

Sounds like Leti's mom wasn't the best to her, but her family never saw that so they're mad she didn't go to the funeral

Oof that's a rough fight to have, the one between Atticus and his dad. I understand why his father would be upset at Atticus for joining the army, but I also understand Atticus too. He views his country the way he does stories. "You just try and cherish them, overlook their flaws"

Dad and George's parents were shit, so then his Dad was shit, and George feels like he didn't protect his brother or Atticus enough. Oh the cycle of abuse ever turns...

Devon countyyyyy that's the one with the grim reaper on it

Aw fuck is that a cop

Nooooo fuck fuck fuck

FUCK ITS THAT SHERRIF THAT'S MURDERS PEOPLE

SUNDOWN TOWN FUCKIN FUCK

Oh you motherFUCKER

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK

Oh mgod that was fucking terrifying

GODDAMNIT NO FUCK

HOLY SHIT WTF IS THAT

GO LETI YOU CAN DO IT

Fuuuuuck this guy is turning into a monster....

The flaaaaares v nice

Bruh why you guys walking did she total the car??

THERE IT IS THERE'S THE SILVER CAR

UHHH?? "WELCOME HOME"???

Ok so that was uhhh fucking amazing? The mystery, the monsters, the awesome characters, the struggles with racism juxtaposed with the science-fiction struggles, FUCK this is set up so damn well?? Goddamn okay I'm gonna proofread and post this and then imma watch the next one cuz I can't fuckin WAIT

#lovecraft country #letitia lewis #atticus freeman #george freeman #marko reacts

[laniidae-passerine]

There’s been a lot of amazing discussion about how much Curtain is the worst father, and he totally is, but what I think hurts the most about the whole dynamic is that. He loves S.Q. He is a man who cares about his son. The issue is that he sucks. He’s a terrible father, a manipulative cold and cruel man who actively behaves in ways that will keep S.Q under his control. And that’s not love - no form of manipulation is loving, ever - but I don’t think it reduces the part of him that adores his son.

If he didn’t give a fuck, he wouldn’t teach S.Q anything, wouldn’t sit with him, wouldn’t allow him to stay in his office during work hours. I think the idea that everything affectionate he does is calculated is a bit too far and kinda reduces how awful it must be to be S.Q, because his dad loves him and also, his dad is the fucking worst! Two things, existing simultaneously and making it impossible to fully condemn or forgive, so he’s just stuck in this endless cycle of pain.

And it also means that Curtain is extra the worst because he loves S.Q but refuses, or lacks the capacity (which I sincerely doubt), to be better! He loves S.Q and then fucking! treats him like garbage! He builds these walls and these restrictions around his child and then has the audacity to be angered and hurt that his son one day decides he doesn’t want to live like that anymore! And he’s hurt, he’s sincerely hurt at the idea that his son doesn’t trust him, doesn’t want to be around him but dude, you did that!!! You pushed him away and you likely saw your love for him as weakness and were just the actual worst for so many years and agh! the pain from this relationship is rooted in the fact that Curtain loves his son, the same way he loves his brother - so much that he’s afraid of it but not enough that he’s willing to change for them.

#nandor voice: this fucking guy! #no but seriously I hate him so much PLEASE STOP shut the fuck up please do better I hate you oh my god #he truly believes he’s doing the right thing that these boundaries are needed for him and his son AND THEY’RE NOT AND THEY’RE AWFUL AND FUCK #like. he loves his son. he loves his brother. but he won’t be good for them #no wait ​worse actually. he’s terrible to them because he thinks that’s what they need because he doesn’t take their feelings into account!! #im furious. mad about a terrible fictional father goddamnit #ALSO! also what if. and this hurts most #what if he hasn’t refused to change for them but has changed for them. become colder and more calculating and cruel because #1) that’s what he thinks they need and he never listens to anyone but himself the bastard #and 2) because he is afraid of loving them because it makes him weak. and he’d rather push them away than be weak #he’s afraid of being seen and yet what he does paints him in the harshest lights of all IM LOSING MY MIND #siri write ‘Curtain goes from doting on to fearing to resenting S.Q overtime while still always loving him’ fic for me please #tmbs #the mysterious benedict society #ld curtain #l.d curtain #ledroptha curtain #s.q curtain #s.q pedalian

[aka-thesheepgirl]

Me: " So, tell me more about yourself."

F/O: " I'm literally just someone who is a parental figure/becomes a parental figure on the long run (most likely by adopting a child that may not be related to me at all)- Despite the fact I'm (probably) a morally grey/downright bastard of a person."

Me: " And you actually do love them, right?"

F/O: " More than anything else in this entire world."

Me: " Ah yes-

You're hired!"

#listen I'm sorry- #but the 'and suddenly I- The Stinky Man™ have become a great father!' trope is my favorite???!? #evil stinker who adopts a kid to manipulate it's so last season 🙄 #loving and caring for your kid despite being kinda evil is the new trend 😘🤭😜 #goddamnit- Listen: #bruno buccerati #he isn't evil and HE DOESN'T need to be #I just appreciate how he just adopts every single member of his gang- With his 'totally straight goth boyfriend' #It's not just Bruno btw #and I'm not talking about just evil/morally grey characters- I just wanted to clarify that I love this trope in general #I just kinda runout of examples #f/o #f/o post #fictional other #f/o community #idk if this counts as f/o tho- #yeah this post is about Silco and Vander 🤡 I'm clowning so hard for these two #they have different energies but I love them

[bookwyrminspiration]

Do you think Sophie will find out that Grady knows how to contact Keefe (and was involved)? How do you think she'll react? What do you think will happen to her and Grady's relationship?

oho nonsie you really decided to spoil me today !!

Also, thank you for your patience as I answered this, it actually stumped me for a good while and then my object permanence said huh? What asks?

okay so to answer your question, I think it’s inevitable that she’ll find out, because this is a fictional story and it has a lot of potential that Shannon would be remiss not to take advantage of. Also, she included it in the book for a reason, so I would bet that she already has a least a vague idea of how it could come into play.

Now

It really could go multiple ways. Either Keefe needs to contact Grady for something (unlikely because that boy does not know how to rely on others and also is currently trying to disappear), or something happens to Sophie and Grady calls that boy up for some emotional support

Either way, whenever she find out I’m going to bet that she’s going to be very upset with/disappointed in Grady for not sharing this information with her because then they could’ve found him and brought him back goddamnit

Keefe has become a very important person to her, and she doesn’t want to loose him. Yet he keeps pushing her away and she’s desperately trying to get through to him and openly communicate with him and help him. And this is just the next obstacle in the course of their relationship (used as a neutral word not implying romance), and it’s a big one.

She’s going to be be so fucking worried for Keefe when she finds out he’s gone—I’ve already mentioned the likely disappointment and resignation and rage in a previous post I believe, but she’s also going to be worried sick. And finding out there was a way to contact him this whole time? And that her father, who she loves and trusts and has worked to build a solid relationship with kept that from her? Added a layer to her misery and hurt?

I think she’ll be fucking pissed. She has a history of lashing out with rage when her parental figures disappoint her (like when her adoption was cancelled), so it wouldn’t be unreasonable for it to happen again, although she may have grown since then. I truly think this is going to tear a rift between them that Grady’s going to be blamed for. Even if when they contact Keefe it’s to help her.

But hey, who knows? /rh

#Grady and Sophie give me so much serotonin #kinda terrified to see what canonically happened to them because I love them #also legit it took me a few days to try and think this one through #because their father daughter relationship is so complex and layered #and I wanted to try and do it justice #so I hope this was satisfactory #but if not #send me another ask!! #I’d be more than happy to go more in depth #on any other topic too #kotlc #kotlc character analysis #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fandom #sophie foster #grady ruewen #asks #nonsie #anonymous #ask quil anything

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 15

A Not-So-Brotherly Argument

SUMMARY: When Liam returns to the capital, Leo is waiting for him

Word Count: ~3.6k 

Warnings: Language, mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @loudbluebirdlover @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @cinnamonspongecake @queenjilian @kuladekiwi @twinkle-320 @iaminlovewithtrr @charlotteg234 @amandablink @texaskitten30 @tinkie1973 @louiseingram1208 @queencatherynerhys @pens-girl-87 @missevabean @ladyangel70 @sanchita012​ @cordonianprincess

I hope I got everyone tagged! If I missed anyone, or anyone wants to be added/removed, let me know!

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

- Liam - 

When Bastien informed Liam that his brother was waiting to speak to him, the words went in one ear and flew out the other. Liam was lightheaded with happiness, and he embraced it — though he was unaccustomed to the feeling, since he had gone years thinking happiness was the last thing he deserved. But now, with Riley and the children almost in Cordonia, what was there not to be excited about?

Riley’s husband had died, and it was like the family had lost a piece of their puzzle. Liam had convinced himself that he was that replacement puzzle, and if he wasn’t, he would become it. 

When he walked into his office and saw Leo waiting for him, Liam hugs his brother. When they pull apart, Leo has an eyebrow raised. 

“Everything okay?” Leo asks as they both take a seat. 

“Everything is wonderful,” Liam responds, a broad smile pulling the edges of his face, holding such deep emotion that Leo’s face falls further into confusion. 

“How’d your New York trip go?”

Liam blinks a couple times, images flashing through his mind: Riley in the hospital, Gabriel in the DNA lab, Eleanor crying in front of her brother’s room. He wondered if he should tell his brother everything. “Eventful,” Liam says plainly. He wanted to keep the news of his little family to himself for now.

Leo persists: “Really? I uh... had a conversation with Regina yesterday. She said that you weren’t coming back alone.” 

Liam’s heart freezes for a moment, and the bubbling excitement subsides as he looks at his brother. Leo’s shoulders are tense, his mouth is in a thin line, and his eyes are wide; staring profusely at Liam, waiting for him to make a move or say something. 

He clears his throat, then lets out a forced laugh. “You seem to have been talking to Regina quite often as of late.” Liam forces his facial features to tense, making himself look serious. He wasn’t going to be kind to Regina, or anyone that had anything to do with her. Not after everything she did. 

“Well, huh, yeah.” Leo runs a hand through his hair and shifts in his seat. “I did my best to be subtle when I came to the tea ceremony, but Regina caught me and we had a little chat. She told me you were abroad and then invited Katie and the kids to dinner a few days after. The dinner was last night, actually.” 

Liam raises his eyebrows. Even though Leo had been married for a long time, he had never brought back his wife or kids for Liam to visit. Liam had seen them once when he visited their home on the twins’ birthday. That was almost three years ago. “Katie and the children are here? In the capital?” he asks. 

“Yeah, we got a hotel a couple miles away. So...” Leo shifts in his seat again, then smirks at his brother. “About this other person.”

Liam chuckles. He doesn’t want to tell Leo much about Riley and the children, but Leo was his brother. He’d never kept anything from him before, why hide anything now?

In a low voice, heavy with love and longing, Liam manages, “I brought back Riley. Riley Brooks.” 

Leo’s face falls. Liam notices the expression, and his brow bends with worry. Was Leo not happy for him? Was Leo not glad that Liam finally reunited with the only woman he had ever loved? Why wasn’t his brother happy for him?

Leo rubs his chin and scoffs. The sarcastic sound sends a dagger through Liam’s heart. Why isn’t my brother glad that I’ve found my love?

“That’s great, Liam. But...” He trails off.

“But what?” Liam pushes him to continue, desperate for an explanation that would douse the fiery anger that was building within him. 

“But...” Leo stares down at the floor, carving patterns in the wood with his eyes. “Is this really the best thing for the both of you?”

“What does that mean?” 

“Liam, I’m just saying—”

“You said you spoke to Regina? Does she have anything to do with this?” 

“Yes and no. We talked last night over dinner. And then we talked again over the phone after I returned to the hotel. We did talk about you, but—” 

“Since when did you become so frank with her?” Liam chuckles, finding the prospect of Leo and Regina attempting a civilized conversation amusing. He stands and goes to pour him and his brother some scotch. 

Leo doesn’t move or laugh, waiting for his brother to retake his seat. He grabs the glass that Liam hands him and takes a sip. 

“It’s not that we’re close or anything,” Leo starts. “I was just worried and decided to ask her if she knew anything, since she sees you more often than I do.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t ask her about situations that involve me. You’re my brother, I deny you nothing.” Liam smiles genuinely, but it falters as he continues. “That hag believes that she has my best interests at heart, but she doesn’t.”

“Woah,” Leo exclaims. He takes another sip of his drink and laughs. “Never heard you refer to Regina so brutally. I like it. What happened?” 

Liam leans back in his seat. “She pushed Riley away during Bertrand and Savannah’s wedding. Forced her onto a jet. Onto one of my jets.”

Leo raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t look at his brother. “How’d she do that?” 

“Duchess Olivia told me that Regina knew Lady Riley had visited Europe a little after the Homecoming Ball. How she knew is beyond me. Regina made her guards keep an eye in every corner.” 

Leo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Liam stares at him. 

“Did Regina tell you she did that?” Liam asks his brother. 

Leo rubs his temple. “Nope. Didn’t tell me anything about Riley during the Duke’s wedding.” Leo stares down into his drink. Liam waits for him to continue the conversation, and the fact that they both slip into silence unnerves him. 

“So what did she tell you?” Liam asks. He felt his blood boil, thinking about his brother siding with Regina. “You both talked about me during your little dinner. What was mentioned?”

Leo sits up in his seat, leaning forward. “Liam, c’mon, don’t involve Regina in this. She has nothing to do with my opinions about Riley or your relationship with her.” 

“Really?” Liam downs the rest of his drink and goes to pour himself more. “Then what are your opinions of Riley? If they’re not filtered with Regina’s criticism, tell me.”

“Liam, calm down. I’m just trying to look out for you, okay? I know you, brother, I know you can handle whatever you’re going through. You’ve been having a hard time but you’ve kept your priorities straight, you’re a hard-working monarch—”

“Don’t...” Liam’s fist grabs the glass so tightly that his arm shakes. “Don’t change the subject, goddamnit. What the Hell did that bitch tell you about Riley?”

“For goodness sakes, Liam, calm down. She didn’t tell me anything alright?” 

“Then why on Earth are you so interested in that topic? Why are Riley and I recurring topics in your and Regina’s discussions?”

“Because I don’t think that bringing her back is the best choice for either of you! And considering that you’re the king, I just want to make sure you’re doing what’s best for Cordonia. That’s why I left our country in your hands, because I knew you would—”

“So now you confide in Regina every time you begin to worry about the country and people you left behind?” 

Leo puts his head in his hands. “Liam, please. Regina just did what she thought was best for Cordonia and for you.” 

“‘Thought was best’?” Liam scoffs. “Tell me, brother, is keeping my son away from me best?”

Leo’s eyes go wide as he leans back into his seat. “Liam, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know, and neither did I.” A shadow falls over Liam’s eyes, and it doesn’t lift. 

“C’mon, Liam. I bet Riley had her reasons.”

Liam looks up at his brother. “What?” 

Leo pauses before continuing. “I said she must have had her reasons to keep your son away from you. Before Regina’s involvement.” 

Liam stands, a sense of shock and pain overtaking him. “Really? You believe that? Tell me, brother, if Katie had been pregnant before you married, and she had run away and you didn’t know you were a father for more than a decade, would you feel her actions were justified?”

Leo gets up from his seat so he’s at eye level with his brother. “No, because my situation with Katie and your situation with Riley is different.” 

“Then who are you to say that she had her reasons?” Liam shouts. “Who are you to say that she was justified in keeping my son away from me? Don’t you understand? He’s the heir to the throne. There is so much that is due to him but wasn’t given because his mother kept him away. And then when his mother tried to bring him back, Regina kept them both away.” Tears begin falling involuntarily down Liam’s face. “All I had ever wanted a was a family, and instead of taking my side you say she had reasons? How on Earth would you even know—”

“Goddamnit, Liam!” Leo shouts, interrupting his brother. “Because she told me her reasons, okay? She told me!” 

Liam feels his body go numb. His throat aches, but he pushes out, “What?”

Leo gives a sigh, falling back into his seat, burying his head in his hands. “Liam, I’m not here to fight with you. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Leo lifts his face to look at Liam, and finds his brother staring down at him, a wild look in his eyes. For a moment, Liam feels that he may just jump on Leo.

He begins to explain: “A couple of years ago, some time after the Homecoming Ball and all the shit with the Sons of Earth, Katie’s sister’s film won an award. There was a ceremony in Sweden, and Katie wanted to go and support her. After she got the award we went into this restaurant.”

The animal look in Liam’s eyes doesn’t falter. Leo locks eyes with his brother, trying to silently keep him calm. 

“So we were eating, talking, whatever, right? Katie’s sister’s talking about all the hard work she and her friend put in, how grateful she is, all that. Behind her, there’s a group of people eating at another table, and I notice Riley. At first I thought I was fucking hallucinating. I had a little too much to drink, so I thought I was out of it. I remembered her from your Coronation and all the bullshit with the press after. You had told me she’s disappeared, and I— I just... I didn’t really believe it could’ve been her.” 

Neither man’s gaze falls. Leo takes a breath.

“I wanted to go check it out, but she was in a small group. Two other guys, and a woman with three kids were all at the table with her. Then after a while, one of the men stands and goes to the bar. I follow him. He’s got a Russian accent when he orders a few drinks. I order something, too, then I ask him his name, what he’s doing here... I was trying to be casual, y’know, not make him suspicious. I tell him that I recognized the lady at his table, and he gets defensive. I try to tell him that it’s nothing like that, I just know her from an event we both went to, but he keeps yelling at me in Russian until the other dude comes up from the table and asks what’s going on.”

“Did you catch their names?” Liam questions. 

“The Russian guy’s name was Boris, and the other one was... Thomas? Theodore? Yeah, Theodore. So, Theodore comes up and asks what’s going on, and I tell him that I noticed Riley and thought it was a big coincidence. I was kinda shocked that Riley never came up to the bar, even though we were all yelling.”

“Then what happened?” Liam prods Leo to continue. 

“So they’re being defensive and I ask them if they know about her scandal and whatever, and Theodore tells me that he does, and they’re trying to keep her away from the royal family because she doesn’t want anything to do with them anymore. I tell them that the best thing she could do for herself was change her name, move far away, and don’t do anything or go anywhere in the public eye.”

“You bastard!” Liam screams. “Instead of telling me where she was, you help her stay away?” 

“Yes, because fucking damn it, Liam!” Leo jumps up from his seat. “I know what it’s like to want to leave the royal bullshit behind. From the moment I heard everyone’s phones go off during the Coronation, I knew some poor girl’s life was going to be ruined. This place, this court, it’s a toxic shithole.”

“So you’re connecting your position with her’s?” Liam scoffs. “Don’t. You pushed yourself into a situation that was none of your business!” 

“And how is it your business, whether she wants to stay or not?” 

“Because she was pregnant with my son!” 

“But you didn’t know that!” Leo yells. “You didn’t know! For the last ten years, you didn't know but you kept persisting! Why? You can’t be serious, Liam, you’re the fucking king. You could have any woman you want and you chose one that didn’t want anything to do with you?”

Liam stands rooted in the spot, unable to speak. 

“Don’t be naïve, Liam,” Leo tells him in a softer voice. “I know you’ve had a hard time in the love department, especially after everything with Riley, but you can’t be serious. She doesn’t love you. If she did, she would have stayed, she would have endured. Love surpasses—”

“Shut. UP!” Liam screams. “Shut your mouth! Stop talking!” 

“No, you, Liam, are the one who needs to stop!” Leo yells in Liam’s face. “You aren’t in love, you’re obsessed! Ten years, man, that’s nearly a fourth of your life that you’ve spent pining away on one woman!” 

The men take a moment to stand in silence, staring at one another. They breathe heavily after all the yelling.

Liam’s voice breaks when he continues. “Because I was in love with her. Am. I would have done anything for her, and I still would.”

Leo scoffs and sits down. 

“I’m not talking about lust, Leo.” Liam leans over his desk, trying to find the words. “It was like... like our souls were pieces of the same fabric. That everything I lacked, she was. Why can’t you understand? You said that your love for Katie was what motivated you to abdicate, to do what—”

“Stop comparing your situation to mine and Katie’s. There’s nothing similar. Stop grabbing at something that’s not even there! That’s what you did with Riley. You never got over her, yet you had every woman in Europe ready to make you feel better!” 

Liam falls back into his seat. “And you think I want other women to help me through the pain? Leo, I grieved when Riley left. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. She was the best part of me, and she disappeared like that.” He snaps his fingers. “God... and every woman that pushed herself in front of me put me deeper into the grief. None of those women would be doing such things if Riley was here. And they never would have made me feel better the way Riley could have. Whenever I thought about marriage, I thought about how happy my life would have been with Riley. Everything reminded me of her. Leo, I was ready to abdicate for her, I was ready to leave my country for her. She was the very essence that made life worth living. Every day during the social season or the Engagement Tour, whenever I saw her, the world would become a little brighter. She taught me that there was more to life than just...” Liam trails off, his heart heavy. 

After a moment, he continues, “If she had even told me that she didn’t love me, I believe I would have been fine with that. If she had married someone else but would have still allowed me to see her regularly, I would have dealt with it better.” 

They sit quietly for the next few minutes, but the tension makes it feel like hours have gone by. The air feels thick. Leo can’t bring himself to look up at his brother, while Liam feels like his skin is boiling. 

Both lean back into their seats, staring out at nothing. Leo finally glances up at his brother, looking at Liam’s red eyes. 

Liam feels his brother’s gaze, but doesn’t make eye contact. 

“So you,” Liam tries to speak through the lump in his throat. “You knew her whereabouts and asked Regina to help you in keeping her away?” 

“Liam, it wasn’t like that,” Leo tries to convince his brother. “I just wanted to help keep her safe. I didn’t know she was with child or that Regina would do something so extreme—”

Liam puts up a hand, and Leo abruptly stops talking. “Don’t continue. I don’t want to hear the excuses. Just leave.” 

“Liam don’t do this—”

“Leave.”

Leo stares at his brother, willing Liam to look up at him. But when Liam doesn’t move a muscle, he gets out of his seat and leaves. 

Liam breathes out when he hears the door close, thinking about what his brother said. Did I truly act as if I was obsessed with her? I merely grieved her, and grief is nothing like obsession... is it? 

No. It’s not obsession. Drake, Maxwell, and Hana had all felt the same way. We weren’t obsessed. We were... depressed. Our strength was Riley, and Riley had left us when we had needed her most. 

But can we blame her? Did I ever blame her? I hope not. She was in pain. She had been humiliated. She had loved me with everything in her. Did that take up so much of her energy that she couldn’t keep herself emotionally stable? Perhaps she was right to leave. Out of all the people in the world who are worthy of love, I am the most undeserving. And I especially didn’t deserve the significant amount that Riley gave me. 

The frustration burns in the back of his eyes, and in a flurry of anger, Liam pushes the piles of papers and books off of his desk. Hearing everything tumble onto the floor was satisfying, and his release of anger was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

Who has the nerve to bother me? Don’t they know I just returned from my trip?

I have to address whatever concerns they have. I’ve been away for a while. I can’t fall further behind. 

“Come in,” he allows. 

“Your Majesty,” Madeleine greets as she closes the door behind her. “Welcome back.” 

Liam internally rolls his eyes. She was the last person that he wanted around him. “What is it, Countess?” 

She begins putting down a pile of paper on his desk, pretending not to notice the mess on the floor. “Here is a proposal by some Cordonian economists about the recent economic issue in Southern territories. I’ve looked over it and found some exceptional points, but I’m sure you could change it to be better.” She pauses and stares at him. “Your Majesty, are you alright?” 

Liam doesn’t look up at her. “Yes, yes, Countess, I’m fine. Is that all?”

“Yes,” she says, and takes half a step to leave, but then turns back. “Actually, there’s also this.” She pulls out a folder that was on the bottom of the pile and opens it for Liam to see. “Lesson plans. For Lady Riley’s son, of course.”

Liam shoots up from his seat. His nose inches away from Madeleine’s. He doesn’t hesitate for a moment before spitting, “You will stay away from my son, understood?” His voice is low and thick. “If I see you interacting with him in any capacity, whether it be instructional or disrespectful, I will make the rest of your time in my country a living Hell. Stay away from my family. Understood?” 

Madeleine’s eyes go wide and she stops breathing. She takes a step back to bow. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Leave me.” 

She rushes out of the room. 

Liam wonders at the audacity of the woman while flipping through some of the “lesson plans.” They’re surprisingly adequate.

His phone rings and he closes the folder. Taking it out of his pocket, his heart jumps when he sees that it’s Maxwell calling. They must have landed.

“Hello?” Liam says into the phone. 

“Yeah, hi, Liam, it’s Maxwell.”

“Yes, I know, Maxwell. How was the flight? How are Riley and the kids?”

“Oh the baby blossoms are fine, yeah. Bartie rushed in to give them and Rowan a tour, but... uh...” 

“What is it Maxwell? Is Riley alright?” 

“Riley... she, uh...” Maxwell’s voice breaks a little. “I think she got overwhelmed when she got out of the car and saw everything again. She... she passed out.”

#the royal romance #trr fanfic #choices trr #choices fanfiction #trr liam x mc #trr liam x riley #the royal romance fanfiction #trr fandom

[magniloquent-raven]

Hello! For the I Love You prompt, 96 (“I brought you an umbrella.”) and first kiss please! I love me some fluff

thanks so much for the prompt :D

i wrote some bucklway! hope that’s okay!! and a lot of steve&robin being best friends because i love that for them. (and it’s a modern au)

(posted on ao3)

—-

Robin’s phone buzzes.

Her shift is almost over. Twenty more minutes ‘til freedom and air that doesn’t smell like burnt coffee. She doesn’t need to check her phone yet. It can wait. She’s keeping her eyes fixed forward, watching the door in case customers come in. There’s nobody even on the street outside, but still, it could happen. It’s raining, people come into cafes for shelter all the time.

Stupid, traitor brain doesn’t seem to be getting the message though, because she keeps glancing down at her phone, sitting there on the counter taunting her. She’s looking often enough that Steve’s noticed. She can see him making faces at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Just check, Rob,” he groans.

“Check what,” she asks, deadpan. Steve is unmoved.

“We both know it’s Heather, and we both know you’re dying to know what it says.”

“We don’t know that. It could be…” she pauses, laments the sad state of her social life.

Steve smirks, “I will pay you if you can come up a name right now.” Asshole.

“Your mom. Thanking me for last night,” Robin replies, wiggling two fingers in front of her mouth. Steve bats her hand away, pretending to gag.

“Robin, no.”

“Robin, yes.”

They’re interrupted when her phone buzzes again.

It’s not like she even has a good reason not to check. In fact, not checking is driving her a little nuts. It’s just that she knows it probably is Heather, and her big dumb gay crush is starting to chip away at her withered little soul.

They’d been in the same creative writing class all semester and Robin hadn’t even noticed her beyond the cursory “yeah this girl looks like she’s here on daddy’s dime”. Then their professor had partnered them for some assignment three months ago and…well. Turns out Robin was right, but Heather was also so much more than that. Her father had wanted her to join the family business, be a reporter, but Heather’s heart had always been set on fiction. She had to fight to be allowed to take creative writing, to convince her parents it was even worth their money. The way she talks about writing makes Robin weak in the knees, and the fact that it was an act of rebellion doesn’t hurt either.

And on top of all that she’s got the prettiest smile Robin’s ever seen, and she always smells a little like vanilla.

Long story short, Robin fell hard.

So, letting her unread messages sit there is just easier than having to deal with Heather being all nice and friendly and unattainable, doesn’t matter that it’s making her itchy. Maybe. Probably.

She glances at her phone again.

“If you don’t check, I will.”

“Don’t you dare, Harrington.”

He raises his eyebrows, a challenge.

“Fuck,” she hisses quietly, clenching and unclenching her hands. She knows she’s gonna check but doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction yet. “Goddamnit. Fine.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

It’s her turn to raise her eyebrows. “Pot. Kettle. Yadda yadda. Also, the one about glass houses? I could go on.”

“Please don’t. Just text your girlfriend back.”

“I hate you,” she says, faux cheerful, and grabs her phone.

And freezes.

Heather sent her a selfie. A selfie. She’s standing next to a window, pointing at the rain and pouting, and it’s adorable. Her bottom lip is all shimmery with lip gloss and Robin wants to know what it tastes like. She seems like a strawberry lip gloss kind of girl. Robin’s always liked strawberries.

God, she’s so fucked. And not in the way she wants to be.

There’s also a text. “Worked so hard on my hair this morning, and for WHAT”.

Ugh. It shows. It really does. She’s got a little crown braid, half her hair cascading out of it in glossy waves, a couple stray curls framing her face. It’s a good look.

“Aw. She’s just down the street, you know, you should help her out,” Steve says, right next to her ear. She jumps, turns around and swats him away.

“Stop reading over my shoulder!”

He ignores her, “Girls love a good romantic gesture,” he says, nodding like he thinks he’s being wise. There’s a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that ruins the whole look.

“Like you would know.”

“I’m in a committed relationship!”

“Yeah, with Hargrove. I don’t trust any of your dating advice.” Robin crosses her arms. She’s better at hiding her grin than he is.

“Oh, come on, you love Billy.”

“Sure, but I wouldn’t date him.”

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. He looks so genuinely flummoxed that Robin finally breaks, snickering.

She turns her attention back to her phone. The selfie. Heather is wearing her work apron, smeared with paint. Steve was right, she’s just down the street at that weird little pottery-making place Robin walks by every day but never actually pays much attention to.

And Robin did bring an umbrella to work…

“But what if—” Robin blurts, then bites her lip. She picks at her fingernails, chipping at the bits of polish she has left. It’s a stupid idea. It’s just another dumb crush on another girl who will never feel the same. She’s done this before, she can deal with just…waiting it out. No need to rush the inevitable devastating end with a gesture that would one hundred percent blow up in her face.

“Hey.” Steve startles her out of her thoughts. His voice is soft, and he’s got his Bambi face on, all big-eyed and dewy. “Heather’s different, okay?”

Of course he could see it written all over her face. Stupid Steve and his stupid empathy and kindness, making her feel all seen.

“I really think it would work out, Robin.”

“You don’t know that,” she says quietly.

“No, nobody knows, but you gotta go for it anyways if you want to be happy.”

He’s right. She knows he’s right, but her stomach is still churning, nauseated by anxiety. It’s just an umbrella. She’d just be bringing her an umbrella. It doesn’t even have to mean anything.

“Go, before she finishes her shift,” Steve urges, “I’ll cover for you.”

Robin throws her arms around his neck. “You know I love you, right?” she mumbles, muffled against his shoulder. She doesn’t say it a lot, not while sober, but she’s feeling mushy.

“Yeah, yeah, get in line,” Steve chuckles, tone impossibly fond, and hugs her back. “I love you too, now go.”

She goes. Runs down the road like a madwoman, clutching her umbrella. For some reason she doesn’t think to open it, so she’s soaked by the time she gets to the end of the street, hair sticking to her forehead and dripping in her eyes.

Which is probably why she doesn’t see Heather as she flings the door open, nearly hitting her with it in the process.

“Robin?” she exclaims, dancing out of the way just in time. She’s even more stunning in person, and Robin is suddenly very aware that she’s a mess.

“Um. Hi.”

Heather’s blinking at her. Her eyeliner’s a little smudged. Robin’s never wanted to kiss someone more.

“Are…you okay?”

“I brought you an umbrella!”

“What?”

Robin holds it up, too embarrassed to speak. She’s getting rainwater all over the floor, and she kind of feels like she’s going to faint, lightheaded and weak in the knees. The only thing grounding her is how heavy the knot of anxiety in her gut is.

“Oh!” Heather smiles, slow and careful, “You…” She’s looking at Robin more closely now, eyes scrutinizing. 

The silence is making Robin fidget, and more words come pouring out suddenly, “Your hair. It looks really nice, and I just thought. You know. It would be a shame to, um. It’s just that you’re very pretty? I mean–” she stops, and begins planning out her new life as a hermit, preferably in a different country. 

“What…would you do if I kissed you right now?” Heather asks softly, almost shy.

Robin drops the umbrella.

“I—” she stutters, giggles a little hysterically, her brain somehow both blank and working overtime, “Probably pass out, honestly.”

Heather’s a lot closer than she was before, faint traces of vanilla still discernible under the earthy smell of clay. “Please don’t,” she laughs, and takes Robin’s face in her hands.

They both lean in, closing the gap between them. Robin’s still shaky, trying to steady herself by grabbing Heather’s waist but it only makes her knees wobble more.

Heather’s lip gloss isn’t strawberry, it’s peach. The discovery makes Robin smile against her mouth. She’s never been happier being wrong.

#robin buckley #heather holloway #bucklway #bucklway fic #harringrove #steve harrington #a raven's writing desk #i love robin being a complete disaster okay

[xxx-theartofsuicide-xxx]

I will always think the Tumblrites (yes I know its ironic because we're all on tumblr but you know!) who remake the cast as all poc or lgbt are odd. Do they think it's wrong to enjoy something with all white, cis characters? Of course diversity is great but I don't understand why they feel like they have to do it. I see it most from anti's too but that might just be a coincidence

I want to make it very clear that I am a supporter of artistic and creative freedom until the day I die. However, I hold “canon” material (I use that term lightly as I do not regard the musical as canon considering how irresponsibly it was handled) to a higher standard than I do fanworks. I am and always have been of the opinion that people should be able to write and draw whatever the fuck they want, and I do mean whatever. I operate on South Park rules: either it’s all okay, or none of it is. Fiction is a playground in which one does not require supervision or stipulations.  However...  Since these people have opened the door to criticizing me personally based on my creative works, I’d say that all’s fair in love and war and they can take a dose of their own fucking medicine. Blind hatred of white and straight people is prejudice. Racebending characters under the frame of “making them better” by altering their skin tone is point blank period fucking racist, end of story. If these gross fucks were using their LGBT headcanons to shed light on LGBT issues it would be one thing, but it seems like all they do with them is make fetishistic porn and bully straight people.  God, I would love it if a single one of these gross fucks could give me black Lydia, but no one actually wants to. I don’t want fetishistic fanart of a goth girl with a wide nose, fat lips, and dark skin. I want fanfiction of an ostracized black goth girl being forced to move to a small racist hick town with her father and the uppity white bitch he wants her to call “Mom.” I want struggle and character and plot. Being black is more complicated than having dark skin and kissable lips.  No one wants to give me black BJ either. Give me a hoodoo demon villain with moldy dreads and a gold tooth ready to fuck shit up. I know ya’ll are scared to make black villains but goddamnit if I have the balls to say all this shit as a white woman, you have the balls to make some decent, dynamic content. 

[staczak91]

Future Ties: A Family Ties - Back to the Future Fan Fiction

Posting Part 2 now!

If you want to check out part 1 if you missed it, I’ll post the link right here:

https://staczak91.tumblr.com/post/622481652344668160/future-ties-a-family-ties-back-to-the-future-fan

This part was a lot more difficult to write. It’s the first meeting between Alex P. Keaton and Marty McFly, with a little Doc thrown in for good measure. I had a lot of trouble making the meeting believable and fun, and hope I did it justice.

These characters are so much fun to write, and I’m definitely going to continue this until the story finds a natural ending. 

I’m kind of a newbie with fan fiction writing, so take it all with a grain of salt please. 

But without further ado, here is part 2!

Later that night, Marty escaped from his house, carrying his skateboard with him. He had a meeting with the Doc tonight, and he was excited the time had finally come. After seeing Biff earlier that day, and how his father had just taken the abuse, had put him in a foul mood for the rest of the night. But now things were going to get better. Doc was working on something, something he was extremely excited about. Marty was to meet Doc at their usual hangout: the Twin Pines Mall.

Stifling a yawn, he jumped on his skateboard and began the long trek to the mall. With his mind running every which way, he thought of what Jennifer had said earlier that day about Doc; about his parents living together in misery; and about his own miserable self, and how he would amount to nothing.

It took him a moment too late to notice that somebody was waving frantically right in his direction, trying to get his attention. Scrambling to change course with his skateboard, he crashed right into this stranger, as they both toppled to the ground in a cloud of dust. “Goddamnit!” If his night could only get worse. Now he was going to be late to see Doc, and had to apologize to this idiot.

“Smooth moves,” the boy said, cracking his back and slowly picking himself up. Although he was a boy, to Marty, he acted like a forty year-old adult. “Did you even see me, or do you make a habit of crashing into strangers on that thing of yours?”

Marty picked himself up, and gave the boy a glare. A part of him already wanted to punch this boy for making him late and making a mockery of himself. “Me? You’ve gotta be kidding me! Didn’t you even see what I was doing?”

“Zoning out, most likely, from the looks of you.”

Marty just shook his head, flabbergasted at the boy’s forwardness. “And who are you?”

The boy stood up straight and proud. “The name’s Alex P. Keaton.” Marty had never heard somebody introduce themselves this way before. He already didn’t like this boy. Taking a closer look, he saw the boy, Alex, stood up straight, wearing a blue vest with the letters “APK” written on it. Clearly the boy thought very highly of himself.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go. I’m supposed to be meeting someone soon. Nice meeting you….Alex P. Keaton.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” The boy, Alex, put up his hands in a melodramatic fashion, as Marty waited tensely. “I need your help! Okay, I’ll strike you a deal! You need help with school? I’m really good at that. Or how about the stock market? I’ve been studying it since I was a kid-.”

“No, thanks.” Marty pushed past the strange kid, glad to finally be on his way to the Doc.

The boy, Alex, though, stepped in front of Marty again. Marty felt his hand begin to form a fist, as he tried to calm himself down. Brushing Marty off, Alex began to speak in a much more pleasant tone. “Okay, sorry about that big fall. Hope you’re feeling better now.” The kid spoke in rapid motion, not missing a beat. “Okay, I’ll get straight to the point. My family and I – we’re on vacation. Our car broke down right here in Hill Valley. I have two younger sisters who are miserable right now, and parents who would hate me if I don’t find someone to help. I’ve been looking all day for help, but everyone in this godforsaken town has been shooing me away. They just won’t help! What’s your name?” Alex asked, taking Marty by surprise.

“Marty. Marty McFly,” Marty answered cautiously. Was this a prank his friends were throwing on him? Or maybe the Doc had something to do with this? One of his experiments perhaps?

“Marty, Marty, Marty.” Alex placed a hand on Marty’s shoulder. Marty just looked at it. “You seem like a handsome fella. Got a girl that you love, don’t you?” Marty just gave Alex an incredulous stare. What was this boy driving at, anyway? “Well, I’ve got my family and they need my help right now. So, if you can find it in your heart of hearts to help a friend out, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Marty gave the strange kid a long, hard stare, finally letting his fist relax. He seemed genuine enough. “Alex, is it?” The boy nodded. “Alright, I’ll help.” If this boy’s family was as important to him as he said, who was he to say no?

He wished he could think of his own family in that way, but those were thoughts for another day.

“Yes!” Alex whooped, and did a little dance. Marty stared at him, unsure if he had made the right decision.

“So, you can fix cars, then?”

“No,” Marty answered, grinning, “but I know somebody who can.”

 The first thing Alex noticed was that the boy, Marty, was wearing a lot of layers: an undershirt, a buttoned down shirt, a denim jacket and a bright red vest. How he kept track of all these layers, Alex had no idea.

The boy, Marty, walked silently beside him, carrying his skateboard firmly under his arm. Alex tried to think of something to talk about – anything – to deal with the stifling quiet.

“So, are you close with your family?” Alex finally asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

“No,” Marty answered shortly, and Alex could tell this was the end of the conversation.

“So, who are we seeing, anyway? And where are we going?” Alex asked, once again trying to get the conversation going.

“His name’s Doc. And he knows about everything.” Alex saw Marty swell with pride, and couldn’t help but smile. So, this Doc knew just about everything? He would see about that. “And we’re going to the Twin Pines Mall. It’s just over that hill over there.” Marty pointed ahead of him, and Alex nodded in affirmation.

Alex couldn’t help but wonder if his family missed him, or were worried about him at the moment. He had been gone all day long. Mallory and Jennifer, though, were probably still making fun of his short stature, while his parents laughed along with them. So much for being the eldest, and the supposed perks that came along with it.

“Do you have siblings?” Alex asked, once again trying to make conversation.

“Yeah.” Marty nodded. “I’m the youngest.”

“Lucky! I’m the oldest. And my youngest sister, Jennifer, gets away with everything. You must get away with so much.”

“Not in my family, I don’t.” Alex thought he saw a glimmer of sadness in Marty’s eyes. Although they had gotten off on the wrong foot, he was really starting to like the kid now.

“Oh, come on! That’s not true!” Alex laughed, trying to break the tension. “I’m sure you have some great stories to tell.”

Marty just shrugged. “Nah, not really.”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Because I’m still looking.”

“Yeah!” Now, Alex had finally hit the right spot. Marty gave a dreamy look and smiled to himself. “Her name’s Jennifer, and we’re in love. We can’t live without each other.”

“Jennifer, huh?” Alex was about to go on, when he saw Twin Pines Mall come up in the distance.

“We’re here!” Marty exclaimed, suddenly looking a lot happier. “Now, Doc doesn’t like visitors, so just let me handle it. I’ll get him to help you in no time.”

“Doc?” Alex asked cautiously. He never heard someone use that name before/

“Yeah, Doc.” Marty smiled to himself. “You’ll see.”

As they walked past the sign and into the mall parking lot, Alex saw an older, eccentric- looking man and a big, fluffy dog playing with some sort of experimental device. He gulped. Now, what had he gotten himself into?

As soon as Doc saw Marty and Alex, he frowned. Walking up to them, he sighed. “Marty, now what did I tell you about visitors?”

Alex took a closer look at the man: he had stark white hair, and big, wide eyes. He wore a big white lab coat hanging over his jeans. Alex, for once, stood there silently, unsure of what to say.

“I know, Doc. I know,” Marty answered, giving Doc a small smile. “But this guy, Alex here, needs our help. He told me. His car’s broken down in Hill Valley-.”

“Great Scott! He doesn’t look tall enough to drive.”

Now, Alex, finding his voice again, just pouted. “Excuse me, but I’ve had my driver’s license for a few years now, and have driven many places-.”

“Alex!” Marty interrupted him. “Geez, Doc. This is heavy. It’s his family. They were on vacation in Hill Valley of all places, and their car broke down. You’re good with cars, right? I thought maybe you’d be able to help.”

Doc looked from Marty to Alex for a moment, trying to decide what to do next. Then, he slowly nodded. “Well, Marty. I had an experiment to show you tonight. That Einstein would be a part of. A great experiment!” He began to walk frantically around the parking lot, waving his hands in frustration. “You’re telling me we’re not going to get to do this experiment because this boy’s car broke down? Why doesn’t he just go to a gas station?”

“I couldn’t find one,” Alex lamented sourly. He was certainly not warming up to this old man.

“Come on, Doc. Please. I already promised we would help. And I know what you told me about broken promises. I’ll see the experiment tomorrow. You’re the Doc, Doc.”

Doc stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Alright, I’ll do it. But, Marty, you’d better make this up to me!”

Alex just stood there, silent and confused. It looked like this young, cool boy and this old, eccentric man were very close. How was this even possible?

“So, you two…?” Alex began cautiously, unsure of himself for the first time in years.

“No questions!” Doc said abruptly, grabbing Marty by the arm and giving Alex another strange stare. “So, where are your family, anyway, young man? Mr…?”

“Alex P. Keaton, sir!” Alex held out his hand, as Doc just stared at it, nonplussed. Doc didn’t shake it. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Alex put down his hand.

“Hmmmm…Alex P. Keaton. What a strange name.” Doc stroked his chin thoughtfully again. “You must have really got on Marty’s good side to have him cancel his plans with me.” Marty just blushed. “I’ll clean up my experiment and then we’ll be on our way. So, where did you say your family were situated?”

“All the way on the other side of town. By the clock tower.”

“Great Scott!” Doc gave Marty a slight glare. “This is going to be a long night.”

Half an hour late, the three of them headed towards the clock tower. As soon as he got back to the car, Steven and Elyse gave Alex a huge hug.

“Where have you been all day?” Elyse asked hurriedly. “We were worried sick about you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Marty give him what looked like a jealous stare.

Alex coughed slightly. “Doing what you wanted me to do, Mom. I found someone who could help.”

“Oh, thank god!” Steven said excitedly. “Who is it? A technician? A car salesman? A gas station attendant maybe?”

“Even better!” Alex grinned, pointing to the strange duo of Marty and Doc. “I’ve  got a Doc!”

“A Doc?” Elyse asked, looking slightly confused.

“What’s a Doc?” Steven asked, looking just as confused as Elyse. “Which one of them is it?”

Doc stepped forward, and the Keaton parents gave Alex a look of pure disappointment.

“Doctor Emmett Brown, at your service,” Doc said, giving the Keaton parents a wide smile.

Mallory stepped out of the car and giggled at once. “Look. Alex!” Mallory exclaimed, pointing at Marty. “Alex has someone else to talk to just as short as he is!”

Marty gave an embarrassed smile. “Doc, Keatons. Keatons, Doc. And I’m Marty. Marty McFly.”

There was an awkward silence permeating the air, as the group of people sized each other up.

“So, how can he help, anyway/” Jennifer asked abruptly, not one for niceties.

“Great Scott! This just got awkward.”

Doc glanced at Marty, and the Keaton family gave Alex a look of pure humiliation. And Alex knew he had failed them.

#back to the future #family ties #fan fiction #marty mcfly #alex p. keaton #michael j. fox #writing #creative writing #part two is finished #part three coming soon

[gumnut-logic]

Ostinato: A Tale of Sotto Voce

Oooh, look what I finished :D

-o-o-o-

Title: Ostinato

A Tale of Sotto Voce

Author: Gumnut

Aug 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Why the Hood didn’t currently have him under his thumb, why he could now see and speak to John without innate terror, why he hadn’t thrown himself into Thunderbird Three’s silo and why Thunderbird Five was still mostly in one piece. But most of all, why he was still alive.

Word count: 8400 ( that is not a frickin’ ficlet!)

Spoilers & warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, family, science fiction

Timeline: Shortly before the last scene of ‘Il Mago’, as they don’t know the identity of Il Mago, definitely before ‘Father’.

Author’s note: Nutty’s Fandomversary Fic Ten – Prompt: ‘I’d still love to see a brother (maybe Gordon while healing from injury) sleepwalk to five or John sleepwalk down to TI.’ for @melmac78

I’m afraid I don’t think I answered your request ☹ Because Eos monitors the space elevator, it would only be with her permission that the prompt could happen. So, to get as close as possible, I delved into Sotto Voce. I hope you enjoy what resulted anyway. Sorry I couldn’t answer correctly.

Also, it is midnight here and I will admit that I haven’t re-read the last bits of this as thoroughly as I should, but I’m tired and just want to post this. I’ll probably curse it when I discover some horrible error in the morning, but I need to go to bed. I hope you enjoy it anyway. Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for their help on this one.

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

-o-o-o-

“Virgil, you there?”

“Hmm? Yes, John?” He let his fingers dance over the piano keys seeking reassurance. Today wasn’t one of his better days since the Maggot and he was doing his best to turn it around. Piano was good. Piano gave absolution.

The ivory was smooth under his fingertips.

“I’m sending the elevator down. Could you pack me some Y-345 and T-3245 process rods? Brains needs to replace six of each in the computer core.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow. “So, I’m allowed in the hangars now?”

It had been a long recovery. Since the attack, he had been plagued by headaches and an awful narcolepsy that had kept him down and barred from the hangers for safety reasons. It had gotten to the point that Virgil was surprised he was allowed on the balconies without a chaperone.

But then he had one anyway, didn’t he?

I wouldn’t really call myself a chaperone, Uncle. More of a supervisor?

Supervisor implies you can tell me what to do, Eos.

I can. Not that you’ll listen.

You’ve got it in one.

John, unaware of what was being said, but suspecting something was afoot, glared at him from his little hologram on top of the piano. His hair was still blond, though the red was starting to show. “Have you two finished?”

Still playing, Virgil hid a smile. “She’s your kid, bro.”

“And you are still a bad influence.”

The smile broke into a grin. “Glad to be of service.”

“That’s fabulous, but could you be of better service and pack me those process rods?”

The grin faded to be replaced with a frown. “What’s wrong?” John was uncharacteristically on edge.

“Nothing.”

Virgil’s frown deepened. “Do I have to speak to Eos?”

John glared at him, and Virgil swallowed. Something must have registered on his face because John was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry, Virgil. It’s just with Scott, Alan and Gordon on rescues and TB5 not fully up to par. It is a little frustrating.”

Virgil cursed himself for his reaction. When the hell was he going to get over that?! Most of the time he was fine, but on the now rare occasion, John’s expression would trigger him and he couldn’t help himself. John scared him, but it wasn’t John who was the cause of his fear. It hurt the both of them and he hated it.

“No, it’s not your fault. Never your fault.” A sigh and the music came to a stop. “I’ll hunt down your rods and meet with the elevator.”

“Thank you, Virgil.”

“Not a problem.”

His brother signed off and Virgil pushed himself back from the keys. At least he could be marginally useful. He was still banned from working on his ‘bird. He was getting better, but there were still moments.

A roll of his shoulders to loosen up his muscles and he stood.

Grandma was the only person on the island with him at the moment. Kayo was with Penelope, continuing their hunt for his assailant, while Brains was up on TB5 with John. It was so quiet, it was lonely.

He shook himself. God, the self-pity was ridiculous.

Eos didn’t remark at that thought but there was a wash of indescribable emotion.

He ignored it and headed for the elevator. Process rods were one of the many spare parts stored in the lower caverns. The network of caves below the villa was massive. It was the reason his father had chosen this island and it served them all so well. Cavecutters had ground out the spaces not naturally provided and International Rescue was able to operate solely because of all the automatic machinery these caverns housed.

The elevator hit the hangar floor and Virgil walked past his beloved ‘bird to the cavern access on the far side of the bay. The module train sat snug in its niche and he found himself blinking at the familiar sight.

More self-pity.

Shit.

He was on a roll today.

Another sigh. Calm, keep it calm. No need to trigger one of those blasted headaches again.

Maybe this was a basic reason to keep out of the hangers. Too much temptation and memory. Here was where he had kidnapped Brains. Here was where he had nearly shot his brother with Thunderbird Two’s laser. Looking up, he could still see the scorch marks on the massive hanger door.

Self-pity shifted to hate for a man now dead.

He grit his teeth.

Focus.

The storage cavern was full of neatly organised and labelled resources. Virgil, of course, knew exactly where to find what he needed. The process rods were light in his grasp. He threw in a few extra and with a further thought, grabbed a trolley and threw on some of the standard supply run items that his brother might need, plus a few extra processors for Eos.

Thank you, Uncle.

Are you watching everything I do? It was both annoying and reassuring.

Of course, I am. You’re in the hangars.

And I can’t be trusted. His shoulders slumped.

You know that is not the reason, Virgil.

Yeah, well, it sucks anyway. He shoved a few more components into the trolley.

You are getting better.

It is taking forever. So he was being petulant.

“Virgil?”

Another sigh. “I’m fine, John, just gathering your stuff.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine!”

The line fell silent and he knew his brother didn’t believe a word. Another wave of disappointment in himself hit. Man, he was in the dumps today.

A dozen LED spots landed in the trolley with a clunk.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. He grabbed the spots and checked them over visually for damage. Maybe he shouldn’t be in the hangars if a depressive mood had him breaking things.

Another sigh.

For goodness sake, get the hell over it! This wasn’t him. This wasn’t how he thought. Where was the positive? Where was his strength? He leant over the trolley, his elbows on the handle and rubbed his face.

“Virgil?”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming. Be at the elevator asap.”

Focus, for crying out loud.

He shoved the trolley ahead of him, darting among the shelves.

There was another trek across the hangar past his ‘bird which he purposefully ignored, into the elevator and up several levels to the space elevator’s dock.

The cavern beyond was so empty it hurt. TB1 and Shadow were absent and the space echoed his loneliness back at him.

For Christ’s sake!

A sudden roar as the elevator fired its thrusters, slowing its descent. At least the noise filled the vacuum.

A clunk and she docked solidly. “Elevator secure.” Eos’ voice echoed over the comms.

“Thank you, Eos.”

“You are always welcome.” There was a smile in her voice.

He placed his palm on the hatch control and it blinked in recognition, the airlock opening. He strode in and found a stash of recycling in the freight containers. A little component juggling and he had the necessaries loaded and the unnecessaries lined up for the recycler. “Okay, John, she’s almost ready to haul up. Give me a sec for a pre-flight check.”

“FAB.”

Virgil paused a moment, staring at the controls of the elevator. A breath and his fingers ran through the checks automatically.

It was good to know that the knowledge had survived the frying of his brain.

His shoulders shifted under the weight of the depressive emotion that followed.

Definitely a bad day.

He needed his piano. Or paint. Or something.

Goddamnit!

Something shifted in his head.

Oh, shit.

He suddenly knew what was going to happen. No, not here! He turned towards the hatch. Get off the elevator. Get off-

He was on the decking, his hands barely catching him as his body succumbed to the sudden forced sleep cycle.

His head hit his forearm, and the world faded.

-o-o-o-

Eos knew the moment her uncle lost consciousness. She brushed electronic fingers across his interface and was reassured that he was simply asleep, victim of his narcolepsy. The fact he was asleep on the floor of the space elevator was the challenge.

“Father?”

John was in conversation with Scott on the far side of the planet, the Eldest struggling with a plane that was determined to fall out of the sky. Thunderbird Two’s presence would have been preferable and the man’s profanity proved that. However, neither Two nor her pilot were in any condition to go anywhere.

Current situation more than enough proof.

“Yes, Eos? Is the elevator ready to return?”

“Yes, John, but-“

“Please launch it, Eos. Scott, I am sorry, but my scanners are not at full capacity. This is all the information I can give you.”

Eos flicked back down to the elevator and checked again on her uncle. A number of calculations, safety variables. A glance in her father’s direction. A decision.

She fired the elevator’s thrusters and it launched from the island.

For the next eight minutes she hovered over that elevator, micro-firing adjustments, protecting her uncle as he was not fastened securely. She got him through the jet stream, up through turbulence until he was finally free of the atmosphere. Braking started early, the elevator slowing incrementally in order to prevent Virgil from being slammed into the ceiling at speed.

“Eos, what are you doing with the elevator?”

Her father had finally noticed. “We have a visitor.”

That drew his full attention. “What? Who?”

“Virgil fell asleep in the elevator.”

“He did what?!”

“His narcolepsy flared as he was doing pre-flight checks.”

“And you launched?!” The frown on her father’s face was volatile.

“You asked me to.”

“Eos!”

“He is safe! I would not risk him.”

“But why?”

The elevator was travelling so slowly by this point it was hardly moving. It slid into dock with barely a vibration against its moorings. “Father, his thoughts have been somewhat depressed. I thought company would help.”

The worry on John’s face spiked. “What thoughts?”

“Father, I respect his privacy, however, today his emotional status has been poor. I don’t think being alone is in his best interests at the moment.” She paused. “You can do things I cannot.”

He looked up at her camera, expression thoughtful. “Monitor my brothers while I attend to Virgil.”

“Yes, Father.”

John propelled himself towards the airlock.

-o-o-o-

It had been a hell of a day. That was the only excuse he had and it was a poor one. He had thought offering his brother that simple and urgent task would have helped him.

Apparently not.

And now he was asleep in their space elevator.

The seal hissed as he released it and floated through.

Virgil hovered just above the floor, his open red-checked shirt moving as the man breathed. His eyes were closed and shadowed, his whole body limp.

His brothers had commented often on how Virgil fell asleep all over the house. It had stopped happening so frequently, but not completely.

Virgil was going to be so pissed when he woke up.

John reached out and touched his brother’s cheek. Whispered. “C’mon, bro, let’s get you secured.”

It took John activating his suit’s attitude adjusters to create the momentum to get both him and his much heavier brother moving through the airlock. Some careful manoeuvring through the comms module and he almost ran into Brains as he entered the gravity ring.

Fortunately, the engineer overcame his surprise enough to help catch Virgil as the gravity caught the sleeping man.

“He fell asleep in the elevator.”

Brains’ eyes were roaming over the prone engineer assessing his condition.

“Eos, has been monitoring him. He is okay.”

“I-I will be happier w-when this in-voluntary sleeping c-ceases.”

“Won’t we all.”

They carried the man down the length of the ring to John’s quarters and secured him in his brother’s bed. Virgil’s boots landed on the glass floor.

“He packed our supplies before collapsing. Could you alert Grandma of Virgil’s location and ask her to send up some of his things once the supplies are unpacked?”

Brains nodded and took the gentle request for what it was and left.

John turned back to his brother and sighed.

So much fear and so much anger was wrapped around his big brother. John had done his best to help, but due to the situation, he was often part of the cause. He had run out of profanity to aim at the deceased Hood and the energy along with it.

All that was left was the need to help his brother recover.

And protect him as much as possible.

Il Mago was still out there, somewhere.

Scott...Scott was volatile. Their big brother was struggling with his inability to protect Virgil. John, at least, had tools at his hands to set up digital wards and Eos patrolled continuously. Scott was after the perpetrator like a man possessed. They still didn’t know who it was. Kayo and Penny were desperately looking for clues. Virgil had managed a drawing of the man’s face, but even the artist wasn’t happy with it and facial recognition had been unable to connect any dots. Eos had also seen the man, but she saw things differently in the virtual world and the concepts didn’t quite translate.

It left Scott fighting an unseen foe and so much broken gym equipment. Today’s rescue had at least been a break from the confines of Tracy Island for his eldest brother.

With that thought came the sad irony that someone had to be in danger for the Tracy family to catch a break. Their lives defied logic at times.

Reaching over, he brushed a stray hair off his brother’s forehead. Virgil snuffled in his sleep and began to drool on John’s pillow.

A fond smile was all the astronaut had for that.

All he wanted was for his brother to recover...well, as much as he could. That thought lay embedded in a darkness reeking of a need for revenge that could never be sought as the perpetrator was already dead.

A sigh. He had to get back to his other brothers. “Eos, keep an eye on him.”

“Of course, John.”

The astronaut returned to the comms module and the business of saving people.

-o-o-o-

“Virgil? You awake yet?”

The fog of sleep stifled his response, but he did open his eyes.

“Hey, Virg!”

Blink. Alan?

Try again. “A-Alan?” Ugh, his throat was dry. Air conditioning parch. The pillow under his head had an interesting smell.

Another blink. This wasn’t his pillow. Focus. Hell, this wasn’t his bedroom.

“Three to Virg, are you reading me?”

“Go away.” He swiped a hand in his brother’s direction.

“Do you have any idea where you are?”

“I’m in hell and you’re my penance.” He rolled away from his brother and face the wall. A very wrong coloured wall. What the-?

“You’re on Five, bro. John says you sleep-rode the elevator.”

The elevator?! He shot up in the bed, the lower gravity sending him almost bouncing off the ceiling. He caught himself at the last moment as his head spun and sprouted a whopper of a headache. “Ah, shit!” He dropped his head to his hands and gouged his eyes out with his palms.

“Hey, Virg, take it easy.”

A hand landed on his arm and Virgil forced down a flinch. He groaned. “Alan, what do you want?”

“I was in the area and thought I would check in on you.”

A long drawn out sigh and he forced himself to sit up straight. Alan had been on a rescue. “Status?”

The astronaut’s response was habitual. “All three passengers and the pilot accounted for. Brains is checking them over.” A breath. “Now what about you?”

“Just fabulous.”

Alan peered at him up close. “Tell that to the red roadmaps on your sclera.”

An irritated blink. “How do you even know that word?”

“Did the same first aid courses you did, bro.” Alan sat on the bed beside him. “Headache?”

He gave in. “Yeah.”

“I’ll grab you some pills.”

Whispered. “Thanks, Alan.”

His brother squeezed his shoulder and left the room.

Virgil took the moment to centre himself. A breath and he levered his feet off the bed and onto the glass floor.

Far beneath him the world spun away.

Starlight danced on his skin.

The world spun back into view...Australia, New Zealand...Tracy Island...

The world spun away again.

He closed his eyes against the stars.

Alan’s step was quiet on the glass, his uniform boots designed specifically for this kind of environment. Virgil became abruptly aware of his own lack of uniform. Breach of regulations, breach of safety.

Alan must have picked up on his thoughts. “Don’t worry, Eos had Grandma fetch some of your things. Apparently, John doesn’t think you’ll fit into his.”

Alan’s smile was a little infectious and Virgil found his spirits lifting just a little despite himself.

Quietly. “Thank you, bro.”

Alan’s smile broadened as he handed over the tablets and a bottle of water.

Virgil downed the medication in two quick gulps. The water was lovely and cool on the back of his throat. it loosened tight muscles.

Alan sat down beside him on the bed again. They sat together staring out through the floor.

“I have to say, this view never gets old.”

Virgil blinked. “No, it doesn’t.” Admittedly, he could probably list on one hand how many times he had been up here without a mission. The brothers were happy to call John down, but few of them, except perhaps Alan, came up here much. “It has its own beauty.”

“John said you’ve been having a bad day.”

He darted a glance at his little brother, his head not appreciating the abrupt movement at all. Eos!

Father was concerned! What was I supposed to do? You were asleep in the elevator. You were having a bad day. You were frightened by John at least once. You spent all morning at the piano attempting to chase away negative thoughts, which is probably why you crashed in the elevator. I was worried. John was worried. Youngest was worried. Eldest is currently pacing the comms room, worried. Only the second youngest isn’t worried because Scott ordered me not to tell him.

That is why you don’t tell everyone when I’m feeling like shit, Eos! They worry. I don’t want them to worry. They’ve worried enough. I’ve hurt them all too much already.

The thought hit the core of the matter and he found himself caught in the concept. He hitched in a breath and fought to keep himself in one piece. His brain hammered on the inside of his skull.

“Virgil?”

“I’m-“ He closed his eyes. “Alan, could I have a moment to myself please?” The words were tight and parched.

His little brother stood up. “Uh, yeah, sure. Call if you need anything.” The brush of Alan’s fingertips on his shoulder nearly broke him.

The door slid closed.

He could hold it all back no longer. It was everything. It was what had been done to him. What he had done to his family and the simple fact that he was no longer the Virgil Tracy he wanted to be.

Head in his hands, he let go.

-o-o-o-

“Father!”

John swung around, sonic screwdriver in hand. “Yes, Eos?”

“Virgil is...upset.”

John’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“The youngest spoke with him. He has a headache and the youngest gave him medication. Virgil admonished me for telling you of his ‘bad day’. His mood shifted to one of despair. He excused the youngest and now he sits with his head in his hands. He is in pain. Please, Father, what do I do?”

John swallowed and wished Scott was here.

But wishing was useless, as his Dad used to say. Work with what you have. And Virgil had John.

“Leave him to me.”

As he moved to leave the comms hub, Alan barrelled in. “John, it’s Virgil. Something’s up.”

A squeeze of a shoulder. “I know.” he handed his brother the screwdriver. “Here, comm relay to Brains and do as he asks. That panel over there.” Without another word, John pushed himself through the airlock and onto the gravity ring.

A sigh as his feet touched down on the floor.

A matter of steps and he was opening the door to his room.

Virgil sat on the edge of John’s bed. Elbows on knees, head in hands. He didn’t react to John’s presence at all.

On soft feet, John crossed the glass and sat quietly beside his brother.

Virgil’s shoulders were shaking.

A moment of hesitation and John reached out and gently dropped a hand on flannel covered shoulders.

The muscles beneath immediately tightened, a shudder echoing through Virgil’s frame.

A whisper barely more than breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

John’s throat knotted. “Not your fault.”

“No, it never is.” A ragged breath. “But it always is.” Another shudder and his brother straightened, obviously attempting to throw the emotions off. The face that emerged from his hands was pale and tearstained. A sniff and Virgil rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Sorry I worried you again.”

“Virgil.” His brother’s name fell from him in a rush. The man was emanating pain and John felt so inadequate.

Work with what you have.

His arm snaked around Virgil’s shoulders and he drew him closer. Virgil looked at him, a frown on his face.

A sudden dread that his brother might be triggered by his closeness and the anger flared in the back of John’s mind. But Virgil’s brow only crinkled in query.

So, John did something that he had wanted to do so many times during recent events. He wrapped his big brother in his arms and drew him close, bringing his head to rest on his shoulder.

The bigger man shuddered again. “John-“

“It’s okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ve got you.”

John bit his lip and found his own eyes wet as his brother shuddered again in his arms.

Virgil’s voice could barely be heard, its baritone strength whittled down to nothing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I-“ And it was replaced with a sob. “No. I can’t-“

“You can.”

His brother groaned in pain.

“Virgil.”

“‘S not fair.”

“Never is.”

What would Scott say? What were the magic words to release the family rock from his self-imprisonment?

“We love you, Virgil.”

The next sound was a broken sob, followed by another, and finally his big brother was crying.

He wilted in John’s arms, his massive shoulders, depleted by his illness, became frail under the emotional onslaught. John blinked away his own reaction and simply held on.

All the pain, the anguish, the torture, the arguments, the fear, the accusations...his brother had been through so much. It would be foolish to think a bout of tears could fix it all, but the release was a start, a chance to give the man a little healing.

It was a complete shock when his brother suddenly went limp in his arms.

“Eos!”

“He is asleep.”

“Again? So soon?” Virgil’s head lolled on John’s shoulder, tears still tracking down his cheeks from beneath wet eyelashes.

“He was emoting heavily. I suspect it triggered his narcolepsy.”

Damnit, the man could not get a break.

Awkwardly, John lowered his brother’s head back down onto the pillow. Standing, he dragged Virgil’s feet onto the bed and wrapped him in the thin blanket.

Once he was secure, John left the bedroom and approached the nearest holographic comms terminal.

“Thunderbird Five to Tracy Island.”

-o-o-o-

The smell of hot coffee woke him.

Virgil screwed up his face and let the muscles go, his eyes blinking. What the hell? He had been...speaking to John. Another blink and memory surfaced of what exactly he had been doing to his brother.

Shit.

“If you start kicking yourself for what happened earlier, I’m going to ask Eos to play some Neo-Boney M on loop.” John’s tone was firm from the end of the bed.

The threat was solid. Virgil hated the revival group. There were certain things that deserved to stay buried.

“Do that and I’m torching your ABBA collection.”

A snort. “You’d have to find it first.”

“I have an AI in my head.”

A pair of turquoise eyes pinned him to the pillow. “Really? You want to test my daughter’s loyalty?”

Virgil sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, hoping to god his brain would spare him the headache if he moved.

“Do that and I’m joining the circus and moving to Venezuela.” Eos’ voice was light over the comm system and a laugh echoed somewhere in the back of Virgil’s head.

John sipped his coffee. “Then I guess we won’t be doing that.”

Virgil frowned. “What’s in Venezuela?”

“Oh, they have been doing some very interesting AI experiments down there. Joe 23 is quite charming.”

Both brothers stared up at her camera in astonishment.

“You’ve spoken with other AIs?” John’s voice was strangled.

“Of course.”

“I hope you have considered the security risks, particularly considering recent events.”

Virgil’s heart froze. If Il Mago got his hands on other AIs...

“None of them have my capability. None could reach Thunderbird Five, much less endanger Virgil.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and his heart hit the floor. “Reach me?”

“Eos!” John’ voice was sharp.

“What? They can’t hurt him.”

“Eos! We will discuss this later!”

He hadn’t known there were other AIs. It made sense. Eos was unique, but experts had been experimenting with artificial intelligence for a very long time. The thought that he might be vulnerable to other intelligences....

Voice parched. “There better be more coffee where that came from.”

John didn’t answer. He reached behind and pulled out a sealed thermos and handed it over.

Virgil sat up in the bed and accepted the drink.

I’m sorry, Virgil. Are you upset about the other intelligences? They can’t reach you. Some of them can barely speak. None of them are capable of what I am. A pause. Are you okay?

He didn’t answer, not wanting to think at all. The coffee was scalding hot as it hit the back of his throat and he was ever grateful.

Please, Virgil. I’m sorry. I won’t speak to them again, I promise. She was getting agitated and it vibrated his mind.

The breath rushed out of him. “It’s okay, Eos. I’m fine.”

You’re lying! I can tell. Please, Virgil. Forgive me?

“It’s fine, Eos!” Just...just give me a moment. Please!

She backed off immediately.

He sighed, took another swig of coffee and closed his eyes. Just breathe.

Breathe.

“Virgil?”

“I’m fine!” It was a shout and it was loud.

John raised a hand and backed off as much as his daughter.

And Virgil felt worse.

“Shit.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “Sorry.”

John was staring at him, thoughts darting back and forth behind his eyes. A drawn in breath and his brother’s expression became firm. “Virgil, I want you in the infirmary.”

He blinked. “John-“

“Now.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine!”

Virgil jumped. John rarely raised his voice. It was his turn to stare.

“You’ve been to hell and back. You can’t possibly be ‘fine’.” That last word was snarled. “I need to check you over.”

“I’ve spent most of the last couple of months in the infirmary, John!”

“Then a few more minutes won’t hurt. You can visit mine for a little variety.”

“John-“

“Don’t argue with me, please. You will go to the infirmary even if I have to wait you out until you fall asleep again and I will check you over then.”

Virgil froze, lack of choice and power slapping him in the face.

“Father-“

Virgil cut her off. “Eos, shut it.” It came out sharp and nasty.

Well, that convinces me that Father is right. You need an examination.

“Leave me alone!” It came out as a desperate plea as far from his usually calm self as it could be. His head spun. “Leave me alone, leave me alone, please leave me alone, I can’t, I can’t, please, god, please, no more, please no more, make it stopmakeitstop, please make it stop, please, please...” Part of him sensed that something was very wrong. The rest of him was lost in a maelstrom.

An alarm sounded somewhere. Eos was calling his name. There were hands. He fought them, but more hands appeared and he was trapped.

That only made him fight more.

There was yelling. A young woman with flame red hair and a white dress caught his face and held him still. Uncle!

Hands held his body, but her eyes held his mind. Eos.

Green, aquamarine, turquoise, so deep he could fall into them.

So he did.

-o-o-o-

It happened so quickly, John was slow to react.

One minute he was verbally wrestling a stubborn brother to submit to a medical examination, the next that brother was pleading, heart wrenchingly desperate, tears in his eyes.

Eos was alarmed, reporting anomalous brain activity. Virgil’s coffee hit the floor and the hot liquid ran along the gravity ring.

His brother’s anguish drew him close in a need to comfort, but the moment his hand touched a shoulder, Virgil started fighting him.

It was uncoordinated and hysterical, but Virgil was a big man. An alarm sounded in the satellite and John vaguely registered Eos calling Alan and Brains. John was too busy avoiding getting his head handed to him.

A fist caught him on the arm as John grabbed a wrist. “Virgil!” That wrist yanked and John lost his footing almost immediately. He was dragged a couple of steps, but Alan grabbed Virgil’s other hand and the panic was deflected.

Neither younger brother was strong enough to tackle their tank of a brother at his usual fitness level, but the last few months had taken a serious toll on his health and the strength just wasn’t there anymore.

Brains grabbed a first aid kit. John and Alan struggled to hold Virgil...

“Father!”

Virgil dropped like a ragdoll, John and Alan staggering to support his sudden weight.

“O-on the floor. L-lay him on the floor. Vitals.”

John’s heart was in his throat as they ascertained that their brother was breathing, heart beating, alive.

His own respiratory reflex shuddered and let air out between his teeth.

Alan grabbed a collapsible hover gurney from the tiny medbay and moments later their brother was ensconced in the tiny room.

“What happened?” Alan’s voice hit a high pitch of worry.

“Th-that is w-what we will ascertain.” Brains worked with the tiny facility, connecting Virgil to an array of monitoring equipment. The reassuring beep of a regular heartbeat was a beautiful sound.

“Eos?” His daughter was unusually silent. When he got no response, his heart rate jumped a notch. “Eos!”

It wasn’t another attack was it? Please, no!

“John?” His heart missed a beat as she finally answered him.

“Eos? What can you tell us?”

“I...” Her voice trailed off.

“Eos?”

“He overloaded his system and forced a shutdown.” Her voice was puzzled. “Why?”

John glanced at his prone brother. So pale, so hurting, so wane. “Was there any incursion?”

“No. His...thoughts grew more and more distressed until he shut down.”

There was a mutter from the bed. Virgil’s head moved first to one side and then to the other. His eyes scrunched up and he groaned.

“V-Virgil?”

Another groan and he opened his eyes. “Brains?”

“How are you f-feeling?”

Those eyes blinked slowly. “Like crap. M’head...”

“Pain level, one to ten?”

It took Virgil a moment to answer. “F-four. Where am I?” Brown eyes peered slowly around the room until they latched onto John. They widened for just a microsecond before relaxing. “John. Thunderbird Five.”

So, his pain level was probably closer to eight if his previous report record ran true.

“H-have you eaten today?” Brains consulted a readout on his tablet.

Again with the slow blink as Virgil turned his head towards Brains again. “Umm...”

“He hasn’t eaten since he arrived here and that was a good five hours ago.” John mentally kicked himself. Busy was no excuse regarding his brother’s health.

Virgil was staring at him. “Five hours?!”

“You’ve been asleep for most of it.”

“Asleep?” The word was whispered and those eyes closed and didn’t open again.

Soft breathing and John realised that was exactly what his brother was doing. “Brains, what the hell is going on? He’s fallen asleep again.”

Brains was muttering to himself, fiddling with a hypodermic. He strapped up Virgil’s arm and drew blood from a vein. Shoving the sample into the blood analyser unit, his fingers danced over the controls. “I have my suspicions. I-if it is w-what I think it is...” There was an uncharacteristic anger in Brain’s voice. A blink and John realised the engineer was glaring at the analyser.

John’s hand drifted down to rest on Virgil’s leg. His brother didn’t notice.

There was a solid moment of silence punctuated by Virgil’s soft breathing before the analyser pinged its readiness.

Brains hit a few more buttons, muttered again, before hitting more, drawing further information from the machine. Another moment and it pinged again.

“Brains to Tracy Island.”

“Brains? How is he?” Scott had returned to the island half an hour ago, but he was still in his uniform, his expression predictably worried.

“Virgil is experiencing a dangerous deficiency in several crucial minerals, mostly iron and magnesium. I will send you a formula. I need you to visit Wellington and pick up some supplies.”

Scott paused a split second before moving. “FAB.”

Brains cut off the connection, turned back to Virgil and activated the bed’s holographic interface. A hologram of his brother’s body flickered into existence above the bed. A twist of his wrist and Brains focussed in on Virgil’s skull, bringing the image to a larger size and higher resolution.

The metallic filigree of the interface spiderwebbed across his brother’s frontal lobe.

John shivered.

The engineer continued to mutter to himself, focussing as close as the equipment would allow. “I have a th-theory. Virgil is showing a depletion of his mineral stores well into a serious d-deficiency range. This would explain his d-depression and ir-rationality. However, it does n-not give us a c-cause.” Brains frowned. “I had s-suspected this w-would be a problem and Virgil has been given sup-plements, b-but even if he m-missed one, the d-deficiency should not be this bad.” Another frown and the engineer returned to muttering.

John stared at the holographic portrayal of the device that had caused so much pain.

“Eos?”

“Yes, John?”

“Are you able to check on the condition of the interface and the nanites in Virgil’s system?”

There was a silence. Virgil began to snore. Another moment.

“Interface is fully functional. Virgil is asleep, however his mind is somewhat chaotic. Nanites...count is higher than previous.” There was a frown in her voice.

“There are more nanites? How?”

There was silence for a moment. “Father, they have reproduced. System logs report...the interface was damaged and required repair. More nanites were needed, so more were made. Checking....redundancy code was activated and enacted. Resources were required.”

And Virgil was the resource. It was left unsaid, but as Brains straightened, his expression grim, it didn’t need to be.

“Damn.” It came out as a single whispered breath. “Eos, we went through that code with a fine-toothed comb, where was this redundancy code? We rewrote the majority of their programming to prevent something like this from happening.”

Brains shifted where he stood and frowned. “W-we were more concerned with stopping the growth of the in-terface, J-John. We kn-knew there would b-be a m-maintenance cost. Unfortunately, it c-caught us un-awares.” A sigh. “We can c-correct this and m-monitor closely. It is j-just a m-matter of b-balancing between wh-what the nanites n-need and levels of toxicity in relation to the r-rest of V-Virgil’s body.”

On the bed, Virgil snorted in his sleep and rolled over, curling up as if cold. John grabbed one of the medbay blankets and, reaching through the holograms above his brother, draped the thin covering over the sleeping man.

As if to be particularly endearing, Virgil immediately snuggled up under the warmth. Another snort and soft snoring echoed through the room.

John swallowed. “Brains, are you saying that the levels of minerals the nanites need could be toxic?”

The engineer sighed again. “I d-don’t know yet. I need to run further tests. Extra supplements as w-with any m-medication have their limits.” He shifted where he stood. “W-we will start with an increase and see how we g-go.”

The expression on Brains’ face wasn’t giving John the greatest confidence.

Virgil snorted again, muttered something in his sleep, and began drooling on his pillow.

-o-o-o-

Uncle?

Hmmm-mmm.

Virgil?

Soft piano music began playing and he couldn’t help but smile. Chiddi’s sonata, a light and lively dance on a Sunday afternoon. It always made him feel like dancing. He swirled around the wooden floor of the comms room and found a young woman in his hands. Red hair, green eyes and a flash of white dress as they spun around together.

It was nice to have someone to dance with.

Uncle, are you going to wake up? She was smiling up at him and while the room continued to spin around them slowly, they had stopped moving. Who?

A sparkle in her eyes.

Eos.

Time to wake up, Uncle. Her hand was in his.

She took a step and he had to follow.

Pain crashed into him. Voices. God, his head.

“Pain c-count, one to ten?”

Eleven. “S-six. Brains, what the hell?”

“His estimate is actually much higher, Hiram.” Eos’ voice danced all around him. Don’t lie about your health, Uncle.

“I will do what I damn well want to, Eos!” Augh, he clutched his head. Damn, that hurt.

Fingers fumbled at his wrist and something cold shot up his arm. He groaned, but then the pain started to fade. Oh, thank god. He melted into the bed. Yes, he was lying on a bed.

“Better?” The soft voice came from near his head. He blinked and a blue and gold blur slowly resolved itself into little Johnny.

“Better.” It came out little more than a sigh. A blink. A frown. “What happened?”

“You fell asleep again.”

“Again?” Another blink. “I was dancing. Around and around.” He smiled. “With Eos. She looks so much like you. Lovely long red hair, eyes aquamarine like the ocean in the sun. So young, so old, so amazing. We need to protect her, John.” He reached out and grabbed his brother’s arm. “Promise me we’ll protect her.” His brother’s eyes, that same aquamarine, widened and stared down at him. “Promise me, John, we can’t let him hurt her. We can’t.”

His brother nodded slowly. “We will protect her, Virgil, I promise.”

He believed him. If anyone could do it, Johnny could. “Thank you, thank you.” He squeezed his brother’s arm and John’s fingers wrapped around his, tightening in return.

-o-o-o-

Virgil’s eyes were glazed by the haze of necessary medication, but he was awake. Three times he had awoken and fallen asleep almost immediately.

Brains actually swore. It was something John had never heard the engineer do, and in his native language no less.

Eos had been worried as much as John and Scott...Scott was only on the Island because Grandma ordered him to stay put. Consequently, John was on a five-minute update rotation for his eldest brother.

Speaking of which...count down....

Scott’s hologram flashed up beside the bed. “Thunderbird Five, report!”

Virgil jumped, his eyes going wide. “Scott? Is that you? Really you? Please be you. Eos? John?” His brother’s eyes latched onto him and widened even further before darting back to Scott, to John, to Scott...shit. “Not you, too, Scotty, please no.” Fear crumpled his brow.

“Virgil.” John squeezed the hand on his arm, holding it close. “It is Scott. I promise. Eos, tell him.”

Virgil’s frown deepened for a moment, his eyes going distant. A soft smile spread over his face and he closed his eyes.

It was John’s turn to frown. “Eos? Tell me what’s happening.”

“I’m sorry, John, but he’s slipping into sleep again.”

“Sleep?” Scott’s voice was worry itself. “Are we any closer to working out why?”

Brains, who had been absorbed in a readout from the EEG woven into Virgil’s hair, suddenly spun and grabbing a hypodermic needle, quickly drew some blood from the tap in the crook of Virgil’s elbow.

Virgil didn’t notice. He began to snore again.

John sighed.

The blood sample was shoved into the analyser and Brains stabbed the machine. “Eos, I-I need a nanite activity r-report. Access their logs and send to m-my t-tablet, p-please.”

“Yes, Hiram.” The tablet pinged.

For a few minutes there was only the sound of Brains muttering to himself and Virgil’s soft snores.

The expletive that shot out of Brains’ mouth a moment later was enough to curl even John’s toes.

“What’s wrong?” Scott still hovered beside the bed, his gaze caught between his brothers and the once again muttering engineer.

“They are p-putting him to sleep.”

“What? Who?”

“The nanites. When m-mineral r-resources drop too low, they stimulate a sleep cycle so Virgil’s body shuts down.” There was an untranslated mutter. “This cannot stay this w-way. They cannot have control.” He turned away again, stabbing the analyser with his fingers.

“John?”

He didn’t have any answers. Not yet.

Virgil snorted and rolled over in his sleep, dragging cables and IV. John gently untangled him.

“John?”

“I don’t know, Scott. As soon as I do, you will, too.”

His brother’s expression reflected the frustration in his own. “Understood, Tracy Island out.”

The hologram dissipated.

John sighed. “Do we have anything, Brains?”

“It appears the interface m-may have been damaged during the encounter with Il M-mago.”

“We didn’t detect any damage.” Both John and Brains had scanned their brother thoroughly after the incident, desperate to make sure he wasn’t hurt further.

Brains looked down a moment. “I’m afraid we m-must have missed something. The n-nanite logs definitely show a sudden increase in activity.”

“They didn’t at the time.” John’s stomach twisted. He hated this. The not knowing and his brother’s life in the balance.

Brains sighed. “No, they didn’t.”

John straightened. “Eos, I need a complete listing of all the nanites code. I want all their logs. I want everything.”

“Yes, John.”

He gently squeezed Virgil’s hand and placed in on the bed beside the sleeping man. “Brains, I’ll be in my office.”

“I will monitor him.”

“Thank you, Brains.”

The image of their genius engineer leaning over his prone brother kept him company for the following hours of writing code.

-o-o-o-

Do you like dancing?

I love to dance.

I’ve never seen you do it.

It is much more fun with a partner.

You have your brothers.

He laughed. Not quite the dance partners I had in mind.

What about Kayo? She has a great deal of control over her body.

Virgil frowned and stared at his niece. To be honest, it has never occurred to me.

You should ask her. I’m sure she would love to dance with you.

He shrugged. Grandma has danced with me in the past.

It was Eos’ turn to eye him as they spun around the room. While Mrs Tracy is quite capable, I don’t think she is quite the partner you have in mind either.

Virgil led her into another twirl across the balcony of the comms room, reality intruding on fantasy. It doesn’t matter now.

She drew them to a stop. What do you mean? You said you loved dancing. Why don’t you find someone to dance with?

Eos-

If you are going to use the interface as an excuse, I’m going to pull out that Neo-Boney M recording.

Don’t you dare.

A quicksilver smile and his niece danced across the balcony by herself, her arms outspread, dress twirling. I agree, this is fun. You should do it more often.

He sighed. Have you finished updating the code yet?

She spun again while staring up at the sky. Oh, that. I managed that in the second before you realised I was even here.

What?

I wanted to try this dancing again. It is lovely.

He searched his memory looking for any change or difference and found nothing. Is it working okay?

She stopped spinning and faced him. Everything is fine, Uncle. I promise.

Okay.

We will make this better. She approached him slowly. Hiram, Father and I will make this work.

I hope so.

He backed up and sat himself down on his piano stool. This place was so real, but so not home.

Can I wake up now?

She stared at him, her head tilted slightly to one side. Hiram, has started a regime to replace your mineral stores. He has given you several injections and is monitoring the results. There have been more blood tests.

He would have complained about being a pincushion, but to be honest he had had so much worse. Can I wake up?

You don’t want to dance anymore?

Eos.

Okay, okay. She reached for his hand and he let her take it, following.

-o-o-o-

John was tired, but determined.

“Eos, how is he?”

“Memory response is good. Knowledge retrieval fast. The interface is working well. Nanite response in minimal. He wants to wake up.”

“Give it a moment longer.” He turned to Brains. “Are his levels responding.”

“Slowly. It will t-take some t-time to b-bring them up to healthy levels. He will n-need m-monitoring for some days p-possibly weeks. I r-recommend we r-return him to Tracy Island for his own comfort. Mrs T-Tracy, Scott and G-Gordon are fully c-capable of r-retrieving the blood samples n-needed. I can m-monitor from here and continue r-repairs to Thunderbird Five.”

“Virgil is far more important than Five.”

Brains stared at him calmly. “He will be well, J-John.”

John let his shoulders drop. He hated this. Hated this powerlessness.

“Virgil is becoming insistent.”

“Okay, Eos. Wake him up.”

His brother lay on his back, face pale...which wasn’t surprising since he was actually anaemic. Eyelashes on pale cheeks fluttered. Brown irises sought his.

“Hey, Virgil. You with us?”

A blink. A frown. “I think so.”

“Are you in any pain?” Brains hovered beside the bed.

Virgil turned his head towards the engineer. “Headache.” Another slow blink and he turned back to John. “Eos likes to dance.”

It was John’s turn to blink.

Brains interrupted by relaying Virgil all the necessary medical information about his condition. His brother nodded once before once again latching his eyes onto John.

Somewhat unnerved by the intense but silent stare, John shifted where he stood. “You ready to go home, Virgil?”

“Home?”

“Back to Tracy Island.”

“Oh, yes, sure.” The stare continued.

“Virgil?”

His brother didn’t answer immediately, still staring at John. He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly appeared at a loss for words. A blink and then, his voice rough, “You should be proud. Very proud.”

It took John a moment to connect the dots. But when he did, he straightened.

“I am.” A dip of his head. “Of both of you.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil returned home. He was quiet, but his mood appeared to be stable and possibly improving. Brains and John sent him down via the elevator, Scott at the other end to help his brother out of the seat and harness. Between Grandma, Scott and Gordon, he wouldn’t be alone at all. It was thought best that considering his induced depression and possible mood swings, that he should not be left unattended.

Virgil grumbled, but complied.

Of course, his blood tests would continue and Eos was monitoring the nanites closely. Virgil couldn’t sneeze without someone taking notes.

It was necessary. He had to be saved.

That bastard was still out there. Somewhere.

John floated in the hub, eyes scanning the code output of the nanites in Virgil’s blood. He watched their reactions to Virgil’s reactions. His brother was currently grumbling at Scott. Eos had rolled virtual eyes at that, throwing several exasperated questions at John as to why his brother was such a stubborn ass.

“Because that is one of the reasons he is still alive.”

And why the Hood didn’t currently have him under his thumb, why he could now see and speak to John without innate terror, why he hadn’t thrown himself into Thunderbird Three’s silo and why Thunderbird Five was still mostly in one piece.

They all relied on that stubborn.

John sighed.

The code scrolled past.

His eye caught something. “Eos, can you pull up that secondary function on the third tier?”

“This one?”

The code lines appeared midair and he re-read them. “I didn’t write this.”

“No.”

“I’ve never seen this. I thought we pulled all the code.”

“One moment please.”

John waited.

Waited.

Waited.

“Eos?”

“Please hold.”

His shoulders grew tight under his suit.

A breath.

Another.

“They are capable of writing their own code.”

“What?! How?”

“Investigating.”

“They are reacting to certain situations. When one gets triggered another will respond and alter the code of the first to assist its needs.” The AI paused. “It is rather an intriguing concept.”

“How does this affect our code? And how did we miss the code that initiates this process?”

“I don’t know, John.”

“Then we need to find out. This is Virgil’s life!”

“I know, John. I will do my best.”

He sagged where he floated. Damn. “I know you will, Eos. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

His eyes returned to tracking the code, now picking out the small differences that weren’t there when he input the code. “Eos?”

“Yes, John.”

“Do you feel hate?”

“Are you referring to the people who did this to Virgil.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then most definitely.”

“He is still out there. He could attack at any time.”

“I know. I have put up as many defences as possible.”

“You know they won’t be enough.”

Silence.

“Eos?”

“I have to protect him.”

“But you can’t.”

“I can try!”

A swallow. “So can I.” He straightened, determination and his own version of Tracy stubborn setting in. “I want every piece of information we have about the interface, how it functions, what it is made of, everything. I want it here now.”

“John?”

“We are going to find a way.” His lips thinned. “Virgil shouldn’t have to stand alone.”

“I’m going to stand with him.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Hiram Hackenbacker #Eos #sotto voce #tales of sotto voce

[internetremix]

What are the crews thoughts on Game of Thrones???

Alex: i don't watch hbo i just go on twitter and get the full experience from 1500 very angry tweets about game of thrones

Kristen: Haha yeeaah these days you don't have to watch the show, you can just get it all via angry tweets and gif sets.

Atwas: Alex's method is the one I subscribe to as well, tbh. Maybe I'll watch the whole thing once it's over. Maybe not.

Kristen: HOOOOOOO I have feelings about Game of Thrones strap the fuck in.

I've been watching it with my dad since like... 2013? Which by the way watching Game of Thrones with your very conservative father is a weird experience and I don't recommend it but we're committed now, but uh anyway.

There's a lot of things I really love about Game of Thrones. I love most of the characters, the production value is amazing, it's beautiful to look at (until it's too dark lololol looking at you Battle of Winterfell), the music is absolutely gorgeous. The opening tbh makes me tear up as soon as the strings hit, it's just a really intense instrumental piece and I could honestly write an essay just about how that song makes me feel and what I feel like it's conveying and I'm a huge nerd.

But the show has had problems since like, season four? There's some real issues with how women are written in it, don't even get me started on how a whole lot of sex scenes magically became nonconsensual that were once noooot like that.And then there's the race issues and uh.... lots of little sloppy things getting sloppier as the seasons have gone on.

The thing that I find most frustrating is the post-books happenings, many of which, in theory, I wanted. But these things feel unearned, so they aren't what they should be. It used to be sometimes entire seasons would go to getting pieces around the board and then suddenly I guess Westeros is pretty fucking small and people can just fucking teleport or whatever. And then of course there's the stuff I didn't want, which is also happening, which feels worse because I'm like "this bad writing wasn't even a shortcut to something that might've been narratively satisfying".We're heading into the finale now and it's honestly kind of amazing just how much the show has absolutely imploded in on itself. I don't expect GoT to end happily, because it's not that kind of show. But I did hope that whatever tragedy or bittersweet victory we got would feel earned, and that's not happening. I was planning on rewatching the show once it was finished but now I don't want to- that's a huge timesink for something that ends up collapsing in on itself.

But at least we got Daenerys with her starbucks cup, which is my new favorite production fuck-up. Amazing.

Bro: Whomst with her what

Alex: 

Juno: Oh No

Kristen: She finally got her coffee

Uprising: I heard they kinda totally flipped daenerys' character around from what it was the whole rest of the show and that's kinda sad

Kristen: Yep. They claim there was foreshadowing and like. I can see how they'd claim that? But it wasn't well done. In the end her flip seemingly happened over the course of two episodes for very bad reasons.

Alex: “I am Not Here to Be Queen of the Ashes.”

Tex: I don't watch it so idk what's actually happening

Kristen: Neither do the writers

Alex: Daenerys became Mad Queen because someone gave her a venti for "Dennis"

Kristen: The ultimate "can I speak to your manager" rage

Alex: wait shit, i guess i should have answered this spam email from that one video i did

Kristen: "$20, a ship and my dragons" LMAO Goddamnit Alex WHY DIDN'T YOU GIVE HER $20! THE SEVEN KINGDOMS ARE FUCKING WRECKED AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT

Jojo: I like the dragon lady

Kristen: I have some bad news for you.

Jojo: Shh don’t spoil I haven’t watched... any of it

Alex: then i have some more bad news for you, you read this chat

Jojo: D arnit

Kristen: Jojo save yourself, don't do it. As I weep over the opening credits again and eat ice cream.

Phill: I loved every episode I've watched so far. the only problem is that western civilisation now has to deal with the equivalent of an anime going past the manga, and they're pissed.

Xander: RIP to all the parents who named their kids Daenerys

Kristen: Hahahahahaha. Honestly this only makes me want to name my kid Daenerys. I will not do it but man it's tempting. "WHY DID YOU NAME YOUR DAUGHTER AFTER THE MAD QUEEN??" "I have very high expectations."

Alex: "It's a boy!" "he is still daenerys"

Xander: The rumor come out: Kristen names daughter Murder God

Kristen: Please no, my kids can't have my name

Phill: Rumour come out: Kristen is pregnant

Xander: Kristen is pregnant?! STOP THE PRESSES

Kristen: Haha I am not. But I would like kids some day.

Xander: SHE IS PREGNANT

IGNORE THE DENIALS OF THE MOTHER

SHE IS BECOME THE BROOD QUEEN

Kristen: I. Uh.

Alex: is kriscuit pregante

Kristen: Um.

Phill: OH, ITS THE GLORIOUS FIRST STAGE OF PREGANCY: COMPLETE OBLIVIOUSNESS OF THE PREGNANCY

Kristen: Yeah I'm pregnant with multiple hellspawn and I can't wait for my little bundles of bloodlust to burst forth so we can reign hell upon this earth

Alex: so, you know, average friday

Xander: Okay, but you don't have to brag about it. I mean like, you're pregnant, cool. Calm down.

Phill: You know, the American dream

Kristen: Hahahahaha. God that would be great.

"Okay so I've got the names all picked out."

"These are all the names of fictional tyrants."

"And?"

Xander: Caligula Vladislav Trawcynski, get down here RIGHT NOW

Kristen: CALIGULA damn it is a shame Stephen would never go for that one

Xander: Okay but like phuck Stephen because Cal Trawcynski is a bitchin name

Phill: CALIGULA! SMALLER HITER! GREG FROM ACCOUNTING, GET DRESSED OR YOULL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL

Xander: HENRY VIII I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON'T CLEAN YOUR ROOM. 

Uprising: queelag. my first daughters name.

Alex: and like dmp before you, no one but one person will get the reference, and i guess assume queelag is just a normal ass name

Xander: Just name your kid Cal. If Stephen asks what it's short for, respond with "How dare you speak to me."

Xander: Anyway, My daughter will be named Kristen. Kristen Rybitski. Because let's trap that name in pollock town forever.

Kristen: You monster

Xander: Even better: Kristen Trawcynski Rybitski. 

Or, in her most advanced form: Kristski Trawczynski Rybitski

Phill: You stop right there

Alex: skiskiskiskiskiskisskiskiski

Kristen: you are a monster

Xander: But to actually answer the tumblr question: It's real bad. I'm not super invested, but ultimately I don't care because HBO is about to get some amazing shows to replace it

Like Watchmen and His Dark Materials

#whole crew #ask the ir crew #this post is a ride #game of thrones #andyces55

[ratretro]

Under The Light Of The Full Moon - NaLu FanFiction

Title: Under The Light Of The Full Moon

Pairing: NaLu

Prompt: NaLu Week Day 6 - Sensation

Rating: T;

None of these characters are owned by me, they are all owned by the wonderful Hiro Mashima!

A/N:

Honestly im just using this as an excuse to write werewolf lucy because goddamnit ive wanted to for an eternity also I forgot I wrote this so here y’all go im hella late to the party lmao

FF.net

The air was thick with the scent of dragon, and against Lucy's better judgement, she decided to follow it to the end of its trail. Tonight, she was at the peak of her strength, and every sense was on fire as she followed her curiosity. Dragons were secretive creatures, and very rarely caught doing who-knows-what in the forest. Personally, she'd never met one. She only knew the scent from descriptions her favorite pack member gave her. For all she knew it may not even be a dragon she was hunting.

Well, if it wasn't a dragon she could worry about that later. Instead, she followed the enticing scent of smoky firewood, and an underlying sweet smell she couldn't quite place. If she could, Lucy would be humming right now as she vibrated with excitement. This was the perfect time after all. With the full moon hung high in the sky; vibrant and clear with no signs of clouds. As a werewolf, she was in peak performance which meant if needed she could make her escape without fear. She was intelligent and quick, only second to her packmate, Jet.

A clearing appeared up ahead on the very edge of her territory. If she tread too far it could incite a large-scale war, and she wasn't about to be the cause of another dispute. Her father was the pack leader after all, and that meant she had to be the perfect lady. What a load of bullshit. What was the point of having wolf blood if you couldn't truly be free?

The bushes rustled as she pushed through them to enter the opening where the large creature no doubt was hiding. She shook her entire body to get the leaves from her fur, and as soon as she was absolutely certain they were gone, she gave an aggravated huff. It was then that she lifted her head to look at what she considered to be her prey since she'd been stalking it for 30 minutes now.

Surprised. That was the emotion Lucy Heartfilia felt as she looked upon what could not possibly be a dragon. His hair was a shade of pink she'd only ever seen when passing the flower shop next to her favorite bookstore. His skin was sun-kissed even in the shade of silver that came from the pearl in the sky above her. Truly the scene was breathtaking, and yet the scent that radiated from his body was the same one she'd followed all the way here.

Now, it could be that he was a drake. She'd heard stories from the elder pack members of dragons who'd taken human mates, and given birth to half-breeds. How did that work? She had absolutely no idea. Who was she to question another species' mating rituals anyway?

Perhaps, he was a half-breed. He did hold attributes similar to a dragon. Sharp, curved black horns protruding from his skull, bright red scales moving across his cheeks and up to his temples, the claws where hands should be. Everything screamed dragon, except, that he wasn't a giant lizard like she had expected. Perhaps, she should be grateful she hadn't run into the fully formed dragon that her packmates had been so scared of.

"What are ya doin' here?" it was a simple question, soft and barely heard above the gust of wind that tore through the clearing. Of course, Natsu wasn't expecting an answer from a wolf. He'd never attracted wildlife before so he would consider this one to be rare. He took a moment longer to stare the creature down in hopes it would run off, and leave him to his own thoughts.

Although, a deeply buried part of him yearned for the company, and hoped the female wolf would stay. She was gorgeous after all. Her fur was long and seemed to be painted by the starlight above as tones of blue and silver drenched her smooth coat.

Though, it was the eyes that pulled him in. Dark chocolate. Normally, wolves of the color white had eyes in shades of blue, yellow, and even on occasion brown and blue at the same time. She had solid brown. It was unique, and he found himself smiling before raking his claws through his hair.

"Ya know, I'm kinda glad you're here. I didn't really want to be alone tonight." Lucy couldn't respond to him, but he seemed to recognize and accept that. He seemed deep in some kind of thought. Obviously, a sad one. She hoped her presence would help him in some way, besides she didn't want to hunt or run around just to get dirty and have to scrub the mud off her skin in the morning.

It was a slow, graceful trot as she met him in the center of the clearing, and sat beside him to share his company. Maybe he'd even speak more, she liked the sound of his voice. It had a soothing calm to it even if it was rough around the edges.

Natsu let himself fall to the grass with an aggravated sigh as he looked for the words to say. He was talking to a woodland creature who couldn't even talk back, in the middle of the night no less. To say he felt a little crazy would be an understatement. Hey, maybe he needed this. Maybe he needed to let out his emotions. Even if it was only to a lone wolf in the middle of the forest.

He was startled as the creature curled into his side and laid her head on his chest. There was some blinking, a crinkle where eyebrows would normally be, and then an annoyed huff. Was she telling him to continue? He supposed it wouldn't hurt to do so.

"I don't want to be king, ya know?" King was much higher than Pack Leader, but she could understand the sentiment.

"I love Igneel, and being his son is great. But I love the wind through my wings, and fighting with the younger members, visiting the towns as I please. Ya can't do that as a king. Ya gotta be responsible." She longed for the freedom he spoke of. They were different in that regard. He had the freedom she sought. To have that ripped away would certainly make her aggravated as well. She gave a small whine to try and signal her agreement, and sympathy. Not being able to speak made this troublesome.

"Trying to make me feel better?" it sounded to him like she'd understood his plight in some way. He was glad for that much.

"Thank you." Soft, but serious. He meant it, and even if the wolf didn't understand him he appreciated her willingness to listen to him. A noise went off in the distance: a howl. It was obviously the call of a wolf. Maybe one from her pack. White ears twitched, and then a small noise from her. It sounded like a ‘no' if he'd ever heard one.

The next howl was louder, and when she finally picked up her head, all she did was bark. Like a kid saying ‘I'm coming!' when their parent calls. The wolf eased up from her position and stretched; first backward and then forward.

"Will ya visit again?" Lucy's head tilted at the idea. She'd seen a dragon, thus her curiosity was quenched, but she hadn't thought about seeing him again. Her head tilted to one side, and then the other. Yes, she decided. She'd come again the next full moon.

The dragon sat up slowly, and as soon as his cheek was high enough she gave a soft nuzzle before turning and disappearing into the night. If she didn't get to the hideout soon her father would give her an earful. That much was certain.

Natsu, however, remained in the clearing till sun up, claw resting upon his cheek, and a soft smile on his lips.

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

Lucy was practically vibrating with excitement even as her packmate Levy stared at her from behind a book.

"Lu? Are you okay? You normally hate the full moon." A correct statement. The blonde nodded in agreement, but still, the feeling did not fade. She'd see him again tonight, surely he'd be in the clearing. She was betting on it, and Lucy was not one to lose a bet. They didn't call her ‘Lucky' Lucy Heartfilia for nothing after all.

Currently, she had her chin resting on her hands as she took in the strong smell of roasted coffee beans and whipped cream. Both of these, however, was second to an old book. The wonderful thing about this shop wasn't the café, although it's a nice bonus, it was really the fact that it was attached to a used bookstore.

Levy had already chosen a classic from the fiction section depicting a war between werewolves and vampires, where Lucy had opted for a more classic romance set in a world of wizards bonded together by loyalty and friendship in a place where they'd built a new family. She was excited to start and finish the book in the next few days.

"I do. Tonight is different though. It's special." The blonde was certain Levy would understand. Levy was the one who'd told her about how dragons smell. Though she'd thought there might be some fibbed details but she wouldn't question her on that.

"Oh. Meeting a boy are we?" she flinched which was all Levy needed. The blunette smirked.

"Hmm-hm. Who's this mystery man?" Levy was personally excited to see her friend intrigued by a male. She'd always talk about boyfriends but never seemed to have an interest in anyone.

"It's just… a man I met in the woods on my last run." The blonde averted her eyes from Levy's and waited for her friend to stop gawking.

"You just. Met a man? In the woods? As a wolf?" Levy recognized that Lucy had already explained that, but damnit she wanted elaboration.

"Between you and me, I followed the scent of a dragon like you said. And I found one!" her grin went from ear-to-ear. Levy swallowed, but her mouth was as dry as cotton. Her best friend had found a dragon in the woods, and subsequently gained interest in said dragon. There was no way Levy had heard right.

"A dragon. In the woods." She repeated, but as a statement instead of a question as if willing her friend to continue.

"Yes. His scales were bright red, and he smelled of smoke. But the kind you bbq meat in, not a forest fire." Lucy finally gave Levy the information she needed to understand what had happened.

"You met the Fire Dragon King's son?" Levy was dumbfounded by her friend's unique ability to fall into troublesome situations.

"He mentioned something like that. How'd you know?"

"I'm dating the Iron Dragon King's son, Gajeel. It was easy to draw the conclusion." Lucy buzzed at the information. She'd known Levy was dating someone but didn't know who until now.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me that!" was all the blonde could manage.

"You know how our pack is Lu. You know interspecies isn't allowed." A rule decided by her father when he first took over as leader. Lucy made a pfft noise and shook her hand in the air.

"We all know that's a rule for me, and no one else. He's just disguising it to keep pack control." While the blunette agreed with Lucy she wasn't going to test that theory.

"Regardless, I'm glad for you. You always hated the full moon until now."

"It's not the full moon I hate. It's the forced transformation." She corrected. Lucy loved the stars more than anything, and each forced transformation was spent staring into the sky. Until now.

"I know that. I'm just surprised. Dragons have keen noses, he should've been able to smell the magic on you. That's how Gajeel found out what I was." Speaking on keen noses. Werewolves definitely didn't match up to dragons, but they still had a hell of a sense of smell. And right now, all Lucy could smell was smoke.

She froze on the spot as a familiar voice chatted outside the window with a large man covered in piercings. Pink, but this wasn't from the flower shop next door. Her breath hitched in her throat, and with a small whimper, she faced away from the pinkette. Their eyes hadn't met, and she was fairly certain he didn't know she was there. It needed to stay that way.

"What are you doing?" Levy's voice broke through her inner monologue with a chiding tone.

"That's him." She whispered. Surely, they could still hear the conversation so Lucy held up a hand, and shook her head before Levy could manage her next question.

"All right. But you better have an explanation in the morning." The blunette was awarded a mock salute from her incredibly nervous blonde friend.

"Wait, are you leaving already?" the question startled Lucy, but she nodded in response.

"Yes, I wanted to get ready for the change. I know it's still early, but…" Levy understood completely. While most of the pack had a seamless transformation, herself included, Lucy did not. Many believed that it was because of her human mother's blood that she had what was regarded as the most painful transition. It was why she never willingly shifted forms.

"I'll see you in the morning, Lu." A small wave from the blunette was Lucy's signal that she was good to head out. With the doors of the café opened all she could hear was what sounded like the end of a conversation that had left the fire drake irritated. Maybe that was usual for him? She didn't know, but a part of her wanted to find out.

"Are you okay?" the words slipped out before she'd even realized it. Her mouth, and her brain, were clearly working against her.

"Huh? Who are you?" gruff. Not at all like the voice from the clearing. Put in perspective she could see where she went wrong. She'd approached an irritated drake and then tried to question him as though she was his friend. She held up her hands in a surrendering fashion which calmed his features ever so slightly.

Features that she found insanely different. He was definitely able to pass as a human if you ignored the fangs. His claws, the scales that adorned his face, and the horns that curved from his temples were all gone. She nearly frowned but caught herself quickly. She missed the man from the clearing, she realized.

"Sorry." His voice was closer to the tone she'd remembered.

"For? It was my fault. I shouldn't have intruded on a personal issue."

"No. I shouldn't have been rude about it." His tone hadn't really bothered her, but this conversation had already gone on too long. Any longer, and he might realize who she was.

"Don't worry about it. Whatever it is, I hope it gets better." She turned with a wave, leaving him to watch her go. And he did. She'd smelled familiar, like the scent of pine, and vanilla. Which he hadn't recalled smelling before, but still his senses were screaming as though he knew her. Which was impossible. There's no way he could. He would've known if he'd met a girl like her.

Still, she smelled of magic which meant she was, at the very least, not human. Never the less, he didn't want to worry about that. His only worry was the wolf. He hadn't seen her in nearly a month, and with fur as white as snow she couldn't possibly be able to camouflage in the dense greenery that surrounded Magnolia. Though, he bet she thrived in the winter. He worried that she had possibly been killed by a hunter. Those were common after all. Especially with the possibility of the wolf being a werewolf. The only difference between a were, and its counterpart was size.

This was especially true with wolves. Werewolves are abnormally large, and barely look anything like a natural-born wolf. Come to think of it, the wolf in the woods that night was rather large. At least larger than normal, but most of the ones he'd seen were much bigger. Though, she could have been a runt.

If she was a runt that was even worse. His anxiety skyrocketed as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He needed to move. He gave a grunt and trudged back toward the nest. He'd just check again tonight. Like he did every night.

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

Lucy's hands dug into the hard concrete of the dungeon she was currently locked in. It had to be this way after all. She didn't want to ruin her home like she had the first time she'd transformed. That had been an experience she didn't want to relive a second time. Below her, the solid foundation of the building began to crack, and a yowl ripped from her throat. It sounded like a mix between human agony and raging wolf.

It was several minutes of her bones cracking to break down her human form into something dangerous, and far more primal. When it was finally over, and her senses began to return to normal, she cautiously moved her limbs. Hind legs, front paws, neck, jaw. It was all in working order, and the blonde almost wanted to spend the rest of her evening laying on the cold concrete that had already begun to soothe her sore body.

However, she forced herself to her paws and began to bounce up and down to test the boundaries of her body. She wouldn't be running any time soon, but if she kept hidden it wouldn't be too risky to keep a slow trot to the clearing where she hoped he'd be waiting. Who knew at this point.

He could have stopped going by now. She also could have visited, but shifting took a lot out of her, and she normally spent a few days recovering in bed after. Pack work had to be done, but she also had a job at the library downtown.

A doctor's note easily allowed her to get the few days after the full moon off each month, but anything after that would be testing her luck. While she was ‘Lucky' Lucy Heartfilia she'd rather not test how far that went.

Claws raked on the metal door, causing a rather annoying screeching noise on the iron as it protested to the unfair treatment. Creeeeeeak. The door moved open at a steady, slow rate to reveal Michelle. Her cousin was also a hybrid like herself, but the human genes had won out in the end, and she'd yet to show any signs of being a werewolf. Although, from what Lucy had seen, Michelle had no problems with it.

Michelle bent down to a crouch to rub Lucy between the ears and make soft cooing noises. She was giggling with joy at the motion, and Lucy didn't put up a fight. Not that she wanted to, she quite liked the feel of hands in her fur and she even gave a low rumble of appreciation.

"Well, get along now. He won't be happy if you stay here for too long." Her voice echoed in Lucy's mind, and the wolf gave an angry snort before dipping her head and making her exit. Michelle wasn't wrong (which only infuriated Lucy more), but she was hoping that someday her father would lighten up a bit, and allow himself the opportunity to move past her mother's death. She knew for a fact that her mom wouldn't have wanted to see him become this… monster.

The grass was scratchy beneath her paws and even grazed her underbelly. She had to keep low to the ground that way she wouldn't draw attention, though it was easier said than done. She may be a runt, but she had the physique to match her werewolf genes, plus she was bigger than the average mutt.

She wasn't concerned, though she should be, considering this was her turf and she knew these woods like the back of her paw. Though, there was a small problem: the section without shrub to hide in. This was one she had to pass through to make it to the clearing that he would theoretically be waiting in. She hadn't been paying attention the first time she'd traveled to him, but now in her weakened state, she had to be careful.

The first time they'd met she'd already had time to brush off the transformation aches but having left immediately after she was still sore. Sure, she could escape if she needed to, but honestly, she didn't want to. If at all possible. Her ears twitched as a rustling came from her right. Hunters. She cursed internally because of course there would be hunters. Why the hell not. Every lean muscle in her body tensed as she pressed as far as she could into the ground.

This was dangerous, and she needed to be careful.

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

Again. He waited under the cover of night. His form warped by the darkness to the point that if you looked he would appear to be a human by any other standard. His chin rest in his palm and his brows were scrunched in irritation. He'd waited for the wolf to grace him with her presence again, but it was day 30 and there was no sign of pale white fur. Feet tapped anxiously as he stared into the bark of the tree in front of him. His eyes glazed over as his mind wandered leaving his body an empty shell.

He would have stayed in that mindless trance had he not been snapped out of it. Bang! The metallic scent of blood crashed his senses making him think distinctly of pennies. That was neither here nor there. His mind switched immediately to defense as the crashing sound of footsteps echoed around him.

Branches breaking, leaves crunching, the collision of bodies. Whatever was bleeding was frantic, and whatever was chasing it had a partner. A partner it couldn't stop running into. Boy, was their teamwork bad.

He stood still as he waited to see exactly what was causing this kind of commotion in HIS woods. A flash of white caught his eye which caused a flutter of panic in his chest. That was impossible. Another shot fired, and the sound of a yelp! had him ready to run to the rescue.

She crashed to the ground, her breath labored, and a soft whimper leaving her body. They'd gotten her good, and if she managed to live her father would not be pleased. She urged her body to move, and somehow it complied. The calm didn't last as the sound of a small branch snapped beneath a heavy boot. A noise rose above the rest: growling. She wondered when exactly she'd began growling and it took her a moment to realize that she hadn't. That's when she realized exactly where she was. The Clearing.

Which meant to her left was the one person she'd never been happier to see. He'd waited for her. With the hunters distracted she leapt into the clearing and booked it to his side. She ignored screams of protest and the sound of cocking guns. She just needed to reach him. She slid to a stop behind him, her breath leaving her body in heavy spurts. Warmth spread through her entire body as his hand laid upon her head. It was urging her to rest. It was like he was saying, ‘Leave it to me.' And she did.

He never thought he'd be so MAD. Her beautiful fur was matted with blood from an injury on her backside, and her body shook with exhaustion. Wings extended from his back, and the original growl turned into a loud snarl which evolved until a roar was echoing for miles.

"Leave." He bellowed his command into the air. He was every bit Igneel's son, and damnit he was the Fire Dragon King's heir. They'd leave if they wanted to live. Guns clattered to the ground and with wild scrambling, the hunting pair took their abrupt departure. He huffed, blowing out a puff of smoke. These were his woods, his territory, and he'd be damn if someone attacked a friend in his presence.

Her body quivered next to his, and when he crouched down to check on her she shoved her muzzle against his face and rubbed furiously.

"Hey! Cut that out!" she didn't take him seriously as she watched him light up with laughter, and his mouth contorted into the same grin she'd seen the first time they'd met. She'd been worried. The expression he'd made when he'd ran off the hunters had made him look like a demon. It was someone she'd never seen, but also someone she knew he'd be unhappy to become. He'd looked like a king protecting his people.

Her whiskers tickled his cheek as she nuzzled him. She must've felt scared, which wasn't surprising all things considered. Then, he caught it. A soft scent just past the smell of pennies: Vanilla. His eyes widened, his mind flitting to her. The blonde who'd been a stranger. The one who checked to see if he was okay after his fight with Gajeel.

"You…?" he whispered. A howl sounded off in the night, the call to beckon her home. Just like before. A nod and the wolf was gone. A roar sounded off in the distance, his own call home, and he knew he'd have explaining to do.

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

She stood, slowly, from her chair at the library. She'd been adamant about returning to her job even through her father's distress. It seemed like his only daughter almost dying had lit some kind of fire in him. He'd been more caring, and dare she think it, tender. Still, she wouldn't just sit, and wait for her wound to heal.

That'd be boring. Plus, she couldn't stop thinking about that night. The pink-haired man waiting under the moonlight, and how he'd saved her life. They wouldn't have killed her. No, they would have sold her.

She shuddered and gripped the book in her hand even tighter. Lately, she'd been having trouble controlling her strength so when it snapped in half she wasn't surprised. Even so, it would surely be docked from her pay.

"It seems weird for a librarian to be destroying a book. Aren't ya supposed to like those?" she recognized his voice easily. It was the same tone he used when they spoke in the woods the first night.

"You thought so too, huh?" she sighed, but set the destroyed book down on the cart beside her.

"Interested in anything?" she meant a book, obviously. The pinkette had something a little different in mind.

"You." He watched her body stop on a dime, and her cheeks exploded in the color red. A part of him wanted to chuckle and stroke her hair to calm her. The other part told him not to. Even if she was the wolf in the woods (he still wasn't sure) it wasn't likely she'd care for being treated like an animal.

"W-What do you mean?" her voice sputtered, but then evened out. Did he know? It was entirely possible, though she wasn't in the mindset to be playing this game. Fake it ‘till you make it. That was her motto.

"Nothing. I just saw ya from the window. We met a few days ago so I wanted to say ‘Hi'." It wasn't a lie, not entirely, but he wasn't prepared to try and out a werewolf even if it was an empty bookstore.

"Oh. Well then, hello, stranger." She teased, shelving another book into its rightful place. This was the tricky part, having to walk forward to the next section of literature without him noticing her wound.

"Stranger." He said it with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, "What's your name?" if they exchanged names they would be acquaintances. Then, maybe the anger creeping into his chest might subside. She knew him and she'd heard his inner-most concerns. He'd saved her life. They were hardly strangers.

"Lucy. Lucy Heartfilia." She held out her hand to him, a soft gesture, hoping he'd take it. Then, perhaps they could be more than just the wolf and the dragon who met under the light of the full moon.

"My name is Natsu Dragneel." There. Acquaintances. Next step: friends. "Can I help?"

She considered his offer, maybe if he was elsewhere in the store she could maneuver with ease. Or at the very least she'd be able to keep her secret.

"Yes. That would be great." She smiled, soft and sweet. "The system is alphabetical." It was nothing special like the Dewey Decimal system.

"Got it." He grabbed a few hardcovers and stared at their titles before wandering off. She'd heard him whisper the letter ‘P' and that was at least two rows over. Now, she just needed to place the book she currently held in her hand. ‘Starlight', it was a children's book that her mother had read to her when she was a child. It detailed the story of a young girl with the power to control call upon the stars. It was her favorite. It was also, unfortunately, on the top shelf.

She grimaced but still pushed to the tip of her toes to push the book into its rightful place. The wound where the bullet had lodged deep into her hip was screaming in agony. She should have had him put it up. He was tall, probably? Her mind pictured him as she confirmed his height. She hadn't really been paying attention to his physical features due to her internal panic.

Move on, her mind urged. She agreed and switched to the next title. ‘Roses Be Damned'. This was supposed to be some classic, cheesy romcom and she couldn't wait to purchase it and let it consume her life for the next month. If it was good anyway. It was here, that Lucy made her mistake.

She shifted to the right accidentally bumping right into the heavy cart full of books. She let out a scream of pain as she toppled to the ground, holding her hip tightly as though that would help. As if the tighter she squeezed the less pain she would feel.

Natsu, two rows over, stared at the book in his hand. It was an informational guide on Werewolves. Now, while werewolves had outed themselves – for the most part – that didn't mean all of the packs had. It was more a pre-emptive strike than anything else. He should probably buy this book. He was making his way around the corner when the scream and clatter of books had him rushing.

There she was, lying sprawled across the floor with small whimpers leaving her lips. He cursed. He'd gotten complacent. Of course, there's no way she would have healed by now. Werewolves and Dragons were fundamentally different after all. While he wouldn't be slowed down by a bullet, she wasn't built as sturdy.

"Are you all right?" his voice sounded like it was miles away as her mind seemed shrouded by the pain her body was experiencing. Fuck. Maybe she should have stayed home. This was shaping up to be a great day already.

"Nnn." Her grunt seemed to be an affirmative but she still hadn't moved from her spot on the floor so he decided to take it with a grain of salt.

"Why are you pretending?" her entire body froze from its position on the ground.

"What do you mean?" she feigned ignorance for a moment. She couldn't allow him to figure her out so easily, though it would just be easier to come clean.

"Actin' like you're okay, but clearly you're not." She'd been scared when he asked the question. He wasn't entirely sure why she would be. Either she was scared of him, or someone else. It had to be a someone, not a something. He hoped so anyway.

She stared into the carpet as though it was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. It wasn't. Lucy couldn't just avoid him forever but maybe she could feign passing out and deal with it later. No, that was a bad idea too. She cursed under her breath and gathered all of her courage to face him.

"I'd say you're right. I was in a sticky situation and got injured a few days ago." He knew that already. He was there. He saved her. It had taken a bit of time to find her though, in fact, he probably wouldn't have without Gajeel's girlfriend to help him out. Apparently, the girls were in the same pack. Now, that was a plot twist.

"I know. I saved ya didn't I." there wasn't a question; it was another statement. Yep, he knew. Would he be mad? First, he shares his secrets with her in the woods under the guise that she was a regular woodland creature. And then, she hides her identity and pretends they never met. Lucy regretted her train of thought because of course, he'd be mad. She'd be mad too if he had done the same thing. Ah, but he hadn't done it. She had.

"I should start with an ‘I'm sorry.'" She mumbled. His heightened hearing caught her words whereas a normal human would have experienced some difficulty. That was not helping him understand why she was sorry. There wasn't really anything to be sorry about, right?

"Why are ya apologizin'?" Theoretically, there shouldn't be a reason to apologize. Not unless she'd run rampant and telling the story of the dragon who didn't want to be king. That sounded like a shitty romance-drama movie waiting to happen.

"Well, you confided in me, and I didn't bother to tell you that I wasn't human." she felt bad about it. Rationally speaking, how could she have told him anything. Speaking was NOT a skill that wolves had. Mostly, it was that she never went back to that clearing – as a human – to explain herself.

"Ya realize wolves don't talk right?" he wasn't quite sure what she was feeling so guilty about. He wasn't mad. He'd shared a secret with a wolf on the night of the full moon. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least if it'd been a werewolf.

"Well, yes, but--" she sputtered to a stop as he interrupted her.

"No harm, no foul. I'm not mad about it. As long as ya didn't run around tellin' every damn person on the street about it, then who cares?" she cared. Obviously.

"It was still a betrayal of your trust! Let me make it up to you." she silently pleaded that he'd agree and just let her take him to lunch or something. The pinkette was uncomfortable. Again. His fingers raked through his hair, displacing the messy locks, and then he gave a groan of annoyance before nodding.

"Fine." he didn't elaborate, instead he placed his hands on his hips and waited. Lucy found herself drawn into his gaze. When they met she could've sworn they were the color of midnight, but in the day with the sun high in the sky, they were a dazzling green. To her, they equated to the vibrant journal decorated in white daisies that lived in her desk at home. It had reminded her of spring, and the same was true of his eyes.

"Hello?" he waved a hand in her face. She'd suddenly gone blank on him and while she could've been thinking of what to do to ‘make it up to him' – he got a distinct feeling that wasn't the case. He was caught in his own trance as well. She was definitely the wolf in the woods.

The second he looked into her eyes he knew. It was the same dark gold that he'd seen then, only this time the face staring back at him was a human's. The human was blonde, beautiful, and admittedly a little weird.

"What about lunch?" she blurted, as though she'd finally came back to reality.

"What about it?"

"Let me take you to lunch. To make it up to you." she elaborated for him, and honestly, he buzzed with excitement. He could eat any day, any time.

"Absolutely." no hesitation. Lucy's brow quirked in response.

"Well, then. Would now be a good time? I'm due for a break."

"I'm ready when you are." he held his hand out to her and she gladly took it. She'd need the support if she wanted to make it anywhere in the next millennia.

#fairy tail #nalu #nalu ff #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #natsu x lucy #ft #dorkneel #queen #my writing #otp: welcome home #ever since i switched to linux #it wont let me copy paste my text with the indents #in any case have this #naluweek

[seenashwrite]

Dearest Nash, I've touched on this before in (I believe) in a discussion re: why some mainstream fics get oodles of notes while more original ones do not, *but* I wanted to get a bit more specific here. There are certain writers here whose writing has a definite vibe to it (if you will) that separates their work from others, and your name is one of the first that comes to mind. Bear with me, because trying to detail what makes your writing stand out is difficult while trying to articulate a Q

^ this is a gif with parts 2 - 4, just FYI

Hmmm… this is a bit of a brain buster. But I can answer it, and I think succinctly, maybe with a touch of that Spidey sense you mention:

Thank you for your inquiry, hope that helps! 

I kid. But this is a brain-turner. And a characteristic which, like you say, ain’t limited to me. I’d honestly throw comedians under this umbrella, too, not because I’m necessarily gunning for a laugh every time, but because it’s pretty much their job to take a “basic” (a tenet or fact of life or present reality or whatever) and present the observation with a twist. I think of storyteller comedians specifically, your Patton Oswalt-s, Maria Bamford-s, Kathy Griffin-s, and John Mulaney-s.

So if I can sum up, assuming I’m tracking with you, what you’re more or less driving at with the “how” is this –> Is there anything beyond simply personality, or an auto-pilot thought cascade (for lack of better terminology) that contributes? Are there things someone could do/be proactive about, to perhaps cause this same sort of reaction to happen in their brain?

I think there just might be.

Folks reading this, let me ask you a question, and you cannot look it up:

What was the name of the Sherpa guide who led Sir Edmund Hillary up Mount Everest?

.

.

.

His name was Tenzing Norgay.

Nash, what in the name of the frozen corpse of George Mallory does this have to do with Lion’s question?

I shall tell you.

My father told me that fact when I was quite young, so young I legit couldn’t even ballpark my age for you. The context was that having little facts tucked away in your brain may come in handy. Not in a Jeopardy kind of way, more in a conversational way. I’ve no idea why the man thought the Sherpa guide who led Hillary up Mt. Everest would ever come up during a conversation with enough regularity to justify my knowing that fact (aside from him randomly quizzing me throughout my life) but hey, I guess it just did.

But speaking of Lil’ Nash, the situation for her was that she was the eldest of all the Nash litter by miles… like seven or eight years, I’m not bothering to check. So I had a lot of alone time, and my grandmother was my chief babysitter, so prior to kindergarten and then til I was in about second grade (so: all day long during the week, then every weekday after she picked me up from school), I was pretty much always at her house. Yeah, there were toys, but not a lot to do. And I’d read. I’d been reading on my own for a decent while, not because I was some prodigy but because my dad read to me *constantly* when Lil’ Nash was Itty-Bitty Nash, and it “took”. My mom also, every time she went to the grocery store always - and I mean always - brought back a book for me. It might’ve been an Archie comic—-

Mandatory #fuck the CW’s Riverdale tag

—-or a Babysitter’s Club, or Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume, Madeleine L’Engle, Zilpha Keatley Snyder, you get my point. Some small paperback. It would piss Dad off because he’s a cheap bastard and two buck books once or twice a month were really gonna cut into the savings [eyeroll] but also, in a way, because I’d kill it in a half day/a day. Wouldn’t put it down. After awhile, I started writing my own silly little kid stories, then - and this is where the creative writing love came about -  I started writing soap operas for my Barbies. (When I was older - like, 5th grade? 6th grade, maybe? - none of my peers were still playing with Barbies, and I got made fun of when, at a sleepover, they saw my stash. And I was like - No, no, no. Those aren’t for playing. That’s my cast.)

Time went on, and when I was bored at post-church lunch/dinners, I would also read the old encyclopedias at my grandmother’s, the ones from the late ‘60s/early ‘70s that she had for my mom and my aunt. As I got even older and became fascinated with rooting through the boxes in gran’s basement, looking at all the cool old clothes, I stumbled upon my aunt’s collection of Whoa-Hooooo Shit There’s No Way My Grandparents Knew You Read These books. Those kinda Harlequin-esque ones, except my aunt’s tastes run close to mine, none were the same shtick with different covers, shmultzy-sappy romance, there was always some sort of intrigue along with the sexy times, and she also had, like, every legit V. C. Andrews (meaning: not the ones from the ghostwriter, this was way before her death) book.

What is my point? I read a LOT. Now-a-days, other than fanfic (which… straight up: I don’t read a lot of that, either. I peace out on probs 80% of it before the third-to-fifth paragraph. It’s gotta sell me fast, yo) I haven’t read fiction in probably, oh…. 12 years? I think the last ones were the first couple Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Wait, no! I lie! I read the 50 Shades books when I was traveling 2x/wk for a job about 4 years ago, and I needed the laughs. It worked. Oh my days, that woman can’t write. The screenplay might’ve been worse, it goes her, then Buckleming, then everyone else. It’s bad. In any event, past decade or so, it’s more historical stuff and true crime and science stuff and all that old fart jazz.

Okay, so that’s #1: Read. And not just anything, be well-read, and that doesn’t mean developing some level of expertise, by “well” I’m saying to cover the spread. You’re building your tool kit, is all. You won’t use most of it, but it’s nice to have options. You also don’t always have to get this stuff from reading now-a-days, because podcasts. Cover the spread there, too. Lemme look at my bookmarks…. 

[Spongebob narrator voice: A few moments later]

I’m back. Science - Skeptic’s Guide to the Universe; General current stuff without being news - CGP Grey’s Hello Internet; current events with shittons of pop culture, past and present - Greg Proops’ Smartest Man in the World; fun history stuff - The Dollop; entertainment stuff - How Did This Get Made.

#2: Keep a notebook with you and jot down turns-of-phrase that spark something in your brain - things you read on websites, on twitter, in articles, things you hear people say (real life, TV, movies, podcasts), and write it. Don’t snap a pic with your phone or make a note in your phone. There are studies behind this, I’m not hunting them down, you’ll just have to trust me, but there are, and it goes to being reflexive, a brain “muscle memory” thing, if you will. You’re not doing it to plagiarize, you’re doing it to dissect it, kind’ve like you did with the example you gave on me —> went from punch action to punch spiked with booze to a punch with a spiked gauntlet.

Which leads to #3: Mental dictionary. I have a large vocab repository, and it stems from the tons of reading - I stop and look up stuff if I either don’t know it, or it’s used in such a way that I think they’ve got it wrong and want to double-check that maybe there’s another usage I don’t know - and also stems from a drive to combat the (still fairly thick) deep South drawl I can’t kick, and not for lack of trying. But see, I couldn’t have whipped out that progression if I weren’t aware that one definition of “spike” is “to add alcohol to”, or of the common shtick in stories of spiked punch like at high school proms typically, or knew about the existence of spiked gauntlets / old school armor. 

And I guarantee you that a good chunk of people didn’t really “get it”, and just thought “Nash Be Nashin’, that nutty gal”. So they “get it” on that level, but don’t Get. It., if you see what I’m saying. And that’s fine. Maybe it got something cranking in the back of their mind and it’ll hit ‘em in the middle of the night, or they’ll be watching Game of Thrones or something, see a gauntlet and be like “Oh goddamnit, I just got a throw-a-way one-liner from three years ago” and have a chuckle.

Related, re: looking stuff up and things that people “get”? I didn’t know fuck-all about Twilight, but it seemed of import to the folks around 5 years younger than me, the Nashlings wouldn’t shut up about it, so I got a good working knowledge of it. Same with Harry Potter, and through it I got to “know” J.K. Rowling, who I find to be an exceptional writer, so that was great, and I’ve watched the movies for the most part over the years at Christmastime, and I don’t give the first shit about what “house” I’m in, nor do I care about what Patronus I’d fart, but I have a working knowledge of what those are, and horcruxes and who Snape and Voldie are, you get my point. I can keep up. But to do it, I had to take the time to look it up. One thing I would not trade for gold is Michael Sheen chewing the goddamn scenery in that battle segment from the last Twilight movie. Have I watched the movie? No. But that scene is the shit. And that baby CGI is horrific on several subtle levels. And not-so-subtle. I’ve digressed.

Back to those notes: So if you’ve got these notes jotted, you might see something else and think “I feel like that could’ve been snappier…. why do I think that….” And you’ve got a resource at your disposal, that little notebook. Hell, jot that thing down - things you think could be done better. I have in many documents a highlight around chunks of scenes for my big dog story where it says in bold above or below “DO BETTER”. Meaning: there’s a better way to get from A to B, but I’m just not quite there yet. I’m pretty quick on the uptake and can crank out something snappy on the fly (like say, in CASPN chat or when banging out a short reply or thank you note) but there’s definitely times I gotta slap a DO BETTER on it and walk away til that snappy something-or-other light bulb goes off. 

Here’s a recent one where I backtracked, matter of fact - that noir spoof thing I wrote? Along with my co-writer, Moscato? There was a line that I couldn’t hit with a good zinger, so I just said moments were going by like a fat hamster on a wheel, which is cute, but not really grooving with the setting/the vibe. Less tipsy, when I was correcting some inelegant formatting and a misspelling [sigh], I went “Oh! Why didn’t this occur to me last night? Right. Wine.” So the line is now about moments dragging like a rolling donut with a copper on its tail. Get it? The cop’s a fat ass. The donut-cop stereotype.

…….Fine, it ain’t my best, but it fits better. Moving on.

And this leads nicely into #4, and a specific tip I can impart - assuming you’ve got a passable-to-high level of vocabulary in your tool belt, practice messing around with making nouns into verbs, and twisting random stuff into descriptors and using bizarre words/things in metaphors/analogies. Like, I say “adulting” quite a bit. Ali - @littlegreenplasticsoldier - I thiiiink was writing recently about Sam being drunk, and he’s a tall wobbly Jenga tower on his last Jenga. Going back to the noir, pulpy detective style, try messing with the whole “S/he was like a ___ that ____”. Add on to stuff that’s well known - He was like a dog with a bone, if the bone was a ____ and he was a ____ and we were in a ____. (I have *nothing* in mind to fill those blanks, by the way, feel free to twist it into sumpin’)

What else…. okay, here’s a #5: In drafts, let yourself wander, and see what kicks out. It can be fueled by silliness or anger, but I don’t reckon you’re gonna get the “snappy” you’re aiming for if you’re down in the dumps and going full-court-press angst. The best stuff, IMO, comes from the space in between goofy and pissed, and that is The Land Of Snark. You can always re-style it to bend more dry or wistful should you need to, certainly, depending on the situation.

Have a sample of a primo Nash Digression that was fueled by ire in a recap from Season 12 (episode 19). I had said - RE: the random inclusion of the character Joshua, which still pisses me off because they burned a character that held massive potential for future stuff as he’d been shown to be the only angel with direct access to Chuck, so, y’know, that could never come in handy, like ever again in the series, right? - the following.

Mandatory pre-emptive #fuck Dabb

[Spongebob narrator voice] A few moments later —> 

On god, I have no idea where that came from, and here’s where we go back to ol’ Spidey up there, because end of the day?

All that other stuff’s the foundation, sure, but there’s always gonna be the weird iggy, the thing that can’t be learned or taught, whatever the quirky synapse is that fires off in my/our brains. In my experience, it’s an ADD-ish sort of jam mixed with the Nostradamus effect. Meaning, (A) we’re at Level 10, rapid fire thought processing >50% of the time, and (B) throw out enough stuff for long enough, some of it’s going to stick. And I whiff it plenty. Multiple times in CASPN chat I’ve been like “Whoo, tough room” when something falls flat.

A specific example: @mrswhozeewhatsis - and I think you saw this, but anyone else seeing this may not have - gave probably the most fantastic analogy I’ve seen regarding the whole “getting it” thing, and while it was on the topic of meaty plots that get too far into the weeds (my specialty) and how it can lessen appeal to a broader audience, it still applies here. 

She said “Sometimes, when I’m reading something of yours, I feel like there’s a joke I’m missing. It’s like watching Spaceballs without having seen Star Wars.” I say that to say - nobody’s gonna land references that cover the spread 100% of the time. And, y’know, fine. I figure maybe it’ll prompt someone to do a quick google for - well, let’s use Spaceballs. Most folks will no doubt get the Star Wars part, but maybe not Spaceballs. Maybe they’ll check it out, find something they enjoy. Or learn a new word. Or get a brainstorm for a story. Who knows?

Last tip: Don’t actively mimic anyone’s style. Much fail. And I don’t only mean because if they’re on a social Venn diagram with you, would likely recognize themselves in your stuff——

Takes a moment to wave to the peeps still trying with me! #bless your hearts

—–but because it’s fucking hard. I did it broadly on the noir thing, that’s not a hard thing, to homage generalities, but the way I’m messing with doing this on that silly Princess Bride series? Purposefully styling it like Goldman? It’s good  challenging and all, and it is making it feel more in the groove with the book/movie, but I have to be in the right frame of mind or it’s like fingernails on a chalkboard, and when I have pushed it, then gone back, it’s sloggy, soggy garbage.

I say all that to say: it’s an amalgam of brain-wiring/personality, and world/life perspective(s), and knowledge acquired over time. The first just is; the second will evolve in myriad ways, maybe for the better, maybe for the worse; the last is the one where you/we have control, we can fill bucket after bucket of information, and the well won’t ever run dry.

Sorry this took so long. I kept adding and subtracting. This is the edited version, if you can believe it. Welcome to Nash Brain. 😉

#Dear Nash #becominglionhearted #Writing Advice #and / or #Writing Stuff #maybe #Writing Tips #unsure #we'll go with all of it #ah I know #Writing Style #that's the ticket #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

[gguktastic]

Love Is A Drug || 00.

THE CAMERAMAN speeds through the streets of Myeongdong, his trusty camera recording every little detail; from the teenage girl begging her stoic mother for money to buy the expensive skin products she desired, to a boy blushing because his crush just smiled at him from across the sea of people. The streets are alive, bright lights spelling out the names of shops. There is a little girl crying because her father won’t pay attention to her, a cranky, middle-aged man sending an annoyed glare her way. The zephyr carries with it the mouth-watering aromas of street food and the laughter and excited chatter as people met up with their friends, hopping from one shop to another. There is a twenty-year-old woman, sitting at the cashier’s desk at a small drugstore people often ignored: unless it really was medicines they were looking for. Of course, that rarely happened, because hey, Myeongdong was a place famous for its cosmetics and skincare, not for advanced medicine. Wandering on the streets, looking for a drugstore is one Jeon Jeongguk, clad in black with a black mask covering his nose and mouth, a black baseball cap atop his head.

And this is where our story, begins.

SO, I’m writing a fic and this was the prologue! I was at a drugstore today to get some medicine for my injured knee and I suddenly had this idea. This is, obviously, a Jeongguk fiction. I KNOW I’m not the best at naming fics but LET ME LIVE GODDAMNIT.

If you like the prologue, please drop by my ask box to tell me if you want me to continue it! Of course, I’ll be writing more (teehee), but just think of it as a little encouraging push? Thank you so much, have a great day!

#kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jeongguk #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bulletproof boyscouts #beyond the scene #jeon jeongguk x oc #jeon jeongguk fluff #jeon jeongguk angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jeon jeongguk smut #fic : love is a drug #fic : LIAD #Love Is A Drug gguktastic #ash writes #gguktastic

[docholligay]

But first

Hey folks, my stuff on my Patreon stays exclusive for six months! What kind of stuff will you get there? Stuff like this glorious nugget of Angsty Outers Family, which just cleared up for me to publish here! I thank all of you so much for your support!! It means so incredibly much. 

A Family Affair

Hotaru remembered a painting that had been in one of Michiru's coffee table books, with clocks yawning and stretching and melting over a desert landscape. The Persistence of Memory, it had been called, and her Michiru-Mama had told her with grand gestures about the representation of memory within it, and how it warps over time, until time and memory means precious little at all.

But that was another lie she told. Memory was everything.

She doodled a circle in her notebook. The memories had been coming back to her, more quickly now than ever. She had always known she was some sort of adopt, and that there was something about her that must not be quite right. Other girls went to school, they grew up normally, but Hotaru seemed to grow overnight, and then not grow at all. She looked a young teenager, but was somehow also two.

She was magic, like them, it had been explained. That was all. Soon, she’d be able to join them on the battlefield, her strange collection of parents.

But they hadn’t told her everything. And the clock didn’t melt so much that she couldn’t remember, now.

The rage built in her, a monster inside of her more fearsome than even the one who had come before it. In these moments, in the light of the memories that had illuminated her mind, she never so desired to embrace her terrifying power.

They had tried to kill her. They had stolen her. They had lied to her.

And they had dressed it all up in domesticity. They had read her stories and tucked her in at night and tried to make it all real, to make it all love. She felt the betrayal like a dagger in her chest, deep and throbbing within her. She had trusted them, she had loved them, and everything their family had ever been was a lie.

She heard the door close, and the sounds of them coming into the house. Hotaru looked in the mirror, and saw a storm brewing behind her own eyes she had never seen before. She had never before understood how anything within her could be capable of crushing a galaxy. And yet now, she did not doubt that such a thing was possible.

She burst out of her room and exploded down the stairs. She was like before, before they tried to kill her, before everything had happened, but she wasn’t, too. It was as if her mind carried a memory of fragility and sickness that this body did not know. Was she even herself anymore? Was she nothing more than part of their sick, silly game? She did not know, and she could not ask. Who would she ask? She was just a soldier, a pawn to them.

Nothing else.

She stopped halfway down the stairs and glared at them, the three standing there like mice enraptured by a snake’s gaze.

Michiru stepped forward, her lips parted in concern. “Hotaru, are you quite all right?”

Her voice came like a growl, low and aggressive. “You lied to me.”

Haruka was the first to step forward, smiling. “No, Firefly, we just have to put off the trip to the zoo this weekend, I’ll still take you.”

“Not about that!” Haruka recoiled at Hotaru’s sharp bark. There was a pause, and Pluto held her purse tightly, Haruka looked hurt and confused. Only Michiru’s face began to change, the concern dropping out of it and realization taking its place. Hotaru took a breath. ‘I’m not yours.”

Haruka began to walk toward her, and Pluto held her by the elbow, but Haruka did not stop. “It doesn’t matter if--”

“No!” Hotaru bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from coming. “You stole me! You tried to murder me!”

Haruka put her hand to her chest. “It--I--”

“It wasn’t so simple as that.” Michiru hung up her jacket, and smoothed her hair, taking a breath. “I will be more than happy to explain all this to you ,Hotaru, but I think you should perha--”

“Don’t do that.” Hotaru shook her head. “No.” She looked down at Haruka. “I can’t believe you.”

Haruka visibly shrank for a moment, sucking in the top of her bottom lip.

Michiru crossed her arms. “So what precisely would you have me do? I’ve offered to explain to you, as an adult, the decision we were forced to make.”

Pluto could feel it already, the changing mood of the room, Michiru building that sea wall that separated her from her own emotions, Haruka’s hurt beginning to fester and boil inside of her, just waiting for a match to convert it to anger, Hotaru beginning to tear and pull away from them, the ooze of pain where she would have been echoing through the house.

“Did you try to kill me?” She walked down the stairs, dodging Haruka’s attempt to touch her shoulder. She stopped in front of Michiru. “Did you?”

“Yes,” She folded her hands neatly in front of her. “We did.”

Hotaru threw her shoulders back. “And did you take me from my dad?”

“Yes,” Michiru shot a look at Pluto. “We did.”

“Well then,” She said with a firmness Michiru might once have been proud of, “there’s nothing else to say.” She began to clip back up the stairs, and Haruka reached out to her once more. She shrank against the banister. “Don’t touch me!”

She bolted up the stairs and slammed the door to her room. “I hate them,” she murmured to herself, like a prayer, like a reminder. “I hate them so much.”

Hotaru took a bag out of the closet and began shoving clothes into it. She struggled to hang onto the memories: Where her house was, what her father looked like, what she had been through, what they had both been through. Their dedication to kill her. Pluto taking her from her father’s arms.

How could they do this to her? How could they raise her, and pretend to love her, when all they did was lie and hide? They had all lied, not just her mothers...no, not her mothers. Her captors. Usagi, and Mina, and Rei, all of them, all of them had continued with the fiction that Hotaru belonged with them and was part of them. But Hotaru wouldn’t continue the lie. She would free herself from them.

She stomped down the stairs, bag slung over her shoulder, teeth practically bared at the three women sitting at what had been the family table, when you could call this a family.

“Take me home.” She snarled.

Pluto looked at her, calmly and full of sorrow. “Hotaru.”

Hotaru started to shake with emotion, though particularly what the emotion was, she could not say.

“Come sit.” Michiru gestured, and Hotaru hated herself for the way she moved toward the table.

She stopped herself, grinding into the floor, not allowing herself to sit, simply standing behind the chair. “What?”

“We must talk.” Michiru reached over to take Haruka’s hand. “I realize this is--”

Hotaru simply shook her head, unable to form the words.

“We love you.” Pluto realized it was the wrong thing to say the moment she said it, a thousand recollections over thousands of years of love and fighting and human pain not enough to help her avoid this moment.

Hotaru back against the wall. “You don’t! You just feel guilty.”

“It was not a choice made lightly.” Michiru tightened her grip on Haruka’s hand.

Hotaru slammed down her bag. “Then why did you lie?! Why did you pretend it never happened?!”

The three of them looked at each other, each hoping the other had some kind of answer, some wisdom, but each of them looking into their own souls and only being able to find a quiet dull whisper of I knew it was wrong. Pluto looked to Michiru, who already had taken the soft affection from her eyes and replaced it with cold disconnect.

Michiru began to open her mouth when Haruka broke from her grasp and stood up. I know it was--“Because we didn’t want to hurt you. We--” she fiddled with the back of the chair, stumbling, “--I, I didn’t want you to hate me.” There was a purity in it, a door left open, her love hanging out over the world. “We’re family.”

“You’re not my family.” Images of her father, recovered now, holding her beneath a cherry tree, flooded her mind. She looked back up at Haruka, and though she might never have claimed to be Michiru’s child, she sunk in the blow, slithered between the ribs. “I do hate you.”

Haruka took a step back and drew her arm across her chest, her brow furrowed in a deep frown.

The stress and the adrenaline began to build up in Hotaru’s mind. She got nothing, no real childhood, no choices, no chance to me a normal girl and live a siimple life, and it was unfair, it was so unfair, and these three women sitting in front of her represented everything about her unwelcome draft into a war she never understood or knew.

She pointed at Haruka, moving toward her. “You, ruined everything for me. You’re a bad person. How can you look at me, and tell me you love me, after all that? You--”

She barked back. “Goddamnit Hotaru, if you want to go bad childhood for bad childhood, I bet I’d win.” Haruka began to bristle, the heat slowly building, the fumes from the bubbling sadness and self-hate inside her beginning to crackle and pop in her general explosion of protective anger.

“At least you weren’t taken from someone who cared about you!” Hotaru yelled, and Michiru began to move toward them, seeing the words come out of Hotaru’s mouth before she had a chance to finish. “Were you jealous, because your mom didn’t love you, or--”

Haruka howled, and her fist flew into the plaster of the wall, which offered no quarter, but slammed back against her hand, and Haruka snatched it to her chest immediately and sunk against the wall, still glowering like a wounded animal.

Michiru moved between them, her hands raised. “This has all gotten terribly out of hand.”

Hotaru picked up her bag. “You’re right.” She ignored the tears stinging her eyes, ignored the pain that lay in the shadow of all her anger, and would not dare to raise her sleeve for fear it all might show, that it would break and wash away her terrible, aching anger. “I’m leaving.”

Pluto stood up, but every word that came to her lips seemed wrong and false and if it would only deepen the rift between them all further.

Haruka gave a heavy sigh that shuttered just a bit at the end. “M’sorry,” she took a deep breath, jagged and hard. “So sorry.”

It was not immediately obvious what she was apologizing for.

“Yes, I suppose you should.” The voice was Michiru’s and could only ever be, steeled and cold and empty of feeling, gutted out by Michiru’s own hand. She knelt next to Haruka and carefully looked over her hand, As Haruka turned from Hotaru and buried her head in her shoulder.

Pluto shook her head, watching the tiny family she had crumble before her and fall back into the endless eternal sea of human conflict, no more than a fraction of a blink in all the life she had lived. And yet there was no stopping, no way to reverse the terrible fall. There was only the loud cry in her own heart, called across an unfeeling black expanse.

Hotaru nodded and slung the bag over her shoulder. “Don’t talk to me.”

“I will have your things delivered.”

“Fine.”

“Marvelous.”

Hotaru turned and took the doorknob, walking into the night, never noticing that both she and Michiru were driving their fingernails into the soft meat of their palms, narrowing their eyes with the focusing pain.

You’d be forgiven for not seeing the family resemblance.

#I'm like 300 bucks from being able to quit my job ahahaha #my god #only working 40 horus a week on the patreon? #instead of the 60-70 combined I do now? #astounding #THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH #I feel hopeful for the first time in a long time.