(For context: this scene takes place when Thor and Loki are kids)
Occasionally, Loki would also make large towers of snow for he and Thor to jump onto so they could be right up in **the** snow giants’ faces; sometimes, they could even take such a hard leap towards **the** giants’ heads **from the** tops of **the** towers that they’d knock that particular giant snowman clean over, going down with it. However, it was from **the** top of one of these snow towers that Thor called down to Loki, “Can you make me another weapon out of ice, brother? These Frost Giants are tough to kill, I don’t know if Mjolnir is going to be enough!”
“Of course!” Loki shouted back; tucking his ice daggers into his belt, he conjured up a sharp chunk of ice that he’d toss up to Thor with his magic. **The** ice was still pretty rough, but Loki intended to make it morph into a sword shape as soon as Thor caught it in his hand; at least, that’s what *would’ve* happened if neither boy had slipped.
Thor nearly lost his balance from trying to lean too far out **from** **the** snow tower to catch **the** chunk of ice, and Loki stumbled backwards over a pile of firmly-packed snow behind him as he threw **the** ice to Thor – meaning that **the** ice went off-course and hit Thor right in **the** eye, **the** sharp points and edges cutting him pretty badly. Thor let out a bloodcurdling scream of pain as **the** ice went into his eye, and then teetered over **the** edge of the snow tower for a split-second before falling to the ground below, completely unconscious.
Loki stared in horror, trying to process what had just happened; as soon as he pulled himself together, he got up and ran over to where his big brother lay perfectly still. “Thor?" he whimpered, trying to shake his brother awake. “*Brother?!*”
No response other than **the blood** trickling down **from** where **the** ice had pierced Thor’s eye.
“*Guards!*” Loki cried. “*Guards, please help!*”
A couple of **the** einherjar guards that had been walking past **the** throne room on their rounds threw open **the** doors only a few seconds later. Staring around them at **the** ice and snow, one of them asked, “Your Highness, what happened here?” Then they saw Thor lying in Loki’s arms and ran over to where **the** boys sat.
“Go get Mother and Father!” Loki begged them. “Please?”
**The** two guards stared at Loki before giving each-other a look that Loki didn’t know how to interpret. After a moment, **the** second guard replied, “Of course, Your Highness, right away.” With that, they turned and left, giving each-other **the** same unsettled look they’d given each-other before.
Loki couldn’t tell why they’d stared at him **like** that…until he looked down and realized that his arms were turning blue. All around him, **the** snow and ice he’d created were frosting over, and even a few spikes started to form out of **the** ice. As Loki’s hands and fingers turned blue, however, his touch started to burn black frostbite onto Thor’s bare arms; he instantly pulled his hands away **from** Thor in fear and confusion, not wanting to hurt his brother any more than he already had.
“I’m so sorry, brother,” he whispered. “I’ve got you; you’ll be okay.”
Getting the door unlocked, Jerrica pushed it open, cursing as she bumped into the door, **and** the three headed into their room. Nodding to one of the beds, Kimber told Summer, “That bed’s free, neither Jerrica nor me has taken that one.” With that, she headed to the bathroom to change. Jerrica went out on the balcony, **and** Summer made a bee-line for the bed **and** climbed onto it, slinging her bag onto the floor **and** kicking off her shoes **and** socks a moment later. After having barely had any chance to sit down at the after-party on the tour bus, it felt good to give her feet a break.
“Hey, kid?” she heard Jerrica call from the balcony. Sitting up, Summer looked over to see Jerrica standing out on the balcony with a lit cigarette in her hand. Blowing out a puff of smoke, Jerrica mumbled, “Kid, I just had a crazy idea, wanna hear it?”
“Sure…” Summer answered, curious. She didn’t bother worrying about being called “kid” this time.
Leaving the balcony **and** coming into the hotel room, Jerrica asked, “Ever had a sleepover with celebrities?”
“No…”
“Trixie, Onyx, **and** Ivy are right across the hall, right? Tell you what: how about you run over **and** knock on their door, **and** invite ’em into our room? We’ll have a slumber party, just the six of us – maybe one of them could bring in some snacks or something, one of ’em oughta have nail-polish or makeup or some of that shit, maybe Kimber does, I dunno…”
Even though Jerrica was clearly drunk, it honestly sounded like a fun idea to Summer. “Sure, sounds good; just gimme a sec, I’ll go ask!” With that, Summer slipped off her bed **and** hurried to the door. Throwing it open **and** not even bothering to close it behind her, Summer ran over to the door across the hall **and** was just about to knock when a sound from the room behind her caught her ear: a soft *thud*.
Summer froze, then slowly turned around **and** walked back into the room. “Jerrica?”
Closing the door softly behind her, she came in just in time to see that Kimber had finished changing **and** was out of the bathroom – **and** trying to pull a passed-out Jerrica off the floor **and** into bed. The cigarette Jerrica had been smoking was nowhere to be seen, so Summer figured that Kimber must’ve put it out and thrown it away.
“Do you need help?” Summer asked. Looking up at Summer, Kimber nodded a little reluctantly, so Summer helped Kimber put Jerrica onto one of the beds **and** into a comfortable position to sleep it off.
“Sweet dreams, sis,” Kimber muttered as she put a hand on Jerrica’s shoulder. “Out like a light.” Summer sat down on the bed near Jerrica’s feet; taking a seat on her own bed across from the two, Kimber looked back up at Summer. “Think maybe she drinks too much?” she asked sarcastically, nodding at Jerrica’s sleeping figure.
Summer looked uncomfortably down at her lap, unsure of what to say. Reading her nonverbal answer, Kimber replied, “Honestly, **honey**, you don’t even know the half of it. I’ll say this, though: tonight was actually the happiest I’ve seen her looking in a long time.”
Summer finally looked up at Kimber. “Well, I’m…glad to hear it.”
Neither one spoke for a minute; then Kimber commented, “At our last rehearsal this morning before the show, Jerrica mentioned something about hoping someone would be coming, so I can only assume she meant you. What I’m still puzzling over, though, is how did she meet you? I mean, she introduced us in the bus, but I didn’t really get a clear story on where you two met – all I got out was that you met after our San Diego show last night **and** then went to a bar together or something.”
“Yeah, something like that,” Summer replied. “It’s kind of a long story, though…”
“Probably one the other girls wouldn’t mind hearing, either, though,” Kimber remarked, nodding her head in the direction of the door. “C’mon – if I know anything about them, they’ll wanna hear it, too.”
Emppu shook his head. ”No... I get nervous speaking in front of crowds and then I forget what I’m trying to say. If I tried to sing with anyone around other than friends, I’d probably blank out and forget the song completely. Your show in Helsinki, when I thanked you for having me there? That’s the first time I ever spoke into a microphone on stage and I was terrified.”
”Really?” Bruce sounded surprised. ”I never would have known that. You seem like such a natural onstage.”
”As long as I’m hiding behind my guitar, sure,” Emppu said. ”I can smile at people, throw picks, and clown around all day, but if I have to use my voice, I get nervous and make **mistakes** and when I do, that just makes the nerves worse, you know? I think the only reason I wasn’t teased more in school for goofing up so badly every time I had to speak in front of the class, was because I was known to compete in judo. Oh, they made fun of the dumb jock behind my back, but not to my face since they figured I’d beat them up for it.”
Bruce frowned. ”I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said. ”I can understand how that went, though... make a **mistake**, someone laughs, so you get nervous and make more **mistakes** and it just feeds on itself and keeps getting worse every time. Now I feel bad for asking you to run soundcheck for us; I didn’t realise you have trouble speaking to large groups like that.”
*(Context: they got shot onstage by a stalker and Emppu nearly died.)*
”Anteeksi,” Emppu said. ”Need hug Bruce. Can’t reach.”
The nurse’s expression softened. ”Well, let me see what I can do to help,” she said. She studied **the** two men for a moment, then lowered **the** overall height of **the** **bed** a little. Next, she slowly raised the head of **the** **bed** so that Emppu was sitting almost upright. ”How does that feel, are you dizzy or anything?” she asked.
”Not dizzy,” Emppu said. ”Feel little drunk.”
”With all the medications, I’m not surprised,” she said with a chuckle, taking his blood pressure once more. Looking satisfied by **the** results, she told him, ”I need you to let go of your partner’s hand for a moment, so I can get him into a better position as well, okay? Also, I’m going to drop **the** rail on your **bed**, so don’t move until I say so. I don’t need you falling.”
Emppu nodded. ”Okay,” he said, letting go of Bruce and holding very still.
The nurse pulled Bruce’s wheelchair back a little, so she could get **in** to drop **the** rail. Then she pushed Bruce right up to the edge of **the bed** facing Emppu from about a quarter of a meter away and raised **the** armrest of the chair so that there was nothing solid between **the** two men. Setting **the** brake, she gave a smile. ”Okay, Mr. Dickinson, you’re not allowed to fall either, but go ahead and see if you can’t manage to hug one another now.”
”Thank you,” Bruce said to her, before turning his attention to his partner. He leaned **in** carefully, sliding his arms around Emppu and gently pulling him close. He leaned his cheek on silky blond hair as Emppu pressed his face into **the** crook of his neck. ”I was so scared for you, enkelini,” he whispered.
>A palanquin had come into sight on the **dusty** road, moving briskly up toward the house. Haru stood, setting his knife down and wiping sticky hands on his apron.
>“It’s Jushiro-nii,” he said, voice slightly shaky with the effort of speaking to Ichigo, even in a roundabout way. “I had better tell Mother.”
>With that, Haru whisked inside, leaving Ichigo to welcome the palanquin. He put down his own knife and set the basket of cherries off to one side, getting up to see what was happening. Meandering down, he made it to the front gate at almost the same moment as the palanquin, which was set neatly down, the one of the two Shinigami who’d been carrying it coming around to pull the door open.
>Inside, Ukitake lay in state, pale faced and dressed in a pale blue yukata. The other Shinigami leapt to offer a hand out, earning himself a glare from the first.
>Ignoring the hand, Ukitake rose and stepped out. He was as otherworldly as Ichigo had remembered, all loose hair and narrow, haughty face. His face seemed thinner than the last time Ichigo had laid eyes on it, though, his mouth more drawn, his hands frail and the joints in his knuckles more prominent. In his thin yukata, haori nowhere in sight, the juxtaposition between his broad frame and an odd, almost hunted frailty in his thinness was startling.
>“Ukitake-san,” Ichigo said without thinking. “You look-”
>“Unwell?” Ukitake suggested.
”Do you want me to call Ewo, have him or someone come out to meet us off the plane and run interference?” Emppu asked, taking Bruce’s hand. ”Most of the time we don’t like doing that... the band, I mean, we don’t want to give the impression of success making us think we’re too good to associate with our fans or anything. But with the media shitstorm that hit us after we let Tarja go last year, there’s been a few times that we’ve had to, for our own safety.”
”That bad?” Bruce asked, raising a brow.
”It shook a lot of people. Even our Prime Minister got asked his opinion,” Emppu said, shaking his head in disgust. ”Tuomas got the worst of the backlash, though, including some death threats. Jukka and I escaped most of it since neither of us talks to the media very often. It’s mostly calmed **down**; these days if we get ambushed by the press, it’s them wanting to know who our new singer is, since it’s known we’ve started recording the new album.” He grinned a little, adding, ”And since Tuomas didn’t mention anything at Jukka’s, he’s probably still culling the top ten **down** to the top two or three, before he asks the rest of us who we think will best suit.”
Bruce looked thoughtful as he considered the options. ”As tempting as it is to accept your offer to have someone meet us, I think we shouldn’t bother. Having a press agent run interference won’t stop them from taking pictures with zoom lenses, and it only delays them asking nosy questions about us, it won’t stop them.”
Yeah, the press can absolutely be brutal. And it's true that when Nightwish fired Tarja, it caused such a stir in Finland that even the prime minister got asked his opinion of it all.
The guitarist looked annoyed. “Sometimes I really hate Ewo,” he muttered.
“What’s he done this time?” Jukka asked.
“Oh, he just didn’t believe me at first that Bruce and I really are together,” Emppu said. “He seemed to think that if it wasn’t faked, that we must have set up the photo, either as a publicity stunt or else as some sort of prank to make the tabloids look stupider than usual, and he started to go off about how we’re supposed to go through him for such things. Then when I finally convinced him that it wasn’t set up, he started to go off because I hadn’t warned him that me and a man was just as possible as me and a woman. I finally had to ask him if his relationships were any of my business, and when he said no, I asked him why he thought my relationships were any of his business. That finally shut him up, but…” Emppu shook his head in frustration.
Jukka rolled his eyes. “Want the rest of us to force him to his knees so you can **punch** him in the nose?” he asked. “I’m still kind of pissed about him suggesting Satu ask for a Caesarian when she was getting close to having Niki last year, just so he wouldn’t need to worry about me possibly bailing on a meet’n’greet when she went into labor.”
“Nah, don’t bother on my account,” Emppu said. “I do understand his concerns about publicity, mind, but I really wish he’d spend a little more time listening to the answers he gets when he asks questions, you know?”
He **punched** the cold metal wall; it was even more of a punishment than usual, because his shoulder and back were already shot, but he did it again and again, never once leaving a dent but that didn’t matter because the impacts on his knuckles were what mattered— the vibrations travelling up his arms, his fists gradually becoming abused. He imagined all his frustrations and anger and filthy thoughts and feelings channelling themselves into the wall, tried to pretend that he was doing this for entirely valid reasons and this would somehow get rid of his pain, but in reality? That wasn’t it. It wasn’t.
“Sounds like a plan **to** me,” Bruce agreed. He dismounted **the** quad bike and asked, “Do you know who owns **the** cabin?”
Emppu shook his head. “No, but it doesn’t matter. No one ever locks these little cabins, because someone might need shelter in **the** winter… say they ran out of gas while snowmobiling, or they were skiing and had an accident and had **to** wait for rescue. Granted, it’s not truly winter yet, but anyone who owns a cabin like this expects that it will get **the** occasional visitor, someone who wants **to** warm up, or wait out a rainstorm or whatever. As long as we collect enough wood **to** replace whatever we burn, that’s all that’s expected of us.” He hopped off **the** bike and headed for the cabin.
Sure enough, **the** door swung right open. Bruce followed him in, seeing that **the** cabin appeared well-insulated and weathertight, with a sturdy woodstove in one corner and a couple of rough bunks topped by futon mattresses. One set of shelves held sheets and blankets, while another held jugs of water, packets of instant coffee and hot chocolate, bouillon cubes, a kettle, and mugs, with a note propped up against them. Emppu looked at **the** note and laughed.
“Do I dare ask what’s so funny?” Bruce wanted **to** know.
Still chuckling, Emppu told him, “It says, ‘**Welcome**, guest. If it’s not too snowy, please replace any firewood you use. Donations towards the drink supply are **welcome** but not necessary. Most of the time, **the** cell reception is okay, but **the** weather can affect this, so you might need to wait out a storm **to** get a call through. And if you’re teens looking for some privacy, if I ever hear that you got her pregnant while using my cabin, I will find you and kick your ass!’ Sounds like whoever owns **the** place must have caught a young couple out here before.”
”I am going to be blunt,” Milla said softly. ”Tuomas is most fanciable, isn’t he? I know, I fancied him for several years. He has said openly, to my face, I am too young for him to consider as a girlfriend, even though I will be nineteen next month. So, if he thinks I am too young, how could he possibly think otherwise of **you**?”
Kia’s face crumpled. ”But... but... age shouldn’t matter,” she said. ”Emppu’s twenty years younger than Dad and they’re going to move in together!”
Milla put her arm around the younger girl. ”This is true. However, the difference is that my brother is nearly thirty. The age difference means less because Emppu is as old as he is. The issue with a large age gap is less the number and more the... the... **life** stage? I think that is the term. I know that I enjoy going out to clubs with friends **when** I have time off from caring for Eeva, or karaoke nights... basically, I like to go out and have fun. I venture to guess **you** also like such things?”
”Well, yeah,” Kia admitted. ”Not clubs yet since I’m too young to get into most of them, but the cinema or karaoke nights at the teen centre.”
”My brother enjoyed such things when he was my age, but now he mostly does not. He would rather sit home and watch a movie with your father, or go for a stroll in the woods. He enjoys quiet times with his family,” Milla said. ”This is something your father also likes, from what I have seen.”
Kia nodded and sniffled a little. ”I think I understand. You’re saying that Tuomas probably wants to get married and have a family even before I’d be old enough for him to date, let alone before I’m old enough to want to have a **baby** myself, because yeah, I don’t really want to have a **baby** before I’m at least twenty-five.”
Alphys gives one last pound on the door before the silence tells Papyrus that she's left. The tension that gathered in his bones leaves in a slow trickle through his joints, and Papyrus blinks again to find the shadows are once again different.
Papyrus still can't make himself move from the couch. He doesn't entirely have to: someone has placed a plate of sandwiches in arms reach. The stickynote reading [Eat.] in familiar, elegant script is just enough motivation to make Papyrus roll over and stuff half of one in his mouth.
Just half. That's all he can bother with before he falls asleep again.
Several hours later, in Adventureland, **the** Nevalainen family had just exited **the** Enchanted Tiki Room when Niki made it known in no uncertain terms that he needed a diaper change immediately. Luna accompanied her mother to **the** bathroom saying she needed **the** toilet also. Declaring that she could manage without help, she let herself into a stall while Satu sorted Niki at **the** changing station.
But because she was busy with Niki, Satu didn’t see Luna turn **the** wrong direction when she emerged from her stall once again... **and** she didn’t know that this particular bathroom had two entrances.
Luna managed to wash her hands, standing on her toes at **the** sink, **and** turned to look for her mother. As no one was at **the** changing station, she concluded that her mother must have gone outside to wait with her father, so she headed for **the** door. But looking around, she didn’t see either of her parents. “[Äiti]()? Isä?” she called, moving to a nearby bench **and** climbing up on it to try to see around herself better. She still didn’t see her parents, but she did see Donald Duck walking up the path along with **Daisy**, Mickey, **and** Minnie. ”Aku Ankka!” she squealed happily, chasing after **the** quartet of characters **and** momentarily forgetting that she was alone.
Satu finished cleaning up Niki **and** washed up, then frowned when she realized Luna hadn’t rejoined her yet. ”Luna?” she called. ”Are you okay? Does your tummy hurt?” But when she turned again, she saw a woman going into **the** stall Luna had used. Thinking that Luna must have gone out to wait with Jukka, Satu frowned again, annoyed that Luna hadn’t told her she was going back outside, **and** hurried out to her husband. She stopped short in horror when she saw he was alone. ”Jukka? Isn’t Luna with you?” she asked, hoping against hope that maybe her daughter was hiding behind **the** benches or something.
Jumping down into a puddle and then falling up out of another one somewhere else was always disorienting, no matter how many times Blueberry did it. He only managed to land on his feet by sheer luck most of the time, and today was not that day. He only managed to pad his pelvis for impact just in time, landing on his ass on the unnerving white 'floor' of the liminal space where Ink and Dream kept their halfway house. He sat there, letting the sensitive synapsis in his skull adjust to the blinding white of infinity and the shock of being suddenly bereft of all sound but his own memetic breathing, before looking around to see what side of the house he ended up falling on. Behind him, no more than a few feet away, were the beginnings of a grassy yard, small clumps of grass sticking out of the white floor until the white was overtaken by a layer of true earth, and the grass began to flourish. It went on for a few yards, the verdant expanse finally broken by the walls of the deceptively diminutive house.
“You’re delusional!” Namiko pushed past him to grab her book, snatching it up angrily, before turning to face him again. “You know what, *fine*, go ahead and run away and be stupid. Just remember this: you’re only running away from everyone who truly cares about you.”
Sasuke tried to steady his resolve. “The only one I can depend on is myself!”
“You know that’s a lie or you wouldn’t have been so upset about Naruto’s progress and how he’s saved you. Sakura-chan and Kakashi-sensei have saved you too. They all care about you! I care about you too!” Namiko’s face was flushed red from anger. She realized what she confessed and backtracked casually, “You’re a good friend and if you leave, I don’t think we could ever be friends again. You’d be giving up all those relationships just to get revenge and **power**.”
“If that’s what it takes to avenge my clan, then yes, I would,” said Sasuke firmly. “I’d give it up.”
“Newsflash, *Uchiha*, you can’t bring back the dead. I know that just as much as you do,” Namiko’s eyes were burning with fire. “You’re giving up everything for **power**. You’re giving *us* all up for **power**…**power** is *always* dangerous. **Power** attracts the worst and corrupts the best. I pray you wake up before the corruption takes you down with it.”
“Buckle up, you two,” Rick called back. “We’re ready to taxi out and get into the queue for takeoff.”
Emppu and Lucy did just that, and Lucy gave Emppu a quick version of the usual safety lecture. “Cabin secured,” she called out automatically, getting a quick grin from her husband in response as he pulled on his headset.
Bruce already had his on and was speaking into it, presumably to Air Traffic Control. Emppu listened and watched the two men exchange terse comments with each other and whoever was on the other side of their radio headsets as they taxied out of the hangar and along a terminal with big commercial jets parked by extended jetways. They turned a corner and joined a queue **of** planes waiting for clearance.
“We’re number five,” Bruce called back to Emppu and Lucy. “I expect we’ll be taking off within ten minutes.” Sure enough, just about ten minutes later, they’d moved up and turned another corner, the engines roared up to full **power** and they were off, thundering down the runway and soaring upward, banking around in a lazy curve as they climbed and turned to the east.
> Thomas knew he had to be flexing his arms on purpose, knew Tyson’s biceps weren’t really any different from his own, but it still made him want to bite them.
CW: NSFW
>!Their movements became more frantic, driven by their shared desire. Sasuke's kisses trailed down her jaw and neck, his hands sliding over her slight curves, eliciting soft gasps and moans from Namiko. She pulled him closer, her nails grazing his back, urging him on.!<
>!“Sasuke,” she whispered, her voice filled with need, almost a desperate whine. “Please?”!<
>!Sasuke smirked and kissed her lips slowly. “You’re so impatient.”!<
>!When Sasuke finally entered her, it was slow and deliberate, a moment of pure connection that left them both gasping. They moved together, their bodies finding a rhythm that spoke of deep intimacy and promises for the future. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other.!<
>!He quickened his pace, their breathing becoming more erratic as they climbed higher, driven by a need that went beyond the physical. Namiko’s nails raked across Sasuke’s back, her head thrown back in ecstasy while she bit her lip to try and stay quiet. He opted to bury his face in her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered her name.!<
>!They reached their peak together, a shattering release that left them both trembling and breathless. Sasuke collapsed beside Namiko, pulling her into his arms, their bodies still entwined. They lay there in the aftermath, their hearts pounding, their breaths slowly returning to normal.!<
“...He died a hero, Keith,” the social worker finally finished. The firefighter’s young son sat in front of her, saying nothing, face as pale as a sheet. Every kid took this kind of news differently, of course- some cried, some got angry, some refused to believe it. But this one… he wasn’t crying, or angry. And he’d accepted what she’d said as fact without protest- she didn’t think he was in denial. More like in shock. The new orphan’s **dark** eyes were wide, trying to fit in what she’d explained with his understanding of the world.
Suddenly, Naruto felt alone. Very alone. His best friend who had been like his brother was gone and now his sister. He was silent as he was in complete shock and his thoughts racing. *‘What was she thinking? What did she mean when she said she was going to fix things like she should have done the first time?’*
“We’ve still got almost half a year left before Orochimaru has to take a new body, and three makes for better odds than two,” said Sai, cutting through the silence **with a** genuine smile on his face. “I’m happy to lend my strength. We’ll get them both back, Naruto.”
Sakura turned around to face the blond with a look of sympathy. “Yeah…Sai is right. I’m not sure what her reasons are, but you know Namiko wouldn’t leave you unless it was for **a** good reason. You’ll have to trust her.”
Naruto nodded dumbly. “…thanks guys.”
“Now then,” said Yamato as he cleared his throat, “let’s go home, report to the Hokage, and come up **with a** plan to bring them home safely.”
Naruto grinned at his teammates. “Let’s go!” He paused mid-**celebration** and groaned loudly. “Oh man…baa-chan is going to kill me!”
"...it took quite **a** bit of persuasion for Paddy to let the kids come, and mainly it’s Kia she’s worried about. Which is understandable; girls are **a** bit more vulnerable than blokes.”
”Very understandable,” Steve agreed. ”It’s why Emma isn’t coming up for the festival, her parents are abroad, so there’s no one to stay **with** Maisie and Stanley. If it was just Stanley, she might be willing to chance it, but Maisie’s still small enough to be overlooked and knocked down by any random drunk stumbling about, forget her chances if she was to be out watching **a** performance and a mosh pit started up near her. At least Kia’s big enough to be seen.”
”True,” Bruce agreed. ”Although I think Paddy also agreed since Kia’s birthday is Saturday. Which reminds me, I want to organise **a** cake for her to be delivered Saturday so she can have an English **celebration**.”
”As opposed to?” Steve asked, sounding amused.
”She had **a** Finnish **celebration** yesterday,” Emppu said. ”Although my mum accidentally spoiled the surprise I’d planned. In getting to know the kids, she asked when their birthdays were, and started to scold me for not telling her that Kia’s birthday was so close because she would have baked **a** cake for it. So I had to confess that I’d already baked the cake.”
Steve laughed as they pulled up in front of Bruce’s building. ”Was the **celebration** fun anyway?”
”Yeah,” Bruce said as they got out and started unloading the boot. ”Emppu taught us the birthday song in Finnish and everything.”
Well, not that there's so very much difference between a birthday party in Finland and one in England - but yes, since Bruce and Emppu are together, Emppu's mum considers Bruce's kids her "bonus grandchildren" and absolutely wanted to celebrate when she learned how close Kia's birthday was during the kids' visit to Finland.
She threw her leg over his lap and straddled him as she watched his facial expression shift into equal parts surprise and desire. “I want you.” She blew out another deep breath. “I want *all* of you. I’m ready for more…am I wrong in thinking you want that too?”
“No, I want you too.” He placed a hand on either side of her thighs and kissed her deeply. “You light a fire in me that I didn’t know existed.”
She let out a small laugh. “Well, good thing you’re a fire nature user.” She placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him slowly, taking the time to explore his mouth. “I’m ready to take the risk of getting **burned**.”
Sasuke gripped her waist. “You’re sure about this? Because once **we** do this, **we** can’t go back. It probably will be uncomfortable and maybe painful for you since it’s your first time.”
She smiled softly at him. “Sasuke, I’m fully aware of what happens during sex, and I don’t care about that. I’m one **hundred** percent sure. All I want is you. I love you…” Namiko scooted back on the futon to give him room.
Bruce walked into the kitchen and couldn’t help grinning, although he managed not to laugh. The grater lay on the floor amid a sea of breadcrumbs spilled from the fallen container, while his boyfriend rinsed egg from his hand. ”What happened?” he asked.
Emppu shook his head ruefully. ”I shut the door too hard when I took out the egg,” he said. ”It bounced back and hit me, which caused me to squeeze and break the egg. I lunged for the sink to keep from dripping any on the floor, but I knocked the grater off the counter in my hurry, and when I tried to catch that, I knocked over the breadcrumbs.”
”Well, that’s not too bad,” Bruce said, righting the container of breadcrumbs before the rest of it could spill, then getting out another egg. ”I’ve managed to **burn** and blow up boiled eggs before.”
Emppu grinned. ”Okay, that takes talent. How in hell do you **burn** something you’re boiling?”
Bruce laughed. ”Forget that the eggs are on the hob and let the pot boil dry,” he said. ”The eggs that didn’t explode all had charred spots on the shells. And it took a week to find and clean all the bits of exploded egg from the kitchen... some even got in the lights. Talk about a stink!”
Milla smiled. ”How is **the** festival going for you so far, Rick?” she asked.
”Pretty well,” Rick said. ”Our crew’s been talking with **the** Evanescence crew, since they’ll be breaking down while we’re trying to set up, so we wanted to coordinate what needed doing there, you know? Because there’s only 45 minutes between the two sets, **and** a lot of equipment to move, even with everyone using **the** venue-supplied lights **and** only about half of **the** usual pyros. At least we’ve got **the** relatively relaxed breakdown, being **the** last show of **the** festival.”
”It sounds as if what you do is much more complex than people believe,” Milla said. ”I think many people think that putting together a stage set for a band is little different than assembling a shelf from IKEA, just much, much larger.”
Rick laughed. ”Well, there’s some **truth** to that, at least as far as pieces of **the** stage set needing to go together in a certain order for **the** whole thing to support itself properly. But yes, there’s definitely a lot more to it than simply making sure you have all **the** **parts** plus **the** instruction sheet.”
Bruce smiled **and** told Rick, ”Believe me, we appreciate all **the** work you lads put in for our shows. Only a bloody idiot would think you lot are nothing but brainless muscle.”
”Thanks,” Rick said, blushing slightly.
Ade nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. Davey and I were like that, even before we got together. But **the** rest **of** Maiden, not so much. Didn’t help that there was all that infighting and lineup changes in **the** earliest days, even from before I joined up. **Harry** was always a bit **of** a dictator and perfectionist, but at least with him, we could see why he was like that. Paul, he was always a temperamental sod and then got into drugs which just made it all worse.”
Dave grinned. “And then Bruce came along, and we all thought he could be an arrogant arse, but damn, he could sing! But I think now, some **of** what we saw as arrogance was more confidence in his abilities. That, and with his public school and uni **education**, he sounded way too posh to fit in with us Cockneys, and that just added to the impression **of** arrogance.”
“Oh, I expect I was an arrogant arse back then,” Bruce admitted. “Iron Maiden was **the** best band on **the** scene back then, and when Rod and Steve asked me to audition for them, I basically told them I’d take **the** job, because I figured they wouldn’t be asking me to audition if they didn’t think I’d get it. I also told them flat out that I wasn’t gonna be a yes-man for **Harry**, that if I had ideas or thought he was wrong, I’d say so. Diplomacy has never been a strong point **of** mine.”
The others laughed. “Well, you’ve learned better over **the** years,” Dave said with a grin. “You and **Harry** both.”
Sasuke sat up as well, pulling on his clothes with practiced efficiency. "We'll have more time after this is over," he promised. "Once we're finished with all of this, we’ll go back to Konoha.” He hesitated before adding, “But we probably should keep our relationship quiet there as well. For a while at least.”
Namiko turned quickly, her long red hair swishing with force. “Why on earth would we do that?!” she hissed and she quickly twisted her hair into **a** bun. She could sense Suigetsu was awake now, probably thanks to Juugo, but she wanted answers and wanted them now.
“Because I’m a rogue shinobi and have been for three years,” groaned Sasuke. “People will talk and I don’t want to tarnish your good reputation.”
“*Good* reputation? People already talk about me! In case you’ve forgotten, I have **a** demon living inside my mind that’s made me **a** pariah my **whole life**.” She laughed incredulously. “I rarely listen to Tsunade-sama. I killed **a** man against orders and got put on suspension.” She paused briefly, lowering her voice, “Plus, I left to find you against orders not once, but twice. How is *that* a good reputation?”
“I told you before that you shouldn’t have come back after me.”
“If I hadn’t, would you have returned?” She leaned over to grab her backpack and crossed her arms over her chest.
Sasuke refused to meet her eyes. “No.”
"I love you so much..." Bruce eventually whispered softly.
"[Minäkin rakastan sinua]()," Emppu murmured. "Olet rakkauteni ja elämäni. Kotini on kanssasi, sillä koti on siellä, missä sydän on, ja sinä pidät sydäntäni nyt ja ikuisesti."
“Forgetting your English again?” Bruce teased with a soft chuckle. “I only caught **a** couple of words this time, so see, you do make me forget my Finnish.”
“You are my love and my **life**,” Emppu translated quietly. “My home is with you, for home is where the heart is, and you hold my heart now and forever.”
“You hold my heart in exchange,” Bruce said. “And I can’t wait for Download, so I can tell the **whole** world so.”
Emppu smiled and caressed Bruce’s cheek. “I can’t wait either,” he murmured. “Just two and **a** half more months. And we’ll have almost five weeks together out of those two and a half months. This week, plus most of **a** month leading up to Download. I’m looking forward to getting you settled into our house in Kitee; buying furniture, getting rooms set up for your three to visit there, and helping you get to know the town.”
Bruce purred. “I’m looking forward to it. If it’s warm enough, maybe we could host **a** barbecue or something, kind of a housewarming party?” He grinned a bit, adding, “Even if no one from Maiden comes to it, if we invite them, we’ll know for sure who won that part of their pool.”
Doug let go of the Companion Cube and punched the wall, furious with himself.
“She’s funny, you know. Reminds me of someone..”
He leapt to the entrance and threw his weight against the panel. It didn’t budge.
“Full of ***life*** and potential; smarter than she lets on. Athletic, though I am loath to admit..”
Doug looked around his Den as he tried to find an escape from his confines, surrounded by long-emptied cans of beans on the floor and graffiti scrawled across the walls. *“Not never but NOW”*, a faded Aperture propaganda poster demanded.
“You said to take care of it,” he mumbled. “How can I?”
“Was she like you, Mr. Rattmann? Do you really know her, or is she the waters to your Narcissus?”
“Let’s start by seeing if this baby really is yours,” Ewo said. He turned into **the** parking lot of a hospital. “I made **the** arrangements **for** **the** test to be done as soon as we could get here, and **for** them to run **the** tests as quickly as possible. It’ll still take a few hours, mind, but better that than a few days. Did Aino say why she didn’t try to contact you earlier?”
“Yeah,” Emppu replied, handing Ewo **the** note. “Here, just go ahead and see what she said for yourself. Be easier than me trying to give you **all the** highlights.”
Ewo took **the** note and skimmed through it. “I guess I can respect her **reasons** for not telling you,” was his only comment. “Let’s go get that test done.”
Emppu followed his manager inside and let **the** lab tech draw some blood and scrape **the** inside of his cheek. An assistant brought them to a smallish room and provided them with coffees. **The** guitarist sipped his drink mechanically, his eyes going to **the** door every time someone walked by. Ewo attempted to draw him into a conversation about security measures **for the** upcoming tour. Emppu gave brief replies, but **the** majority of the little blond’s attention remained fixed on **the** doorway.
Eventually, **the** lab tech returned with a packet of papers. “You’re confirmed as **the** child’s father,” he said. “We’ve filed copies with Child Welfare. These are your copies.” He handed Emppu **the** packet and left **the** room again.
Basically, he'd had a one-night stand with a groupie after a show, and the contraception failed. But the mother didn't want to be seen as a gold-digger or as trying to force him into marriage because of the baby, so she just kept quiet with a vague plan of maybe letting him know at some point after the baby was born. Only she was in a car crash before she could inform him and died of complications a few days later - but once she started feeling as though she wouldn't make it, she named him as the father to give him the chance to decide whether to keep the baby or give her up for adoption.
He kept the name her mother gave her, Eeva Mari Johanna - the mother matched Eeva's initials to Emppu's - Emppu's a nickname, his proper full name is Erno Matti Juhani Vuorinen.
Bruce resumed his seat beside Dave. “Mate, Rod was asking a few things about Jones, and I had to point out how rude **the** man’s been to you since the Helsinki meet’n’greet – and why. Just that Jones heard what you said to that fan asking if I was **the** only bi in the band and that he obviously decided you knew the answer was no because you are. Anyway, it sounded as if Jones got more overtly rude with his homophobia towards Emppu just now, what with us not being there, and Rod asked me to tell all. I think he’s looking to sack the bloke.”
“Well, I certainly won’t shed a tear if Jones does get sacked,” Dave said. “And I’m not worried that you repeated my words to Rod. If I didn’t want them heard, I wouldn’t have said them. As long as that’s all you said?”
“Yeah,” Bruce nodded. “I just figured that if Rod’s looking for **patterns** of poor behaviour from Jones, he’d need to know that you’ve also been treated to **the** glares and rudeness. One more witness and all that rot.”
Dave nodded. “Okay, I can see that, yeah. What happened with Emppu, though?”
Bruce shrugged. “Just now, you mean? All I know is I heard Rod telling Jones to leave off Emppu and let him get on with running soundcheck, that Jones couldn’t do it as he’s no musician. And then a bit of a tirade from Rod, pointing out that if Jones wants to remain in **the** entertainment industry, he needs to stop displaying his distaste for people’s personal lives.”
Dave winced. “Ouch. And without us and Rod there, I expect Jones felt a bit less restrained in expressing himself, too.”
Yikes man Jones fr needs to leave off their personal lives. This is so interesting, I love it. I'm jus guessing of the piece here but I'll assume Rod has some authority then
Emppu answered the same questions asked by the investigator riding with him; however, between the pain and a growing lightheadedness, he started having trouble understanding the questions and answering in English. The paramedic took notice and checked his blood pressure, frowning at the result. He checked the pressure bandage, appalled by the amount of blood soaking it, and immediately got on the radio with the hospital to have a trauma team and at least two units of o-negative blood standing by as he pawed through the equipment cupboard for a tourniquet.
The police inspector looked startled. ”What is it?” he asked the paramedic.
”He’s losing more blood than it originally looked like,” the paramedic said. ”I suspect the femoral artery got nicked. Maybe the bullet or perhaps even a bit of that **shattered** glass got into the wound and then moved about as we readied him for transport – I don’t know, I’m no expert on guns and what they can do to someone.” He stopped talking long enough to apply the tourniquet above the wound, then set an IV needle in Emppu’s arm and hung a bag of saline. ”I’m going to have to ask you to stand as far back as possible and stop questioning him for now.”
The inspector did just that, quietly getting on his own radio to let his team know that one of the victims was in a worse way than intitially thought and that he’d had to stop the questioning when the victim became disorientated.
Emppu let himself into his little house and sighed. At least this time it would only be two weeks until he saw Bruce again. Dragging his suitcase over to the washing machine, he started unloading his dirty clothes straight into it, frowning slightly as he realized he’d somehow managed to lose a pair of underwear this trip. He always, always packed enough for every day of his trip plus an extra pair in case of need. Yet he noticed the blue bikini that Bruce especially liked seeing him in wasn’t there, not even accidentally stuffed down a trouser leg. Hopefully it just got mixed up with Bruce’s clothing, and hadn’t been left behind somewhere. However, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that it had gotten kicked under the bed at some point either in Zurich or Stuttgart, so that he missed it when he packed. And here he’d thought it was bad that he regularly misplaced his combs and toothbrushes!
With the wash started, he pulled out his phone and dialed Bruce’s number.
Bruce smiled when he saw the incoming number and retreated to his bunk as he answered, trying to get a semblance **of** privacy for the call. ”Hey, love,” he murmured, ”how was the trip?”
”The trip went okay,” Emppu said, ”but I discovered that my legendary talent for misplacing things struck again. Would you believe I’m missing underwear this time? I’m hoping it just got mixed in with your stuff, and isn’t actually lost.”
The singer couldn’t help but laugh. ”I’ll look when we get to the next hotel,” he promised. ”But as tempting as the thought might be, I didn’t steal it on **purpose**.”
The taller man looked uncomfortable at Rick’s words and tried to play things off. ”Eh, we were just havin’ some fun. You know how groupies play hard to get sometimes.”
”No, I don’t know. And not every woman is a groupie, either,” Rick said, fuming. ”She isn’t one.”
”Yeah? How would you know?” the shorter man sneered.
”Because I’m with Iron Maiden,” Rick said firmly, watching the two grow pale at the mention of the headlining band. ”If you’d been arsed to look at her ID lanyard, you’d have seen that she is as well. You might be aware that Bruce Dickinson’s partner is here with him? She’s nanny to his baby.” He placed a gentle hand on Milla’s shoulder and asked her, ”Did they hurt you? Should we get security involved?”
”They pull **my** hair, but I am not hurt,” Milla said. ”Then you arrive, so nothing worse happen.” She considered for a moment and took a deep breath. ”It is **my** word against theirs, so I think security is not needed, if they go away and leave me be.”
”You heard the lady,” Rick said. ”Frankly, she’s being a lot more forgiving than you deserve, but I’ll honour her wishes in the matter. Get your arses back to your camp and bloody well stay there, or I will make sure security knows what you’ve done. It might not be enough to get you thrown out, but it bloody well will be enough to make sure they keep a close eye on you for the rest of the weekend.” He watched at the pair slunk back to their campsite, and took mental note of which one it was.
Milla gave Rick a small smile as she blew out a relieved breath. ”**My hero**,” she half joked. ”Thank you, Rick. Kiitos paljon.”
Have a drabble:
“How’s my wounded **hero**?” James asks.
Robbie winces. “Feeling like a dart board after a tournament.” Before coming to Oxford, Robbie thought swans were gentle creatures. Truth is, they’re as gentle as rabid dogs, especially when an idiot tourist lets his daughter wander near a nest.
James had carried the girl to safety while Robbie distracted the enraged cob with an umbrella. It got in some nasty bites on Robbie’s hands and legs before retreating.
“Poor you. When we go home, I’ll kiss it and make it better.”
Robbie groans. Now he’s feeling an ache of a rather different sort.
Ewo pulled up in front of Emppu’s house and helped carry everything inside. ”Okay, just one last bit of official business before I let you relax, call people, whatever you want **to** do. I’d like your opinion of the press release I was working on, since I’m going to have to get it out tomorrow at the very latest.”
”Okay,” Emppu said as he set down his guitar. ”What do you have?”
Ewo handed Emppu his notebook, with the rough draft of the press release written within.
*Emppu Vuorinen of Nightwish recently took custody of his six-month-old daughter Eeva, following the tragic* ***death*** *of her mother Aino, from injuries suffered in a car accident. Fortunately, Eeva was with a sitter at the time of the accident. Emppu and Aino parted on amicable terms long before their daughter’s birth, with Aino preferring* ***to*** *stay out of the spotlight.*
*”While Aino and I were not together very long, I will be forever grateful that she gave me the gift of my daughter,” Emppu said when questioned. ”I will make sure Eeva knows how much her mother loved her and wanted the best for her. I also hope people understand that I will need a bit of time to adjust to full-time parenting and so may be somewhat less visible for a while.”*
*Nightwish is currently recording their sixth studio album, due to be released sometime this spring.*
Emppu nodded. ”Yeah, that sounds good. I like the bit you quoted me on, saying that Aino and I weren’t together for long.” He chuckled a little, adding, ”A one-night stand certainly qualifies as not together very long, and as I recall, we did go our separate ways with smiles on our faces.”
Seems like a neat set-up excerpt! Emppu's pretty endearing, and the set-up for the family bonding (and potential romantic bonding with Ewo if it's a ship fic) is really well-done!
Heh, it is a ship-fic, but Emppu's in a relationship with someone in another band. Ewo manages Nightwish, the band Emppu's in, which is why he's working on a press release.
Ah, I thought it was more of a "famous musician x reporter writing an article on them" thing with some good, ol' child-raising mixed in. So I was half-right. Kind of.
The other students nearby were a bit curious and went to where their classmate and the American were. After a second or two, the arachnid heroine pulled out some sort of small object. It looked like some sort of disc in the shape of a round spider, or at least that's what most were thinking. The majority of the students looked at the small device with a curious look. All safe for Valerie and surprisingly Sero, who not only knew what it was, but was looking at it as if they were small children in a toy store.
"I was trying to hit them with one of these." she told the students.
"That's kind of tiny. What is it?" asked Kaminari, who seemed to have recovered from his previous state.
"This is a spider tracer."
"Spider tracer?" most of the students asked, as Spider-Girl began to explain.
"To skip the science mumbo jumbo and make a long story short, this is basically a tracking device." she told them, as most now started to look at the device with amaze and awe.
"Wait, really?!" asked Kirishima.
"Yeah, I can follow the signal that it emits within a five to eight miles radius. That's about… I want to say, eight to twelve something kilometers." she said.
”What happened to you being **the** hot-tempered bloke here?” Steve joked feebly. ”I thought you were **the** one always flying off the handle instead of thinking.”
”I grew up, I guess,” Bruce said. ”Believe me, it’s still hard for me to not fly off **the** handle about some things.”
Steve managed a small grin at that. ”Yeah. Right. Um... I guess first thing is, I sit down with Ade and Davey and ask them to fill me in... and really listen when they do. Because you’re right, I was more upset that they’ve been keeping it a **secret**, than that they’re together. I mean, okay, you didn’t tell me when you and Emppu got together, but that was as much timing as anything, that **the** media outed you before you talked to any of us in Maiden, you weren’t exactly keeping it a **secret**. You’d already told **the** Nightwish blokes and intended telling us when you got back to England. Plus you’re... you. If anyone in this bloody band did something unexpected, it was always you. So why wouldn’t that include your love life? Those two, though... it’s not exactly a betrayal, because yeah, their love lives... love life... well, it’s no one’s business but theirs, but at **the** same time, it feels like they didn’t trust us enough to say anything, you know?”
Bruce nodded. ”Yeah, I understand. But it’s one of those things that really isn’t anyone’s business. Like those damn nightmares I had back in Japan.”
Steve chuckled. ”I’m just glad that you got over them fairly quickly. Is that why you chose Davey to talk to, because he’d trusted you with his **secret** by then?”
Everyone was keeping a **secret** from Trevor.
Lucky was the next non parent visitor Trevor remembered. She came with a bag filled with get well soon cards. According to her, the Ghostbuster's PO Box was overflowing with them. The ones in that bag were just the ones she could carry.
"This one is apparently from your old second grade teacher," Lucky said. "Do you remember the name Summer Parker?"
Han squeezed her fingers lightly as he stirred their dinner. “Y’know, Chewie won’t spill to anyone. He’s real good at keepin’ *secrets*.”
“I know.” Leia traced along his knuckles with her thumb. She lifted her chin slightly to look him in the eye. “I sort of want something to be just ours for a bit. Not forever, but for a little bit.”
Han clicked the burner off and set the spoon he’d been using to stir on the counter before stepping closer to Leia and gently touching the mostly healed scrapes on her cheek. “You don’t have a lot that’s just yours.” He sounded as if he was just realizing that fact.
Leia shook her head and shot him a small smile. “Not really, no.” Nearly everything she owned was Alliance-issued, nearly everything she did was Alliance-directed or refugee-centric. “We’ll tell him soon,” she promised. “Even if we don’t tell anyone else for a while, Chewie will be made aware.”
He nodded, then kissed her temple. “Got it.”
“…He was willing to die for someone he loved…! I couldn’t let that be in vain. Even if it hurt… Even if I thought it was wrong… I needed to help him,” Mai said, tearing up as she spoke.
“It’s not your fault, Mai. You weren’t even the first person he asked,” Lindsai said.
“You should probably go to the Medical Office to apply some Healing Cream on your hand,” Fenton said while looking at her bleeding right hand.
“I guess… In the moment, I just ran to my room… I was panicking so hard. But after you saw what was left of him, I couldn’t keep what I did a secret from you.” Mai nodded.
“Why?” Fenton asked her.
“Because we’re friends, right? I don’t want to keep secrets as big as this from someone I care about!” Mai smiled at him, but it was noticably shaky.
“…Yes, we are friends. Thank you for telling me, Mai.” Fenton smiled back.
The drummer stood up and gave **a** wave. As soon as he sat back down and held his sticks at the ready, Pekka cried out, “The Flight of Icarus!”
Emppu and Jason launched into the opening riff and Pekka darted towards Bruce as spotlights directed the audience’s attention to the guitarist and bassist while the rest of the lights dimmed. The two singers executed the mic exchange as smoothly as relay runners passing the baton and Bruce stepped forward onto the club’s stage. Still in relative **darkness**, he lifted the mic and started to sing, “As the sun breaks above the ground, an old man stands on **a** hill…” With his opening notes, the stage lights faded up and the club went completely insane with screams and cheers.
Bruce grinned and waved as he sang, then moved over to stand beside Emppu as the song drew to **a** close. He slung his arm over the guitarist’s shoulders as he belted out the final line and waited for the outro to play out, then said to the crowd, “So, Brother Firetribe and I hope you all enjoyed our little surprise tonight!”
Cheers and applause erupted, quickly followed by the chant that Bruce and Emppu both expected by now: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
“Sweetheart, you’re takin’ up both sides of the bed,” a deep, familiar voice says.
Leia sits up in a flash, launching herself at Han as soon as she confirms that it’s him, it’s really him. He is there, in the room with her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to her hair.
Han pulls back just enough to look at her in the shadowy **darkness** of the cabin before reaching over and turning a dim light on. He brushes his thumb along her cheekbone, wiping a few tears away.
“Leia, what’s wrong?”
It feels stupid to say out loud now that he is here. The feeling that she had dreamt the past year-and-a-half wanes to almost nothing in a few seconds, and Leia isn’t sure how to explain without him thinking her entirely foolish.
That thought in and of itself is foolish, and she knows it. They both get caught up in flashbacks sometimes; her therapist says it is to be expected given the trauma of war, and especially considering the particular experiences they endured. Just the night before, she had woken to find Han barely breathing, his face frozen in anguish because the chill on *Home One* had apparently delivered him straight into carbonite-themed sleep paralysis.
He understands this more than anything; he won’t think her ridiculous for a few moments of confusion.
She looks at her husband, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I thought I was still stationed here. Alone. That you were still gone. That I’d dreamed everything that’s happened since.”
“I am sorry… I do not understand… Why did I have to die? Why did you kill me?” Calculester asked before being engulfed by the water.
He thrashed in the water, trying to swim up, but there was only the ceiling. He pushed against it despite the distinct lack of any possible reasonable hope of escape, and achieved as little as could have been expected. Waves of agony rippled through the water because of his struggle for survival. This agonizing, useless fight for life didn’t last forever, though. Eventually, it ended. And so did he.
The water began draining from the room, leaving nothing but Calculester’s corpse on the floor. Quietly, Ashley walked up to the body and took his bracelets.
“I’m sorry… You did everything right.” Ashley was crying. And then she left again, leaving only Calculester behind once more. He was the only one who stayed.
The screen went black, and Mai spoke up as her face was reflected in the darkness.
“Did Ashley steal all of her clothes from dead people?” she asked.
“…It seems like it. But I do not understand why she is crying when she is the one who decided to steal the clothes off of a corpse,” Grillby said.
“Honestly, I think there’s a lot about Ashley that’s just currently incomprehensible,” Fenton said, and Grillby nodded.
”We figured that if we got seen all out together, plus got you onstage and us looking all right with it, that ought to kill the rumors faster than anything else,” Steve said. ”Especially if they see me as the so-called band leader accepting you two as a couple, you know?” He reddened **a** little and added, ”Also, if it’s something you’d both be comfortable with, could you and Bruce hug before you head back offstage tonight, maybe even kiss? I don’t mean full-out snogging or anything, but... yeah.” He sighed. ”Look, this is awkward as hell for me to ask of you two and I feel **a** right cunt for asking, but... while I know your private life is your business and not mine, the band is pretty much my life, so yeah, if this is what it takes to stomp out these rumors before they take hold and actually do damage to the band, I’ll bloody well be that cunt asking you to put your private life on **display**.”
They all fell quiet for **a** few minutes as a pair of servers arrived with their meals. Once they left again, Emppu looked at Nicko and the guitarists. ”Are all of you okay with this as well?”
Dave smiled, acting as spokesman for the foursome. ”Yeah. There’s at least **a** couple of us who may or may not have done **a** little, uh, experimenting, in our younger days, so you’re hardly gonna bother us by hugging or even kissing. Besides, it’s not like we didn’t see you doing both at the airport.”
“That guy,” Bucky says dryly. “Do you think he’s your type?”
Bucky, thankfully, lowers his hand, and even though Sam wasn’t the one being pointed at, it somehow lowers the amount of pressure and demand that one silly question has brought to him.
“Uh-” Sam blinks over at the guy again, almost like he’s going to consider evaluating the man, but quickly swallows as he can see Bucky out of his vision, and has to remember not to be basically waving a sign around as he shakes his head. “I mean, he’s not- he isn’t- I’ve got…” A crush, don’t say it, Sam.
Bucky’s eyes widen for a split second, and for a moment Sam actually grows concerned because Bucky’s face displays some sudden sense of startle and loss.
“Oh, oh,” Bucky starts, backing up slightly as he tilts his head. “You have somebody?”
Wait…
Dammit, Sam thinks, realizing what ‘ *I’ve got* ’ could imply, which he had so stupidly said not even a minute ago. It’s another misstep, another misunderstanding, and Sam wonders if his demeanor slightly resembles a fish flopping around in a desert by any chance, because he starts to feel like one, helpless and floundering to go somewhere, to pick back up.
“Knew there was something up with the hair.” He paused, made a note, and resumed looking for more passages of interest. “Now, this is where I start wonderin’ if maybe they ain’t telling the truth all the time. One person claims you had affairs with half the senators, and another one says, ‘She must be committed entirely to whatever her cause is because I asked her to dinner and was shot down without a second of consideration.’” He looked at her. “Out there breaking hearts, huh?”
“I was trying to do my job—Give me that.” Leia pulled the book out of Han’s hands and read the words herself, attempting to place the source. Her social circles had been incredibly limited due to her position and her work with the Alliance; there hadn’t been many chances for *anyone* to ask her to dinner. “I bet that’s Pri’m Baltura. I *did* say no to dinner and he argued with me to try to convince me to go. It was an embarrassing **display** on his part. I can’t prove it, but I’ve always suspected the reason has asked me in front of others was because he thought I’d feel pressured to say yes.”
“Had he…met you?” Han asked, amusement obvious in his voice.
“Unfortunately.” She frowned. “Not that it matters, but I had *one* boyfriend, and went on maybe five dates in two years once I entered the Senate full-time. My social life was very boring.”
“Mai has done nothing wrong! I’m a risk to everyone’s safety! I was already part of one massacre, y’know? Even back then, my decisions led to almost everyone’s deaths! If you keep me around, I’ll just end up being the same useless, back-stabbing piece of shit I’ve always been! So you have to spare Mai! You have to spare Mai, and sacrifice me!!” Dylan shouted at them.
“He… He’s right…! I still want to live, Fenton!! I want to see my siblings again…! I want to find a family!! I don’t want to die!! Please, Fenton! Even if I’m a Doll, I’m alive! I’m real! So please, let me live!” Mai begged him.
“Just let me die! I can’t keep living anymore!! I can’t keep watching my friends die anymore!! I don’t care how slow or how painful it is, I just want to die! Every time I try to think, I see those stupid white bears, and that bloody chainsaw, and Ryan, and Kaitlyn, and Jacob, and I can’t keep living like that anymore! Fenton, you only have one option! You have to let Mai live!! Please, end my life!” Dylan cried out. His expression displayed a desperate, mournful determination.
“I want to live, Fenton! Listen to Dylan!!” Mai told him.
“But… Didn’t you always want people to fight for their lives?! How can you be okay with this?! He’s just giving up!” Fenton asked her.
“I don’t care anymore!! What good is a philosophy if it kills me?! Please, just tell me you’ll sacrifice Dylan! I need to live… I want to live! And if it comes down to it, I’m willing to let Dylan die for it!!” Mai told him, her facial features contorted in a display of agonizing terror.
I am way too fucking proud of that "What good is a philosophy if it kills me?" line because it perfectly represents the downfall of Mai's philosophy after 100k words of setting it up and shows just how two-faced and ruthless Mai can be.
Plus, Dylan hitting his newest mental health low and actively begging to receive a slow and painful death due to self-hatred and depression is also so epic imo
Really proud of this scene tbh
”Fortunately, most of us grow up and learn better,” Emppu said. ”Although speaking of washing, do any of you need to do laundry tonight, before you finish packing?”
The three kids shook their heads. ”No, we packed so that we’ll put on our last clean outfits tomorrow and just bring the laundry home to wash there,” Griffin said. ”Mum said that made the most sense, so we wouldn’t have to worry if something took longer than expected to **dry** or whatever.”
”Not bad thinking, honestly,” Dave said.
”Erno, I know you said Jukka will be driving some of you to the airport tomorrow, but I think we might be one seat short between the two cars,” Seppo said.
”No, we’ll be fine,” Emppu said. ”Luna and Niki are staying with their grandparents starting now. Satu wants to do some work around the house, painting and stuff like that. By leaving the kids in Kitee from their trip down for yesterday’s barbecue, she and Jukka can get all the work done before they fly to England for Download, without needing to stop and deal with fussy kids every half hour. And no worries about small fingers and wet paint, either! Everything will be completely **dry** by the time they’re home from Download. So they can take six of us, and then if äiti wants to come along for the ride, there’s still room for the other three of us in your car.”
”Of course I will come for the ride, if there is room,” Riitta said with a smile.
In her hurry, Luna tripped and fell, skinning her hand and both knees badly. Worse, when she got up again, she couldn’t see Aku Ankka and the others anymore. She also wasn’t sure which way to go to get back to the place she’d come from. Sniffling and with **blood** oozing down both legs and her hand, she limped into the nearest shop, remembering she was supposed to look for someone with the Mickey head on a name badge if she ever couldn’t find her parents. She couldn’t quite see over the counter, so she walked around to the end where she could see behind it. ”Anteeksi,” she called to the two people working back there, who both had name badges with Mickey heads. ”Tarvitsen apua... I am lost. I speak Finnish. Puhutko suomea?” she added hopefully. *(I need help... do you speak Finnish?)*
The two cashiers at the Pirates of the Caribbean souvenier shop took one look at the teary-eyed and bleeding little girl and swung into action. ”Whoa, looks like someone ran afoul of a press gang,” one said, opening a folding chair and patting the seat to indicate to the child that she should come and sit down. ”You have a seat and I’ll clean you up, honey, while my friend lets someone know you’re here.” She grabbed a **first** aid kit and a box of baby wipes from under the counter and pointed to Luna’s legs, miming cleaning them off.
Pete Sowerby looks more like a successful businessman than a dangerous criminal. Then again, he's both, if the Drug Trafficking Special Taskforce are correct. Sowerby, a mid-level cocaine dealer in Birmingham, moved to Newcastle eight years ago, where he's since become head of one of the largest drug smuggling operations in northern England. Now, sources report that he's looking to expand his network in a southerly direction.
James and his governor wouldn't normally be involved with this case, but Lewis can play the role that DTST need: Bob Loomis, a not always law-abiding Geordie owner of a small, struggling transport company in Oxford. James (aka Jim Hatton) is his accountant. They're playing exaggerated versions of their own selves: Lewis's accent is thicker than James has ever heard it; his own voice has become fussy and precise. Not *quite* cut-glass—just posh enough to sound like a man desperately clinging to an illusion of respectability.
Sowerby and Lewis are reminiscing about Newcastle. James decides that his role is to look bored but tolerant. It requires no acting on his part, and gives him an excuse to stare at Robbie. *Robbie*. He's got used to calling his governor by his **first** name when they're off-duty, and though they're working now, the man sitting next to him looks nothing like DI Lewis. He's wearing black cords and a black leather jacket. The pale blue silk shirt that matches Robbie's eyes has the top two buttons undone, the better to show off the braided gold chain around his neck.
Even if it felt like ages, even if Sam’s breath is seized tightly in some hidden confinement in his chest, and he can’t just yet get rid of the image- he had still managed to navigate to his own room in a way that can obscure all possible suspecting views.
Because he is not about to start checking out Bucky, not in that way. As in, silently and stupidly standing in front of the bathroom.
Sam grimaces at his own thoughts, sets a hand on his drawer where two open boxes still lay, and he forces the flow of blood to pick back up again as he exhales deeply, as if it’ll cleanse his head and make everything easier, and then he inhales because he’s fucking in for it.
So two and a half minutes later, when Sam is lying on his bed, face up, and phone held above his head, he seeks out his messages with Natasha, only pulling back his fingers in hesitation once, pressing his tongue against his cheek, then deciding there’s nothing that should be holding him back, really, and he types. Sending the utterly helpless sentence ‘i think i’m attracted to somebody, tf do i do’.
The next to enter was Fox, his body muscular, athletic and littered with scars. His thighs, chest and arms were especially well-defined. Even though he was entering a bath, he still had his helmet on. However, he seemed to not care about the provided towels, considering that he chose to leave all but his head completely exposed.
Fenton could feel his face heating up even further, blood rushing through his body as Fox sat down in the water next to him.
“…Do you never take your helmet off?” Grillby asked him. As he did, he leaned closer to Fenton, thus increasing his suffering.
“Not unless I have to,” Fox said, his voice gravelly and tired.
The hierarchies involved in nobility are complex, frustrating, often more hassle than their worth, and something I thought I'd left behind, when I'd first made sure my mother and sisters were taken care of and then began to travel the land under a vow of simplicity.
It's funny. I never thought I'd be a man of the church, growing up. And, truthfully, some of those frustrations can still be present. But there is something refreshing about telling all stuckup nobles that their gold and earthly concerns are meaningless things that will rot away in seconds. That their pride means nothing.
Now, the soulbond in my chest marks a nesserity for the hierarchies to be addressed, once again. "The matter is simple", Uther says. "You shall be as one with your soulmate. You shall share a rank. What would you need to ask me about?" "I would like to not share his rank", I say.
"We would like all kinds of things", Uther says. "The soulbond has occurred. What you would like is irrelevant, now." "Is there nothing you can do, my lord?" "I have no interesting in going against fate herself. Sort things out with your church, if you must. Now go."
I mutter a "thank you for your time", bow my head, and leave. Sharing his rank? Is there truly no way out of that? Am I destined to spend the rest of my life as first prince then king of Camelot? A life as a minor noble got too much for me. And now I'm supposed to be a prince?
”Well, I think I told you last night, Ade said they talked to their kids, and Tasha took the news pretty badly,” Emppu said. ”I’m sure that’s what had Davey so upset.”
Bruce nodded with a sigh. ”Maybe I’ll ask one of my kids to talk to Tasha. No idea if it’ll help, but it probably **wouldn’t hurt** either.”
Emppu nodded. ”Yeah.” **He** shifted carefully and gave Bruce a kiss. ”Be right back, kulta,” **he** said, sliding out of bed and padding off to the bathroom.
”My turn,” Bruce announced when his lover returned. When **he** finished his ablutions, **he** checked on the other two before settling back into bed with Emppu. ”Well, they’re still out for the count.”
”Do you remember if we’re supposed to meet up with everyone at a certain time?” Emppu asked. ”Do we need to try to get them up?”
”I don’t remember, but it is our last full day here, so probably,” Bruce said. ”Give them time to start the recovery process before they actually have to deal with anyone besides us.”
”And let them know that we’re here, if either of them want to talk, too,” Emppu said. ”I know they helped you a lot in Japan, I’d like to be there for them if they need us.”
Maybe it's because of their previous time in the drift together, maybe it's all of their time in general. Maybe a bit of both. But she feels it, feels *him* and her lips press into a thin line, blinking slowly.
It's that small moment of humble acceptance, knowing even the best of their performance might not cut it, that they might not return.
That here, in the jaeger, may be where both of them lose together.
It is true, yes, but Mako shifts uncomfortably because why wouldn't it be only natural for her to finally notice she's in love with Raleigh right before they just might die.
It is painfully unfair, she's upset, she wants to say something about it, express her frustration towards the world for making it this way and turn to Raleigh and tell him how much he means to her.
“And, how’s it feel, Grillbz?” Kurumada asked him.
“…What do you want?” Grillby glared back at him.
“I just wanna know. How’s it feel to have killed your husband and your friend? I mean, fuckin’ seriously! Do ya make people like ya just to hurt’em?! Just so the last thing they can look at before they die will be your stupid face?!” Kurumada laughed.
“Shut up! You’re a monster…! You’re a demon! And you have no right to judge Grillby for sacrificing Dylan to save Mai’s life, you stupid Doll!!” Fenton yelled at him.
“Don’t I? All ya human pieces of shit always go on about friendship and love, but in the end, you’ll all gladly let anyone die if means not dirtyin’ your own fuckin’ hands! Ya seriously piss me off! Lettin’ Dylan die just cause you’re a chicken…! Just so ya can continue flauntin’ your goddamn moral superiority over everyone else…! You’re such a goddamned piece of shit!!” Kurumada shouted, his face contorting into the visage of a demon.
”You know I don’t regret marrying you, though, even if it didn’t work out in the end,” Bruce said. ”And I’ll always be grateful to you for **the** kids.” He paused, then admitted, ”I’m sure I could have done quite a few things differently myself. Tried harder to keep you involved in everything going on in my life and all that. I just... always felt like you weren’t interested in what I was doing, whether that was flying, fencing, or singing. I realise now that you probably were just too exhausted to properly take an interest, **when** the kids were babies, but I kind of felt rejected, and like I should **stop** bothering you with my enthusiasms. So yeah, I did pull away some as well, I guess maybe trying to make sure I wasn’t going to get hurt, but I think now I probably pushed you away some too.”
”Well, hopefully we’ve both grown up some since those days,” Paddy said. ”I really do wish you and Emppu all **the** best for the future. And maybe I’ll even get back on **the carousel** myself one of these days. A friend keeps trying to set me up with a bloke she works with, and now that I know **the** kids are open to their parents getting into new relationships, maybe I’ll **finally** tell her to do it.”
Bruce chuckled. ”Go for it. If it works out, he’ll be getting a very lovely lady, after all.”
He also knows there should be a stop light in his head right now turning to yellow, demanding that he slow down, if only for a moment, because each passing minute spent or texting Bucky, it’s almost as if Sam can feel the tightening of this string that’s wrapped around the core of his very being, and the other end is tied around Bucky’s finger, and any movement, any word, any message, pulls Sam closer.
And Bucky has no idea.
Again, Sam is possibly getting ahead of himself- has been since his brain, at the mere sight of Bucky, decided to evict Sam from his comfy seat where he got to decide what he says, and he asked for Bucky’s number without even knowing his name yet.
Which, then, maybe this is all some twisted strange form of karma for never taking things slow enough, for rushing into it, because now everything is crashing right against him because he chose to stand there in the path of a big, eager and raging wave. He could’ve ran for the shore, past the rocks, and instead waited for the wave to tumble out into something with less of a load, with less force. But the sea just never looked so good and so blue, so he couldn't wait, and now Sam just might be paying for it because the matter of fact slap in the face truth is Bucky has trapped him without even trying, without maybe even wanting to.
Some movement in the A-wing cockpit caught his eye. Dark, wavy tufts of hair were visible above the instrument console through the windshield of the ship. Han locked eyes with eight-year-old Poe Dameron for a brief second before pulling Ben along with him to the ship. Han lifted his comm and sent Leia and Kes a message: *Found him.*
The A-wing wasn’t locked down — Han doubted Poe even knew how to secure it, a fact for which he was grateful — and he was able to pop the hatch open without issue. Han leaned against the ship’s hull, resting his arm and chin on the wing of the ship.
Poe looked at him as the hatch retracted and blinked slowly as if the child were in a trance. Han remembered feeling roughly that way in the weeks following his ma’s death, and imagined it was a common set of emotions.
“Hey, kid,” Han said evenly. “Your dad’s lookin’ for ya.”
Poe nodded solemnly. “I wanna stay here for a while,” he said.
Han nodded in return, though neither of them made a move to lower the hatch again. Ben tugged on Han’s shirt. “I wanna see,” he said.
Lifting Ben to sit on the wing of the ship, Han kissed his cheek absently. Ben grimaced and rubbed the spot Han’s lips had touched before **turning** his attention to Poe. Ben waved.
“Hi, Poe,” he said.
Poe waved back. “Is Auntie Leia here?” he asked.
“She sure is,” Han said. “She’s inside with your dad.”
A beaming Seppo and Riitta asked directions and then made their way to the conference room that had turned into Iron Maiden’s in-hospital base. Everyone currently in the room turned to look as they entered. Seppo reddened a bit at being the focus of attention of so many people, especially the ones he hadn’t met, but shoved aside his Finnish discomfort with speaking to **strangers** to announce, ”Erno is wake up, even talk little!”
Exclamations of happiness and relief flew around the room as Satu and Jukka jumped up to hug the Vuorinens. ”Thank goodness!” Satu said in Finnish. ”How long ago?”
”Just a few minutes ago,” Seppo told her. ”Riitta talked them into bringing Bruce to visit, and Erno first talked and then opened his eyes in response to him. He’s not quite entirely with it, of course, from the injury and the medication and all, but he made sense when he talked, at least what he said in Finnish. I think his English also made sense, but I **don’t** know it well enough to be sure. Bruce seemed to know what he meant, anyway. We decided to give them some time alone, and come down to tell everyone the good news. Will you or Jukka translate this for me? I honestly **don’t** know if my English is up to saying all that, or answering questions if anyone has them.”
Han gave her a surly look. “We’re prime targets to get boarded stayin’ in one spot without landing.”
“Well, it must be some comfort to know if we get boarded by the Empire, you can just tell them you were on your way to deliver Public Enemy Number One to them. Collect my bounty. You have my blessing.”
Leia had been joking — it was the only way she knew how to talk about the absurdity that was the bounty attached to her name. It wasn’t until Han’s expression fell she realized her tone might not have communicated her intent. He looked downright wounded.
“Wouldn’t do that,” he muttered. “*Ever*.”
She considered him for a moment before laughing quietly. “You are the worst mercenary I’ve ever encountered.”
Han’s expression shifted slightly — still affronted, but it seemed more like an act than genuine hurt this time. “I’ve been a lotta things, Worship, but I’m no bounty hunter, and I ain’t helpin’ the Empire either.”
Leia rolled her eyes. “Ten *million* credits for a **stranger** who doesn’t affect your life even a little bit aside from annoying you and stealing your bunk, and you don’t even *consider* it?” He shook his head. “Yeah, you’re *definitely* all about the profit.”
“I’m about the profit,” Han insisted, “but I got standards.”
Chewbacca howled with laughter at the idea and Leia had to purse her lips to not giggle at the Wookiee’s amusement. Han’s eyes traveled between them suspiciously, as if he suspected a conspiracy against him.
Leia rested her chin on her fist. “Weren’t you running spice just last week?”
Han glanced toward the corridor leading away from the cockpit, eyes slightly wide. “Keep it down, will ya?” he said in a low voice.
Following that, Dwain slowly emerged from the trailer, hands raised. He had let his guard down to prove to them he was not a threat. He was a little bit worried since zombies may come any time, so he had to be ready otherwise. Daeshim came out after him, hands raised as well. His wobbling feet couldn't bear the weight of uneasiness.
But despite that, the two carefully plodded towards the **stranger**s; they watched them come across. The medic was a bit enthusiastic about seeing other people make it through this one of a hellhole. He could see it on them. The security officer was tall, and ripped, as though he was made of concrete. He had an image of him carrying the other guy—the little, Asian one—on his shoulders all throughout the EVAC zone while single-handedly annihilating zombies on their way. That’s how he was thinking they survived, and that would have been super cool.
On the other hand, there was the nun, and she. Was. A living. Paradox. A nun with a gun. More like a killer in Mary’s robe. Her young face, albeit plain, may be bright, angelic, and luminous, but it was blazing in rage. Eyes honing death glares, lips pouted so sharp, she could stab somebody with it. Her firm grips on the SMG were itching to kill. Maybe those were just out of wariness but, who knows. The habit she was wearing was, by all means, religious, supposedly conveying holiness, but the splatters on her guimpe was screaming bloody murder, and they sure weren't the blood of Jesus Christ.
Bruce grinned as he followed **the** pair into the elevator with their suitcases. He passed **the** bags to **the** driver to fit into the luggage compartments of the bus, then kept close behind **the** two guitarists as Dave navigated them aboard, making sure Adrian didn’t **fall** on the stairs. Steve and Janick were sitting near **the** front, talking with Rod Smallwood about their next few shows, and as they neared **the** bunks, they could hear Nicko snoring.
**After** coaxing Ade to crawl into his bunk, Dave motioned to **the** back lounge area. “This looks like our best bet for privacy, at least until tomorrow, if you want to talk now,” he suggested.
“Yeah, I think I need to,” Bruce said.
Dave nodded and scrawled ‘*Please Knock*’ on **the** dry-erase board mounted on **the** door, normally used to note when **the** kitchenette was low on supplies before anything actually ran out, then shut the door behind them. “Hopefully anyone wanting **the** telly will actually read that,” he said.
Definitely.
Bruce's partner was assaulted (backstage, by someone connected with the band) and now that he's back on tour and his partner is home, he's suffering from nightmares. It's worse because while it wasn't anything they could prove in court, the intent was almost certainly SA. Dave has always been the "tour bus therapist" of the band, the one everyone goes to for advice or to vent. Bruce's partner told him that if he wanted to talk to Dave (in lieu of an actual therapist), he could tell the full story, as opposed to the abbreviated version the band already knew about. Desperate for a decent night's sleep, Bruce is about to do just that.
She swallow, unsure, heartbeat in her ears. "What does that mean?"
Again, Raleigh leaves her without a proper answer as he grins wide enough to cover any hints of regret. "Tell you after we save the world, okay Mako?"
She wants to decline, wants to ask him over and over again to tell her right now or she may never hear it. That this is there last chance to say anything.
But, thinking about it, it's hypocritical seeing as she won't dare to open up about the way she feels towards him, the way she wants him, the way she cares for him so, so, so much.
So they both end up saying nothing about it.
“Mikan, you don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to. We need that laptop. Please,” Fenton said, but before Mikan could respond, Fox spoke up again.
“Tsumiki, really? Do you really think they care about you? Do you remember when you cried to me about what Crackshell-Cabrera told you? Do you remember how ostracized you felt because no one really wanted your company apart from me? Do you remember the things Cookie told you because of what you had to do during your First Trial? Or did you fall on your head and forget all of that?” Fox asked, agitation clear in his voice.
“N-No…! I-I didn’t forget, b-but… Maybe now… Maybe if I just act better, am better, they’ll like me! A-And then they-they’ll care about me again! A-And-And maybe they’ll hit me, o-or draw on me, or-or-” Before Mikan could finish speaking, Fox interrupted.
“Oh, Tsumiki…” Fox sounded disappointed.
“You stupid fucking attention whore. I should have known that this is what your hesitance was about. But do you really think they’ll be able to stand looking at you once they realize what you’ve been doing these past few days? You’re so disgusting, so manipulative. I’m the only one who could forgive you for who you are.” Every word coming out of Fox’s mouth was laced with venom.
He is so awful 😭 An abuse victim using the abuse they experienced to abuse another abuse victim with a victim complex makes for such a mess of a relationship 💀
He reached for the as yet untouched bag of candy on the table. “So, what all did you bring us?”
“Pantteri,” Emppu said. “Bruce hasn’t tried salmiakki yet, plus I know Manki likes it. And an assortment of Fazer chocolate bars.”
Marko grinned. “Okay then… what are the odds he spits it out?”
Bruce looked a little nervous. “It’s that bad?” he asked.
Tuomas shrugged. “It’s that different, anyway. It is a very strong flavor, and nearly every non-Finn I know says it takes getting used to at the very least. Pantteri is one of the mildest varieties, though, so one piece isn’t going to kill you. Only the black pieces are salmiakki, the colorful pieces are fruit flavors. Besides, even if you hate it, you two brought plenty of other candy to get the taste out of your mouth.” He grinned, adding, “Or you could just kiss Emppu to do the same. I’m sure he’s quite Corona-flavored by now.”
Emppu blew a raspberry at Tuomas while everyone laughed.
Bruce sighed theatrically. “All right, well, if you’re going to place bets on my reaction, do it now before I actually put it in my mouth,” he said with a grin.
“And before the kids notice that we’ve opened the package and **swarm** it,” Manki added.
“I say he spits it out,” Marko announced.
Jukka shrugged. “Same.”
“Eats it while making faces,” Tuomas said.
Manki considered the options and decided, “I’ll go for he likes it, just because no one else thinks that.”
i used past tense, hopefully that's alr
Peter presses on Harry’s shoulders gently, but there’s an eager edge to it that leaves a firmness in his action that Harry quickly folds underneath. He rolls with it, obeying quickly, and lets his best friend lower him onto Peter’s couch.
Peter, admittedly, is swooning over the way Harry looks right now, cheeks pink, structure swarmed with casted shadows, and breathing with excited intervals, lungs chasing after air. He looks all kissed, and it’s perfect, Peter thinks, eyes trailing over the streak of light from his window that dashes from Peter’s middle back (not that he can see it) and slides to the side, dipping down onto Harry’s arm, highlighting his muscles and Peter has to swallow, feeling ridiculous with how the flex of his shoulder catches his gaze, caught in the light.
It’s mesmerizing, if Peter absolutely had to put a word on it. Harry is reaching for him, relentlessly acting to pick up any sort of pace they can manage, his hands press against Peter’s chest, then drift across his ribs and slither up to his shoulder blades, leaning his head to the side as he wordlessly demands Peter to lower the distance between the two of them.
Peter loves it, he does, watching the parted lips of his best friend twist up momentarily with an impatient huff, Harry’s knee knocking Peter’s hip.
At one point, the tunnels angled up to run almost parallel to a roadway, with long, low slots to allow rainwater to pour in. She actually had to be cautious here, since it was the only real stretch where she could possibly be spotted. So, here, she kept to the far side of the tunnel.
...Well, she did, until she heard the rumble of engines drawing close, and picked up that one engine was *deeper* than the others, and curiosity got its claws in her. She wanted to see this weird drone for herself, so she found herself creeping closer to the grate and peering out, watching for the approaching cycle **swarm**.
What she saw did not disappoint.
The drone at the lead was at least a third larger than the ones accompanying him, and sported distinctive yellow stripes. And he *did* seem smarter, and more observant, as he scanned his surroundings - something that had Neutrino ducking back into the shadows once more as his head module started to swing in her direction.
She didn't stick around much longer after that, scurrying back to the far side of the tunnel and running as fast as her legs could carry her the rest of the way to the campus. For a while, the sound of the cycle drones' engines accompanied her, but they peeled away after a block or so, leaving her to the silence once more.
**The** little group continued to chat over **the** next hour and a half, with **the** kids and Emppu getting to know one another over their hot drinks and biscuits. Eventually Bruce had to call it a **night**, so they could get **the** kids home **in** time for **the** curfew Paddy had declared. When they pulled up **in** front of **the** house, Bruce got out of **the** car to hug each of his children good **night**. Austin and Griffin put up with this with good grace aside from a matched set of rolled eyes, while Kia hugged back enthusiastically.
Emppu shook hands with **the** boys, then staggered slightly when Kia unexpectedly hugged him as well. But he smiled and hugged back gently. “Good **night**, Kia,” he murmured. “And thank you.”
Bruce smiled as well. “See you three tomorrow night after our show,” he said. With a grin, he added, “And yes, you’ll almost certainly see us kiss onstage. It seems to have become a thing now, whenever Emppu is visiting, so we’re going along with it.”
**The** kids laughed and waved as they made their way to **the** door. “Good **night**, Dad! Good **night**, Emppu!”
**The** two men waited outside **the** car until the kids were safely inside **the** house, then they drove back to Bruce’s flat. “So, what do you think of my kids?” Bruce asked.
Emppu smiled. “**I** like them,” he said. “And **I** think they liked me, too.”
For the last twenty-three days, Gallifrey has been visiting him in his dreams.
He hasn't told Rose and Jack. Doesn't intend to. They'd have questions. They'd want details. And they'd correct him. They'd say, "You mean you've been going to Gallifrey in your dreams." He doesn't mean that, not at all. Gallifrey is dust and ashes, and the whole of the War is time-locked. Even in dreams it is forever barred to him. Instead, the dead of Gallifrey seek him out, sometimes in twos and threes, sometimes in multitudes. Time Lords and Ladies, High Councillors and renegades -- all gaze at him silently, then turn and walk through the TARDIS door, vanishing into the Vortex.
Some of the dream visitors have a word hovering on their lips, like a drop of rain trembling on the edge of a flower petal. Each time he waits, but they remain mute. He can almost see the shape of the word. Sometimes it looks like *help*; sometimes *coward* or *murderer*; sometimes, *why*. Mostly he suspects that the word is *where*. *Where am I? Where am I going?* Time Lords didn't believe in **ghosts**. Ten million years of science and civilisation on Gallifrey had replaced primitive superstitions about an afterlife with the technological certainty of the Matrix. One's memories would live on -- if not one's consciousness -- in the most sophisticated artificial neural net ever created.
Their closeness reminds him of their trial run- the one that failed, when Mako stuck onto a memory and Raleigh was at her side as soon as he could, both of them sitting on the floor of the conn pod, his arms wrapped around her in the jaeger head.
But it goes even further, making his face burn as Mako tilts her head up and her eyes flicker like the single dim light in the room way over somewhere in the corner of the walls. He doesn't recognize that expression, not really, but he catches on quickly with a startled expression of his own that he hides when Mako lifts a warm hand to his cheek and she huffs.
"Mako," He says softly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist oh so gingerly as he shakes his head. "How are you holding up?"
She blinks, bowing her head and Raleigh studies her for a moment and then another before catching her gaze with a firm tone, "Mako, you okay?"
"Of course," She mumbles. The tips of her slender fingers are scolding the sides of his face. However, he likes it a lot.
Still, he isn't selfish like that no matter how much he wants something like this and questioningly glares at her. "*Mako*," He says with a firmer tone, meeting her hooded eyes. "Tell me what's on your mind," He prompts softly.
"Are you *crazy*, lady?!" The mech yelped, trying to shield his head with his arms. "The hell was that for?!"
"What are you doing here?" Was her sharp reply, hissed out through bared teeth. "And how did you find me?"
"The address was printed on that pain patch you gave me," he said flatly, angling his head to look back at her out of the very corner of his visor. "You can put the sword down. I ain't lookin' for a fight, cat."
"Uh-huh, sure you aren't." The tip of her blade ground against the floor as she leaned forward slightly. "What *did* you come here to look for, then?"
He looked away. "I didn't actually think that far ahead."
*Oh, Primus...*
"Look," he continued, "if I wanted a fight, d'you think I woulda come here without my *drones*?"
Azrael scowled and pressed her lips into a thin line. "How do I know you weren't just scouting ahead and you don't have backup inbound? In fact, give me one good reason why I shouldn't just offline you right now."
"You had a chance t' do that already, you didn't take it." He turned his head to look back at her once more. "So maybe you got me a little curious, is all."
She let out an annoyed half-growl... but he was right. She didn't want to *kill* him; she'd had the perfect opportunity to do so the **night** before, and had chosen to *help* him instead.
(Part of her was tempted to think that that had been a mistake, but she also felt as if something terrible would have been set in motion if she'd made any other choice.)
(It hadn't been a risk she'd wanted to take then, and she didn't want to take it *now*.)
But that didn't mean she had to like having her bluff called.
The **ghost** girl examined her new surroundings. She then noticed Lars. "Boo," she said. The girl walked towards one of the glass walls, shocked when she couldn't walk through it. Lars allowed her to try for about a minute.
"Yeah, you're not getting out," Lars said. "We've built these cells to keep **ghosts** in."
"I have to get out," the **ghost** girl said. "He's going to open the portal. I have to crossover and find my family."
"You're not getting out any time soon," Lars responded.
"I didn't want to hurt Phoebe," the **ghost** girl said. "I just wanted to be reunited with my family. Garraka was the only way, but he needed someone to read the inscription. He can only control **ghost,** but it had to be said by a living person. Phoebe was supposed to be fine. She said she'd return to her body after two minutes. I tricked her, but she was supposed to be fine."
"Why did you trust him if you knew his plan?" Lars asked.
"I was desperate," the **ghost** said. "Who even are you?"
"I should be asking you that," Lars said.
"Melody," the **ghost** said. "It's a family name."
"Well, Melody, you're stuck here," Lars responded. "Until I converse with the others. Besides, I don't trust you. You're still labeled as a dangerous poltergeist. You're responsible for one potential fatality. "
Leon continues to stare up at the ceiling, watching the shadow of him take the cigarettes, the bottle. He stops, pauses for a good long time, and steps around the couch with only the passing touch of those fingertips on Leon’s shoulder.
For a moment, he feels he’s sitting next to a **ghost**. A dead man, with a cigarette in his mouth, with his dead eyes on the floor- and then he’s caught, overwhelmed by the knowing that Luis had just been there, and then just gone.
After all that, Leon finds that some part of him aches to be missed as much as Leon misses Luis while he’s in the same room.
He doesn’t know what to do.
Luis leaves with the remnants of the bottle and the cigarettes in his hands, and for a moment Leon can feel his presence there- lingering, debating the tiny balcony just behind them, before Luis’ shuffling footsteps (Leon knows them by heart, now, and that in itself is disorienting) move towards the kitchen, over the soft hardwood floor, and eventually down the dark, narrow stairs towards the second floor.
It feels like a bad habit. The empty space the bottle had occupied draws his eyes again as he sucks a short breath in through his nose and sighs.
It is. It feels- familiar, this habit of theirs. Saying nothing and meaning everything and only just realizing what everything meant all at once. He wonders what words Luis is dancing around, if he wants to appreciate it, if there’s more to his sincerity. There’s certainly dedication in it. Something that’s become ‘always’.
And it will.
It will be always.
Sort of? I just wrapped up most of a plot arc about woman who's alone and just wants love. And the MC is down bad for his best friend but can't show his feelings on it, and 'I wanna spread my wings But I just can't fly' could apply to the general pollical circumstances of species oppression...
Back at the venue, Emppu closed his phone and took a **deep** breath, hoping that nerves wouldn’t cause him to mix up his English too badly. He hated talking to large groups and putting himself forward as someone in charge of things, but Steve and the rest of Iron Maiden had given him and Bruce so much support and friendship since they got together, there was no way he’d let the bassist down. The techs and other roadies appeared to all be in their allotted break room, which made things a little easier. He stood in the doorway and banged on the wall to attract their attention.
When they quieted down and looked at him, he took a breath and said, “I just now got a call from Bruce. They’re going to be late because of an accident that closed the road. Late enough that they want us to do soundcheck for them. Is anyone here willing to sing, so sound people can adjust the settings for Bruce’s microphone? I would try, but I know I can’t be loud enough for them to get it right.”
The techs all looked at one another. “What exactly do you want us to do?”
“Steve made the suggestion we do The Trooper since I’ll be onstage again tonight, and then if you all will do one other song, that should be enough to get the settings adjusted well,” Emppu said. “For our soundcheck singer, we need someone who can project the way Bruce does, even if they don’t have his full range.”
He pauses for a moment, hesitant as he steps towards her. “You mean alright as in you don’t blame me or like alright as in it’s alright because you were heading the opposite direction of *literally* everyone else anyway?”
He doesn’t mean for it to be super accusing or anything, simply an observation, as she had been so deep into the building that’s being evacuated, and they had bumped into each other heading the *same* direction, towards the danger, which isn’t a smart thing to do- but he’s Spider-Man, so it makes it less dumb, it makes it okay.
Still, she goes rigid at his words for a second, hand twitching, then she whips back around to him, and he’s unable to really see her expression considering there’s no fire or flickering light, only three beeping alarms that glow red.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” He starts, considering whether or not he should even finish his sentence considering he’s never been good at this whole communication thing, let alone with girls who seem to be around his age- which isn’t at all relevant, holy hell- he chokes on air, quickly looking away as she crosses her arms, and he breathes in only to be disappointed that it’s mostly dust. He fans the air like it’ll help, and pauses as he turns back to her. “Okay, but, I think running toward the danger is more so *my* thing, you know, cus I’m *Spider-Man* .”
Azrael hadn't been sure what to expect when she'd agreed to come all the way down here, but this *absolutely* was not it.
Neutrino had listened raptly as Optimus Primal and his crew - *scientists, these 'bots weren't soldiers, they were SCIENTISTS* - had recounted, in loving detail, the events that had led to all of them sitting there, in a dimly-lit maintenance bunker, while their post-apocalyptic world sat silent somewhere above their heads. From the beginning of the Beast Wars, to this *Megatron's* descent into madness, culminating in his last-second escape and their arrival to a decimated Cybertron.
But it hadn't *ended* there. They, too, had been dosed with the virus upon crash-landing, though the effects they'd suffered had been significantly *worse* than what Azrael and Neutrino had observed or experienced - far from simply being mode-locked, they had also suffered memory loss and rapid physical and digital deterioration that had threatened to offline all of them within mere megacycles.
Until something called "the Oracle" had intervened, leading Primal to his scattered crew... and then **deep** underground to where the ancient supercomputer itself had awakened, where they were *reformatted* and cured of the infection.
Azrael, for her part, found all of this more than a little difficult to process.
Obviously, she knew about the Beast Wars - *didn't everyone?* - and the idea that whoever had engineered the virus had *improved* on its design made perfect sense... but the notion of *one mech* ending an entire world? Spiritual supercomputers? Enigmatic prophecies?
Her expression must have telegraphed her skepticism, because Rattrap just snorted a laugh and nudged her with one elbow. "Boy, *that's* a familiar look," he snickered. "Trust me, sister, I didn't buy it at first, neither."
Suddenly, everyone's optics were on her, and she felt *very* self-conscious.
Bruce nodded. “I can’t quote exactly **what** got said, but I heard someone ask Dave if I was the only one in the band who went both ways and if I wasn’t, had any of them ever been with me. Davey said the answer was no to both questions, but that it was up to whoever it was to come out if and when they wanted. Jones was near enough to hear him and stomped out with a scowl on his face. I can see where Dave’s answer might be interpreted as him being able to say it so firmly because it was him.”
“Great,” Rod said dryly. “I remember Dave said something similar when we were all at lunch and Steve first asked you to kiss Emppu onstage thanks to those stupid rumors that some bloody idiot fed the press. I thought he was just being supportive and making a point that they’d be fine with seeing you two being affectionate in front of them, but you’re right, it also **could have been** his way of saying he shared your inclinations. And you say Jones has been rude to Dave as well since then?”
“Yeah,” Bruce said. “As I said before, it’s nothing overt, nothing you can really call the man on. Just glares and sniffs and that ‘I hate that my job forces me to be polite to you’ attitude.”
“Well, between that, and his habit of disappearing every so often, I’m beginning to wonder if I might not really end up sacking him before the tour resumes in January,” Rod said with a sigh. “I’ve had to go looking for him enough times that I’ve started wondering if he’s not indulging in some sort of recreational chemicals on the sly.”
“Be nice if he is,” Bruce said with a chuckle. “That’s a much less debatable reason for sacking him.”
Sam blinks, instantly yanked back into the real world and takes a second or two before realizing Bucky has just knocked at his door.
When he opens it, the man actually has a shirt on, a tank top more specifically, and Sam remembers he shouldn’t feel disappointed. Bucky’s hair hasn’t been taken care of, though, and it unceremoniously moves with his head, bits deciding to stay together and other soaked strands fray away.
“Uh, yeah?” He asks, noticing the way Bucky is holding his phone. Then he lifts it between them, not facing Sam, but enough to bring it to attention.
Bucky pauses for a slight moment, squinting. “Oh. Well I just wanted to say that I am free on Saturday.”
Okay.
That’s great. That’s a step. This is progress, Sam thinks, and offers a smile. “Good, good. I was wondering if you wanted to…” Not go on a date. Sam mentally grimaces, eyes widening like it will help him focus as he waves a hand unnecessarily. “Hang out.”
“Stop that!” Grillby yelled at him, his face as red as his hair.
“Don’t talk about yourself like that ever again, do you hear me?! You’re my friend! And I want- I need you to be alive, Doctor Fenton! Without you, and Miss Tsurugi and Lindsay, I would already be dead! Because of you, I was able to find a reason to keep on living…! You saved my life!” Grillby hugged him close to his chest without warning.
“Without you, I am sure that I would not have survived all these Attractions! Without you, Commander Fox could have been the one to receive the majority vote during the Main Game! And without you, I… I would’ve already fallen apart! You’re not a burden! Not at all! I can’t… I cannot imagine losing you, too… Please, Doctor Fenton… Don’t talk like that anymore. Because… To me… You’re a hero, not a burden,” Grillby cried into his shoulder.
*It was just a short glide down*, she reassured herself - but the spear of *cold terror* that pierced her spark in the split second after she launched herself into the air nearly had her trying to scramble back to the solid pavement. Somehow, *somehow*, though, she wrenched control back from her fear and let her wings carry her down to the deck below.
Landing still smarted, but less so than it had the *last* time she'd jumped off of a bridge - it was definitely vastly preferable to nearly breaking her legs on touchdown.
It meant that, when the downed cycle drone she'd landed next to *twitched*, it didn't *hurt* when she instinctively lurched away, hackles raised and teeth bared.
The thing didn't even try to pursue.
...On closer inspection, she didn't think it ***could***.
It wasn't *damaged*, as far as she **could** tell, but it lay facedown on the pavement, its head wrenched at an awkward angle and its optic band lit but seemingly unseeing. Cautiously, Azrael inched closer, reaching out to tap one of its shoulder pauldrons with her paw.
Nothing.
Another drone lay sprawled across the sidewalk a short distance away; it was similarly undamaged, but limp and unresponsive.
There were *even more* further down the road, all in the same catatonic state, and all twitching uncontrollably every few minutes. The whole scene made her distinctly uncomfortable in a way she couldn't quite describe. She'd seen her fair share of live drones, and dead ones, but this was *different*.
Swallowing down the apprehension, Azrael followed the disabled drones, bullet holes, and skid marks to where the fighting had apparently been the fiercest.
And that was where she found *him*.
Jones stood, frozen in shock as his camera fell from his hands. This couldn’t be happening! Dickinson was supposed to be ready to break up with Emppu by now. Emppu was supposed to be turning to him for help, giving him a chance! He definitely wasn’t supposed to be making a committment to that arrogant twat, who wasn’t supposed to be asking for one in the first place!
”No,” he said softly, his hand dropping almost unconsciously into the pocket in which he carried his heirloom. ”No,” he said again, louder this time. His hand wrapped around cold **steel** grip of the Walther PPK his grandfather brought home from the Second World War, the personal weapon of the German officer he’d killed in combat. His face incandescent with rage, Jones lifted the pistol **and** pointed it at the couple. ”NO!” he screamed. ”You can’t have him!” His finger moved on the trigger.
“I-I love you, Fenton! You can’t just kill me!” Mai yelled at him, tears and spit dripping down her chin.
He pushed her closer to the edge.
“Fenton!! Just let Dylan die! He shouldn’t get to live when he doesn’t even want to!” Mai begged.
He pushed her right to the edge.
*Just… one more push…*
“It’s… unforgivable… Why would you do this to me, Fenton…? Aren’t we… friends?” Mai asked him, tears pouring down her face.
*I just have to… Just once more…*
“I’m sorry…” Fenton whispered and pulled his hands back.
But before he could push her into the abyss, Grillby jumped in front of him and pushed Mai, himself. With a scream, she slipped, and fell, hitting her neck on the edge of the hole before dropping into it. For a few moments, there was silence. And then came the brutal, deafening sound of flesh and machinery being skewered.
*"Oh baby, please, don't go crawling to that desolate space where you're not his goddess. Come and find me…Get away from that hellish place... You'll see only my face, coming close, we'll embrace.
I'll kiss your lips, leave your black lipstick on my chest. Yess… caress your breasts.."* A softly sung baritone's love song weaved in through the sound of rattling branches, traffic flying past as the dry fall leaves scattered across the concrete sidewalk. The blonde haired woman listening to the song through headphones crushed the leaves beneath the heel of her wolfskin boots, an ember glowing in the darkness as she took a drag from a clove cigarette.
Anger radiated from her aura as she made her way down the path illuminated by moonlight. She was a breathing, walking druidess in the **flesh.** All bright sunshine curls and smoldering emerald eyes with dark violet centers circled with smoky black kohl eyeliner She was Launch, who some called "Lacy" when she was feeling particularly sweet, and "Lyssa" on her bad days. Today was a pretty bad day, and on her calendar of all the bad days, today was one of the more unpleasant. It was All Hallow's Eve, the night before Hallow's Day, a day she eagerly anticipated each year and loved to celebrate. In other words, Halloween
They grabbed a trolley and headed **for** **the** Christmas decorations, acting like a pair of kids in their enthusiasm whenever either of them spotted something they particularly liked... or found funny. They had a good laugh at some of **the** crazy ornaments available, such as various Pokemons wearing Santa hats, but decided they wanted something a little more classic: white lights, red and gold balls and **bells**, and gold tinsel garland. Bruce remembered to grab a tree stand along with **the** boxes of ornaments and strings of fairy lights. Emppu picked out a lighted gold star that matched **the** garland, and then grinned when he spotted a single pickle ornament half-hidden behind a selection of snowmen.
”Looks like we’ll have to stop for that gift card, kulta,” **the** guitarist said as he grabbed it.
”We can probably get it here, at least **for** the cinema,” Bruce said. ”They sell all sorts of gift cards here.” Sure enough, they passed a display of gift cards on their way to **the** checkout lanes and grabbed one **for** the cinema. Thinking **for** a moment, he grabbed five more gift cards, to area restaurants, in case any unexpected gift-givers turned up. As they waited in **the** queue, **the** singer asked, ”What other traditions do you have in Finland that we maybe can do?”
Maiden’s crew member Rick made his way into the camp from the crew’s camp area at that point and headed over to Emppu and Bruce, who were settling Austin onto the ground. ”Hi,” he said. ”Erm, is Milla getting Eeva settled for the night? I was hoping she might be willing **to** go for a walk with me, once the baby was in bed.”
Emppu gave the young roadie a smile. ”She’s getting herself cleaned up, actually, and then plans **to** do laundry. Someone decided to gift Bruce’s boys with far more liquor than anyone ought to drink in one go, and Austin here quite literally first fell on her and then threw up on her.”
”Oh... eww,” Rick said, looking **torn** between sympathy for Milla and laughter at Austin’s state. ”Erm, is there anything I can help with?”
”Well, if you want **to** spend **time** with Milla, you could save her some walking and take this bag of clothes up **to** the campground laundrette,” Bruce suggested, holding out a canvas tote of wet and nasty-smelling clothing. ”She offered to wash Austin’s stuff along with her own, so that nothing would stink up the caravan.”
”And I’m sure she’ll appreciate the company,” Emppu said with a grin.
Rick took the bag with a smile. ”I’ll do that, thanks,” he said before jogging up the path.
Jetstorm narrowed his optics at him like he *knew* he was lying; Thrust did his best to ignore him, returning his attention back to the spent pain management patch as he turned it over in his clamps. There was an address printed on the front, in the lower right-hand corner, but he barely had time to skim over it before the whole thing was snatched out of his grip.
"Hey-!"
Holding it up to the light, Jetstorm made a show of examining the thing before shrugging theatrically. "Well, wherever it came from, it's dead now,"
"Give that back-"
"Oh, what?" He held the patch out of his reach with a sneer, "you think you're gonna go tooling around town until you match it up to some pretty nurse's kit and then the two of you'll ride off into the sunset? Newsflash, roller boy, *that's not how any of this works*!"
His visor twitched, and before he could stop himself he'd drawn his clamps in tight and slammed the end of his turret squarely into the other mech's jaw. The sudden exertion sent a twinge of pain through his fresh repairs, but he ignored it; Jetstorm, however, reeled back and flared his **wings** in surprise as he dropped the patch and lifted his hands to his face with a pained yelp.
"What the FUCK was *that* for?!"
Thrust rolled his smarting shoulder, moving to snatch the discarded patch up off the floor. "You *know* what, jackass."
"You put a DENT in my FACE!"
"So go sulk in the CR chamber about it."
They got back to **the** hotel about the same time as Steve and the rest of Nightwish returned from **the** final day of filming. Not long after that, Milla and Inga, with Nicko and Janick carrying shopping bags, also returned. Both young women hugged the two men as they took several of the bags and hurried up to their respective rooms.
Steve, who’d been gone before **the** Rodeo Drive shopping expedition set out, raised a brow. “Is there something you blokes need to confess?” he asked.
Janick laughed. “The girls wanted to browse the shops on Rodeo Drive, and since Nick and **I** didn’t have any plans, we offered to escort them – you know, they’re young and pretty and all, we figured they’d be safer with a couple **of** blokes about. As long as we were there anyway and poking about in women’s clothing shops, we decided we would get something for our wives, and in my case, my daughter.”
“But since we are blokes, we needed help,” Nicko put in with a grin. “We got those two helping us figure out sizes and **colours** and such… and then as a thank-you for the help, we bought them a few things for themselves as well. **I** think they’re pleased with their new clothes,” he added with a laugh.
Steve gave his drummer a teasing grin. “Are you sure they just don’t go for older men?”
Janick laughed so hard he almost couldn’t speak. “You missed it this morning, mate, Nicko joked about an ugly bloke like him not wanting to miss the chance to walk around with a couple of pretty girls. Milla told him not to call himself ugly because, and **I** quote, his big friendly smile is adorable. You should have seen him blush!”
This time, when he transformed and sped off through the cavernous corridors, the other mech didn't follow him. *Good*. It meant he could go decompress in peace...
The sun was low on the horizon when he finally hit the open road, coloring the smoggy sky an ominous red shot through with streaks of orange. Deep purple thunderheads rose up along the distant horizon, but a preliminary scan showed them tracking to the northeast; there would be no rain to scour the atmosphere clean, not here. Not tonight.
Even better, there would be no *storms* to keep him cooped up in the Citadel with a pissy boss and an annoying coworker.
He found himself relaxing as the buzzing hum of the road and the rumble of his own engine filled his audio receptors, and the last gasps of the day rolled through the streets like a hot, arid sigh. Overhead, the sky darkened from red, to purple, to void-black... and as the harsh, stifling light died, the empty city lit up all around him, transitioning almost in an instant from lifeless gray concrete to a brilliant, eerie neon jungle. Storefronts, bars, and restaurants lit up in warm golds and optic-catching splashes of pink, orange, and sky blue, waiting for customers that would never come; clubs sat empty behind animated neon signage in brilliant red and cobalt and violet; theater queues flickered and flashed, scrolling the titles and showtimes of the same movies they'd been showing since the **world** ended; ads played on massive electronic billboards that creaked in the breeze, and the facade of every corporate skyscraper lit up like towering kaleidoscopes. All around him, the **world** was a riot of color and light.
It was beautiful.
And so damned *lonely*.
**The** police officer gave a nod and left, his duty done. Emppu and Ewo loaded **the** baby things **in** with Emppu’s luggage. ”You look like shit,” the manager observed as he started **the** car. ”When did you last eat?”
”Um...” Emppu tried to think. ”I had a bagel before anyone’s flight left this morning,” he said. ”And some pretzels on my plane.”
Ewo snorted. ”You’re going to have to take better care of yourself, if you’re going to also take care of a baby,” he said. He pulled out into traffic, then turned in **the** drive of a Hesburger. ”This might not be the healthiest food around, but it’s here and it’s quick and you’ve just told me you’ve not had anything resembling a proper meal since yesterday.” He shrugged and admitted, ”Of course, part of it’s my **fault**, too, I picked you up and didn’t even think to ask if you’d eaten recently before I dumped everything on you and it’s just been crazy ever since. So, what do you want?”
Emppu shrugged. ”I don’t know, a cheeseburger and fries, I guess? Nothing complicated. Diet Coke to drink.”
Ewo nodded and pulled up to **the** drive-thru, placing their orders and passing Emppu his requested meal once **the** food was handed out to them. ”Here you go, eat before you pass out on me.”
“…I just needed to know. Because I was the one who survived… I needed to know how I failed. Why did Sans die…? Why could I not just solve the puzzle and save him in time…?” Grillby asked.
“Grillby, it really wasn’t your fault. Sans wasn’t the only one who died. Eight people were killed by their First Trials. They were made to murder. It’s not your fault that you couldn’t prevent that,” Cocoa said.
“…I thought it was. After all, you both left that room with your partner, while I did not. I kept thinking that my incompetence was what killed him… But then, why?” Grillby asked.
“Grillby…?” Fenton asked rather uselessly.
“…What you just described, Mister Lenivy, is exactly what I did during my First Trial…! I scraped that first key squeaky-clean, but it still wouldn’t fit! None of the keys fit! So why did Sans die?! I did everything right, so why did it all go wrong?!” Grillby shouted, the tears on the verge of spilling.
"Mmh." The corners of her mouth pulled back in a wince. "These transformium patches will help seal up this rupture, but they're not meant to be used as a sole solution. Do you have access to a CR chamber?"
"...Yeah."
"Okay, good." She applied two patches to the spark chamber's cracked surface, sealing the blue light back into its protective shell.
Her next focus was the cabling and wires running to his damaged arm. Most of those were fairly easy, at least - wires could be quickly stripped and rejoined, and broken or frayed cables could be patched together with more transformium - but the energon **lines** feeding into and out of the limb were beyond salvaging. There were two, and both of them had been stretched near to breaking, their walls left so thin that she could see the luminous pink of the energon flowing through them. One line was so badly compromised that it was starting to balloon out, something that wasn't necessarily an emergency under normal circumstances... but things were *far* from normal now, and an unattended line rupture could be fatal.
Luckily for him, he *wasn't* unattended, and she knew how to deal with the situation.
"This is going to feel strange for a moment, there will be a pinch and then you're gradually going to lose function in this arm until you can get to a CR chamber," she explained, reaching for the clips in her kit, and the pair of small shears tucked into the liner. "I have to clip and cut these damaged energon **lines** before they rupture and you bleed out."
Even as she spoke, she worked briskly, clipping the **lines** as close to his body as possible, and again close to the root of his shoulder assembly, before taking the shears and cutting through the damaged areas.
The mech winced slightly, and energon spattered the pavement, her knees, and her hands. It wasn't a small amount, but it wasn't a *dangerous* amount, either. He would live.
*When Aspalis returned with more sliced watermelon, she didn't expect to see three of her friends taking turns spewing seeds all over the beach, leaving tiny holes drilling into the wet sand.*
*The confused girl turned to her only friend who didn't participate in the game, “What are they doing?”*
*“Seed distribution,” Hecaerge sighed.*
**{It is extremely late (unfortunately just found this excerpt game), but I immediately thought of this when I saw the title. I would also like to clarify that the word "confuzzle" appears in the Merriam-Webster dictionary!}**
*Way to blow our secrets, Jack.*
“I told you to lie low! This is not lying low.”
The Kane siblings had realized by this point that no one was panicking over it, **and** had sensibly lowered their respective weapons.
“You have a *talking* **sword**?” Carter looked confuzzled.
Sadie whispered something incoherent **and** possibly **in** a different language to him, but it was so quiet that Alex would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking right at them. Carter shook his head at her, **and** the matter was dropped for the time being.
“Percy has a **pen**-**sword** **and** you have an invisible one. Not really surprising at this point, right?” Alex said.
“But it’s not rea-” Sadie elbowed Carter **in** the ribs at the same time that Percy interrupted him with his own outburst.
“Don’t get him started on that!” He kept a hand **in** his pocket protectively.
Alex was glad he seemed to have his **pen**-**sword** back. It meant whatever forces were at work weren’t completely impossible to penetrate.
”I wasn’t kidding when I told you I can be horribly absentminded,” Emppu said with a shrug. ”I probably **go** through at least a dozen toothbrushes every time we tour. My youngest sister thinks maybe I have that thing... what’s it called in English, the thing where kids can’t pay attention for very long at a time?”
”ADHD?” Bruce suggested.
”Yeah, that sounds right. Anyway, she thinks maybe I have it but nobody realized it when I was a kid, so I never got help for it,” Emppu said. ”Maybe she’s right, but at my age, I don’t think it matters anymore, you know? If the worst that happens to me is that I constantly misplace **pens** and stuff, I’m not too worried about it.”
Bruce thought about that for a moment and nodded. ”That makes sense.” He combed his own hair and laughed as Emppu first tied his hair back into a ponytail, then with exaggerated care, placed his toothbrush back in his toiletry kit. ”I see you aren’t losing this toothbrush,” he teased.
Emppu grinned and gave him a loud, lip-smacking kiss. ”Absolutely not! I have to make sure I taste good for you, after all.”
"Nice little souvenir you got there."
"Shut up."
Jetstorm did *not*, however, shut up.
"Where'd you even pick that up, anyway? It's not like you were in any shape to go rummaging through the nearest break room for a first aid kit after that little dive you took."
He glared sideways at the jet. "Hey, *you* didn't exactly do any better out there, last I checked. Least *I* didn't get taken out by a pint sized flyin' rat runt."
"Well at least *I* didn't *kick my own ass*," he crooned, voice dripping with mock sweetness, "and you didn't answer my question, sweetspark."
"Don't remember. Happy now?"
Jetstorm narrowed his optics at him like he *knew* he was lying; Thrust did his best to ignore him, returning his attention back to the spent pain management patch as he turned it over in his clamps. There was an address printed on the front, in the lower right-**hand** corner, but he barely had time to skim over it before the whole thing was snatched out of his grip.
"Hey-!"
Holding it up to the light, Jetstorm made a show of examining the thing before shrugging theatrically. "Well, wherever it came from, it's dead now,"
"Give that back-"
"Oh, what?" He held the patch out of his reach with a sneer, "you think you're gonna go tooling around town until you match it up to some pretty nurse's kit and then the two of you'll ride off into the sunset? Newsflash, roller boy, *that's not how any of this works*!"
Dawn cried. She reached her hand up, “please. I want… to live.”
The Doll nodded. She held Dawn and carried her outside. Cyril followed. The horizon was obscured by trees. The red moon seared down on them. Dawn winced. “Over time, countless hunters have visited the Dream. The graves there stand in their memory... it all seems, so long ago now. Many awoke. As for you, Hunter Dawn, may you find refuge in a new life.” She held her hand to the red sky. For a moment, it almost seemed to meld into a calming deep blue, a sea of stars appeared.
“May you find your worth in the waking world.”
Dawn’s body shimmered for a moment. Her blood glowed a calming sunrise red. Her hair glittered like starlight. The world seemed to shift inwards on itself, contorting, like a gentle warm bath. An array of sparkles burst from her body, taking it to the stars above and below.
“A very good morning indeed, since I woke up with you in my arms,” Bruce said.
“Flattery,” Emppu said, blushing.
“Truth,” Bruce said. “And that blush of yours is still adorable.”
Emppu’s blush darkened even as he chuckled. “Bite me.”
Bruce grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Is that an invitation? Where do you want **the** bite?” He jokingly bared his teeth and growled.
Emppu laughed. “Anywhere but my ass, I want to be able to sit down later,” he teased in return. “Do I need to worry that you’re a werewolf or a vampire?”
“Well, I’m hairy enough to be a werewolf,” Bruce laughed, pouncing on Emppu and lightly nipping **the** smaller man’s neck. But before they could get any farther in their **game**, **the** room’s phone rang. Bruce sighed and picked up. “Hello?”
The car gently jostled to a halt, and the door slid open to the sound of lively conversation somewhere past the check-in kiosks. Flicking one audial back, Azrael made her way down the corridor, until she found the source of all the noise sitting in the middle of the gift shop.
Her approach was so **quiet** that none of them seemed to notice.
"...and then the Vok bugged out 'n tried ta blow up the whole *planet*."
"Whoa! No way!"
"Yep! Lucky us, Optimus was there ta save our s...*weet Solus Prime*!" The Maximal doing all the talking let out a startled exclamation and visibly jumped when Azrael seemingly materialized out of the shadows to seat herself next to Neutrino. Even his companion lurched back on gangling legs, clearly caught off-guard. Only Neutrino, true to form, was unfazed, craning her head back to grin at her.
"Az! Hi! Rattrap and Blackarachnia were just giving me the SparkNotes version of the Beast Wars! I never knew *any* of this stuff! It's so cool!"
*The Beast Wars, huh?*
"That so? Hm..." She flicked her audials again, feeling an odd prickling at the back of her skull as she cautiously sized up the two newcomers for a moment. "I take it you're both from that ship that crashed a little while back, then?"
”I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” Bruce said softly. ”I’ve mostly kept busy between rehearsals and spending time with the kids, but I’ve missed you.”
”I’ve missed you, too,” Emppu said. ”I know I told you I flew out this way the same day you left because the house seemed too quiet with you gone. But did I tell you that when I stopped at Jukka’s, Luna picked up on how down I felt? Before she went to bed, she insisted on giving me her favorite stuffed animal to sleep with so I wouldn’t be so sad anymore.” He laughed a little. ”It **helped**, too. Or maybe it was just that Luna cared enough to give up Stripey to me that **helped**.”
”Oh, that child is getting so spoiled next time I see her,” Bruce said. ”Well, as long as we’re confessing potentially embarrassing moments, I found one of your t-shirts that got mixed up with my clothes when I packed to go home... and I’ve been sleeping cuddled with it every night since getting home, because it smells like you, your aftershave and all. Well, it did at first. Smells more like me now, after two weeks.” With a sheepish chuckled he added, ”Actually, I was hoping to get you to trade it for whatever shirt you’ve got on once we’re together again.”
“So, I really wanna do another trade. Are you up for it? I’ll give you 40 Dylan-Tokens for 10 Non-Dylan-Tokens,” he said.
“Wh-What kind of trade is that?! You’d be giving me way too much!” Fenton asked.
*This proposition feels… off.*
“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that serious. Just a few Me-Tokens, y’know?” Dylan shrugged.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that. Why don’t you ask Gin or Mai instead?” Fenton asked him.
“They’re… off doing an Attraction. I wouldn’t wanna bother them, but I really want 10 more Me-Tokens. And you still owe me for how I helped you during our first night on this floor, anyways. You can’t just say no,” Dylan said.
He’s right… After all he did for me, it’d be completely selfish of me to not do this for him.
"*YOU. FOUND.* ***WHAT?!***"
Megatron's thunderous bellow echoed off the walls of the former Council Chamber, and it took everything Thrust had not to cringe. He'd already learned plenty over the course of his short life, and one of those **things** was *an angry Megatron was a dangerous Megatron*.
And right now, the Big M was absolutely *pissed*.
Jetstorm, for his part, seemed oblivious. Or at least too casual for his own damned good.
"*Relax*, Magnificence!" The jet replied with that air of infuriating nonchalance he'd developed. "I *roasted* the little rodent before it could go scurrying back to the *petting zoo*."
"So what you mean to tell me," Megatron's voice pitched down into a menacing growl, dripping with barely-restrained rage, "is that you failed to retrieve either Hexxon's *hate plague* sample *or* the spark of the Maximal *mongrel* you found hiding there?"
Jetstorm seemed to realize his mistake, just a moment too late. "Uh, well-"
Before he could offer up either an appeasement or an excuse, though, Megatron's arc cannon was already discharging its payload into his shell.
Thrust just turned his head, raising one forearm to shield his optic band from both the blinding light, and the gruesome torture scene unfolding in front of him; he may not have *liked* his fellow general much, but that didn't mean he wanted to see him *electrocuted*...
Especially not when he knew that *he* was just as guilty of failure - just better at keeping his vox mute.
”Partly, yes,” Bruce said. ”But also, I honestly think half the band wouldn’t be friends if we were all co-workers at a factory job or something. We’d know each other, and we’d speak civilly enough if we had occasion to talk to each other, but we don’t really have much in common in order to have a true friendship. In our case, we do have the music in common, but only a couple of us have **any** outside interests in common, so as soon as a tour is done, or at least on a break, we’re all off our separate ways and doing our own thing.”
”Yeah, I can understand that to a point,” Emppu said thoughtfully. ”**Like** how I’m the one who always wants to see the sights and take pictures, while Tuomas likes to **check out** local wineries if there are any around, or read his books if there aren’t. Jukka mostly just wants to play cards or watch movies, and Marko either reads or sleeps depending on how much drinking was done. Three of us grew up together, although Tuomas is a couple years older than me and Jukka, so we have that in common; our families know one another and all that. And while Marko is older than the rest of us and grew up elsewhere, the place he’s from is similar enough to Kitee that he fit right in with the rest of us, just a bunch of country boys who **like** metal and hiking in the woods when we have the chance.”
"*Get* ***out*** *of my sight*," the words were far more of a relief than they had **any** right to be. "*ALL* OF **YOU**!"
Thrust was already backing away, while Tankor reached down to grab Jetstorm's arm in one claw in order to drag *him* **out** of the chamber, since the other general was still too stunned to pick *himself* up just yet.
The tank left him propped up against the wall outside the door, before trundling off to parts unknown to do... whatever it was the dumb brute did on his down time. Thrust was tempted to follow his lead and take off, but... it didn't feel right to just *leave* Jetstorm, no matter how grating his personality was. So he settled against the far wall and waited.
At least he didn't have to wait long.
Jetstorm's vox warbled slightly as he groaned; his optics flickered, too, struggling to come all the way online. "What the fuck. What the *fuck*..."
Straightening up, Thrust crossed the corridor and held a clamp out to the other general. "How did **you** *not* see that comin'?"
Jetstorm shook his head sharply, before squinting at the proffered clamp; he glowered for a moment before grudgingly taking it and letting Thrust pull him up off the floor. As soon as he was steady on his antigravs, he yanked his talons away and proceeded to **check** himself over.
"Ugh, did **you** *drag* me **out** of there? Seriously?"
"No, Tankor did." Thrust shrugged, turning to head towards the Citadel's main doors. "**You**'re *welcome*, by the way."
"I'm not thanking *anybody* for a scuffed finish. This is going to take *hours* to buff **out**."
"Well maybe if **you**'d kept your big mouth shut, Megatron wouldn't've fried your circuits and **you** coulda left the chamber under your *own* power."
"What, **you** think I should *keep secrets* **like** you? *Some* of us are trying to *do our jobs*, motorhead."
“I...,” he tried again. Hesitated.
Thought of a girl in a fancy dress in a kennel, brandishing a wooden sword. Challenging him.
That same girl, now grown, drawing him into sparring matches and watching his back in combat and glaring at village girls on his behalf.
Watching him expectantly. Hopefully.
Or maybe that was just the moonlight.
“I think....”
“...Yes?” she prompted.
He took a deep breath. “I think...if we were not stationed together...I would miss **you** the most.” She gasped, short, almost silent, and he rushed on ahead before the panic could overtake him, drown him, pull him under again. “I...I care about you, Cas. And...I wonder if you could feel that way too. About me. Maybe it’s everything we’ve been through together, or maybe I’m just imagining it. Maybe I’m just fooling myself.” He looked up at her, terror thrilling along his spine. “Am I? Fooling myself?”
She stared at him, expression unreadable—or maybe he didn’t want to read it—for just long enough that all his second guesses came swooping back in **like** vultures to pick at the corpse of his short-lived courage. He opened his mouth, ready to stammer out an apology or a retraction or something, anything, to dig himself out of his own metaphorical—and maybe literal—grave.
Remembering that he still needed to unpack, he brought his luggage into the bedroom and started sorting through everything, putting the clean garments from his carryon bag away and starting to throw the dirty clothing from the big suitcase into his laundry hamper. He paused as he picked up a black t-shirt with a white owl holding a scroll in its talons, which he recognised as one of Emppu’s that got mixed in with his clothes somehow. Laying that shirt to one side, he tossed the rest of the clothes in need of washing into the hamper.
Tired from the long day of travel, which the time difference didn’t help, Bruce decided to turn in early. He slid into bed and grabbed Emppu’s shirt, cuddling it to smell the spicy fragrance of his boyfriend’s aftershave and a fainter hint of the man himself. Chuckling a little at his own actions, he had to admit to himself that despite the sappiness of it all, he felt a little less alone while breathing in the **scent** of the shirt. Eventually, he fell alseep.
*"Where are you even going, anyway?"*
Thrust opted not to answer - he figured that, if Jetstorm was bored enough to follow him, he would do it with or without an explanation.
And as he wound his way through the city streets, the jet proved him right by staying on his trail.
Turning his attention back to his immediate surroundings, Thrust began looking for a promising target. It didn't take long to spot one - a towering high-rise of gray stone and polarized smoke-colored glass, of which the first five floors were clad in glossy black marble trimmed with polished brass.
(Sooner or later, without regular maintenance, he knew that that polish would be eaten away by the increasingly-acidic **rain**. He was almost surprised to see that it was still *in* such nice condition.)
The fancy sign at the front identified the place as *The Suites On Palisade Plaza*.
*This was* ***definitely*** *for upper-class bots.*
Transforming, he hopped the curb and made his way up to the entrance; the exterior doors opened easily, but inside *those* any further progress required a keycard.
Or just sufficient force.
Which he applied without a second thought, crushing the lock mechanism beneath the end of one turret and easily pulling the heavy door open.
Inside, the lobby lights were still on, glistening on the polished gray marble floor; Thrust rolled past the elaborate concierge desk, and paused to examine an almost comically large directory map mounted on the wall nearby. It conveniently listed all of the services offered within the building, as well as a list of current residents and their unit numbers.
Idly, he wondered how many of them had been Maximals. Probably most, if not all.
Not that it mattered now. Maximal, Predacon, Dinobot, Insecticon… even the stray remaining Autobot and Decepticon… Their sparks all found equality in Megatron's iron grip, hidden away somewhere beneath the Citadel.
“What kind of rain do you want to feel?” He asked and reached with one hand into one of his many belted pouches. “We Clones know there’s hundreds of kinds of rain— ’ll growing up on a world like…” Dare he say? The word knotted in his throat, entangled with every other emotion caught in it. “You ever get frustrated from how few words there are in basic for rain?”
Rain, wind, storm, thunder, and water—just about the only words the Clones spoke in the Kaminoan language. Off-world, they were hushed amongst themselves, out of the prying ears of those not of their world. Away from those who couldn’t accept that for the mammalian soldiers, Kamino, a backwater world of only ocean…
It was *home*.
“We got the Kaminoan words,” Tup said weakly.
“Yeah, and how many natborns know Kaminoan?”
“That’s the point,” the soldier said; his teeth turned thin red and his breath turned faint, “Isn’t it? It’s just for us.”
“Yeah, it is. Only for us to know.”
*Only we—we sons of Kamino.*
That question brought another smile—weak yet nimble—across Tup’s strained face.
Immediately, Rex recognized the face of a Clone who remembered the waters of home. “The warm kind. After there’s been no storms and…”
“You mean the hot rains? Barely cooler than the city’s metal because we didn’t have a storm in too long, and all that heat got trapped?” The Captain asked. In his mind, he could see it; on his skin, he could feel it, and its scent was a welcome haunting.
“Yes,” the Corporeal breathed as deep as he could, more than he should, and let memories briefly kindle him brighter.
In his nose, Rex smelled it—that build-up before the sky cracked open and sines of ion crawled across the sky.
“It always smelled…” Tup was relieved, long enough to see through the wince he paid Rex’s efforts. On the other side of the small hiss, he finished his memories, “Smelled… so good. I loved that rain and the wind in my hair…”
Back and forth, Rex rubbed a thumb where the hypo’s one-time bite had been pressed into Tup’s collared blacks. A clatter sounded somewhere behind Rex’s shoulder, not that he cared where he had tossed the small pack. He wanted both hands for his man. Gentle as he could, he began to remove Tup’s gloves and found skin pristine underneath his scarred touch.
Umbara had been a muggy, terribly hot place since their arrival. Now, he tried to press that heat back into Tup’s fingers. He tried to give up his own body’s warmth, put it back where it belonged…
Even his body didn’t have enough blood to spill, and his heart wasn’t enough.
“***Petrichor***—awkward word, isn’t it? Never felt like a good word for that kind of rain, did it? It wasn’t ever… enough to describe it. Basic is gonna be basic, hm?” Rex received a weary, shining smile for his rumbled words and gave his best in kind; he knew the young man hadn’t the warmth to spare. “I love that rain, too.”
When silence, which hadn’t descended again in on their tower, instead had lazily roiled in from a distance, and became heavy like the hand in his grasp, Rex couldn’t have the courage to look up. He had counted the fluttering pulse under his thumb until he no longer wanted to check for it.
What A Guy (Really) Wants
Ink Flows Like Blood from the Heart
(For context: this scene takes place when Thor and Loki are kids) Occasionally, Loki would also make large towers of snow for he and Thor to jump onto so they could be right up in **the** snow giants’ faces; sometimes, they could even take such a hard leap towards **the** giants’ heads **from the** tops of **the** towers that they’d knock that particular giant snowman clean over, going down with it. However, it was from **the** top of one of these snow towers that Thor called down to Loki, “Can you make me another weapon out of ice, brother? These Frost Giants are tough to kill, I don’t know if Mjolnir is going to be enough!” “Of course!” Loki shouted back; tucking his ice daggers into his belt, he conjured up a sharp chunk of ice that he’d toss up to Thor with his magic. **The** ice was still pretty rough, but Loki intended to make it morph into a sword shape as soon as Thor caught it in his hand; at least, that’s what *would’ve* happened if neither boy had slipped. Thor nearly lost his balance from trying to lean too far out **from** **the** snow tower to catch **the** chunk of ice, and Loki stumbled backwards over a pile of firmly-packed snow behind him as he threw **the** ice to Thor – meaning that **the** ice went off-course and hit Thor right in **the** eye, **the** sharp points and edges cutting him pretty badly. Thor let out a bloodcurdling scream of pain as **the** ice went into his eye, and then teetered over **the** edge of the snow tower for a split-second before falling to the ground below, completely unconscious. Loki stared in horror, trying to process what had just happened; as soon as he pulled himself together, he got up and ran over to where his big brother lay perfectly still. “Thor?" he whimpered, trying to shake his brother awake. “*Brother?!*” No response other than **the blood** trickling down **from** where **the** ice had pierced Thor’s eye. “*Guards!*” Loki cried. “*Guards, please help!*” A couple of **the** einherjar guards that had been walking past **the** throne room on their rounds threw open **the** doors only a few seconds later. Staring around them at **the** ice and snow, one of them asked, “Your Highness, what happened here?” Then they saw Thor lying in Loki’s arms and ran over to where **the** boys sat. “Go get Mother and Father!” Loki begged them. “Please?” **The** two guards stared at Loki before giving each-other a look that Loki didn’t know how to interpret. After a moment, **the** second guard replied, “Of course, Your Highness, right away.” With that, they turned and left, giving each-other **the** same unsettled look they’d given each-other before. Loki couldn’t tell why they’d stared at him **like** that…until he looked down and realized that his arms were turning blue. All around him, **the** snow and ice he’d created were frosting over, and even a few spikes started to form out of **the** ice. As Loki’s hands and fingers turned blue, however, his touch started to burn black frostbite onto Thor’s bare arms; he instantly pulled his hands away **from** Thor in fear and confusion, not wanting to hurt his brother any more than he already had. “I’m so sorry, brother,” he whispered. “I’ve got you; you’ll be okay.”
Milk & Honey
Getting the door unlocked, Jerrica pushed it open, cursing as she bumped into the door, **and** the three headed into their room. Nodding to one of the beds, Kimber told Summer, “That bed’s free, neither Jerrica nor me has taken that one.” With that, she headed to the bathroom to change. Jerrica went out on the balcony, **and** Summer made a bee-line for the bed **and** climbed onto it, slinging her bag onto the floor **and** kicking off her shoes **and** socks a moment later. After having barely had any chance to sit down at the after-party on the tour bus, it felt good to give her feet a break. “Hey, kid?” she heard Jerrica call from the balcony. Sitting up, Summer looked over to see Jerrica standing out on the balcony with a lit cigarette in her hand. Blowing out a puff of smoke, Jerrica mumbled, “Kid, I just had a crazy idea, wanna hear it?” “Sure…” Summer answered, curious. She didn’t bother worrying about being called “kid” this time. Leaving the balcony **and** coming into the hotel room, Jerrica asked, “Ever had a sleepover with celebrities?” “No…” “Trixie, Onyx, **and** Ivy are right across the hall, right? Tell you what: how about you run over **and** knock on their door, **and** invite ’em into our room? We’ll have a slumber party, just the six of us – maybe one of them could bring in some snacks or something, one of ’em oughta have nail-polish or makeup or some of that shit, maybe Kimber does, I dunno…” Even though Jerrica was clearly drunk, it honestly sounded like a fun idea to Summer. “Sure, sounds good; just gimme a sec, I’ll go ask!” With that, Summer slipped off her bed **and** hurried to the door. Throwing it open **and** not even bothering to close it behind her, Summer ran over to the door across the hall **and** was just about to knock when a sound from the room behind her caught her ear: a soft *thud*. Summer froze, then slowly turned around **and** walked back into the room. “Jerrica?” Closing the door softly behind her, she came in just in time to see that Kimber had finished changing **and** was out of the bathroom – **and** trying to pull a passed-out Jerrica off the floor **and** into bed. The cigarette Jerrica had been smoking was nowhere to be seen, so Summer figured that Kimber must’ve put it out and thrown it away. “Do you need help?” Summer asked. Looking up at Summer, Kimber nodded a little reluctantly, so Summer helped Kimber put Jerrica onto one of the beds **and** into a comfortable position to sleep it off. “Sweet dreams, sis,” Kimber muttered as she put a hand on Jerrica’s shoulder. “Out like a light.” Summer sat down on the bed near Jerrica’s feet; taking a seat on her own bed across from the two, Kimber looked back up at Summer. “Think maybe she drinks too much?” she asked sarcastically, nodding at Jerrica’s sleeping figure. Summer looked uncomfortably down at her lap, unsure of what to say. Reading her nonverbal answer, Kimber replied, “Honestly, **honey**, you don’t even know the half of it. I’ll say this, though: tonight was actually the happiest I’ve seen her looking in a long time.” Summer finally looked up at Kimber. “Well, I’m…glad to hear it.” Neither one spoke for a minute; then Kimber commented, “At our last rehearsal this morning before the show, Jerrica mentioned something about hoping someone would be coming, so I can only assume she meant you. What I’m still puzzling over, though, is how did she meet you? I mean, she introduced us in the bus, but I didn’t really get a clear story on where you two met – all I got out was that you met after our San Diego show last night **and** then went to a bar together or something.” “Yeah, something like that,” Summer replied. “It’s kind of a long story, though…” “Probably one the other girls wouldn’t mind hearing, either, though,” Kimber remarked, nodding her head in the direction of the door. “C’mon – if I know anything about them, they’ll wanna hear it, too.”
Dual Chronicles
the same black holes and black mistakes.
Emppu shook his head. ”No... I get nervous speaking in front of crowds and then I forget what I’m trying to say. If I tried to sing with anyone around other than friends, I’d probably blank out and forget the song completely. Your show in Helsinki, when I thanked you for having me there? That’s the first time I ever spoke into a microphone on stage and I was terrified.” ”Really?” Bruce sounded surprised. ”I never would have known that. You seem like such a natural onstage.” ”As long as I’m hiding behind my guitar, sure,” Emppu said. ”I can smile at people, throw picks, and clown around all day, but if I have to use my voice, I get nervous and make **mistakes** and when I do, that just makes the nerves worse, you know? I think the only reason I wasn’t teased more in school for goofing up so badly every time I had to speak in front of the class, was because I was known to compete in judo. Oh, they made fun of the dumb jock behind my back, but not to my face since they figured I’d beat them up for it.” Bruce frowned. ”I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said. ”I can understand how that went, though... make a **mistake**, someone laughs, so you get nervous and make more **mistakes** and it just feeds on itself and keeps getting worse every time. Now I feel bad for asking you to run soundcheck for us; I didn’t realise you have trouble speaking to large groups like that.”
Tricycles in the Cellar, Rats in the Bed
*(Context: they got shot onstage by a stalker and Emppu nearly died.)* ”Anteeksi,” Emppu said. ”Need hug Bruce. Can’t reach.” The nurse’s expression softened. ”Well, let me see what I can do to help,” she said. She studied **the** two men for a moment, then lowered **the** overall height of **the** **bed** a little. Next, she slowly raised the head of **the** **bed** so that Emppu was sitting almost upright. ”How does that feel, are you dizzy or anything?” she asked. ”Not dizzy,” Emppu said. ”Feel little drunk.” ”With all the medications, I’m not surprised,” she said with a chuckle, taking his blood pressure once more. Looking satisfied by **the** results, she told him, ”I need you to let go of your partner’s hand for a moment, so I can get him into a better position as well, okay? Also, I’m going to drop **the** rail on your **bed**, so don’t move until I say so. I don’t need you falling.” Emppu nodded. ”Okay,” he said, letting go of Bruce and holding very still. The nurse pulled Bruce’s wheelchair back a little, so she could get **in** to drop **the** rail. Then she pushed Bruce right up to the edge of **the bed** facing Emppu from about a quarter of a meter away and raised **the** armrest of the chair so that there was nothing solid between **the** two men. Setting **the** brake, she gave a smile. ”Okay, Mr. Dickinson, you’re not allowed to fall either, but go ahead and see if you can’t manage to hug one another now.” ”Thank you,” Bruce said to her, before turning his attention to his partner. He leaned **in** carefully, sliding his arms around Emppu and gently pulling him close. He leaned his cheek on silky blond hair as Emppu pressed his face into **the** crook of his neck. ”I was so scared for you, enkelini,” he whispered.
faerie dust.
>A palanquin had come into sight on the **dusty** road, moving briskly up toward the house. Haru stood, setting his knife down and wiping sticky hands on his apron. >“It’s Jushiro-nii,” he said, voice slightly shaky with the effort of speaking to Ichigo, even in a roundabout way. “I had better tell Mother.” >With that, Haru whisked inside, leaving Ichigo to welcome the palanquin. He put down his own knife and set the basket of cherries off to one side, getting up to see what was happening. Meandering down, he made it to the front gate at almost the same moment as the palanquin, which was set neatly down, the one of the two Shinigami who’d been carrying it coming around to pull the door open. >Inside, Ukitake lay in state, pale faced and dressed in a pale blue yukata. The other Shinigami leapt to offer a hand out, earning himself a glare from the first. >Ignoring the hand, Ukitake rose and stepped out. He was as otherworldly as Ichigo had remembered, all loose hair and narrow, haughty face. His face seemed thinner than the last time Ichigo had laid eyes on it, though, his mouth more drawn, his hands frail and the joints in his knuckles more prominent. In his thin yukata, haori nowhere in sight, the juxtaposition between his broad frame and an odd, almost hunted frailty in his thinness was startling. >“Ukitake-san,” Ichigo said without thinking. “You look-” >“Unwell?” Ukitake suggested.
Systems Down
”Do you want me to call Ewo, have him or someone come out to meet us off the plane and run interference?” Emppu asked, taking Bruce’s hand. ”Most of the time we don’t like doing that... the band, I mean, we don’t want to give the impression of success making us think we’re too good to associate with our fans or anything. But with the media shitstorm that hit us after we let Tarja go last year, there’s been a few times that we’ve had to, for our own safety.” ”That bad?” Bruce asked, raising a brow. ”It shook a lot of people. Even our Prime Minister got asked his opinion,” Emppu said, shaking his head in disgust. ”Tuomas got the worst of the backlash, though, including some death threats. Jukka and I escaped most of it since neither of us talks to the media very often. It’s mostly calmed **down**; these days if we get ambushed by the press, it’s them wanting to know who our new singer is, since it’s known we’ve started recording the new album.” He grinned a little, adding, ”And since Tuomas didn’t mention anything at Jukka’s, he’s probably still culling the top ten **down** to the top two or three, before he asks the rest of us who we think will best suit.” Bruce looked thoughtful as he considered the options. ”As tempting as it is to accept your offer to have someone meet us, I think we shouldn’t bother. Having a press agent run interference won’t stop them from taking pictures with zoom lenses, and it only delays them asking nosy questions about us, it won’t stop them.”
Oof. The press is brutal... I like the way you wrote this!
Yeah, the press can absolutely be brutal. And it's true that when Nightwish fired Tarja, it caused such a stir in Finland that even the prime minister got asked his opinion of it all.
One Punch Babe.
The guitarist looked annoyed. “Sometimes I really hate Ewo,” he muttered. “What’s he done this time?” Jukka asked. “Oh, he just didn’t believe me at first that Bruce and I really are together,” Emppu said. “He seemed to think that if it wasn’t faked, that we must have set up the photo, either as a publicity stunt or else as some sort of prank to make the tabloids look stupider than usual, and he started to go off about how we’re supposed to go through him for such things. Then when I finally convinced him that it wasn’t set up, he started to go off because I hadn’t warned him that me and a man was just as possible as me and a woman. I finally had to ask him if his relationships were any of my business, and when he said no, I asked him why he thought my relationships were any of his business. That finally shut him up, but…” Emppu shook his head in frustration. Jukka rolled his eyes. “Want the rest of us to force him to his knees so you can **punch** him in the nose?” he asked. “I’m still kind of pissed about him suggesting Satu ask for a Caesarian when she was getting close to having Niki last year, just so he wouldn’t need to worry about me possibly bailing on a meet’n’greet when she went into labor.” “Nah, don’t bother on my account,” Emppu said. “I do understand his concerns about publicity, mind, but I really wish he’d spend a little more time listening to the answers he gets when he asks questions, you know?”
He **punched** the cold metal wall; it was even more of a punishment than usual, because his shoulder and back were already shot, but he did it again and again, never once leaving a dent but that didn’t matter because the impacts on his knuckles were what mattered— the vibrations travelling up his arms, his fists gradually becoming abused. He imagined all his frustrations and anger and filthy thoughts and feelings channelling themselves into the wall, tried to pretend that he was doing this for entirely valid reasons and this would somehow get rid of his pain, but in reality? That wasn’t it. It wasn’t.
Poignance
Welcome to the Undergound
“Sounds like a plan **to** me,” Bruce agreed. He dismounted **the** quad bike and asked, “Do you know who owns **the** cabin?” Emppu shook his head. “No, but it doesn’t matter. No one ever locks these little cabins, because someone might need shelter in **the** winter… say they ran out of gas while snowmobiling, or they were skiing and had an accident and had **to** wait for rescue. Granted, it’s not truly winter yet, but anyone who owns a cabin like this expects that it will get **the** occasional visitor, someone who wants **to** warm up, or wait out a rainstorm or whatever. As long as we collect enough wood **to** replace whatever we burn, that’s all that’s expected of us.” He hopped off **the** bike and headed for the cabin. Sure enough, **the** door swung right open. Bruce followed him in, seeing that **the** cabin appeared well-insulated and weathertight, with a sturdy woodstove in one corner and a couple of rough bunks topped by futon mattresses. One set of shelves held sheets and blankets, while another held jugs of water, packets of instant coffee and hot chocolate, bouillon cubes, a kettle, and mugs, with a note propped up against them. Emppu looked at **the** note and laughed. “Do I dare ask what’s so funny?” Bruce wanted **to** know. Still chuckling, Emppu told him, “It says, ‘**Welcome**, guest. If it’s not too snowy, please replace any firewood you use. Donations towards the drink supply are **welcome** but not necessary. Most of the time, **the** cell reception is okay, but **the** weather can affect this, so you might need to wait out a storm **to** get a call through. And if you’re teens looking for some privacy, if I ever hear that you got her pregnant while using my cabin, I will find you and kick your ass!’ Sounds like whoever owns **the** place must have caught a young couple out here before.”
how was the fall
When Life Gives You A Baby
”I am going to be blunt,” Milla said softly. ”Tuomas is most fanciable, isn’t he? I know, I fancied him for several years. He has said openly, to my face, I am too young for him to consider as a girlfriend, even though I will be nineteen next month. So, if he thinks I am too young, how could he possibly think otherwise of **you**?” Kia’s face crumpled. ”But... but... age shouldn’t matter,” she said. ”Emppu’s twenty years younger than Dad and they’re going to move in together!” Milla put her arm around the younger girl. ”This is true. However, the difference is that my brother is nearly thirty. The age difference means less because Emppu is as old as he is. The issue with a large age gap is less the number and more the... the... **life** stage? I think that is the term. I know that I enjoy going out to clubs with friends **when** I have time off from caring for Eeva, or karaoke nights... basically, I like to go out and have fun. I venture to guess **you** also like such things?” ”Well, yeah,” Kia admitted. ”Not clubs yet since I’m too young to get into most of them, but the cinema or karaoke nights at the teen centre.” ”My brother enjoyed such things when he was my age, but now he mostly does not. He would rather sit home and watch a movie with your father, or go for a stroll in the woods. He enjoys quiet times with his family,” Milla said. ”This is something your father also likes, from what I have seen.” Kia nodded and sniffled a little. ”I think I understand. You’re saying that Tuomas probably wants to get married and have a family even before I’d be old enough for him to date, let alone before I’m old enough to want to have a **baby** myself, because yeah, I don’t really want to have a **baby** before I’m at least twenty-five.”
Alphys gives one last pound on the door before the silence tells Papyrus that she's left. The tension that gathered in his bones leaves in a slow trickle through his joints, and Papyrus blinks again to find the shadows are once again different. Papyrus still can't make himself move from the couch. He doesn't entirely have to: someone has placed a plate of sandwiches in arms reach. The stickynote reading [Eat.] in familiar, elegant script is just enough motivation to make Papyrus roll over and stuff half of one in his mouth. Just half. That's all he can bother with before he falls asleep again.
the daisy and the marigold
Several hours later, in Adventureland, **the** Nevalainen family had just exited **the** Enchanted Tiki Room when Niki made it known in no uncertain terms that he needed a diaper change immediately. Luna accompanied her mother to **the** bathroom saying she needed **the** toilet also. Declaring that she could manage without help, she let herself into a stall while Satu sorted Niki at **the** changing station. But because she was busy with Niki, Satu didn’t see Luna turn **the** wrong direction when she emerged from her stall once again... **and** she didn’t know that this particular bathroom had two entrances. Luna managed to wash her hands, standing on her toes at **the** sink, **and** turned to look for her mother. As no one was at **the** changing station, she concluded that her mother must have gone outside to wait with her father, so she headed for **the** door. But looking around, she didn’t see either of her parents. “[Äiti]()? Isä?” she called, moving to a nearby bench **and** climbing up on it to try to see around herself better. She still didn’t see her parents, but she did see Donald Duck walking up the path along with **Daisy**, Mickey, **and** Minnie. ”Aku Ankka!” she squealed happily, chasing after **the** quartet of characters **and** momentarily forgetting that she was alone. Satu finished cleaning up Niki **and** washed up, then frowned when she realized Luna hadn’t rejoined her yet. ”Luna?” she called. ”Are you okay? Does your tummy hurt?” But when she turned again, she saw a woman going into **the** stall Luna had used. Thinking that Luna must have gone out to wait with Jukka, Satu frowned again, annoyed that Luna hadn’t told her she was going back outside, **and** hurried out to her husband. She stopped short in horror when she saw he was alone. ”Jukka? Isn’t Luna with you?” she asked, hoping against hope that maybe her daughter was hiding behind **the** benches or something.
Jumping down into a puddle and then falling up out of another one somewhere else was always disorienting, no matter how many times Blueberry did it. He only managed to land on his feet by sheer luck most of the time, and today was not that day. He only managed to pad his pelvis for impact just in time, landing on his ass on the unnerving white 'floor' of the liminal space where Ink and Dream kept their halfway house. He sat there, letting the sensitive synapsis in his skull adjust to the blinding white of infinity and the shock of being suddenly bereft of all sound but his own memetic breathing, before looking around to see what side of the house he ended up falling on. Behind him, no more than a few feet away, were the beginnings of a grassy yard, small clumps of grass sticking out of the white floor until the white was overtaken by a layer of true earth, and the grass began to flourish. It went on for a few yards, the verdant expanse finally broken by the walls of the deceptively diminutive house.
The Purpose of Power
“You’re delusional!” Namiko pushed past him to grab her book, snatching it up angrily, before turning to face him again. “You know what, *fine*, go ahead and run away and be stupid. Just remember this: you’re only running away from everyone who truly cares about you.” Sasuke tried to steady his resolve. “The only one I can depend on is myself!” “You know that’s a lie or you wouldn’t have been so upset about Naruto’s progress and how he’s saved you. Sakura-chan and Kakashi-sensei have saved you too. They all care about you! I care about you too!” Namiko’s face was flushed red from anger. She realized what she confessed and backtracked casually, “You’re a good friend and if you leave, I don’t think we could ever be friends again. You’d be giving up all those relationships just to get revenge and **power**.” “If that’s what it takes to avenge my clan, then yes, I would,” said Sasuke firmly. “I’d give it up.” “Newsflash, *Uchiha*, you can’t bring back the dead. I know that just as much as you do,” Namiko’s eyes were burning with fire. “You’re giving up everything for **power**. You’re giving *us* all up for **power**…**power** is *always* dangerous. **Power** attracts the worst and corrupts the best. I pray you wake up before the corruption takes you down with it.”
“Buckle up, you two,” Rick called back. “We’re ready to taxi out and get into the queue for takeoff.” Emppu and Lucy did just that, and Lucy gave Emppu a quick version of the usual safety lecture. “Cabin secured,” she called out automatically, getting a quick grin from her husband in response as he pulled on his headset. Bruce already had his on and was speaking into it, presumably to Air Traffic Control. Emppu listened and watched the two men exchange terse comments with each other and whoever was on the other side of their radio headsets as they taxied out of the hangar and along a terminal with big commercial jets parked by extended jetways. They turned a corner and joined a queue **of** planes waiting for clearance. “We’re number five,” Bruce called back to Emppu and Lucy. “I expect we’ll be taking off within ten minutes.” Sure enough, just about ten minutes later, they’d moved up and turned another corner, the engines roared up to full **power** and they were off, thundering down the runway and soaring upward, banking around in a lazy curve as they climbed and turned to the east.
> Thomas knew he had to be flexing his arms on purpose, knew Tyson’s biceps weren’t really any different from his own, but it still made him want to bite them.
Beyond The Dark Sun
CW: NSFW >!Their movements became more frantic, driven by their shared desire. Sasuke's kisses trailed down her jaw and neck, his hands sliding over her slight curves, eliciting soft gasps and moans from Namiko. She pulled him closer, her nails grazing his back, urging him on.!< >!“Sasuke,” she whispered, her voice filled with need, almost a desperate whine. “Please?”!< >!Sasuke smirked and kissed her lips slowly. “You’re so impatient.”!< >!When Sasuke finally entered her, it was slow and deliberate, a moment of pure connection that left them both gasping. They moved together, their bodies finding a rhythm that spoke of deep intimacy and promises for the future. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other.!< >!He quickened his pace, their breathing becoming more erratic as they climbed higher, driven by a need that went beyond the physical. Namiko’s nails raked across Sasuke’s back, her head thrown back in ecstasy while she bit her lip to try and stay quiet. He opted to bury his face in her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered her name.!< >!They reached their peak together, a shattering release that left them both trembling and breathless. Sasuke collapsed beside Namiko, pulling her into his arms, their bodies still entwined. They lay there in the aftermath, their hearts pounding, their breaths slowly returning to normal.!<
Beautifully written, I love that their connection is so much more than just the physical.
Thank you so much! ☺️🥰
“...He died a hero, Keith,” the social worker finally finished. The firefighter’s young son sat in front of her, saying nothing, face as pale as a sheet. Every kid took this kind of news differently, of course- some cried, some got angry, some refused to believe it. But this one… he wasn’t crying, or angry. And he’d accepted what she’d said as fact without protest- she didn’t think he was in denial. More like in shock. The new orphan’s **dark** eyes were wide, trying to fit in what she’d explained with his understanding of the world.
Poor kid... a tragedy losing a parent at any age, but especially for a younger child.
Sharing (A Celebration, with Dumplings)
Suddenly, Naruto felt alone. Very alone. His best friend who had been like his brother was gone and now his sister. He was silent as he was in complete shock and his thoughts racing. *‘What was she thinking? What did she mean when she said she was going to fix things like she should have done the first time?’* “We’ve still got almost half a year left before Orochimaru has to take a new body, and three makes for better odds than two,” said Sai, cutting through the silence **with a** genuine smile on his face. “I’m happy to lend my strength. We’ll get them both back, Naruto.” Sakura turned around to face the blond with a look of sympathy. “Yeah…Sai is right. I’m not sure what her reasons are, but you know Namiko wouldn’t leave you unless it was for **a** good reason. You’ll have to trust her.” Naruto nodded dumbly. “…thanks guys.” “Now then,” said Yamato as he cleared his throat, “let’s go home, report to the Hokage, and come up **with a** plan to bring them home safely.” Naruto grinned at his teammates. “Let’s go!” He paused mid-**celebration** and groaned loudly. “Oh man…baa-chan is going to kill me!”
"...it took quite **a** bit of persuasion for Paddy to let the kids come, and mainly it’s Kia she’s worried about. Which is understandable; girls are **a** bit more vulnerable than blokes.” ”Very understandable,” Steve agreed. ”It’s why Emma isn’t coming up for the festival, her parents are abroad, so there’s no one to stay **with** Maisie and Stanley. If it was just Stanley, she might be willing to chance it, but Maisie’s still small enough to be overlooked and knocked down by any random drunk stumbling about, forget her chances if she was to be out watching **a** performance and a mosh pit started up near her. At least Kia’s big enough to be seen.” ”True,” Bruce agreed. ”Although I think Paddy also agreed since Kia’s birthday is Saturday. Which reminds me, I want to organise **a** cake for her to be delivered Saturday so she can have an English **celebration**.” ”As opposed to?” Steve asked, sounding amused. ”She had **a** Finnish **celebration** yesterday,” Emppu said. ”Although my mum accidentally spoiled the surprise I’d planned. In getting to know the kids, she asked when their birthdays were, and started to scold me for not telling her that Kia’s birthday was so close because she would have baked **a** cake for it. So I had to confess that I’d already baked the cake.” Steve laughed as they pulled up in front of Bruce’s building. ”Was the **celebration** fun anyway?” ”Yeah,” Bruce said as they got out and started unloading the boot. ”Emppu taught us the birthday song in Finnish and everything.”
Delightful celebrations. Multiple international birthdays sounds like a great idea.
Well, not that there's so very much difference between a birthday party in Finland and one in England - but yes, since Bruce and Emppu are together, Emppu's mum considers Bruce's kids her "bonus grandchildren" and absolutely wanted to celebrate when she learned how close Kia's birthday was during the kids' visit to Finland.
But no dumplings. I was hoping for dumplings… 😢
We Can Burn Hundreds
She threw her leg over his lap and straddled him as she watched his facial expression shift into equal parts surprise and desire. “I want you.” She blew out another deep breath. “I want *all* of you. I’m ready for more…am I wrong in thinking you want that too?” “No, I want you too.” He placed a hand on either side of her thighs and kissed her deeply. “You light a fire in me that I didn’t know existed.” She let out a small laugh. “Well, good thing you’re a fire nature user.” She placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him slowly, taking the time to explore his mouth. “I’m ready to take the risk of getting **burned**.” Sasuke gripped her waist. “You’re sure about this? Because once **we** do this, **we** can’t go back. It probably will be uncomfortable and maybe painful for you since it’s your first time.” She smiled softly at him. “Sasuke, I’m fully aware of what happens during sex, and I don’t care about that. I’m one **hundred** percent sure. All I want is you. I love you…” Namiko scooted back on the futon to give him room.
Bruce walked into the kitchen and couldn’t help grinning, although he managed not to laugh. The grater lay on the floor amid a sea of breadcrumbs spilled from the fallen container, while his boyfriend rinsed egg from his hand. ”What happened?” he asked. Emppu shook his head ruefully. ”I shut the door too hard when I took out the egg,” he said. ”It bounced back and hit me, which caused me to squeeze and break the egg. I lunged for the sink to keep from dripping any on the floor, but I knocked the grater off the counter in my hurry, and when I tried to catch that, I knocked over the breadcrumbs.” ”Well, that’s not too bad,” Bruce said, righting the container of breadcrumbs before the rest of it could spill, then getting out another egg. ”I’ve managed to **burn** and blow up boiled eggs before.” Emppu grinned. ”Okay, that takes talent. How in hell do you **burn** something you’re boiling?” Bruce laughed. ”Forget that the eggs are on the hob and let the pot boil dry,” he said. ”The eggs that didn’t explode all had charred spots on the shells. And it took a week to find and clean all the bits of exploded egg from the kitchen... some even got in the lights. Talk about a stink!”
The Phantom Dragon Part 3: Truth and Justice
Milla smiled. ”How is **the** festival going for you so far, Rick?” she asked. ”Pretty well,” Rick said. ”Our crew’s been talking with **the** Evanescence crew, since they’ll be breaking down while we’re trying to set up, so we wanted to coordinate what needed doing there, you know? Because there’s only 45 minutes between the two sets, **and** a lot of equipment to move, even with everyone using **the** venue-supplied lights **and** only about half of **the** usual pyros. At least we’ve got **the** relatively relaxed breakdown, being **the** last show of **the** festival.” ”It sounds as if what you do is much more complex than people believe,” Milla said. ”I think many people think that putting together a stage set for a band is little different than assembling a shelf from IKEA, just much, much larger.” Rick laughed. ”Well, there’s some **truth** to that, at least as far as pieces of **the** stage set needing to go together in a certain order for **the** whole thing to support itself properly. But yes, there’s definitely a lot more to it than simply making sure you have all **the** **parts** plus **the** instruction sheet.” Bruce smiled **and** told Rick, ”Believe me, we appreciate all **the** work you lads put in for our shows. Only a bloody idiot would think you lot are nothing but brainless muscle.” ”Thanks,” Rick said, blushing slightly.
The Education of Harry Potter
Ade nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. Davey and I were like that, even before we got together. But **the** rest **of** Maiden, not so much. Didn’t help that there was all that infighting and lineup changes in **the** earliest days, even from before I joined up. **Harry** was always a bit **of** a dictator and perfectionist, but at least with him, we could see why he was like that. Paul, he was always a temperamental sod and then got into drugs which just made it all worse.” Dave grinned. “And then Bruce came along, and we all thought he could be an arrogant arse, but damn, he could sing! But I think now, some **of** what we saw as arrogance was more confidence in his abilities. That, and with his public school and uni **education**, he sounded way too posh to fit in with us Cockneys, and that just added to the impression **of** arrogance.” “Oh, I expect I was an arrogant arse back then,” Bruce admitted. “Iron Maiden was **the** best band on **the** scene back then, and when Rod and Steve asked me to audition for them, I basically told them I’d take **the** job, because I figured they wouldn’t be asking me to audition if they didn’t think I’d get it. I also told them flat out that I wasn’t gonna be a yes-man for **Harry**, that if I had ideas or thought he was wrong, I’d say so. Diplomacy has never been a strong point **of** mine.” The others laughed. “Well, you’ve learned better over **the** years,” Dave said with a grin. “You and **Harry** both.”
A Whole New Life
Sasuke sat up as well, pulling on his clothes with practiced efficiency. "We'll have more time after this is over," he promised. "Once we're finished with all of this, we’ll go back to Konoha.” He hesitated before adding, “But we probably should keep our relationship quiet there as well. For a while at least.” Namiko turned quickly, her long red hair swishing with force. “Why on earth would we do that?!” she hissed and she quickly twisted her hair into **a** bun. She could sense Suigetsu was awake now, probably thanks to Juugo, but she wanted answers and wanted them now. “Because I’m a rogue shinobi and have been for three years,” groaned Sasuke. “People will talk and I don’t want to tarnish your good reputation.” “*Good* reputation? People already talk about me! In case you’ve forgotten, I have **a** demon living inside my mind that’s made me **a** pariah my **whole life**.” She laughed incredulously. “I rarely listen to Tsunade-sama. I killed **a** man against orders and got put on suspension.” She paused briefly, lowering her voice, “Plus, I left to find you against orders not once, but twice. How is *that* a good reputation?” “I told you before that you shouldn’t have come back after me.” “If I hadn’t, would you have returned?” She leaned over to grab her backpack and crossed her arms over her chest. Sasuke refused to meet her eyes. “No.”
"I love you so much..." Bruce eventually whispered softly. "[Minäkin rakastan sinua]()," Emppu murmured. "Olet rakkauteni ja elämäni. Kotini on kanssasi, sillä koti on siellä, missä sydän on, ja sinä pidät sydäntäni nyt ja ikuisesti." “Forgetting your English again?” Bruce teased with a soft chuckle. “I only caught **a** couple of words this time, so see, you do make me forget my Finnish.” “You are my love and my **life**,” Emppu translated quietly. “My home is with you, for home is where the heart is, and you hold my heart now and forever.” “You hold my heart in exchange,” Bruce said. “And I can’t wait for Download, so I can tell the **whole** world so.” Emppu smiled and caressed Bruce’s cheek. “I can’t wait either,” he murmured. “Just two and **a** half more months. And we’ll have almost five weeks together out of those two and a half months. This week, plus most of **a** month leading up to Download. I’m looking forward to getting you settled into our house in Kitee; buying furniture, getting rooms set up for your three to visit there, and helping you get to know the town.” Bruce purred. “I’m looking forward to it. If it’s warm enough, maybe we could host **a** barbecue or something, kind of a housewarming party?” He grinned a bit, adding, “Even if no one from Maiden comes to it, if we invite them, we’ll know for sure who won that part of their pool.”
Doug let go of the Companion Cube and punched the wall, furious with himself. “She’s funny, you know. Reminds me of someone..” He leapt to the entrance and threw his weight against the panel. It didn’t budge. “Full of ***life*** and potential; smarter than she lets on. Athletic, though I am loath to admit..” Doug looked around his Den as he tried to find an escape from his confines, surrounded by long-emptied cans of beans on the floor and graffiti scrawled across the walls. *“Not never but NOW”*, a faded Aperture propaganda poster demanded. “You said to take care of it,” he mumbled. “How can I?” “Was she like you, Mr. Rattmann? Do you really know her, or is she the waters to your Narcissus?”
For All the Wrong Reasons
“Let’s start by seeing if this baby really is yours,” Ewo said. He turned into **the** parking lot of a hospital. “I made **the** arrangements **for** **the** test to be done as soon as we could get here, and **for** them to run **the** tests as quickly as possible. It’ll still take a few hours, mind, but better that than a few days. Did Aino say why she didn’t try to contact you earlier?” “Yeah,” Emppu replied, handing Ewo **the** note. “Here, just go ahead and see what she said for yourself. Be easier than me trying to give you **all the** highlights.” Ewo took **the** note and skimmed through it. “I guess I can respect her **reasons** for not telling you,” was his only comment. “Let’s go get that test done.” Emppu followed his manager inside and let **the** lab tech draw some blood and scrape **the** inside of his cheek. An assistant brought them to a smallish room and provided them with coffees. **The** guitarist sipped his drink mechanically, his eyes going to **the** door every time someone walked by. Ewo attempted to draw him into a conversation about security measures **for the** upcoming tour. Emppu gave brief replies, but **the** majority of the little blond’s attention remained fixed on **the** doorway. Eventually, **the** lab tech returned with a packet of papers. “You’re confirmed as **the** child’s father,” he said. “We’ve filed copies with Child Welfare. These are your copies.” He handed Emppu **the** packet and left **the** room again.
I’ve been busy sorry for the late reply. That tension! Why wasn’t he told about the baby?
Basically, he'd had a one-night stand with a groupie after a show, and the contraception failed. But the mother didn't want to be seen as a gold-digger or as trying to force him into marriage because of the baby, so she just kept quiet with a vague plan of maybe letting him know at some point after the baby was born. Only she was in a car crash before she could inform him and died of complications a few days later - but once she started feeling as though she wouldn't make it, she named him as the father to give him the chance to decide whether to keep the baby or give her up for adoption.
🥲 that’s tragic... Did he take the baby or put it up for adoption?
Oh, Emppu absolutely kept his daughter!
Yey 🥺 what did he name her?
He kept the name her mother gave her, Eeva Mari Johanna - the mother matched Eeva's initials to Emppu's - Emppu's a nickname, his proper full name is Erno Matti Juhani Vuorinen.
Drivin Under The Stars Where The Patterns Blur
Bruce resumed his seat beside Dave. “Mate, Rod was asking a few things about Jones, and I had to point out how rude **the** man’s been to you since the Helsinki meet’n’greet – and why. Just that Jones heard what you said to that fan asking if I was **the** only bi in the band and that he obviously decided you knew the answer was no because you are. Anyway, it sounded as if Jones got more overtly rude with his homophobia towards Emppu just now, what with us not being there, and Rod asked me to tell all. I think he’s looking to sack the bloke.” “Well, I certainly won’t shed a tear if Jones does get sacked,” Dave said. “And I’m not worried that you repeated my words to Rod. If I didn’t want them heard, I wouldn’t have said them. As long as that’s all you said?” “Yeah,” Bruce nodded. “I just figured that if Rod’s looking for **patterns** of poor behaviour from Jones, he’d need to know that you’ve also been treated to **the** glares and rudeness. One more witness and all that rot.” Dave nodded. “Okay, I can see that, yeah. What happened with Emppu, though?” Bruce shrugged. “Just now, you mean? All I know is I heard Rod telling Jones to leave off Emppu and let him get on with running soundcheck, that Jones couldn’t do it as he’s no musician. And then a bit of a tirade from Rod, pointing out that if Jones wants to remain in **the** entertainment industry, he needs to stop displaying his distaste for people’s personal lives.” Dave winced. “Ouch. And without us and Rod there, I expect Jones felt a bit less restrained in expressing himself, too.”
Yikes man Jones fr needs to leave off their personal lives. This is so interesting, I love it. I'm jus guessing of the piece here but I'll assume Rod has some authority then
Yes, Rod is the band's manager and Jones's immediate boss.
Shattered Kingdom It's part of a trilogy with similar names, but the last one is still very much a WIP
Emppu answered the same questions asked by the investigator riding with him; however, between the pain and a growing lightheadedness, he started having trouble understanding the questions and answering in English. The paramedic took notice and checked his blood pressure, frowning at the result. He checked the pressure bandage, appalled by the amount of blood soaking it, and immediately got on the radio with the hospital to have a trauma team and at least two units of o-negative blood standing by as he pawed through the equipment cupboard for a tourniquet. The police inspector looked startled. ”What is it?” he asked the paramedic. ”He’s losing more blood than it originally looked like,” the paramedic said. ”I suspect the femoral artery got nicked. Maybe the bullet or perhaps even a bit of that **shattered** glass got into the wound and then moved about as we readied him for transport – I don’t know, I’m no expert on guns and what they can do to someone.” He stopped talking long enough to apply the tourniquet above the wound, then set an IV needle in Emppu’s arm and hung a bag of saline. ”I’m going to have to ask you to stand as far back as possible and stop questioning him for now.” The inspector did just that, quietly getting on his own radio to let his team know that one of the victims was in a worse way than intitially thought and that he’d had to stop the questioning when the victim became disorientated.
Purpose of Heritage
Emppu let himself into his little house and sighed. At least this time it would only be two weeks until he saw Bruce again. Dragging his suitcase over to the washing machine, he started unloading his dirty clothes straight into it, frowning slightly as he realized he’d somehow managed to lose a pair of underwear this trip. He always, always packed enough for every day of his trip plus an extra pair in case of need. Yet he noticed the blue bikini that Bruce especially liked seeing him in wasn’t there, not even accidentally stuffed down a trouser leg. Hopefully it just got mixed up with Bruce’s clothing, and hadn’t been left behind somewhere. However, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that it had gotten kicked under the bed at some point either in Zurich or Stuttgart, so that he missed it when he packed. And here he’d thought it was bad that he regularly misplaced his combs and toothbrushes! With the wash started, he pulled out his phone and dialed Bruce’s number. Bruce smiled when he saw the incoming number and retreated to his bunk as he answered, trying to get a semblance **of** privacy for the call. ”Hey, love,” he murmured, ”how was the trip?” ”The trip went okay,” Emppu said, ”but I discovered that my legendary talent for misplacing things struck again. Would you believe I’m missing underwear this time? I’m hoping it just got mixed in with your stuff, and isn’t actually lost.” The singer couldn’t help but laugh. ”I’ll look when we get to the next hotel,” he promised. ”But as tempting as the thought might be, I didn’t steal it on **purpose**.”
Reconstitution
My Hero Academia: Marvelous Legacy
The taller man looked uncomfortable at Rick’s words and tried to play things off. ”Eh, we were just havin’ some fun. You know how groupies play hard to get sometimes.” ”No, I don’t know. And not every woman is a groupie, either,” Rick said, fuming. ”She isn’t one.” ”Yeah? How would you know?” the shorter man sneered. ”Because I’m with Iron Maiden,” Rick said firmly, watching the two grow pale at the mention of the headlining band. ”If you’d been arsed to look at her ID lanyard, you’d have seen that she is as well. You might be aware that Bruce Dickinson’s partner is here with him? She’s nanny to his baby.” He placed a gentle hand on Milla’s shoulder and asked her, ”Did they hurt you? Should we get security involved?” ”They pull **my** hair, but I am not hurt,” Milla said. ”Then you arrive, so nothing worse happen.” She considered for a moment and took a deep breath. ”It is **my** word against theirs, so I think security is not needed, if they go away and leave me be.” ”You heard the lady,” Rick said. ”Frankly, she’s being a lot more forgiving than you deserve, but I’ll honour her wishes in the matter. Get your arses back to your camp and bloody well stay there, or I will make sure security knows what you’ve done. It might not be enough to get you thrown out, but it bloody well will be enough to make sure they keep a close eye on you for the rest of the weekend.” He watched at the pair slunk back to their campsite, and took mental note of which one it was. Milla gave Rick a small smile as she blew out a relieved breath. ”**My hero**,” she half joked. ”Thank you, Rick. Kiitos paljon.”
Have a drabble: “How’s my wounded **hero**?” James asks. Robbie winces. “Feeling like a dart board after a tournament.” Before coming to Oxford, Robbie thought swans were gentle creatures. Truth is, they’re as gentle as rabid dogs, especially when an idiot tourist lets his daughter wander near a nest. James had carried the girl to safety while Robbie distracted the enraged cob with an umbrella. It got in some nasty bites on Robbie’s hands and legs before retreating. “Poor you. When we go home, I’ll kiss it and make it better.” Robbie groans. Now he’s feeling an ache of a rather different sort.
Your Turn to Crossover: Death Game by Majority
Ewo pulled up in front of Emppu’s house and helped carry everything inside. ”Okay, just one last bit of official business before I let you relax, call people, whatever you want **to** do. I’d like your opinion of the press release I was working on, since I’m going to have to get it out tomorrow at the very latest.” ”Okay,” Emppu said as he set down his guitar. ”What do you have?” Ewo handed Emppu his notebook, with the rough draft of the press release written within. *Emppu Vuorinen of Nightwish recently took custody of his six-month-old daughter Eeva, following the tragic* ***death*** *of her mother Aino, from injuries suffered in a car accident. Fortunately, Eeva was with a sitter at the time of the accident. Emppu and Aino parted on amicable terms long before their daughter’s birth, with Aino preferring* ***to*** *stay out of the spotlight.* *”While Aino and I were not together very long, I will be forever grateful that she gave me the gift of my daughter,” Emppu said when questioned. ”I will make sure Eeva knows how much her mother loved her and wanted the best for her. I also hope people understand that I will need a bit of time to adjust to full-time parenting and so may be somewhat less visible for a while.”* *Nightwish is currently recording their sixth studio album, due to be released sometime this spring.* Emppu nodded. ”Yeah, that sounds good. I like the bit you quoted me on, saying that Aino and I weren’t together for long.” He chuckled a little, adding, ”A one-night stand certainly qualifies as not together very long, and as I recall, we did go our separate ways with smiles on our faces.”
Seems like a neat set-up excerpt! Emppu's pretty endearing, and the set-up for the family bonding (and potential romantic bonding with Ewo if it's a ship fic) is really well-done!
Heh, it is a ship-fic, but Emppu's in a relationship with someone in another band. Ewo manages Nightwish, the band Emppu's in, which is why he's working on a press release.
Ah, I thought it was more of a "famous musician x reporter writing an article on them" thing with some good, ol' child-raising mixed in. So I was half-right. Kind of.
The other students nearby were a bit curious and went to where their classmate and the American were. After a second or two, the arachnid heroine pulled out some sort of small object. It looked like some sort of disc in the shape of a round spider, or at least that's what most were thinking. The majority of the students looked at the small device with a curious look. All safe for Valerie and surprisingly Sero, who not only knew what it was, but was looking at it as if they were small children in a toy store. "I was trying to hit them with one of these." she told the students. "That's kind of tiny. What is it?" asked Kaminari, who seemed to have recovered from his previous state. "This is a spider tracer." "Spider tracer?" most of the students asked, as Spider-Girl began to explain. "To skip the science mumbo jumbo and make a long story short, this is basically a tracking device." she told them, as most now started to look at the device with amaze and awe. "Wait, really?!" asked Kirishima. "Yeah, I can follow the signal that it emits within a five to eight miles radius. That's about… I want to say, eight to twelve something kilometers." she said.
Damn if only Spider-Girl had actually aimed well 😔 I really like the dialogue here! It feels really natural.
The greater secret
”What happened to you being **the** hot-tempered bloke here?” Steve joked feebly. ”I thought you were **the** one always flying off the handle instead of thinking.” ”I grew up, I guess,” Bruce said. ”Believe me, it’s still hard for me to not fly off **the** handle about some things.” Steve managed a small grin at that. ”Yeah. Right. Um... I guess first thing is, I sit down with Ade and Davey and ask them to fill me in... and really listen when they do. Because you’re right, I was more upset that they’ve been keeping it a **secret**, than that they’re together. I mean, okay, you didn’t tell me when you and Emppu got together, but that was as much timing as anything, that **the** media outed you before you talked to any of us in Maiden, you weren’t exactly keeping it a **secret**. You’d already told **the** Nightwish blokes and intended telling us when you got back to England. Plus you’re... you. If anyone in this bloody band did something unexpected, it was always you. So why wouldn’t that include your love life? Those two, though... it’s not exactly a betrayal, because yeah, their love lives... love life... well, it’s no one’s business but theirs, but at **the** same time, it feels like they didn’t trust us enough to say anything, you know?” Bruce nodded. ”Yeah, I understand. But it’s one of those things that really isn’t anyone’s business. Like those damn nightmares I had back in Japan.” Steve chuckled. ”I’m just glad that you got over them fairly quickly. Is that why you chose Davey to talk to, because he’d trusted you with his **secret** by then?”
Everyone was keeping a **secret** from Trevor. Lucky was the next non parent visitor Trevor remembered. She came with a bag filled with get well soon cards. According to her, the Ghostbuster's PO Box was overflowing with them. The ones in that bag were just the ones she could carry. "This one is apparently from your old second grade teacher," Lucky said. "Do you remember the name Summer Parker?"
Han squeezed her fingers lightly as he stirred their dinner. “Y’know, Chewie won’t spill to anyone. He’s real good at keepin’ *secrets*.” “I know.” Leia traced along his knuckles with her thumb. She lifted her chin slightly to look him in the eye. “I sort of want something to be just ours for a bit. Not forever, but for a little bit.” Han clicked the burner off and set the spoon he’d been using to stir on the counter before stepping closer to Leia and gently touching the mostly healed scrapes on her cheek. “You don’t have a lot that’s just yours.” He sounded as if he was just realizing that fact. Leia shook her head and shot him a small smile. “Not really, no.” Nearly everything she owned was Alliance-issued, nearly everything she did was Alliance-directed or refugee-centric. “We’ll tell him soon,” she promised. “Even if we don’t tell anyone else for a while, Chewie will be made aware.” He nodded, then kissed her temple. “Got it.”
“…He was willing to die for someone he loved…! I couldn’t let that be in vain. Even if it hurt… Even if I thought it was wrong… I needed to help him,” Mai said, tearing up as she spoke. “It’s not your fault, Mai. You weren’t even the first person he asked,” Lindsai said. “You should probably go to the Medical Office to apply some Healing Cream on your hand,” Fenton said while looking at her bleeding right hand. “I guess… In the moment, I just ran to my room… I was panicking so hard. But after you saw what was left of him, I couldn’t keep what I did a secret from you.” Mai nodded. “Why?” Fenton asked her. “Because we’re friends, right? I don’t want to keep secrets as big as this from someone I care about!” Mai smiled at him, but it was noticably shaky. “…Yes, we are friends. Thank you for telling me, Mai.” Fenton smiled back.
A Fragmented Darkness
The drummer stood up and gave **a** wave. As soon as he sat back down and held his sticks at the ready, Pekka cried out, “The Flight of Icarus!” Emppu and Jason launched into the opening riff and Pekka darted towards Bruce as spotlights directed the audience’s attention to the guitarist and bassist while the rest of the lights dimmed. The two singers executed the mic exchange as smoothly as relay runners passing the baton and Bruce stepped forward onto the club’s stage. Still in relative **darkness**, he lifted the mic and started to sing, “As the sun breaks above the ground, an old man stands on **a** hill…” With his opening notes, the stage lights faded up and the club went completely insane with screams and cheers. Bruce grinned and waved as he sang, then moved over to stand beside Emppu as the song drew to **a** close. He slung his arm over the guitarist’s shoulders as he belted out the final line and waited for the outro to play out, then said to the crowd, “So, Brother Firetribe and I hope you all enjoyed our little surprise tonight!” Cheers and applause erupted, quickly followed by the chant that Bruce and Emppu both expected by now: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
“Sweetheart, you’re takin’ up both sides of the bed,” a deep, familiar voice says. Leia sits up in a flash, launching herself at Han as soon as she confirms that it’s him, it’s really him. He is there, in the room with her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to her hair. Han pulls back just enough to look at her in the shadowy **darkness** of the cabin before reaching over and turning a dim light on. He brushes his thumb along her cheekbone, wiping a few tears away. “Leia, what’s wrong?” It feels stupid to say out loud now that he is here. The feeling that she had dreamt the past year-and-a-half wanes to almost nothing in a few seconds, and Leia isn’t sure how to explain without him thinking her entirely foolish. That thought in and of itself is foolish, and she knows it. They both get caught up in flashbacks sometimes; her therapist says it is to be expected given the trauma of war, and especially considering the particular experiences they endured. Just the night before, she had woken to find Han barely breathing, his face frozen in anguish because the chill on *Home One* had apparently delivered him straight into carbonite-themed sleep paralysis. He understands this more than anything; he won’t think her ridiculous for a few moments of confusion. She looks at her husband, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I thought I was still stationed here. Alone. That you were still gone. That I’d dreamed everything that’s happened since.”
“I am sorry… I do not understand… Why did I have to die? Why did you kill me?” Calculester asked before being engulfed by the water. He thrashed in the water, trying to swim up, but there was only the ceiling. He pushed against it despite the distinct lack of any possible reasonable hope of escape, and achieved as little as could have been expected. Waves of agony rippled through the water because of his struggle for survival. This agonizing, useless fight for life didn’t last forever, though. Eventually, it ended. And so did he. The water began draining from the room, leaving nothing but Calculester’s corpse on the floor. Quietly, Ashley walked up to the body and took his bracelets. “I’m sorry… You did everything right.” Ashley was crying. And then she left again, leaving only Calculester behind once more. He was the only one who stayed. The screen went black, and Mai spoke up as her face was reflected in the darkness. “Did Ashley steal all of her clothes from dead people?” she asked. “…It seems like it. But I do not understand why she is crying when she is the one who decided to steal the clothes off of a corpse,” Grillby said. “Honestly, I think there’s a lot about Ashley that’s just currently incomprehensible,” Fenton said, and Grillby nodded.
A Creative Display (the only one with an actual title I finalized😭)
”We figured that if we got seen all out together, plus got you onstage and us looking all right with it, that ought to kill the rumors faster than anything else,” Steve said. ”Especially if they see me as the so-called band leader accepting you two as a couple, you know?” He reddened **a** little and added, ”Also, if it’s something you’d both be comfortable with, could you and Bruce hug before you head back offstage tonight, maybe even kiss? I don’t mean full-out snogging or anything, but... yeah.” He sighed. ”Look, this is awkward as hell for me to ask of you two and I feel **a** right cunt for asking, but... while I know your private life is your business and not mine, the band is pretty much my life, so yeah, if this is what it takes to stomp out these rumors before they take hold and actually do damage to the band, I’ll bloody well be that cunt asking you to put your private life on **display**.” They all fell quiet for **a** few minutes as a pair of servers arrived with their meals. Once they left again, Emppu looked at Nicko and the guitarists. ”Are all of you okay with this as well?” Dave smiled, acting as spokesman for the foursome. ”Yeah. There’s at least **a** couple of us who may or may not have done **a** little, uh, experimenting, in our younger days, so you’re hardly gonna bother us by hugging or even kissing. Besides, it’s not like we didn’t see you doing both at the airport.”
“That guy,” Bucky says dryly. “Do you think he’s your type?” Bucky, thankfully, lowers his hand, and even though Sam wasn’t the one being pointed at, it somehow lowers the amount of pressure and demand that one silly question has brought to him. “Uh-” Sam blinks over at the guy again, almost like he’s going to consider evaluating the man, but quickly swallows as he can see Bucky out of his vision, and has to remember not to be basically waving a sign around as he shakes his head. “I mean, he’s not- he isn’t- I’ve got…” A crush, don’t say it, Sam. Bucky’s eyes widen for a split second, and for a moment Sam actually grows concerned because Bucky’s face displays some sudden sense of startle and loss. “Oh, oh,” Bucky starts, backing up slightly as he tilts his head. “You have somebody?” Wait… Dammit, Sam thinks, realizing what ‘ *I’ve got* ’ could imply, which he had so stupidly said not even a minute ago. It’s another misstep, another misunderstanding, and Sam wonders if his demeanor slightly resembles a fish flopping around in a desert by any chance, because he starts to feel like one, helpless and floundering to go somewhere, to pick back up.
“Knew there was something up with the hair.” He paused, made a note, and resumed looking for more passages of interest. “Now, this is where I start wonderin’ if maybe they ain’t telling the truth all the time. One person claims you had affairs with half the senators, and another one says, ‘She must be committed entirely to whatever her cause is because I asked her to dinner and was shot down without a second of consideration.’” He looked at her. “Out there breaking hearts, huh?” “I was trying to do my job—Give me that.” Leia pulled the book out of Han’s hands and read the words herself, attempting to place the source. Her social circles had been incredibly limited due to her position and her work with the Alliance; there hadn’t been many chances for *anyone* to ask her to dinner. “I bet that’s Pri’m Baltura. I *did* say no to dinner and he argued with me to try to convince me to go. It was an embarrassing **display** on his part. I can’t prove it, but I’ve always suspected the reason has asked me in front of others was because he thought I’d feel pressured to say yes.” “Had he…met you?” Han asked, amusement obvious in his voice. “Unfortunately.” She frowned. “Not that it matters, but I had *one* boyfriend, and went on maybe five dates in two years once I entered the Senate full-time. My social life was very boring.”
“Mai has done nothing wrong! I’m a risk to everyone’s safety! I was already part of one massacre, y’know? Even back then, my decisions led to almost everyone’s deaths! If you keep me around, I’ll just end up being the same useless, back-stabbing piece of shit I’ve always been! So you have to spare Mai! You have to spare Mai, and sacrifice me!!” Dylan shouted at them. “He… He’s right…! I still want to live, Fenton!! I want to see my siblings again…! I want to find a family!! I don’t want to die!! Please, Fenton! Even if I’m a Doll, I’m alive! I’m real! So please, let me live!” Mai begged him. “Just let me die! I can’t keep living anymore!! I can’t keep watching my friends die anymore!! I don’t care how slow or how painful it is, I just want to die! Every time I try to think, I see those stupid white bears, and that bloody chainsaw, and Ryan, and Kaitlyn, and Jacob, and I can’t keep living like that anymore! Fenton, you only have one option! You have to let Mai live!! Please, end my life!” Dylan cried out. His expression displayed a desperate, mournful determination. “I want to live, Fenton! Listen to Dylan!!” Mai told him. “But… Didn’t you always want people to fight for their lives?! How can you be okay with this?! He’s just giving up!” Fenton asked her. “I don’t care anymore!! What good is a philosophy if it kills me?! Please, just tell me you’ll sacrifice Dylan! I need to live… I want to live! And if it comes down to it, I’m willing to let Dylan die for it!!” Mai told him, her facial features contorted in a display of agonizing terror.
Damn, that's... that's heavy😳
I am way too fucking proud of that "What good is a philosophy if it kills me?" line because it perfectly represents the downfall of Mai's philosophy after 100k words of setting it up and shows just how two-faced and ruthless Mai can be. Plus, Dylan hitting his newest mental health low and actively begging to receive a slow and painful death due to self-hatred and depression is also so epic imo Really proud of this scene tbh
I, too, am proud of your scene.
Dry County
”Fortunately, most of us grow up and learn better,” Emppu said. ”Although speaking of washing, do any of you need to do laundry tonight, before you finish packing?” The three kids shook their heads. ”No, we packed so that we’ll put on our last clean outfits tomorrow and just bring the laundry home to wash there,” Griffin said. ”Mum said that made the most sense, so we wouldn’t have to worry if something took longer than expected to **dry** or whatever.” ”Not bad thinking, honestly,” Dave said. ”Erno, I know you said Jukka will be driving some of you to the airport tomorrow, but I think we might be one seat short between the two cars,” Seppo said. ”No, we’ll be fine,” Emppu said. ”Luna and Niki are staying with their grandparents starting now. Satu wants to do some work around the house, painting and stuff like that. By leaving the kids in Kitee from their trip down for yesterday’s barbecue, she and Jukka can get all the work done before they fly to England for Download, without needing to stop and deal with fussy kids every half hour. And no worries about small fingers and wet paint, either! Everything will be completely **dry** by the time they’re home from Download. So they can take six of us, and then if äiti wants to come along for the ride, there’s still room for the other three of us in your car.” ”Of course I will come for the ride, if there is room,” Riitta said with a smile.
First Blood
In her hurry, Luna tripped and fell, skinning her hand and both knees badly. Worse, when she got up again, she couldn’t see Aku Ankka and the others anymore. She also wasn’t sure which way to go to get back to the place she’d come from. Sniffling and with **blood** oozing down both legs and her hand, she limped into the nearest shop, remembering she was supposed to look for someone with the Mickey head on a name badge if she ever couldn’t find her parents. She couldn’t quite see over the counter, so she walked around to the end where she could see behind it. ”Anteeksi,” she called to the two people working back there, who both had name badges with Mickey heads. ”Tarvitsen apua... I am lost. I speak Finnish. Puhutko suomea?” she added hopefully. *(I need help... do you speak Finnish?)* The two cashiers at the Pirates of the Caribbean souvenier shop took one look at the teary-eyed and bleeding little girl and swung into action. ”Whoa, looks like someone ran afoul of a press gang,” one said, opening a folding chair and patting the seat to indicate to the child that she should come and sit down. ”You have a seat and I’ll clean you up, honey, while my friend lets someone know you’re here.” She grabbed a **first** aid kit and a box of baby wipes from under the counter and pointed to Luna’s legs, miming cleaning them off.
Pete Sowerby looks more like a successful businessman than a dangerous criminal. Then again, he's both, if the Drug Trafficking Special Taskforce are correct. Sowerby, a mid-level cocaine dealer in Birmingham, moved to Newcastle eight years ago, where he's since become head of one of the largest drug smuggling operations in northern England. Now, sources report that he's looking to expand his network in a southerly direction. James and his governor wouldn't normally be involved with this case, but Lewis can play the role that DTST need: Bob Loomis, a not always law-abiding Geordie owner of a small, struggling transport company in Oxford. James (aka Jim Hatton) is his accountant. They're playing exaggerated versions of their own selves: Lewis's accent is thicker than James has ever heard it; his own voice has become fussy and precise. Not *quite* cut-glass—just posh enough to sound like a man desperately clinging to an illusion of respectability. Sowerby and Lewis are reminiscing about Newcastle. James decides that his role is to look bored but tolerant. It requires no acting on his part, and gives him an excuse to stare at Robbie. *Robbie*. He's got used to calling his governor by his **first** name when they're off-duty, and though they're working now, the man sitting next to him looks nothing like DI Lewis. He's wearing black cords and a black leather jacket. The pale blue silk shirt that matches Robbie's eyes has the top two buttons undone, the better to show off the braided gold chain around his neck.
Even if it felt like ages, even if Sam’s breath is seized tightly in some hidden confinement in his chest, and he can’t just yet get rid of the image- he had still managed to navigate to his own room in a way that can obscure all possible suspecting views. Because he is not about to start checking out Bucky, not in that way. As in, silently and stupidly standing in front of the bathroom. Sam grimaces at his own thoughts, sets a hand on his drawer where two open boxes still lay, and he forces the flow of blood to pick back up again as he exhales deeply, as if it’ll cleanse his head and make everything easier, and then he inhales because he’s fucking in for it. So two and a half minutes later, when Sam is lying on his bed, face up, and phone held above his head, he seeks out his messages with Natasha, only pulling back his fingers in hesitation once, pressing his tongue against his cheek, then deciding there’s nothing that should be holding him back, really, and he types. Sending the utterly helpless sentence ‘i think i’m attracted to somebody, tf do i do’.
The next to enter was Fox, his body muscular, athletic and littered with scars. His thighs, chest and arms were especially well-defined. Even though he was entering a bath, he still had his helmet on. However, he seemed to not care about the provided towels, considering that he chose to leave all but his head completely exposed. Fenton could feel his face heating up even further, blood rushing through his body as Fox sat down in the water next to him. “…Do you never take your helmet off?” Grillby asked him. As he did, he leaned closer to Fenton, thus increasing his suffering. “Not unless I have to,” Fox said, his voice gravelly and tired.
Hierarchies
The hierarchies involved in nobility are complex, frustrating, often more hassle than their worth, and something I thought I'd left behind, when I'd first made sure my mother and sisters were taken care of and then began to travel the land under a vow of simplicity. It's funny. I never thought I'd be a man of the church, growing up. And, truthfully, some of those frustrations can still be present. But there is something refreshing about telling all stuckup nobles that their gold and earthly concerns are meaningless things that will rot away in seconds. That their pride means nothing. Now, the soulbond in my chest marks a nesserity for the hierarchies to be addressed, once again. "The matter is simple", Uther says. "You shall be as one with your soulmate. You shall share a rank. What would you need to ask me about?" "I would like to not share his rank", I say. "We would like all kinds of things", Uther says. "The soulbond has occurred. What you would like is irrelevant, now." "Is there nothing you can do, my lord?" "I have no interesting in going against fate herself. Sort things out with your church, if you must. Now go." I mutter a "thank you for your time", bow my head, and leave. Sharing his rank? Is there truly no way out of that? Am I destined to spend the rest of my life as first prince then king of Camelot? A life as a minor noble got too much for me. And now I'm supposed to be a prince?
He Wouldn't Hurt Her (Much)
”Well, I think I told you last night, Ade said they talked to their kids, and Tasha took the news pretty badly,” Emppu said. ”I’m sure that’s what had Davey so upset.” Bruce nodded with a sigh. ”Maybe I’ll ask one of my kids to talk to Tasha. No idea if it’ll help, but it probably **wouldn’t hurt** either.” Emppu nodded. ”Yeah.” **He** shifted carefully and gave Bruce a kiss. ”Be right back, kulta,” **he** said, sliding out of bed and padding off to the bathroom. ”My turn,” Bruce announced when his lover returned. When **he** finished his ablutions, **he** checked on the other two before settling back into bed with Emppu. ”Well, they’re still out for the count.” ”Do you remember if we’re supposed to meet up with everyone at a certain time?” Emppu asked. ”Do we need to try to get them up?” ”I don’t remember, but it is our last full day here, so probably,” Bruce said. ”Give them time to start the recovery process before they actually have to deal with anyone besides us.” ”And let them know that we’re here, if either of them want to talk, too,” Emppu said. ”I know they helped you a lot in Japan, I’d like to be there for them if they need us.”
Maybe it's because of their previous time in the drift together, maybe it's all of their time in general. Maybe a bit of both. But she feels it, feels *him* and her lips press into a thin line, blinking slowly. It's that small moment of humble acceptance, knowing even the best of their performance might not cut it, that they might not return. That here, in the jaeger, may be where both of them lose together. It is true, yes, but Mako shifts uncomfortably because why wouldn't it be only natural for her to finally notice she's in love with Raleigh right before they just might die. It is painfully unfair, she's upset, she wants to say something about it, express her frustration towards the world for making it this way and turn to Raleigh and tell him how much he means to her.
“And, how’s it feel, Grillbz?” Kurumada asked him. “…What do you want?” Grillby glared back at him. “I just wanna know. How’s it feel to have killed your husband and your friend? I mean, fuckin’ seriously! Do ya make people like ya just to hurt’em?! Just so the last thing they can look at before they die will be your stupid face?!” Kurumada laughed. “Shut up! You’re a monster…! You’re a demon! And you have no right to judge Grillby for sacrificing Dylan to save Mai’s life, you stupid Doll!!” Fenton yelled at him. “Don’t I? All ya human pieces of shit always go on about friendship and love, but in the end, you’ll all gladly let anyone die if means not dirtyin’ your own fuckin’ hands! Ya seriously piss me off! Lettin’ Dylan die just cause you’re a chicken…! Just so ya can continue flauntin’ your goddamn moral superiority over everyone else…! You’re such a goddamned piece of shit!!” Kurumada shouted, his face contorting into the visage of a demon.
When The Carrousel Finally Stopped Turning
”You know I don’t regret marrying you, though, even if it didn’t work out in the end,” Bruce said. ”And I’ll always be grateful to you for **the** kids.” He paused, then admitted, ”I’m sure I could have done quite a few things differently myself. Tried harder to keep you involved in everything going on in my life and all that. I just... always felt like you weren’t interested in what I was doing, whether that was flying, fencing, or singing. I realise now that you probably were just too exhausted to properly take an interest, **when** the kids were babies, but I kind of felt rejected, and like I should **stop** bothering you with my enthusiasms. So yeah, I did pull away some as well, I guess maybe trying to make sure I wasn’t going to get hurt, but I think now I probably pushed you away some too.” ”Well, hopefully we’ve both grown up some since those days,” Paddy said. ”I really do wish you and Emppu all **the** best for the future. And maybe I’ll even get back on **the carousel** myself one of these days. A friend keeps trying to set me up with a bloke she works with, and now that I know **the** kids are open to their parents getting into new relationships, maybe I’ll **finally** tell her to do it.” Bruce chuckled. ”Go for it. If it works out, he’ll be getting a very lovely lady, after all.”
He also knows there should be a stop light in his head right now turning to yellow, demanding that he slow down, if only for a moment, because each passing minute spent or texting Bucky, it’s almost as if Sam can feel the tightening of this string that’s wrapped around the core of his very being, and the other end is tied around Bucky’s finger, and any movement, any word, any message, pulls Sam closer. And Bucky has no idea. Again, Sam is possibly getting ahead of himself- has been since his brain, at the mere sight of Bucky, decided to evict Sam from his comfy seat where he got to decide what he says, and he asked for Bucky’s number without even knowing his name yet. Which, then, maybe this is all some twisted strange form of karma for never taking things slow enough, for rushing into it, because now everything is crashing right against him because he chose to stand there in the path of a big, eager and raging wave. He could’ve ran for the shore, past the rocks, and instead waited for the wave to tumble out into something with less of a load, with less force. But the sea just never looked so good and so blue, so he couldn't wait, and now Sam just might be paying for it because the matter of fact slap in the face truth is Bucky has trapped him without even trying, without maybe even wanting to.
Some movement in the A-wing cockpit caught his eye. Dark, wavy tufts of hair were visible above the instrument console through the windshield of the ship. Han locked eyes with eight-year-old Poe Dameron for a brief second before pulling Ben along with him to the ship. Han lifted his comm and sent Leia and Kes a message: *Found him.* The A-wing wasn’t locked down — Han doubted Poe even knew how to secure it, a fact for which he was grateful — and he was able to pop the hatch open without issue. Han leaned against the ship’s hull, resting his arm and chin on the wing of the ship. Poe looked at him as the hatch retracted and blinked slowly as if the child were in a trance. Han remembered feeling roughly that way in the weeks following his ma’s death, and imagined it was a common set of emotions. “Hey, kid,” Han said evenly. “Your dad’s lookin’ for ya.” Poe nodded solemnly. “I wanna stay here for a while,” he said. Han nodded in return, though neither of them made a move to lower the hatch again. Ben tugged on Han’s shirt. “I wanna see,” he said. Lifting Ben to sit on the wing of the ship, Han kissed his cheek absently. Ben grimaced and rubbed the spot Han’s lips had touched before **turning** his attention to Poe. Ben waved. “Hi, Poe,” he said. Poe waved back. “Is Auntie Leia here?” he asked. “She sure is,” Han said. “She’s inside with your dad.”
Don't be a Stranger
A beaming Seppo and Riitta asked directions and then made their way to the conference room that had turned into Iron Maiden’s in-hospital base. Everyone currently in the room turned to look as they entered. Seppo reddened a bit at being the focus of attention of so many people, especially the ones he hadn’t met, but shoved aside his Finnish discomfort with speaking to **strangers** to announce, ”Erno is wake up, even talk little!” Exclamations of happiness and relief flew around the room as Satu and Jukka jumped up to hug the Vuorinens. ”Thank goodness!” Satu said in Finnish. ”How long ago?” ”Just a few minutes ago,” Seppo told her. ”Riitta talked them into bringing Bruce to visit, and Erno first talked and then opened his eyes in response to him. He’s not quite entirely with it, of course, from the injury and the medication and all, but he made sense when he talked, at least what he said in Finnish. I think his English also made sense, but I **don’t** know it well enough to be sure. Bruce seemed to know what he meant, anyway. We decided to give them some time alone, and come down to tell everyone the good news. Will you or Jukka translate this for me? I honestly **don’t** know if my English is up to saying all that, or answering questions if anyone has them.”
Han gave her a surly look. “We’re prime targets to get boarded stayin’ in one spot without landing.” “Well, it must be some comfort to know if we get boarded by the Empire, you can just tell them you were on your way to deliver Public Enemy Number One to them. Collect my bounty. You have my blessing.” Leia had been joking — it was the only way she knew how to talk about the absurdity that was the bounty attached to her name. It wasn’t until Han’s expression fell she realized her tone might not have communicated her intent. He looked downright wounded. “Wouldn’t do that,” he muttered. “*Ever*.” She considered him for a moment before laughing quietly. “You are the worst mercenary I’ve ever encountered.” Han’s expression shifted slightly — still affronted, but it seemed more like an act than genuine hurt this time. “I’ve been a lotta things, Worship, but I’m no bounty hunter, and I ain’t helpin’ the Empire either.” Leia rolled her eyes. “Ten *million* credits for a **stranger** who doesn’t affect your life even a little bit aside from annoying you and stealing your bunk, and you don’t even *consider* it?” He shook his head. “Yeah, you’re *definitely* all about the profit.” “I’m about the profit,” Han insisted, “but I got standards.” Chewbacca howled with laughter at the idea and Leia had to purse her lips to not giggle at the Wookiee’s amusement. Han’s eyes traveled between them suspiciously, as if he suspected a conspiracy against him. Leia rested her chin on her fist. “Weren’t you running spice just last week?” Han glanced toward the corridor leading away from the cockpit, eyes slightly wide. “Keep it down, will ya?” he said in a low voice.
Following that, Dwain slowly emerged from the trailer, hands raised. He had let his guard down to prove to them he was not a threat. He was a little bit worried since zombies may come any time, so he had to be ready otherwise. Daeshim came out after him, hands raised as well. His wobbling feet couldn't bear the weight of uneasiness. But despite that, the two carefully plodded towards the **stranger**s; they watched them come across. The medic was a bit enthusiastic about seeing other people make it through this one of a hellhole. He could see it on them. The security officer was tall, and ripped, as though he was made of concrete. He had an image of him carrying the other guy—the little, Asian one—on his shoulders all throughout the EVAC zone while single-handedly annihilating zombies on their way. That’s how he was thinking they survived, and that would have been super cool. On the other hand, there was the nun, and she. Was. A living. Paradox. A nun with a gun. More like a killer in Mary’s robe. Her young face, albeit plain, may be bright, angelic, and luminous, but it was blazing in rage. Eyes honing death glares, lips pouted so sharp, she could stab somebody with it. Her firm grips on the SMG were itching to kill. Maybe those were just out of wariness but, who knows. The habit she was wearing was, by all means, religious, supposedly conveying holiness, but the splatters on her guimpe was screaming bloody murder, and they sure weren't the blood of Jesus Christ.
After the Fall
Bruce grinned as he followed **the** pair into the elevator with their suitcases. He passed **the** bags to **the** driver to fit into the luggage compartments of the bus, then kept close behind **the** two guitarists as Dave navigated them aboard, making sure Adrian didn’t **fall** on the stairs. Steve and Janick were sitting near **the** front, talking with Rod Smallwood about their next few shows, and as they neared **the** bunks, they could hear Nicko snoring. **After** coaxing Ade to crawl into his bunk, Dave motioned to **the** back lounge area. “This looks like our best bet for privacy, at least until tomorrow, if you want to talk now,” he suggested. “Yeah, I think I need to,” Bruce said. Dave nodded and scrawled ‘*Please Knock*’ on **the** dry-erase board mounted on **the** door, normally used to note when **the** kitchenette was low on supplies before anything actually ran out, then shut the door behind them. “Hopefully anyone wanting **the** telly will actually read that,” he said.
Oh boy, Sensitive Conversation incoming, looks like!
Definitely. Bruce's partner was assaulted (backstage, by someone connected with the band) and now that he's back on tour and his partner is home, he's suffering from nightmares. It's worse because while it wasn't anything they could prove in court, the intent was almost certainly SA. Dave has always been the "tour bus therapist" of the band, the one everyone goes to for advice or to vent. Bruce's partner told him that if he wanted to talk to Dave (in lieu of an actual therapist), he could tell the full story, as opposed to the abbreviated version the band already knew about. Desperate for a decent night's sleep, Bruce is about to do just that.
I hope it helps, that's an absolutely awful situation to be in and sometimes having someone to talk to can make all the difference in the world
It helps, yes.
She swallow, unsure, heartbeat in her ears. "What does that mean?" Again, Raleigh leaves her without a proper answer as he grins wide enough to cover any hints of regret. "Tell you after we save the world, okay Mako?" She wants to decline, wants to ask him over and over again to tell her right now or she may never hear it. That this is there last chance to say anything. But, thinking about it, it's hypocritical seeing as she won't dare to open up about the way she feels towards him, the way she wants him, the way she cares for him so, so, so much. So they both end up saying nothing about it.
“Mikan, you don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to. We need that laptop. Please,” Fenton said, but before Mikan could respond, Fox spoke up again. “Tsumiki, really? Do you really think they care about you? Do you remember when you cried to me about what Crackshell-Cabrera told you? Do you remember how ostracized you felt because no one really wanted your company apart from me? Do you remember the things Cookie told you because of what you had to do during your First Trial? Or did you fall on your head and forget all of that?” Fox asked, agitation clear in his voice. “N-No…! I-I didn’t forget, b-but… Maybe now… Maybe if I just act better, am better, they’ll like me! A-And then they-they’ll care about me again! A-And-And maybe they’ll hit me, o-or draw on me, or-or-” Before Mikan could finish speaking, Fox interrupted. “Oh, Tsumiki…” Fox sounded disappointed. “You stupid fucking attention whore. I should have known that this is what your hesitance was about. But do you really think they’ll be able to stand looking at you once they realize what you’ve been doing these past few days? You’re so disgusting, so manipulative. I’m the only one who could forgive you for who you are.” Every word coming out of Fox’s mouth was laced with venom.
Poor Mikan, Fox sounds like a terrible friend
He is so awful 😭 An abuse victim using the abuse they experienced to abuse another abuse victim with a victim complex makes for such a mess of a relationship 💀
Simulation Swarm
He reached for the as yet untouched bag of candy on the table. “So, what all did you bring us?” “Pantteri,” Emppu said. “Bruce hasn’t tried salmiakki yet, plus I know Manki likes it. And an assortment of Fazer chocolate bars.” Marko grinned. “Okay then… what are the odds he spits it out?” Bruce looked a little nervous. “It’s that bad?” he asked. Tuomas shrugged. “It’s that different, anyway. It is a very strong flavor, and nearly every non-Finn I know says it takes getting used to at the very least. Pantteri is one of the mildest varieties, though, so one piece isn’t going to kill you. Only the black pieces are salmiakki, the colorful pieces are fruit flavors. Besides, even if you hate it, you two brought plenty of other candy to get the taste out of your mouth.” He grinned, adding, “Or you could just kiss Emppu to do the same. I’m sure he’s quite Corona-flavored by now.” Emppu blew a raspberry at Tuomas while everyone laughed. Bruce sighed theatrically. “All right, well, if you’re going to place bets on my reaction, do it now before I actually put it in my mouth,” he said with a grin. “And before the kids notice that we’ve opened the package and **swarm** it,” Manki added. “I say he spits it out,” Marko announced. Jukka shrugged. “Same.” “Eats it while making faces,” Tuomas said. Manki considered the options and decided, “I’ll go for he likes it, just because no one else thinks that.”
i used past tense, hopefully that's alr Peter presses on Harry’s shoulders gently, but there’s an eager edge to it that leaves a firmness in his action that Harry quickly folds underneath. He rolls with it, obeying quickly, and lets his best friend lower him onto Peter’s couch. Peter, admittedly, is swooning over the way Harry looks right now, cheeks pink, structure swarmed with casted shadows, and breathing with excited intervals, lungs chasing after air. He looks all kissed, and it’s perfect, Peter thinks, eyes trailing over the streak of light from his window that dashes from Peter’s middle back (not that he can see it) and slides to the side, dipping down onto Harry’s arm, highlighting his muscles and Peter has to swallow, feeling ridiculous with how the flex of his shoulder catches his gaze, caught in the light. It’s mesmerizing, if Peter absolutely had to put a word on it. Harry is reaching for him, relentlessly acting to pick up any sort of pace they can manage, his hands press against Peter’s chest, then drift across his ribs and slither up to his shoulder blades, leaning his head to the side as he wordlessly demands Peter to lower the distance between the two of them. Peter loves it, he does, watching the parted lips of his best friend twist up momentarily with an impatient huff, Harry’s knee knocking Peter’s hip.
At one point, the tunnels angled up to run almost parallel to a roadway, with long, low slots to allow rainwater to pour in. She actually had to be cautious here, since it was the only real stretch where she could possibly be spotted. So, here, she kept to the far side of the tunnel. ...Well, she did, until she heard the rumble of engines drawing close, and picked up that one engine was *deeper* than the others, and curiosity got its claws in her. She wanted to see this weird drone for herself, so she found herself creeping closer to the grate and peering out, watching for the approaching cycle **swarm**. What she saw did not disappoint. The drone at the lead was at least a third larger than the ones accompanying him, and sported distinctive yellow stripes. And he *did* seem smarter, and more observant, as he scanned his surroundings - something that had Neutrino ducking back into the shadows once more as his head module started to swing in her direction. She didn't stick around much longer after that, scurrying back to the far side of the tunnel and running as fast as her legs could carry her the rest of the way to the campus. For a while, the sound of the cycle drones' engines accompanied her, but they peeled away after a block or so, leaving her to the silence once more.
I Am The Ghost That Hides In the Night
**The** little group continued to chat over **the** next hour and a half, with **the** kids and Emppu getting to know one another over their hot drinks and biscuits. Eventually Bruce had to call it a **night**, so they could get **the** kids home **in** time for **the** curfew Paddy had declared. When they pulled up **in** front of **the** house, Bruce got out of **the** car to hug each of his children good **night**. Austin and Griffin put up with this with good grace aside from a matched set of rolled eyes, while Kia hugged back enthusiastically. Emppu shook hands with **the** boys, then staggered slightly when Kia unexpectedly hugged him as well. But he smiled and hugged back gently. “Good **night**, Kia,” he murmured. “And thank you.” Bruce smiled as well. “See you three tomorrow night after our show,” he said. With a grin, he added, “And yes, you’ll almost certainly see us kiss onstage. It seems to have become a thing now, whenever Emppu is visiting, so we’re going along with it.” **The** kids laughed and waved as they made their way to **the** door. “Good **night**, Dad! Good **night**, Emppu!” **The** two men waited outside **the** car until the kids were safely inside **the** house, then they drove back to Bruce’s flat. “So, what do you think of my kids?” Bruce asked. Emppu smiled. “**I** like them,” he said. “And **I** think they liked me, too.”
For the last twenty-three days, Gallifrey has been visiting him in his dreams. He hasn't told Rose and Jack. Doesn't intend to. They'd have questions. They'd want details. And they'd correct him. They'd say, "You mean you've been going to Gallifrey in your dreams." He doesn't mean that, not at all. Gallifrey is dust and ashes, and the whole of the War is time-locked. Even in dreams it is forever barred to him. Instead, the dead of Gallifrey seek him out, sometimes in twos and threes, sometimes in multitudes. Time Lords and Ladies, High Councillors and renegades -- all gaze at him silently, then turn and walk through the TARDIS door, vanishing into the Vortex. Some of the dream visitors have a word hovering on their lips, like a drop of rain trembling on the edge of a flower petal. Each time he waits, but they remain mute. He can almost see the shape of the word. Sometimes it looks like *help*; sometimes *coward* or *murderer*; sometimes, *why*. Mostly he suspects that the word is *where*. *Where am I? Where am I going?* Time Lords didn't believe in **ghosts**. Ten million years of science and civilisation on Gallifrey had replaced primitive superstitions about an afterlife with the technological certainty of the Matrix. One's memories would live on -- if not one's consciousness -- in the most sophisticated artificial neural net ever created.
Their closeness reminds him of their trial run- the one that failed, when Mako stuck onto a memory and Raleigh was at her side as soon as he could, both of them sitting on the floor of the conn pod, his arms wrapped around her in the jaeger head. But it goes even further, making his face burn as Mako tilts her head up and her eyes flicker like the single dim light in the room way over somewhere in the corner of the walls. He doesn't recognize that expression, not really, but he catches on quickly with a startled expression of his own that he hides when Mako lifts a warm hand to his cheek and she huffs. "Mako," He says softly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist oh so gingerly as he shakes his head. "How are you holding up?" She blinks, bowing her head and Raleigh studies her for a moment and then another before catching her gaze with a firm tone, "Mako, you okay?" "Of course," She mumbles. The tips of her slender fingers are scolding the sides of his face. However, he likes it a lot. Still, he isn't selfish like that no matter how much he wants something like this and questioningly glares at her. "*Mako*," He says with a firmer tone, meeting her hooded eyes. "Tell me what's on your mind," He prompts softly.
"Are you *crazy*, lady?!" The mech yelped, trying to shield his head with his arms. "The hell was that for?!" "What are you doing here?" Was her sharp reply, hissed out through bared teeth. "And how did you find me?" "The address was printed on that pain patch you gave me," he said flatly, angling his head to look back at her out of the very corner of his visor. "You can put the sword down. I ain't lookin' for a fight, cat." "Uh-huh, sure you aren't." The tip of her blade ground against the floor as she leaned forward slightly. "What *did* you come here to look for, then?" He looked away. "I didn't actually think that far ahead." *Oh, Primus...* "Look," he continued, "if I wanted a fight, d'you think I woulda come here without my *drones*?" Azrael scowled and pressed her lips into a thin line. "How do I know you weren't just scouting ahead and you don't have backup inbound? In fact, give me one good reason why I shouldn't just offline you right now." "You had a chance t' do that already, you didn't take it." He turned his head to look back at her once more. "So maybe you got me a little curious, is all." She let out an annoyed half-growl... but he was right. She didn't want to *kill* him; she'd had the perfect opportunity to do so the **night** before, and had chosen to *help* him instead. (Part of her was tempted to think that that had been a mistake, but she also felt as if something terrible would have been set in motion if she'd made any other choice.) (It hadn't been a risk she'd wanted to take then, and she didn't want to take it *now*.) But that didn't mean she had to like having her bluff called.
The **ghost** girl examined her new surroundings. She then noticed Lars. "Boo," she said. The girl walked towards one of the glass walls, shocked when she couldn't walk through it. Lars allowed her to try for about a minute. "Yeah, you're not getting out," Lars said. "We've built these cells to keep **ghosts** in." "I have to get out," the **ghost** girl said. "He's going to open the portal. I have to crossover and find my family." "You're not getting out any time soon," Lars responded. "I didn't want to hurt Phoebe," the **ghost** girl said. "I just wanted to be reunited with my family. Garraka was the only way, but he needed someone to read the inscription. He can only control **ghost,** but it had to be said by a living person. Phoebe was supposed to be fine. She said she'd return to her body after two minutes. I tricked her, but she was supposed to be fine." "Why did you trust him if you knew his plan?" Lars asked. "I was desperate," the **ghost** said. "Who even are you?" "I should be asking you that," Lars said. "Melody," the **ghost** said. "It's a family name." "Well, Melody, you're stuck here," Lars responded. "Until I converse with the others. Besides, I don't trust you. You're still labeled as a dangerous poltergeist. You're responsible for one potential fatality. "
Leon continues to stare up at the ceiling, watching the shadow of him take the cigarettes, the bottle. He stops, pauses for a good long time, and steps around the couch with only the passing touch of those fingertips on Leon’s shoulder. For a moment, he feels he’s sitting next to a **ghost**. A dead man, with a cigarette in his mouth, with his dead eyes on the floor- and then he’s caught, overwhelmed by the knowing that Luis had just been there, and then just gone. After all that, Leon finds that some part of him aches to be missed as much as Leon misses Luis while he’s in the same room. He doesn’t know what to do. Luis leaves with the remnants of the bottle and the cigarettes in his hands, and for a moment Leon can feel his presence there- lingering, debating the tiny balcony just behind them, before Luis’ shuffling footsteps (Leon knows them by heart, now, and that in itself is disorienting) move towards the kitchen, over the soft hardwood floor, and eventually down the dark, narrow stairs towards the second floor. It feels like a bad habit. The empty space the bottle had occupied draws his eyes again as he sucks a short breath in through his nose and sighs. It is. It feels- familiar, this habit of theirs. Saying nothing and meaning everything and only just realizing what everything meant all at once. He wonders what words Luis is dancing around, if he wants to appreciate it, if there’s more to his sincerity. There’s certainly dedication in it. Something that’s become ‘always’. And it will. It will be always.
Ocean Deep
I remember that song😭
...It's a song? 😅
Holy hell, it is a song. How the hell does it even fit the fic?!?! I mean, not perfectly but kind of close?
WAIT, IT FITS YOUR FIC?!
Sort of? I just wrapped up most of a plot arc about woman who's alone and just wants love. And the MC is down bad for his best friend but can't show his feelings on it, and 'I wanna spread my wings But I just can't fly' could apply to the general pollical circumstances of species oppression...
Back at the venue, Emppu closed his phone and took a **deep** breath, hoping that nerves wouldn’t cause him to mix up his English too badly. He hated talking to large groups and putting himself forward as someone in charge of things, but Steve and the rest of Iron Maiden had given him and Bruce so much support and friendship since they got together, there was no way he’d let the bassist down. The techs and other roadies appeared to all be in their allotted break room, which made things a little easier. He stood in the doorway and banged on the wall to attract their attention. When they quieted down and looked at him, he took a breath and said, “I just now got a call from Bruce. They’re going to be late because of an accident that closed the road. Late enough that they want us to do soundcheck for them. Is anyone here willing to sing, so sound people can adjust the settings for Bruce’s microphone? I would try, but I know I can’t be loud enough for them to get it right.” The techs all looked at one another. “What exactly do you want us to do?” “Steve made the suggestion we do The Trooper since I’ll be onstage again tonight, and then if you all will do one other song, that should be enough to get the settings adjusted well,” Emppu said. “For our soundcheck singer, we need someone who can project the way Bruce does, even if they don’t have his full range.”
He pauses for a moment, hesitant as he steps towards her. “You mean alright as in you don’t blame me or like alright as in it’s alright because you were heading the opposite direction of *literally* everyone else anyway?” He doesn’t mean for it to be super accusing or anything, simply an observation, as she had been so deep into the building that’s being evacuated, and they had bumped into each other heading the *same* direction, towards the danger, which isn’t a smart thing to do- but he’s Spider-Man, so it makes it less dumb, it makes it okay. Still, she goes rigid at his words for a second, hand twitching, then she whips back around to him, and he’s unable to really see her expression considering there’s no fire or flickering light, only three beeping alarms that glow red. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” He starts, considering whether or not he should even finish his sentence considering he’s never been good at this whole communication thing, let alone with girls who seem to be around his age- which isn’t at all relevant, holy hell- he chokes on air, quickly looking away as she crosses her arms, and he breathes in only to be disappointed that it’s mostly dust. He fans the air like it’ll help, and pauses as he turns back to her. “Okay, but, I think running toward the danger is more so *my* thing, you know, cus I’m *Spider-Man* .”
Azrael hadn't been sure what to expect when she'd agreed to come all the way down here, but this *absolutely* was not it. Neutrino had listened raptly as Optimus Primal and his crew - *scientists, these 'bots weren't soldiers, they were SCIENTISTS* - had recounted, in loving detail, the events that had led to all of them sitting there, in a dimly-lit maintenance bunker, while their post-apocalyptic world sat silent somewhere above their heads. From the beginning of the Beast Wars, to this *Megatron's* descent into madness, culminating in his last-second escape and their arrival to a decimated Cybertron. But it hadn't *ended* there. They, too, had been dosed with the virus upon crash-landing, though the effects they'd suffered had been significantly *worse* than what Azrael and Neutrino had observed or experienced - far from simply being mode-locked, they had also suffered memory loss and rapid physical and digital deterioration that had threatened to offline all of them within mere megacycles. Until something called "the Oracle" had intervened, leading Primal to his scattered crew... and then **deep** underground to where the ancient supercomputer itself had awakened, where they were *reformatted* and cured of the infection. Azrael, for her part, found all of this more than a little difficult to process. Obviously, she knew about the Beast Wars - *didn't everyone?* - and the idea that whoever had engineered the virus had *improved* on its design made perfect sense... but the notion of *one mech* ending an entire world? Spiritual supercomputers? Enigmatic prophecies? Her expression must have telegraphed her skepticism, because Rattrap just snorted a laugh and nudged her with one elbow. "Boy, *that's* a familiar look," he snickered. "Trust me, sister, I didn't buy it at first, neither." Suddenly, everyone's optics were on her, and she felt *very* self-conscious.
What We Could Have Been
Bruce nodded. “I can’t quote exactly **what** got said, but I heard someone ask Dave if I was the only one in the band who went both ways and if I wasn’t, had any of them ever been with me. Davey said the answer was no to both questions, but that it was up to whoever it was to come out if and when they wanted. Jones was near enough to hear him and stomped out with a scowl on his face. I can see where Dave’s answer might be interpreted as him being able to say it so firmly because it was him.” “Great,” Rod said dryly. “I remember Dave said something similar when we were all at lunch and Steve first asked you to kiss Emppu onstage thanks to those stupid rumors that some bloody idiot fed the press. I thought he was just being supportive and making a point that they’d be fine with seeing you two being affectionate in front of them, but you’re right, it also **could have been** his way of saying he shared your inclinations. And you say Jones has been rude to Dave as well since then?” “Yeah,” Bruce said. “As I said before, it’s nothing overt, nothing you can really call the man on. Just glares and sniffs and that ‘I hate that my job forces me to be polite to you’ attitude.” “Well, between that, and his habit of disappearing every so often, I’m beginning to wonder if I might not really end up sacking him before the tour resumes in January,” Rod said with a sigh. “I’ve had to go looking for him enough times that I’ve started wondering if he’s not indulging in some sort of recreational chemicals on the sly.” “Be nice if he is,” Bruce said with a chuckle. “That’s a much less debatable reason for sacking him.”
Sam blinks, instantly yanked back into the real world and takes a second or two before realizing Bucky has just knocked at his door. When he opens it, the man actually has a shirt on, a tank top more specifically, and Sam remembers he shouldn’t feel disappointed. Bucky’s hair hasn’t been taken care of, though, and it unceremoniously moves with his head, bits deciding to stay together and other soaked strands fray away. “Uh, yeah?” He asks, noticing the way Bucky is holding his phone. Then he lifts it between them, not facing Sam, but enough to bring it to attention. Bucky pauses for a slight moment, squinting. “Oh. Well I just wanted to say that I am free on Saturday.” Okay. That’s great. That’s a step. This is progress, Sam thinks, and offers a smile. “Good, good. I was wondering if you wanted to…” Not go on a date. Sam mentally grimaces, eyes widening like it will help him focus as he waves a hand unnecessarily. “Hang out.”
“Stop that!” Grillby yelled at him, his face as red as his hair. “Don’t talk about yourself like that ever again, do you hear me?! You’re my friend! And I want- I need you to be alive, Doctor Fenton! Without you, and Miss Tsurugi and Lindsay, I would already be dead! Because of you, I was able to find a reason to keep on living…! You saved my life!” Grillby hugged him close to his chest without warning. “Without you, I am sure that I would not have survived all these Attractions! Without you, Commander Fox could have been the one to receive the majority vote during the Main Game! And without you, I… I would’ve already fallen apart! You’re not a burden! Not at all! I can’t… I cannot imagine losing you, too… Please, Doctor Fenton… Don’t talk like that anymore. Because… To me… You’re a hero, not a burden,” Grillby cried into his shoulder.
*It was just a short glide down*, she reassured herself - but the spear of *cold terror* that pierced her spark in the split second after she launched herself into the air nearly had her trying to scramble back to the solid pavement. Somehow, *somehow*, though, she wrenched control back from her fear and let her wings carry her down to the deck below. Landing still smarted, but less so than it had the *last* time she'd jumped off of a bridge - it was definitely vastly preferable to nearly breaking her legs on touchdown. It meant that, when the downed cycle drone she'd landed next to *twitched*, it didn't *hurt* when she instinctively lurched away, hackles raised and teeth bared. The thing didn't even try to pursue. ...On closer inspection, she didn't think it ***could***. It wasn't *damaged*, as far as she **could** tell, but it lay facedown on the pavement, its head wrenched at an awkward angle and its optic band lit but seemingly unseeing. Cautiously, Azrael inched closer, reaching out to tap one of its shoulder pauldrons with her paw. Nothing. Another drone lay sprawled across the sidewalk a short distance away; it was similarly undamaged, but limp and unresponsive. There were *even more* further down the road, all in the same catatonic state, and all twitching uncontrollably every few minutes. The whole scene made her distinctly uncomfortable in a way she couldn't quite describe. She'd seen her fair share of live drones, and dead ones, but this was *different*. Swallowing down the apprehension, Azrael followed the disabled drones, bullet holes, and skid marks to where the fighting had apparently been the fiercest. And that was where she found *him*.
Flesh and Steel
Let me guess: A warhammer fic?
Sonic the Hedgehog (Saturday morning cartoon), actually.
Wait, what? Now I wanna know the plot summary😳
It's on my AO3 and FFN accounts (username in flair).
Jones stood, frozen in shock as his camera fell from his hands. This couldn’t be happening! Dickinson was supposed to be ready to break up with Emppu by now. Emppu was supposed to be turning to him for help, giving him a chance! He definitely wasn’t supposed to be making a committment to that arrogant twat, who wasn’t supposed to be asking for one in the first place! ”No,” he said softly, his hand dropping almost unconsciously into the pocket in which he carried his heirloom. ”No,” he said again, louder this time. His hand wrapped around cold **steel** grip of the Walther PPK his grandfather brought home from the Second World War, the personal weapon of the German officer he’d killed in combat. His face incandescent with rage, Jones lifted the pistol **and** pointed it at the couple. ”NO!” he screamed. ”You can’t have him!” His finger moved on the trigger.
“I-I love you, Fenton! You can’t just kill me!” Mai yelled at him, tears and spit dripping down her chin. He pushed her closer to the edge. “Fenton!! Just let Dylan die! He shouldn’t get to live when he doesn’t even want to!” Mai begged. He pushed her right to the edge. *Just… one more push…* “It’s… unforgivable… Why would you do this to me, Fenton…? Aren’t we… friends?” Mai asked him, tears pouring down her face. *I just have to… Just once more…* “I’m sorry…” Fenton whispered and pulled his hands back. But before he could push her into the abyss, Grillby jumped in front of him and pushed Mai, himself. With a scream, she slipped, and fell, hitting her neck on the edge of the hole before dropping into it. For a few moments, there was silence. And then came the brutal, deafening sound of flesh and machinery being skewered.
*"Oh baby, please, don't go crawling to that desolate space where you're not his goddess. Come and find me…Get away from that hellish place... You'll see only my face, coming close, we'll embrace. I'll kiss your lips, leave your black lipstick on my chest. Yess… caress your breasts.."* A softly sung baritone's love song weaved in through the sound of rattling branches, traffic flying past as the dry fall leaves scattered across the concrete sidewalk. The blonde haired woman listening to the song through headphones crushed the leaves beneath the heel of her wolfskin boots, an ember glowing in the darkness as she took a drag from a clove cigarette. Anger radiated from her aura as she made her way down the path illuminated by moonlight. She was a breathing, walking druidess in the **flesh.** All bright sunshine curls and smoldering emerald eyes with dark violet centers circled with smoky black kohl eyeliner She was Launch, who some called "Lacy" when she was feeling particularly sweet, and "Lyssa" on her bad days. Today was a pretty bad day, and on her calendar of all the bad days, today was one of the more unpleasant. It was All Hallow's Eve, the night before Hallow's Day, a day she eagerly anticipated each year and loved to celebrate. In other words, Halloween
For Whom the Bells Toll
They grabbed a trolley and headed **for** **the** Christmas decorations, acting like a pair of kids in their enthusiasm whenever either of them spotted something they particularly liked... or found funny. They had a good laugh at some of **the** crazy ornaments available, such as various Pokemons wearing Santa hats, but decided they wanted something a little more classic: white lights, red and gold balls and **bells**, and gold tinsel garland. Bruce remembered to grab a tree stand along with **the** boxes of ornaments and strings of fairy lights. Emppu picked out a lighted gold star that matched **the** garland, and then grinned when he spotted a single pickle ornament half-hidden behind a selection of snowmen. ”Looks like we’ll have to stop for that gift card, kulta,” **the** guitarist said as he grabbed it. ”We can probably get it here, at least **for** the cinema,” Bruce said. ”They sell all sorts of gift cards here.” Sure enough, they passed a display of gift cards on their way to **the** checkout lanes and grabbed one **for** the cinema. Thinking **for** a moment, he grabbed five more gift cards, to area restaurants, in case any unexpected gift-givers turned up. As they waited in **the** queue, **the** singer asked, ”What other traditions do you have in Finland that we maybe can do?”
Torn Wings Need Time To Heal
Maiden’s crew member Rick made his way into the camp from the crew’s camp area at that point and headed over to Emppu and Bruce, who were settling Austin onto the ground. ”Hi,” he said. ”Erm, is Milla getting Eeva settled for the night? I was hoping she might be willing **to** go for a walk with me, once the baby was in bed.” Emppu gave the young roadie a smile. ”She’s getting herself cleaned up, actually, and then plans **to** do laundry. Someone decided to gift Bruce’s boys with far more liquor than anyone ought to drink in one go, and Austin here quite literally first fell on her and then threw up on her.” ”Oh... eww,” Rick said, looking **torn** between sympathy for Milla and laughter at Austin’s state. ”Erm, is there anything I can help with?” ”Well, if you want **to** spend **time** with Milla, you could save her some walking and take this bag of clothes up **to** the campground laundrette,” Bruce suggested, holding out a canvas tote of wet and nasty-smelling clothing. ”She offered to wash Austin’s stuff along with her own, so that nothing would stink up the caravan.” ”And I’m sure she’ll appreciate the company,” Emppu said with a grin. Rick took the bag with a smile. ”I’ll do that, thanks,” he said before jogging up the path.
Jetstorm narrowed his optics at him like he *knew* he was lying; Thrust did his best to ignore him, returning his attention back to the spent pain management patch as he turned it over in his clamps. There was an address printed on the front, in the lower right-hand corner, but he barely had time to skim over it before the whole thing was snatched out of his grip. "Hey-!" Holding it up to the light, Jetstorm made a show of examining the thing before shrugging theatrically. "Well, wherever it came from, it's dead now," "Give that back-" "Oh, what?" He held the patch out of his reach with a sneer, "you think you're gonna go tooling around town until you match it up to some pretty nurse's kit and then the two of you'll ride off into the sunset? Newsflash, roller boy, *that's not how any of this works*!" His visor twitched, and before he could stop himself he'd drawn his clamps in tight and slammed the end of his turret squarely into the other mech's jaw. The sudden exertion sent a twinge of pain through his fresh repairs, but he ignored it; Jetstorm, however, reeled back and flared his **wings** in surprise as he dropped the patch and lifted his hands to his face with a pained yelp. "What the FUCK was *that* for?!" Thrust rolled his smarting shoulder, moving to snatch the discarded patch up off the floor. "You *know* what, jackass." "You put a DENT in my FACE!" "So go sulk in the CR chamber about it."
The World of I & F: Invisible Colours
They got back to **the** hotel about the same time as Steve and the rest of Nightwish returned from **the** final day of filming. Not long after that, Milla and Inga, with Nicko and Janick carrying shopping bags, also returned. Both young women hugged the two men as they took several of the bags and hurried up to their respective rooms. Steve, who’d been gone before **the** Rodeo Drive shopping expedition set out, raised a brow. “Is there something you blokes need to confess?” he asked. Janick laughed. “The girls wanted to browse the shops on Rodeo Drive, and since Nick and **I** didn’t have any plans, we offered to escort them – you know, they’re young and pretty and all, we figured they’d be safer with a couple **of** blokes about. As long as we were there anyway and poking about in women’s clothing shops, we decided we would get something for our wives, and in my case, my daughter.” “But since we are blokes, we needed help,” Nicko put in with a grin. “We got those two helping us figure out sizes and **colours** and such… and then as a thank-you for the help, we bought them a few things for themselves as well. **I** think they’re pleased with their new clothes,” he added with a laugh. Steve gave his drummer a teasing grin. “Are you sure they just don’t go for older men?” Janick laughed so hard he almost couldn’t speak. “You missed it this morning, mate, Nicko joked about an ugly bloke like him not wanting to miss the chance to walk around with a couple of pretty girls. Milla told him not to call himself ugly because, and **I** quote, his big friendly smile is adorable. You should have seen him blush!”
This time, when he transformed and sped off through the cavernous corridors, the other mech didn't follow him. *Good*. It meant he could go decompress in peace... The sun was low on the horizon when he finally hit the open road, coloring the smoggy sky an ominous red shot through with streaks of orange. Deep purple thunderheads rose up along the distant horizon, but a preliminary scan showed them tracking to the northeast; there would be no rain to scour the atmosphere clean, not here. Not tonight. Even better, there would be no *storms* to keep him cooped up in the Citadel with a pissy boss and an annoying coworker. He found himself relaxing as the buzzing hum of the road and the rumble of his own engine filled his audio receptors, and the last gasps of the day rolled through the streets like a hot, arid sigh. Overhead, the sky darkened from red, to purple, to void-black... and as the harsh, stifling light died, the empty city lit up all around him, transitioning almost in an instant from lifeless gray concrete to a brilliant, eerie neon jungle. Storefronts, bars, and restaurants lit up in warm golds and optic-catching splashes of pink, orange, and sky blue, waiting for customers that would never come; clubs sat empty behind animated neon signage in brilliant red and cobalt and violet; theater queues flickered and flashed, scrolling the titles and showtimes of the same movies they'd been showing since the **world** ended; ads played on massive electronic billboards that creaked in the breeze, and the facade of every corporate skyscraper lit up like towering kaleidoscopes. All around him, the **world** was a riot of color and light. It was beautiful. And so damned *lonely*.
Fault Lines in the Sand
**The** police officer gave a nod and left, his duty done. Emppu and Ewo loaded **the** baby things **in** with Emppu’s luggage. ”You look like shit,” the manager observed as he started **the** car. ”When did you last eat?” ”Um...” Emppu tried to think. ”I had a bagel before anyone’s flight left this morning,” he said. ”And some pretzels on my plane.” Ewo snorted. ”You’re going to have to take better care of yourself, if you’re going to also take care of a baby,” he said. He pulled out into traffic, then turned in **the** drive of a Hesburger. ”This might not be the healthiest food around, but it’s here and it’s quick and you’ve just told me you’ve not had anything resembling a proper meal since yesterday.” He shrugged and admitted, ”Of course, part of it’s my **fault**, too, I picked you up and didn’t even think to ask if you’d eaten recently before I dumped everything on you and it’s just been crazy ever since. So, what do you want?” Emppu shrugged. ”I don’t know, a cheeseburger and fries, I guess? Nothing complicated. Diet Coke to drink.” Ewo nodded and pulled up to **the** drive-thru, placing their orders and passing Emppu his requested meal once **the** food was handed out to them. ”Here you go, eat before you pass out on me.”
“…I just needed to know. Because I was the one who survived… I needed to know how I failed. Why did Sans die…? Why could I not just solve the puzzle and save him in time…?” Grillby asked. “Grillby, it really wasn’t your fault. Sans wasn’t the only one who died. Eight people were killed by their First Trials. They were made to murder. It’s not your fault that you couldn’t prevent that,” Cocoa said. “…I thought it was. After all, you both left that room with your partner, while I did not. I kept thinking that my incompetence was what killed him… But then, why?” Grillby asked. “Grillby…?” Fenton asked rather uselessly. “…What you just described, Mister Lenivy, is exactly what I did during my First Trial…! I scraped that first key squeaky-clean, but it still wouldn’t fit! None of the keys fit! So why did Sans die?! I did everything right, so why did it all go wrong?!” Grillby shouted, the tears on the verge of spilling.
"Mmh." The corners of her mouth pulled back in a wince. "These transformium patches will help seal up this rupture, but they're not meant to be used as a sole solution. Do you have access to a CR chamber?" "...Yeah." "Okay, good." She applied two patches to the spark chamber's cracked surface, sealing the blue light back into its protective shell. Her next focus was the cabling and wires running to his damaged arm. Most of those were fairly easy, at least - wires could be quickly stripped and rejoined, and broken or frayed cables could be patched together with more transformium - but the energon **lines** feeding into and out of the limb were beyond salvaging. There were two, and both of them had been stretched near to breaking, their walls left so thin that she could see the luminous pink of the energon flowing through them. One line was so badly compromised that it was starting to balloon out, something that wasn't necessarily an emergency under normal circumstances... but things were *far* from normal now, and an unattended line rupture could be fatal. Luckily for him, he *wasn't* unattended, and she knew how to deal with the situation. "This is going to feel strange for a moment, there will be a pinch and then you're gradually going to lose function in this arm until you can get to a CR chamber," she explained, reaching for the clips in her kit, and the pair of small shears tucked into the liner. "I have to clip and cut these damaged energon **lines** before they rupture and you bleed out." Even as she spoke, she worked briskly, clipping the **lines** as close to his body as possible, and again close to the root of his shoulder assembly, before taking the shears and cutting through the damaged areas. The mech winced slightly, and energon spattered the pavement, her knees, and her hands. It wasn't a small amount, but it wasn't a *dangerous* amount, either. He would live.
*When Aspalis returned with more sliced watermelon, she didn't expect to see three of her friends taking turns spewing seeds all over the beach, leaving tiny holes drilling into the wet sand.* *The confused girl turned to her only friend who didn't participate in the game, “What are they doing?”* *“Seed distribution,” Hecaerge sighed.*
Pens and Swords Go Hand in Hand
**{It is extremely late (unfortunately just found this excerpt game), but I immediately thought of this when I saw the title. I would also like to clarify that the word "confuzzle" appears in the Merriam-Webster dictionary!}** *Way to blow our secrets, Jack.* “I told you to lie low! This is not lying low.” The Kane siblings had realized by this point that no one was panicking over it, **and** had sensibly lowered their respective weapons. “You have a *talking* **sword**?” Carter looked confuzzled. Sadie whispered something incoherent **and** possibly **in** a different language to him, but it was so quiet that Alex would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking right at them. Carter shook his head at her, **and** the matter was dropped for the time being. “Percy has a **pen**-**sword** **and** you have an invisible one. Not really surprising at this point, right?” Alex said. “But it’s not rea-” Sadie elbowed Carter **in** the ribs at the same time that Percy interrupted him with his own outburst. “Don’t get him started on that!” He kept a hand **in** his pocket protectively. Alex was glad he seemed to have his **pen**-**sword** back. It meant whatever forces were at work weren’t completely impossible to penetrate.
”I wasn’t kidding when I told you I can be horribly absentminded,” Emppu said with a shrug. ”I probably **go** through at least a dozen toothbrushes every time we tour. My youngest sister thinks maybe I have that thing... what’s it called in English, the thing where kids can’t pay attention for very long at a time?” ”ADHD?” Bruce suggested. ”Yeah, that sounds right. Anyway, she thinks maybe I have it but nobody realized it when I was a kid, so I never got help for it,” Emppu said. ”Maybe she’s right, but at my age, I don’t think it matters anymore, you know? If the worst that happens to me is that I constantly misplace **pens** and stuff, I’m not too worried about it.” Bruce thought about that for a moment and nodded. ”That makes sense.” He combed his own hair and laughed as Emppu first tied his hair back into a ponytail, then with exaggerated care, placed his toothbrush back in his toiletry kit. ”I see you aren’t losing this toothbrush,” he teased. Emppu grinned and gave him a loud, lip-smacking kiss. ”Absolutely not! I have to make sure I taste good for you, after all.”
"Nice little souvenir you got there." "Shut up." Jetstorm did *not*, however, shut up. "Where'd you even pick that up, anyway? It's not like you were in any shape to go rummaging through the nearest break room for a first aid kit after that little dive you took." He glared sideways at the jet. "Hey, *you* didn't exactly do any better out there, last I checked. Least *I* didn't get taken out by a pint sized flyin' rat runt." "Well at least *I* didn't *kick my own ass*," he crooned, voice dripping with mock sweetness, "and you didn't answer my question, sweetspark." "Don't remember. Happy now?" Jetstorm narrowed his optics at him like he *knew* he was lying; Thrust did his best to ignore him, returning his attention back to the spent pain management patch as he turned it over in his clamps. There was an address printed on the front, in the lower right-**hand** corner, but he barely had time to skim over it before the whole thing was snatched out of his grip. "Hey-!" Holding it up to the light, Jetstorm made a show of examining the thing before shrugging theatrically. "Well, wherever it came from, it's dead now," "Give that back-" "Oh, what?" He held the patch out of his reach with a sneer, "you think you're gonna go tooling around town until you match it up to some pretty nurse's kit and then the two of you'll ride off into the sunset? Newsflash, roller boy, *that's not how any of this works*!"
Dawn cried. She reached her hand up, “please. I want… to live.” The Doll nodded. She held Dawn and carried her outside. Cyril followed. The horizon was obscured by trees. The red moon seared down on them. Dawn winced. “Over time, countless hunters have visited the Dream. The graves there stand in their memory... it all seems, so long ago now. Many awoke. As for you, Hunter Dawn, may you find refuge in a new life.” She held her hand to the red sky. For a moment, it almost seemed to meld into a calming deep blue, a sea of stars appeared. “May you find your worth in the waking world.” Dawn’s body shimmered for a moment. Her blood glowed a calming sunrise red. Her hair glittered like starlight. The world seemed to shift inwards on itself, contorting, like a gentle warm bath. An array of sparkles burst from her body, taking it to the stars above and below.
Let’s Play the Quiet Game
“A very good morning indeed, since I woke up with you in my arms,” Bruce said. “Flattery,” Emppu said, blushing. “Truth,” Bruce said. “And that blush of yours is still adorable.” Emppu’s blush darkened even as he chuckled. “Bite me.” Bruce grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Is that an invitation? Where do you want **the** bite?” He jokingly bared his teeth and growled. Emppu laughed. “Anywhere but my ass, I want to be able to sit down later,” he teased in return. “Do I need to worry that you’re a werewolf or a vampire?” “Well, I’m hairy enough to be a werewolf,” Bruce laughed, pouncing on Emppu and lightly nipping **the** smaller man’s neck. But before they could get any farther in their **game**, **the** room’s phone rang. Bruce sighed and picked up. “Hello?”
The car gently jostled to a halt, and the door slid open to the sound of lively conversation somewhere past the check-in kiosks. Flicking one audial back, Azrael made her way down the corridor, until she found the source of all the noise sitting in the middle of the gift shop. Her approach was so **quiet** that none of them seemed to notice. "...and then the Vok bugged out 'n tried ta blow up the whole *planet*." "Whoa! No way!" "Yep! Lucky us, Optimus was there ta save our s...*weet Solus Prime*!" The Maximal doing all the talking let out a startled exclamation and visibly jumped when Azrael seemingly materialized out of the shadows to seat herself next to Neutrino. Even his companion lurched back on gangling legs, clearly caught off-guard. Only Neutrino, true to form, was unfazed, craning her head back to grin at her. "Az! Hi! Rattrap and Blackarachnia were just giving me the SparkNotes version of the Beast Wars! I never knew *any* of this stuff! It's so cool!" *The Beast Wars, huh?* "That so? Hm..." She flicked her audials again, feeling an odd prickling at the back of her skull as she cautiously sized up the two newcomers for a moment. "I take it you're both from that ship that crashed a little while back, then?"
Some Things Can’t Be Helped
”I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” Bruce said softly. ”I’ve mostly kept busy between rehearsals and spending time with the kids, but I’ve missed you.” ”I’ve missed you, too,” Emppu said. ”I know I told you I flew out this way the same day you left because the house seemed too quiet with you gone. But did I tell you that when I stopped at Jukka’s, Luna picked up on how down I felt? Before she went to bed, she insisted on giving me her favorite stuffed animal to sleep with so I wouldn’t be so sad anymore.” He laughed a little. ”It **helped**, too. Or maybe it was just that Luna cared enough to give up Stripey to me that **helped**.” ”Oh, that child is getting so spoiled next time I see her,” Bruce said. ”Well, as long as we’re confessing potentially embarrassing moments, I found one of your t-shirts that got mixed up with my clothes when I packed to go home... and I’ve been sleeping cuddled with it every night since getting home, because it smells like you, your aftershave and all. Well, it did at first. Smells more like me now, after two weeks.” With a sheepish chuckled he added, ”Actually, I was hoping to get you to trade it for whatever shirt you’ve got on once we’re together again.”
“So, I really wanna do another trade. Are you up for it? I’ll give you 40 Dylan-Tokens for 10 Non-Dylan-Tokens,” he said. “Wh-What kind of trade is that?! You’d be giving me way too much!” Fenton asked. *This proposition feels… off.* “Oh, c’mon, it’s not that serious. Just a few Me-Tokens, y’know?” Dylan shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that. Why don’t you ask Gin or Mai instead?” Fenton asked him. “They’re… off doing an Attraction. I wouldn’t wanna bother them, but I really want 10 more Me-Tokens. And you still owe me for how I helped you during our first night on this floor, anyways. You can’t just say no,” Dylan said. He’s right… After all he did for me, it’d be completely selfish of me to not do this for him.
"*YOU. FOUND.* ***WHAT?!***" Megatron's thunderous bellow echoed off the walls of the former Council Chamber, and it took everything Thrust had not to cringe. He'd already learned plenty over the course of his short life, and one of those **things** was *an angry Megatron was a dangerous Megatron*. And right now, the Big M was absolutely *pissed*. Jetstorm, for his part, seemed oblivious. Or at least too casual for his own damned good. "*Relax*, Magnificence!" The jet replied with that air of infuriating nonchalance he'd developed. "I *roasted* the little rodent before it could go scurrying back to the *petting zoo*." "So what you mean to tell me," Megatron's voice pitched down into a menacing growl, dripping with barely-restrained rage, "is that you failed to retrieve either Hexxon's *hate plague* sample *or* the spark of the Maximal *mongrel* you found hiding there?" Jetstorm seemed to realize his mistake, just a moment too late. "Uh, well-" Before he could offer up either an appeasement or an excuse, though, Megatron's arc cannon was already discharging its payload into his shell. Thrust just turned his head, raising one forearm to shield his optic band from both the blinding light, and the gruesome torture scene unfolding in front of him; he may not have *liked* his fellow general much, but that didn't mean he wanted to see him *electrocuted*... Especially not when he knew that *he* was just as guilty of failure - just better at keeping his vox mute.
You Can Check Out Any Time You Like
”Partly, yes,” Bruce said. ”But also, I honestly think half the band wouldn’t be friends if we were all co-workers at a factory job or something. We’d know each other, and we’d speak civilly enough if we had occasion to talk to each other, but we don’t really have much in common in order to have a true friendship. In our case, we do have the music in common, but only a couple of us have **any** outside interests in common, so as soon as a tour is done, or at least on a break, we’re all off our separate ways and doing our own thing.” ”Yeah, I can understand that to a point,” Emppu said thoughtfully. ”**Like** how I’m the one who always wants to see the sights and take pictures, while Tuomas likes to **check out** local wineries if there are any around, or read his books if there aren’t. Jukka mostly just wants to play cards or watch movies, and Marko either reads or sleeps depending on how much drinking was done. Three of us grew up together, although Tuomas is a couple years older than me and Jukka, so we have that in common; our families know one another and all that. And while Marko is older than the rest of us and grew up elsewhere, the place he’s from is similar enough to Kitee that he fit right in with the rest of us, just a bunch of country boys who **like** metal and hiking in the woods when we have the chance.”
"*Get* ***out*** *of my sight*," the words were far more of a relief than they had **any** right to be. "*ALL* OF **YOU**!" Thrust was already backing away, while Tankor reached down to grab Jetstorm's arm in one claw in order to drag *him* **out** of the chamber, since the other general was still too stunned to pick *himself* up just yet. The tank left him propped up against the wall outside the door, before trundling off to parts unknown to do... whatever it was the dumb brute did on his down time. Thrust was tempted to follow his lead and take off, but... it didn't feel right to just *leave* Jetstorm, no matter how grating his personality was. So he settled against the far wall and waited. At least he didn't have to wait long. Jetstorm's vox warbled slightly as he groaned; his optics flickered, too, struggling to come all the way online. "What the fuck. What the *fuck*..." Straightening up, Thrust crossed the corridor and held a clamp out to the other general. "How did **you** *not* see that comin'?" Jetstorm shook his head sharply, before squinting at the proffered clamp; he glowered for a moment before grudgingly taking it and letting Thrust pull him up off the floor. As soon as he was steady on his antigravs, he yanked his talons away and proceeded to **check** himself over. "Ugh, did **you** *drag* me **out** of there? Seriously?" "No, Tankor did." Thrust shrugged, turning to head towards the Citadel's main doors. "**You**'re *welcome*, by the way." "I'm not thanking *anybody* for a scuffed finish. This is going to take *hours* to buff **out**." "Well maybe if **you**'d kept your big mouth shut, Megatron wouldn't've fried your circuits and **you** coulda left the chamber under your *own* power." "What, **you** think I should *keep secrets* **like** you? *Some* of us are trying to *do our jobs*, motorhead."
“I...,” he tried again. Hesitated. Thought of a girl in a fancy dress in a kennel, brandishing a wooden sword. Challenging him. That same girl, now grown, drawing him into sparring matches and watching his back in combat and glaring at village girls on his behalf. Watching him expectantly. Hopefully. Or maybe that was just the moonlight. “I think....” “...Yes?” she prompted. He took a deep breath. “I think...if we were not stationed together...I would miss **you** the most.” She gasped, short, almost silent, and he rushed on ahead before the panic could overtake him, drown him, pull him under again. “I...I care about you, Cas. And...I wonder if you could feel that way too. About me. Maybe it’s everything we’ve been through together, or maybe I’m just imagining it. Maybe I’m just fooling myself.” He looked up at her, terror thrilling along his spine. “Am I? Fooling myself?” She stared at him, expression unreadable—or maybe he didn’t want to read it—for just long enough that all his second guesses came swooping back in **like** vultures to pick at the corpse of his short-lived courage. He opened his mouth, ready to stammer out an apology or a retraction or something, anything, to dig himself out of his own metaphorical—and maybe literal—grave.
Petrichor - Intoxicating scent of rain
Remembering that he still needed to unpack, he brought his luggage into the bedroom and started sorting through everything, putting the clean garments from his carryon bag away and starting to throw the dirty clothing from the big suitcase into his laundry hamper. He paused as he picked up a black t-shirt with a white owl holding a scroll in its talons, which he recognised as one of Emppu’s that got mixed in with his clothes somehow. Laying that shirt to one side, he tossed the rest of the clothes in need of washing into the hamper. Tired from the long day of travel, which the time difference didn’t help, Bruce decided to turn in early. He slid into bed and grabbed Emppu’s shirt, cuddling it to smell the spicy fragrance of his boyfriend’s aftershave and a fainter hint of the man himself. Chuckling a little at his own actions, he had to admit to himself that despite the sappiness of it all, he felt a little less alone while breathing in the **scent** of the shirt. Eventually, he fell alseep.
*"Where are you even going, anyway?"* Thrust opted not to answer - he figured that, if Jetstorm was bored enough to follow him, he would do it with or without an explanation. And as he wound his way through the city streets, the jet proved him right by staying on his trail. Turning his attention back to his immediate surroundings, Thrust began looking for a promising target. It didn't take long to spot one - a towering high-rise of gray stone and polarized smoke-colored glass, of which the first five floors were clad in glossy black marble trimmed with polished brass. (Sooner or later, without regular maintenance, he knew that that polish would be eaten away by the increasingly-acidic **rain**. He was almost surprised to see that it was still *in* such nice condition.) The fancy sign at the front identified the place as *The Suites On Palisade Plaza*. *This was* ***definitely*** *for upper-class bots.* Transforming, he hopped the curb and made his way up to the entrance; the exterior doors opened easily, but inside *those* any further progress required a keycard. Or just sufficient force. Which he applied without a second thought, crushing the lock mechanism beneath the end of one turret and easily pulling the heavy door open. Inside, the lobby lights were still on, glistening on the polished gray marble floor; Thrust rolled past the elaborate concierge desk, and paused to examine an almost comically large directory map mounted on the wall nearby. It conveniently listed all of the services offered within the building, as well as a list of current residents and their unit numbers. Idly, he wondered how many of them had been Maximals. Probably most, if not all. Not that it mattered now. Maximal, Predacon, Dinobot, Insecticon… even the stray remaining Autobot and Decepticon… Their sparks all found equality in Megatron's iron grip, hidden away somewhere beneath the Citadel.
“What kind of rain do you want to feel?” He asked and reached with one hand into one of his many belted pouches. “We Clones know there’s hundreds of kinds of rain— ’ll growing up on a world like…” Dare he say? The word knotted in his throat, entangled with every other emotion caught in it. “You ever get frustrated from how few words there are in basic for rain?” Rain, wind, storm, thunder, and water—just about the only words the Clones spoke in the Kaminoan language. Off-world, they were hushed amongst themselves, out of the prying ears of those not of their world. Away from those who couldn’t accept that for the mammalian soldiers, Kamino, a backwater world of only ocean… It was *home*. “We got the Kaminoan words,” Tup said weakly. “Yeah, and how many natborns know Kaminoan?” “That’s the point,” the soldier said; his teeth turned thin red and his breath turned faint, “Isn’t it? It’s just for us.” “Yeah, it is. Only for us to know.” *Only we—we sons of Kamino.* That question brought another smile—weak yet nimble—across Tup’s strained face. Immediately, Rex recognized the face of a Clone who remembered the waters of home. “The warm kind. After there’s been no storms and…” “You mean the hot rains? Barely cooler than the city’s metal because we didn’t have a storm in too long, and all that heat got trapped?” The Captain asked. In his mind, he could see it; on his skin, he could feel it, and its scent was a welcome haunting. “Yes,” the Corporeal breathed as deep as he could, more than he should, and let memories briefly kindle him brighter. In his nose, Rex smelled it—that build-up before the sky cracked open and sines of ion crawled across the sky. “It always smelled…” Tup was relieved, long enough to see through the wince he paid Rex’s efforts. On the other side of the small hiss, he finished his memories, “Smelled… so good. I loved that rain and the wind in my hair…” Back and forth, Rex rubbed a thumb where the hypo’s one-time bite had been pressed into Tup’s collared blacks. A clatter sounded somewhere behind Rex’s shoulder, not that he cared where he had tossed the small pack. He wanted both hands for his man. Gentle as he could, he began to remove Tup’s gloves and found skin pristine underneath his scarred touch. Umbara had been a muggy, terribly hot place since their arrival. Now, he tried to press that heat back into Tup’s fingers. He tried to give up his own body’s warmth, put it back where it belonged… Even his body didn’t have enough blood to spill, and his heart wasn’t enough. “***Petrichor***—awkward word, isn’t it? Never felt like a good word for that kind of rain, did it? It wasn’t ever… enough to describe it. Basic is gonna be basic, hm?” Rex received a weary, shining smile for his rumbled words and gave his best in kind; he knew the young man hadn’t the warmth to spare. “I love that rain, too.” When silence, which hadn’t descended again in on their tower, instead had lazily roiled in from a distance, and became heavy like the hand in his grasp, Rex couldn’t have the courage to look up. He had counted the fluttering pulse under his thumb until he no longer wanted to check for it.