#almost exploded into a billion pieces while making these so enjoy

[p-sunghoonies]

[n0-n1c]

about to blow that madara-tobi freak out of the water 🧨

📃🏙️📄

as is becoming a habit, more details under cut :)

take a look at this bustling city we can be proud to call our own! in the embrace of waters deep six hundred billion seeds i have sown (all ready to bloom. aren't they pretty?) now comes a time for you to reap (every piece is a piece of me)

the paper collage part was made from a single newspaper in a fit of inspiration

the vaguely heart-like shape in the middle was a pain to make natural while keeping the wings as i wanted them.

i wanted to include a faint rainbow, or rather several color-tinted arches of exploding tags in the reflection. it didn't want to work with the composition.

most of the papers in her wings aren't distorted by the water. wonder what that means

deep dark... deep dark... alluring light at the very bottom...

now to the poem:

amegakure is suspiciously modern. best place to live! except for the war and rain and heavy industry and vaguely threatening leader with a god complex.

if this was the closing verse of something longer, the opening verse would be this: we were made out of stainless steel where others were left out to corrode only the strongest welcome the rain over a pit stop on war road

kishimoto has no idea how numbers work. i usually play with the timeline & ages to get something that makes sense at the moment (even thinking about team minato ages hurts). however 600,000,000,000 is an insane number i'm keeping.

(can't find the original post that first mentioned this but i've already incorporated it into my konan lore:) konan has a plan to take down any member of the akatsuki. very batman-like of her. except every plan involves an incredible number of exploding tags. "konan is the only sane one in the akatsuki"? she is sitting in their meetings while silently making exploding tags somewhere else. every time she lays her eyes on hidan or deidara or madara-tobi she ups the rate of production. i'm scared of big numbers because they overflow on accident or you have to think about what special type to give them & when you mess up an algorithm complexity they want to compute way over the heat death of several universes... (amateur c programmer with math background spotted) (btw in c it's long long int, 64 bits)

konan & flowers! i mean it's literally part of her design so why not indulge when she has created a literal minefield (except the whole field is made of bombs)

madara-tobi goes boom! poor obito finds field imagery around him (hatake, nohara). seems to be a normal japanese thing, but psst, let me enjoy this. mr fan-the-flame is drowned in fire

every piece is a piece of her. first of all, literally. don't tell me she sat down (cloned of course) and did calligraphy on regular paper by hand, and/or ruined the whole economy just for this. talk about putting your heart into something... second, she uses paper butterflies for spying. as in, she turns into hundreds or thousands of pieces (ch371; jiraiya assumes he's arriving in ame suuuper stealthily), all of them presumably directed by one consciousness. solid clones have copies of the original mind, and shadow clones can return memories only when they dispell. i can't imagine all the butterflies with a mind of their own and konan casually integrating such a number when she reforms. if that is the case, she is truly on another level. sidenote: nagato's paths of pain share line of vision. he's literally operating 6+1 bodies at once. you know what? i bow to that. let him enjoy his godhood!

in conclusion: she had the audacity & the 600,000,000,000 plan almost worked! my top 3 female character in naruto

[joaquinwhorres]

“Fuck this,” you muttered, placing your drink on the bar and brushing past him to dart up the stairs.

He followed, pushing people out of the way in his haste to catch up to you. “Can you stop leaving every conversation I try to have with you?” he called at your back as the two of you rushed through Pop’s and out the front doors.

You stopped and spun. “Why? There’s nothing to talk about. I thought we’d hang out this summer; we didn’t. Obviously we’re not as close as I thought. We’re on the same page now.”

“Why are you so mad about this?” he shouted, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Why are you so mad I’m ignoring you now?” you returned, watching people scramble to get out of their cars and speed walk inside. As if they were running away from a bomb they knew was about to explode. Which might be appropriate.

“Because it doesn’t make any fucking sense!” he held out his hands as if he wanted to strangle you but instead curled them into fists and shook a little.

“I missed you, you dumbass!” You blurted out, chest heaving as you stared at him. He took the confession in the same way you imagined he’d take a punch. A look of shock passed over his face as he stepped back towards Pop’s and then seemed to regain his balance and took a step forward. Your shoulders dropped as the anger seemed to drain from you, leaving you with all of the feelings you’d been so careful to push down. “All summer. I missed you. And you didn’t miss me because you had her,” you continued softly.

“What?” He asked trying to follow your words as your face heated up like it was on fire, and you felt like you wanted to cry or throw up or explode into tiny bits. You pressed your lips together, trying to keep it in, keep it down. You offered a jerky shrug. “So what was this all some kind of revenge?”

You shook your head.

“Then why the hell were you ignoring me if you missed me?”

You looked away from him.

“Dammit, Bree!” he shouted, and you turned back to him.

And in the next second you darted forwards swiftly putting a hand on his shoulder to help launch yourself up, standing on your tiptoes and leaning into him, pressing your lips to his. His hands caught your waist, almost reflexively, supporting you even though his lips didn’t move. Didn’t press into yours. Didn’t open. Didn’t do anything.

You pulled back, sinking down onto your heels. Sweet Pea didn’t say anything. Or move his hands. Instead he looked down at you with an eyebrow quirked.

You had thought—You swallowed the thought, pushing it down with the other ones, and letting the feeling that you had taken a bad situation and fucked it up even more wash over you. Fucking feelings. Your lips moved, trying to make any sort of words, but every time you attempted to say something your voice caught in your throat. “I can’t–” you finally whispered, attempting to take a step back and out of Sweet Pea’s grasp, but his hands tightened on your hips.

His face still seemed angry. Maybe even more now than before you had kissed him. “You’ve been avoiding me because you have feelings for me?”

You looked down at your feet.

“How long?”

You shook your head.

“How long?” His voice was slightly angrier, and he gently shook you by your waist.

“Since we set off the rockets in class,” you whispered, still refusing to meet his eye.

He exhaled a disbelieving kind of laugh. “And you let me feel like an ass for liking you? And then again for having a summer fling so I could move on from you since you were clearly not interested?”

It would have been nice if you could tell him that you had no idea he liked you. Tell him that you hadn’t purposefully distanced yourself and tried to make it seem like you weren’t interested. That you hadn’t convinced yourself you weren’t interested. Because then you wouldn’t have felt like such shit in this moment.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was still quiet. “I wanted to save you from this.”

“This?”

“Me. Being a disaster who can’t feelings. This always happens. It’s why I blew up a lab. It’s why I’m alone. I’m broken, ok? Just let me avoid you, and you’ll be better off.”

“No.” Sweet Pea said quietly, pulling you closer to him.

“No?” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted it to.

“Not this time. No,” he shook his head.

“It’ll just get worse.”

“We’ll work it out.”

You felt the familiar claustrophobic panic rise in your chest. The one from the way he looked at you the first time you set off an explosion by the quarry. The one that had taken hold of you at the lake while you were gazing at stars with him all those months ago. You looked up into his eyes and found them fixated on you, and it all felt like too much. The fact that he knew you liked him. And he liked you. And you guys would be in a relationship. Together. And how could a robot like you ever deserve someone like him or even come close to making him feel as happy as you did when the two of you were running away from a soda bottle that was about to explode.

But the promise of more moments like those and not having to see him with someone else, the knowledge that to some extent he hated not being with you too, the feeling of having him stand close to you with his hands firmly on your body. Those things would be enough to push through this moment and maybe even the next.

“Ok,” you whispered, looking up at him.

“Good,” he nodded, bending over and capturing your lips into his. And it felt like bottle rockets. Not the thrill of setting one off and waiting too long to run away, but as if you were the water bottle expanding and expanding, full of longing and anxiety and happiness and other emotions you weren’t sure the names of, and now, kissing Sweet Pea, you were exploding into a billion pieces, feeling everything all at once and enjoying every second of it.

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 9

A fire burned through Seina's chest as the bullet pierced straight through her body. Her opponent continued to fire, sending more shots through her chest. Every breath was agony, barely able to breathe. She pulled out her pendant, hoping she wasn't too late.

Through blood-soaked lips, Seina croaked out her transformation chant. "Change... Change...," she gasped through punctured lungs, "Magical... Love Dress... Up..." Light engulfed her, changing her into her magical girl form. Much to Seina's relief, the pain vanished, though it left her a little tired.

"What?" The vampire thug, Jentin, gaped in surprise. "You're alive? But she shot you through the heart, twice! How are you still standing?!"

"She's a magical girl, obviously," Takako said, bored. "It takes more than that to kill one of us."

"But, I." Panic filled Jentin's features for a moment before turning  back to confidence. "Nevermind. We still have a magic girl on our side! We'll just cut her to pieces."

"Maeko is a magical girl?" Aiko asked, surprised. "What's going on?"

From the shadows, a female vampire appeared, wearing a smug expression on her face. Something about the woman was vaguely familiar. "That's right, Seina. We have duped you. We sent her to train with you in order to learn your every weakness." She gave a cruel laugh. "Don't you remember? Love, friendship and affection are weaknesses. Your naivete will be your death, Seina!"

Seina's face twisted into a scowl. How had she allowed Takako to foolishly trick her? As usual, the vampires corrupted everything good in the world to hurt her. Just like her parents.

"Kick her butt, Seina!" Colten said, fuming. "I know magical girls are evil, but betraying you like that is a low even for her kind!!"

Takako snorted. "I'll do whatever it takes to beat you. You are my hated enemy, after all."

"You!" Being told that Takako hated her hurt more than Seina had expected. She'd really believed they'd been friends. Unexpectedly, it brought tears to her eyes. She rubbed them away and directed her anger towards the girl that had fooled her. Seina would enjoy punching her stupid face in.

"Understand this, Seina, it's my job to dispatch rogue magical girls, and that's what I'm going to do." Takako pointed her pistols towards Seina's heart. "I'm not playing around this time. Let me show you what I've learned since our last battle."

"Yes! Kill her!" The female vampire said. "Today, you pay for every humiliation you made me suffer through!"

Seina blinked. "Sorry?" Did she know this woman? Before she could inquire any further, Takako unleashed her bullets onto Seina. Like last time, the shots flew wide. Had the girl not learned anything from their last encounter? Her body jerked as something started pressing on her with crushing force, and Seina found herself unable to move.

"Each of those bullets creates a gravitational force with the strength of a black hole," Takako said, smirking. "That should make this easy."

"Shinobu, now!" The vampire woman said, and a middle-aged man appeared from the manga shop. Much to Siena's surprise, the shop vanished to reveal an empty building. He extended a hand, and Seina gasped as blackness engulfed her vision.

"Where am I? What's going on?" With some effort, Seina moved her head around, trying to understand what was happening. She froze as a strange gurgling sound echoed in the distance, sending a chill down her spine. Her heart almost beat out of her chest as a strange white figure with pale skin and stringy black hair wrapped around her body, screaming as centipedes emerged from their mouth, crawling all over her.

---

"We did it!" An almost hysterical laugh escaped Lilha's lips. "We did it!"

They watched as Seina stood petrified, twisting and turning, eyes widened in fear. Sweat dripped down Shinobu's head as he forced Seina to see her worst fears realized. With her gravity bullets in place Takako doubted her rival could escape easily. Still, they couldn't waste his opportunity. It couldn't hold Seina forever. Trapped or not, she was a formidable opponent. She'd break the illusion eventually.

"Seina!" Colten tried flying to his partner's aid, but Aiko stopped the fairy before he could attempt anything foolish. A scowl appeared on Mr. Kiyojiro as he watched, helpless to do anything to rescue his charge.

"Easy. Let's finish this. Let me show you my power." Jentin hefted his axe, a wide smirk on his face. His muscles bulged grotesquely, growing in bulk and volume.

"Yeah, get her boss!" Jentin's buddies said, cheering him on.

 "My power allows me to increase my natural strength a billion times! You don't have your speed to save you now!" The vampiric brute swung his enormous axe towards Seina's exposed neck. Its head, unsurprisingly, snapped off, not even leaving a scratch on the magical girl's neck.

Takako rolled her eyes. "A billion times zero is still zero." Why did they need these jokers again?

"Eh?" Seina blinked, confused. She took a step forward and collapsed over as Kiyojiro inflicted even worse fears upon her mind.

"You idiot!" A vein appeared on Lilha's forehead. "You almost broke the spell!"

"Sorry." The big vampire wilted under his queen's glare.

"Takako, finish her quickly." Lilha said. "I don't want her escaping. You, hold the girl's friends hostage. If she escapes, I want some insurance."

Takako's eyes widened as Jentin appeared behind Aiko and grabbed her arm hard, making the tiny girl howl in pain.

"Oops, did I break your arm?" Jentin gave a cruel laugh. "Too bad."

"Aiko!" Colten said, trying to pull the brute away. The vampire only gave a contemptuous snort and slapped him away. Mr. Kiyojiro ran to the fairy's side, glaring at the perpetrator. He cursed, helpless to do anything.

"What are you doing?" Takako seethed beyond furious. "This wasn't the plan. Leave her alone." The brute stepped away, giving his queen a nervous glance.

"Why do you care?" Lilha asked. "Besides, it's necessary if we are to kill Seina. Don't get soft on me. Do your duty as a magical girl."

Takako hesitated, looking towards Aiko as she gritted her teeth against the pain. What was she doing? Lilha was right. She was a magical girl. The life of a measly mortal girl shouldn't matter a toss to her.

"Yeah, do your duty!" Jentin said, taking pleasure as he squeezed Aiko's arm tighter, causing more screams of pain.

It'd be so easy to pull her pistols and blast Seina with them, but Takako found her limbs powerless to move. She watched as her rival squirmed in fear and pain, an ugly pit forming in her stomach. Takako had wanted to defeat Seina the entire time she'd known the girl. Why did it feel so ugly and horrible now?

"Takako, please," Aiko said through clenched teeth. "Don't do this."

"Seina, please! Wake up!" Tears were in Colten's eyes. Mr. Kiyojiro looked at Seina with an intense fearful worry. Takako knew if Seina died, it would break the rough man's heart.

"Do it," Lilha said, impatiently. "Kill her already."

After a moment's further hesitation, Takako made a decision. "I will." She summoned her white pistol and pointed towards her target and fired. Seina's body collapsed to the ground as Takako released the gravity holding her.

The magical girl blinked for several moments and looked at her hands, momentarily confused. "Huh, what happened?"

"What?" Shinobu touched his chest and blinked as he saw blood on his hand.

"I'm reuniting you with your son," Takako said. "I can't bring the dead back to life, sorry." Shinobu released a strangled croak, but it sounded relieved, almost happy. The vampire collapsed, dead.

"What are you doing?" Lilha asked, both fearful and outraged.

"Winning my way." Takako pointed her black pistol and blew Jentin's head off. The giant collapsed, and Aiko pulled herself away from his grip.

"Are you okay?!" Colten said, flying towards the girl, grasping her in a tight hug.

"I'm fine." Tears were in Aiko's eyes.

"Healing shot." Takako fired a bullet into the girl's chest, repairing her broken arm. Aiko gave her healed arm an experimental swing and gave Takako a grateful nod. Seina watched this entire exchange, completely confused.

"This isn't over, Seina," Takako said. "I still intend to defeat you. But, I'm winning through my own strength."

"You traitor! I won't forget this!" Lilha spat and ran off into a nearby alley. Her useless goons followed suit, also promising vengeance.

Seina continued to study Takako, still confused. "So, you're not working with the vampires any more?"

"No." Takako put her hands on her hips. "I fight dirty, but not that dirty. I have standards for my evilness. Stop wasting my time and fight me already. I'm eager to show you what I've learned since we started training together."

Seina nodded. "Okay. I don't understand you at all, but I'm relieved you saved Aiko. Thank you."

"Whatever." Takako rolled her eyes, but a slight smile appeared on her lips.

Seina summoned her staff. "Let's do this."

With blinding speed, Seina rushed towards her. But Takako was ready, shooting gravity bullets in front of her. Her opponent darted away, but still got caught in the edge of their pull, grinding her almost to a halt.

"You're strong, but can you take this?" Takako fired her next barrage of bullets. They flew past Seina's head. Aiming with two guns proved more difficult than it looked, so Takako chose a different strategy. The bullets exploded, shooting an array of magical beams that fired in random directions.

Seina broke past the gravity well and weaved around the beams, but they proved too numerous to dodge all of them, she flinched as one slashed across her chest. Takako continued her barrage, leaping high into the air and firing down towards her opponent. Beams rained down upon Seina from the exploding bullets while she summoned more gravity wells to impede her opponent's movement. Seina's body moved in slow motion as a black hole bullet struck her in the chest, leaving her exposed.

Takako continued to fire into Seina's chest, her bullets unaffected by the intense gravity. Her opponent staggered as the bullets struck her, yet Seina proved resilient. Making her shots immune to gravity made them less powerful and effective, but they were doing damage.

She's so tough. A flicker of doubt struck the back of Takako's mind. She could do this forever, but Seina refused to surrender.

Through sheer brute force, her opponent started to break past the gravity restraining her. She used her staff to deflect the bullets and lasers shooting towards her. In one final push, Seina had broken free of the gravity well. While Takako was quick, she needed to switch between summoning gravity wells and attacking, leaving gaps in her attack. Sweat glistened down Seina's head as she reentered normal space.

Takako cursed, keeping her distance. If Seina entered close quarters, Takako knew she was in trouble. Seina ducked and weaved as countless beams shot around her, focusing on confronting Takako head-on. In a blink, she was beside her opponent, staff raised to strike. With a flick of her hand, Takako aimed her black pistol towards her own chest and fired  just as Seina's staff impacted on her chest. A grunt of pain escaped Takako's lips, but she remained on her feet.

"You can make your body tougher, too?" Seina's eyes widened in amazement.

Through clenched teeth, Takako grinned. "There's nothing my bullets can't do." She fired on herself again, giving herself a blinding increase in speed, moving faster than even Seina could see. Her white pistol fired upon Seana, striking her against the chest, staggering her. With her full power, Takako's bullets could actually injure her opponent. Blood trickled down Seina's lips, but she rubbed it away with the back of her hand.

Despite her opponent running circles around her, Seina smiled. "You've really gotten much stronger. Your abilities are amazing, Takako."

Takako beamed, placing her white pistol against her shoulder. "As I said, I'm unbeatable. How about you surrender already?"

"Not a chance." Seina's smile disappeared, subtle anger blazing in her eyes. "Too much is at stake. I can't allow your ilk to harm my world and the people I care about."

"Even though you saved Aiko, I'm still not going to forgive you, Takako," Seina said. "How many people have suffered because of your cowardice? You might not hurt people personally, but you've allowed monsters to thrive. Countless people have gotten hurt because of you!"

Cowardice? The hand holding her white pistol shook. Was she a coward?

No, I can't be a coward. Magical girls are beyond morality. Yet, Seina's accusatory eyes burned into her, making her hesitate. This slip-up allowed her opponent to close the distance. Despite hitting herself with another defense bullet, Takako felt her ribs shatter as Seina punched her with full force. She tried fighting Seina off, but the girl's superior fighting skills made shaking her off almost impossible.

"Ouch." Aiko flinched as Seina delivered another punishing blow to Takako's chest.

"Go, kick her butt!" Colten said, cheering her partner on.

Mr. Kiyojiro shook his head, disappointed. "That's what she gets for ignoring the basics of defense. I warned her." During the exchange, her friends had moved to a safe distance, not wanting to get caught up in the fighting.

"No, I can't lose yet. Healing Shot." Takako said, blood staining her mouth.

Energy revitalized her as she restored her power with a shot from her black gun. Another shot quickened her speed, firing hundreds of point-blank shots into Seina's chest. She smirked as it was Seina's turn to stagger. A punch flew past her head as Takako dodged away, moving to a safe distance. Seina grimaced as she moved, moving with some sluggishness, helping Takako's escape.

"Ouch." Seina rubbed at her wounded chest.

Takako took pleasure in causing her rival serious injury. Yet, it wasn't enough. Seina had a great deal of fight still in her. She could hurt Seina, but not without great personal risk. She needed to get close to cause any real damage. No matter, Takako had a plan for that, shooting herself with another speed boost.

Seina's movements slowed to a grind as Takako summoned more gravity wells with her white pistol that engulfed half of her rival's body. Her black pistol pumped shot after shot into her while Takako circled around her. While not hitting vital areas, the shots caused Seina a great deal of pain. With some effort, Seina slipped out of the gravity well. But Takako disappeared before she could retaliate with her own attack.

"That's just cheap!" Colten said, fuming.

"Anything to win." Takako's lips quirked into a smirk. "You're just a brute, after all. Without your mighty strength, you're nothing but a target." That was what Seina deserved for fighting a more experienced magical girl. Instead of moving to attack, her rival stood still, eyes closed.

What is she plotting? Never mind. I've proven this fight is over with. After shooting herself with another speed boost, Takako went on the offensive. She purposely made her movements confusing, ruining any chance of predicting where she might be.

Now! Takako summoned another gravity well, and Seina didn't even attempt to dodge. Her rival was making this too easy, and Takako pointed her black pistol towards Seina's exposed chest. She gasped when she realized Seina had her staff in her other hand. Pain exploded, and Takako staggered as Seina struck her across the head. Takako had been in mid-movement, leaving her unable to dodge. She crumbled to the ground, dazed.

Too late, Takako realized what Seina had done. The girl had moved at the last moment, positioning herself so her head and staff missed the gravity well, leaving her in a better position to strike back. Incredible. Takako hadn't even seen her move. She laid on the ground, helpless. Without a shot to strengthen herself, Takako's body couldn't withstand the blow. She tried lifting her black pistol to heal herself, but Seina only kicked it away.

"No!" While Takako could just re-summon her weapon, Seina wouldn't give her a chance. She was dead, looking up at Seina with fearful eyes.

"You have some nice tricks, Takako," Seina said, eyes cold. "But that's all you have, tricks."

"What now?" Aiko asked, eying her friend with worry.

"We need to kill her." Mr. Kiyojiro said. "She'll only become a danger again."

"It's the only way," Colten said, nodding his agreement.

No! Despite the disorientation, Takako tried squirming away. Anything to save herself. A boot from Mr. Kiyojiro stopped her, pinning her in place.

"Please." Tears flowed down Takako's eyes, terrified out of her mind. Worse, Takako saw  contempt in Seina's eyes. Her rival was considering the possibility of ending her right here.

"No! We are not doing that!" With surprising force, Aiko pushed Mr. Kiyojiro off her. The bodyguard stumbled, surprised by the girl's tenacity.

"Aiko?" Seina's eyes widened in surprise.

"Leave her alone!" Aiko used her body to protect Takako.

What? Takako couldn't believe her eyes. Aiko was defending her.

"But…" Whatever the bodyguard was going to say, Aiko interrupted him.

"No! What are we, vampires? Takako doesn't deserve being shot down like a dog. She saved me, remember?"

"But, she'll only try and kill me again. She's still evil, even if she saved you." Seina paused for a moment and shook her head. "No, you're right. I'm being stupid." Much to Takako's shock, Seina placed her black pistol back into her hand.

"Healing shot." In an instant, Takako regained her health, glaring at her savior. "Don't think this changes anything between us!"

"But, thank you, Aiko." Takako said, turning her attention towards Aiko and giving her a warm smile. "You saved me."

"Takako, you're my friend," Aiko replied. "I don't want anything happening to you. We had fun together, didn't we? There's no need for us to be enemies."

Takako gave a derisive snort. "Shows what you know!" Though a small smile formed on her lips, eternally grateful the girl had saved her.

Though not pleased, Mr. Kiyojiro didn't argue. "For your sake, don't show your face around here again."

"No, she should." Aiko glared at the bodyguard. "We still haven't finished that movie we watched the other day. I just found another copy of it." She gave Seina a nasty look, daring the magical girl to contradict her.

"I suppose." Seina rubbed the back of her neck.

"Good! That's settled." Aiko said, her voice smug.

What the heck is going on? Was she meant to be friends with Seina now? The whole situation left her very confused. As per her habit, Takako fell back into the familiar.

"Don't think we're friends, Seina," Takako said. "I'm still going to beat you. Next time won't be so easy!"

"What a handful of a girl." Mr. Kiyojiro said, scowling.

Before anyone could say anything else, Takako used her black pistol to teleport herself far away from the scene, thankfully alone again.

---

A rat scurried across the street as Ume walked around an ally. People dressed in almost rags huddled around a fire near a bombed-out building. The country had recently been at war with a neighboring one. While victorious, the cost had been high. Suitable living spaces were sparse.

Despite this, the citizens made the best of their situation. They laughed around a cooking pot and poured out stew for anyone hungry. It was the best they could afford. Children ran around in the streets, playing a game only they understood. It brought a smile to Ume's lips. It quickly shifted to a frown when a group of soldiers walked by. The mood in the camp immediately shifted. Mothers grabbed their children and hid them from sight. The men went on high alert, watching the approaching soldiers with wary eyes.

The soldiers smirked, enjoying the instant fear their presence caused. One brutish-looking man stepped up, a club in his hand. The man thought he might have some fun with these helpless civilians. He thought wrong.

 Ume stepped out from her hiding place and the brute froze in terror. His fellows quickly abandoned him, fleeing for their lives. The people, however, watched her in awe.

"P-please... I..." The soldier trembled as she approached, trying to come up with some excuse for his actions. It didn't matter. The man was already dead. Seconds later, the brute's eyes widened, gripped by a terrible pain in his chest. Moments later, he collapsed, no longer breathing. Ume had never tolerated bullies.

While shocked at the soldier's sudden death, the townsfolk gave her a grateful nod and smiled at her. They knew what her coming meant.

"Oh god, it's her!" A man said. He pointed a gun towards Ume's face, knowing full well how useless such a gesture was. Other soldiers moved to surround her, trying to stop her from reaching her target.

"Move," Ume said. This one word promised death if they dared defy her.

The men continued to point their weapons towards her, but one man lost courage, tossing aside their weapon, fleeing at full speed. Soon, the others followed suit, allowing her to enter the mansion unimpeded.

Inside was a sickening display of trappings of wealth. Priceless pieces of art lined the walls, several resorted to their former glory. The sight of such pointless opulence twisted Ume's stomach. The more wealth she saw on display, the angrier she became.

After taking another staircase, she reached a set of double doors. She sensed her target was behind them and pushed them open. The men inside froze as she entered. Sitting on a throne was a round-faced man in his late fifties. He watched in abject horror as she approached. Around him stood several other important men. It seems Ume had caught them in a meeting.

The men guarding their leader were more loyal, shooting their sidearms at Ume's head. Another tried escorting their leader out while the guards kept her distracted. It was useless, however. Ume appeared in front of the fleeing men, stopping them cold. The president trembled in fear, realizing escape was impossible.

While pulling his leader away, the bodyguard withdrew a sidearm, firing into Ume's face. The gun clicked empty after the man had unloaded the entire clip into her. The bullets hadn't even scratched her. Desperate, the bodyguard withdrew a knife and charged. It was his duty to protect his president, and he'd die before failing that mission. Despite herself, Ume felt pity for such misplaced loyalty and only threw the man aside with one arm. The impact left the bodyguard dazed, but still alive.

"Please! I'll do anything! Please don't kill me!" The president trembled in fear, voice desperate.

"I gave you one order, and you failed." Ume's tone was icy and unrelenting. With a hand, she gestured to the fine furnishing. "While you live in sickening wealth, your people starve and live in burnt out buildings. Every day they fear for their lives. A single out-of-place word might get them killed. Anyone that dares even question your word disappears, never to be seen again. I've seen and heard everything."

"I freed your people from those monsters so you could create a better future. Instead, you became no better than your predecessors. Worse even. You squandered the opportunity I gave you."

Somehow, the president regained his courage. "How dare you! You have no right to tell me how to rule my country! You're a stranger to this world. You can't tell us how to live our lives."

"Silence." The rebuke made the president flinch, and Ume continued. "I wasn't asking for a paradise free of suffering. Just a society where the average person could live in contentment and happiness. A world where no one lives in fear! It is my duty as a magical girl to protect the common folk and stop suffering."

Ume extended a hand, summoning her weapon. It was a pen sized wand made of a pink chrome-like metal. On its tip was a heart-shaped jewel that sparkled under the light of the chandelier above them. "And now, your rule is finished."

"What?" The president made a strangled cry after seeing what the magical girl gripped in her hand. It was a heart. Ume released it and it plopped to the ground, staining the rich carpet in blood. A strangled cry croaked from the president's lips, and he grasped at his chest. The man collapsed dead moments later. The entire room froze in stunned silence.

Gingerly, Ume withdrew a handkerchief and whipped her hand clean. After examining her handiwork, satisfied she'd cleaned all the blood, she pointed a finger towards a younger man, the one who'd been the vice president.

"You. You're the leader of this country now." Ume said, a warning in her voice. "Learn from your predecessor's mistake. When I return next year, this country better be in a happier state. Or else, you're next."

"Yes, I understand." The new president croaked these words, terrified out of his mind.

"Good, don't disappoint me." With a flick of her hand, she vanished from the office.

"Do you think it'll work out?" Her fairy partner, Hope, said. "The replacement seems hardly better. It isn't like he'd done anything to make things better for his people either."

"I know, but order needs to be established right away," Ume replied. "I'd rather not have the country fall into civil war." From her experience, civil wars were messy and hard to clean up. "Either he learns his lesson, or I kill him, too. Eventually, I will find someone who can do the job."

Hope nodded. "Another world freed from suffering!"

"For their sake, I hope so," Ume replied and pulled out a box of pocky sticks. It was chocolate, her favorite, and she bit into it. "Any news to report?"

Hope nodded, giving a cunning look. Her fairy partner had secret contacts by home, allowing them an advantage in undermining the Devil Princesses' plans. "Yes, Emiyo has left Starlight Dream and is currently in Sector 8. It seems your efforts haven't gone unnoticed."

"Perfect." She chomped down on another pocky stick. "I figured I would lure a lieutenant out eventually." Though, Emiyo was a different caliber of magical girl compared to the chaff she employed.

"According to my source, Universe number 108 in sector 8 has had an unusual drop in suffering. A magical girl named Takako left to investigate, but never returned." Hope said. "They suspect you're involved. That's one reason Emiyo left home."

"Really? It wasn't me." This caught Ume's interest and she paused eating her snack. Few forces in the multiverse were powerful enough to kill a magical girl. A potential ally? She'd accept anyone if they helped her rid the cosmos of the Devil Princesses.

"108 is where she's going after checking up with the remaining magical girls of Sector 8," Hope said.

"Excellent." Ume finished her snack and got to her feet. "We can set a trap there. Emiyo won't be an easy foe, but she'll die like all the rest." She pulled out a picture and placed a hand against it. It showed a younger version of her laughing with another girl with blond hair and bright green eyes making a peace sign. A silly frame of stars and hearts surrounded it. Terrible memories followed, and a nasty smile grew on Ume's face. She'd take a special pleasure in killing the lieutenant. She'd been involved in Hinata's death.

"Let's go." Ume returned the photo to her pocket. Hope waved her paw and summoned a portal away from this grim place. She looked forward to visiting universe 108 and meeting someone capable of killing a magical girl. After many lonely days fighting by herself, the possibility of gaining a new ally and friend was a welcome one.

[auroraaa555]

“Domain expansion. Infinite void”

My current #1 Anime is Jujutsu Kaisen and I absolutely LOVE the idea of domain expansion. Particularly Gojo "Daddy" Satoru's Infinite Void. As I was watching episode 7 I found myself wanting to know what it would be like to experience Infinite Void so I decided to write a short scrip of what might be going on in Jogo's (aka. Mt. Fuji) mind at that moment. I hope you enjoy.

Uhh spoilers I guess.

It's my first time posting on here so take it easy on me and it's a rough draft so don't be too harsh :3

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

“Domain expansion. Infinite void”

Those were the last words I heard. Not even a second had passed since.

I tried to bring the Jujutsu sorcerer down, I was sure my attack had hit him and Sukuna’s vessel, but somehow not only had he stopped it but he had also laid his own domain in less than a blink of an eye. How!? What was the meaning of this!? How is his curse energy and mine on so different levels!? I HAVE TO KNOW

“Infinite void”. Those words resonate with me on a different level. I know what the six eye cursed technique was and how the limitless curse worked, this man had been blessed with both of them. I knew that since he was born yet I was naive enough to think I could take him down. I had told Geto that it would be nothing but easy work for me, after all, humans have no innate control over cursed energy as we do

“You can try, but you’ll die, Jogo” he had said. I know he is watching from some distance, Hanami is with him too, I have to make sure I stop Gojo right here, right now.

I glance up, frantically trying to make sense of what is happening, I can see how my domain is shrinking, it's getting overtaken by Gojo Satoru’s domain. He even has Sukunas vessel under his right arm, it's almost as if this is a charade for him.

Light around me flickers and turns into lines of multiple colors, I'm frozen in place, not just because of his technique but also because of the atmosphere around us, it's so dense, so powerful and so insanely destructive. light turns into darkness, the lines get longer and longer until it turns into a massive white screen of... nothing… I have been quietly watching innumerable horizons over what felt like years, it had been years right? could it be perhaps that it had only been a minute? or a second? This absolute whiteness has no direction, no up or down, no sun, no moon or clouds, no air or even a breeze, no way of telling the passing of time, just hollowness.

After a while I realized that I'm just standing on the edge of infinity. I could feel the cursed energy all around me. The whiteness is never ending, there are no colors beside this... Had the sorcerer blinded me? I tried to raise my hand, afraid of realizing that indeed I had lost my sight. To my horror I couldn't move. I knew as much since the beginning, not only that but also my legs didn't respond, I couldn't feel my heartbeat either, or even blink, my body just not … was i dead? just what the hell had happened? What kind of cursed technique had he used on me? Was his domain really that refined?

My mind is not understanding anything that's around me, there is no input of information, it's only my thoughts, and they are running wild, the prospect of being trapped in this place made me want to tear my flesh, eat my own fingers, gauge my eye, ANYTHING if it means breaking free, though, that doesn't really mean anything if i cant move.

After a while I start noticing something, there is movement! there's sound! I'm not blind! i… i … a whisper, a glimpse of color, basically undetectable but its there, somewhere. Then it hits me, i get absolutely overwhelmed by the amount of information that is just thrusted into my brain, there is just too much of everything, it doesn't stop it keeps pushing through it's like

trying to fit the whole ocean into a cup but when it resists the information just keep pushing down, there is no breaking the cup, it just keeps widening, i want to scream for it to stop, but i can't, nothing happens, just the onslaught of information.

Numbers and words simply cant convey just how much of everything there is, oh how many lives I had seen, just how many sunrises and eclipses were happening at the same time everywhere. i'm sure they were all real, even though I am still frozen in the same spot as i was, this infinite void as the sorcerer had called it is not so voidless anymore, there is so much happening, and even though to my there is no forward or backwards everything keeps moving at the speed of light

Every second is agony, the cup that is my mind has tried to explode millions of time but it keeps getting bigger and bigger, not one process is ever completed it just starts, it gives me time to understand what is happening and then it stops, just to start again, again and again. My mind is shattering. No, it has shatter many times already. No experience had prepared me for this sensation, every animal breathing, jumping, flying eating and being devoured, every human smiling, all of their suffering or success are inside my mind. I can feel millions of bites, billions of smiles, tears, eyes opening, closing, mouths saying an uncountable amount of words in all the languages that exist

“This is the inner world of limitless”

I hear the sorcerer say, even though the information was still coming, his voice was on top of everything. He put a cold hand on top of my head and smiled, i cant see him but i can somehow tell what he is doing, he is not blindfolded anymore and he is moving within this domain he seems free.

“Perception, communication, every action involved in living is forcibly carried out an infinite number of times.

He pauses for a second, that smirk of his gets bigger, i know he is looking down on me, his tone of voice is soft, like someone who is talking to a dying pet just before they pull the trigger. I don't know how, but I'm going to bring down Gojo Satoru even if it kills me!

“It's ironic isn't it? when granted everything you can't do anything but just die peacefully… but i have questions i want to ask you, so i'm letting you off the hook with this…”

The sorcerer starts grabbing my head with such force that it slowly crushes my head, unable to move, i'm trying to scream, the pressure behind my eyes is too much im totally helpless as this monster just pulls up, it feels as if the world is just spinning on this one point, it's just us, the sorcerer pulling my head, my body resisting and everything just... everything just…

A cracking noise where my spine is separating makes me get back to the ugly reality, I feel like thunder surges through my body as the sorcerer finally is able to sever my head with his hand, my body doesn't resist the pull, it just gives up and he tores not only my head but my whole column, my blood spills in every direction, but it doesn't reach him, that infinity of him stops it once again. i have been trying to understand how this works, how can he touch me

but i cant my mind is going blank … the last horrific second i can see that that the infinite void is shattering into a million pieces of glass under his feet, Sukuna’s vessel is still under Gojo’s arm, unaware of the unspeakable terror i had just been through. i start to wonder what exactly would take for someone like me to defeat this monster, Prison realm is probably not enough anymore, i … gotta… find a way…

Light starts fading …

I can spot Hanami in the distance, she has a flower in its hand. I wonder why... please just… Silence...

[moondustis]

special affair (m)

pairing: doyoung + reader genre: angst, smut word count: 5,3k summary: at a very young age you learned that wealthiness stayed alive by deals and contracts, and that’s exactly what your marriage with kim doyoung is. a deal.

love is not real. that’s the thought that crosses your mind as you stand alone in the illuminated ball room, the champagne glass on your left hand almost empty.

another well dressed couple passes by you and you’re once again doing what you do best, observe. the man is too old and the girl too beautiful. you wonder what’s more expensive, the watch on his wrist or the diamond ring on her finger.

a blink of your eyes and you are wondering if their relationship is as fake as yours. another blink and you are looking away, downing the rest of champagne that was left as if the slightly bitter taste would make the unpleasant thought leave your mind.

this is not an unusual scene. in all honesty it’s probably the most common on in your life. an expensive party, with golden lights and golden jewelry, a dress too tight and too expensive and a fake smile painting your lips better than the red lipstick you’re wearing.

for as long as you can remember love has been a performance, not something you would daydream and talk to your girlfriends about, but something you had to fake. at a very young age you learned that wealthiness stayed alive by deals and contracts, and that’s exactly what your marriage with kim doyoung is.

you’re not unhappy, neither do you hate if, doyoung has made sure that every detail, from the room you two don’t share to every piece of jewelry on your vanity, makes you comfortable about the deal you have.

it’s very simple actually, like you are a oscar winner actress performing on a movie where you have to be the perfect image of a wife, accompanying your rich ceo husband on every event and pretending you’re so deeply in love with him that nothing else matters, not even the million and billions of dollars you two are worth together.

the plot twist of the movie is that after the party your husband doesn’t seem to remember that you exist, too busy with his millionaire deals and the future of his company. what the gossip magazines don’t show is that the only times doyoung kisses you is when there’s a camera around. the perfect act.

you’re not unhappy, not at all. but sometimes the house feels too big and the expensive ring on your finger feels too heavy.

you take a deep breath, pondering if you should get another drink since there’s not much for you to do here. the jazz music that the band is playing is boring, a perfect match for the whole atmosphere of the party. your eyes end up searching for doyoung only to find him still talking to the other men that probably don’t have anything better to do than talk about money and expensive cars.

as if knowing you’re looking at him, doyoung’s eyes find yours and when you don’t look away he raises one eyebrow. you watch as he excuses himself from the group of men and makes his way towards you.

it’s funny almost, how his presence still affects you, to the point that watching him get closer makes your heart speed up just a little bit. your face on the other hand is the perfect image of natural, ready to welcome him when he finally stops right by your side. the smile that takes over your face almost a defense mechanism.

“is there something wrong?” is the question that comes out of his mouth and for a moment you’re fooled that he is actually concerned.

“not at all, my love.” if he senses the mockery fake tone of your voice he doesn’t let it show “why do you ask?”

the small smile that takes over his lips is almost as fake as yours. “you seem a bit tired, that’s all.” you hate the formality of his voice. “perhaps we should be heading home.”

you just nod, letting him hold your hand as he guides you outside the ballroom. you do your best to smile at the people that pass you as you bid your goodbyes. the world around you is spinning just the tiniest bit, not drunk but definitely tipsy and doyoung must notice if the way he moves to hold you by the waist is any indication.

the wait for the car is almost suffocating, he doesn’t let go of your waist but still doesn’t speak a word to you. too intimate and not at all at the same time. you decide to close your eyes, the cold air making you shiver and you wish you were in your bedroom already, sleeping peacefully.

your eyes open again when you hear the sound of the mercedes arriving, doyoung opening the door so you can enter, and then shutting the door close.

you let your eyes fall close again, head pressing against the car window while doyoung drives. you enjoy the quiet beat of the song playing on the radio until he turns it off suddenly.

“why did you drink so much?” he asks, voice stern and it surprises you but you don’t let it show, keeping your eyes closed.

“i didn’t. and why do you care? you’re not my father.” pettiness.

“well, you sure are behaving like a child right now.” he sounds angry and you wonder if he has a had a little too much to drink too. it’s not like him to pick fights, he usually doesn’t even bothers keeping up a conversation after two sentences. it only makes you want to press further on it.

“and you’re being very annoying.” you know it’s childish and it only makes what he said more true but you don’t care.

you decide to open your eyes, only to see the look on his face. it’s a mixture of a lot of things. anger, tiredness, like he can’t believe you’re doing this right now.

the rest of drive is silent, the words you want to say stuck in the tip of your tongue.  his fingers keep tapping the wheel and it makes you impatient.

when he parks inside your garage you get out of the car, slamming the door behind you just to make a scene for no reason. you’re not sure what you’re trying to achieve here, maybe you want him to get as angry as you are. want him to show at least some emotion, show that he’s affected as much as you are.

it works because just as you get inside the house he grabs you by the arm, stopping you from going up the stairs and into your room.  “what has gotten into you today?” is what he says, voice low as if to not disturb the quiet house.

“what? can’t i get tired of playing pretend once in a while? not everyone is as emotionless as you are.” your voice drips with poison, aimed to hurt him for no specific reason. the slight look of hurt that crosses his face makes you feel proud and awful at the same time.

“i have told you before that if you do not wish to come to a party with me all you have to do is say so.” he says and you roll your eyes, this is not how it works and he knows it very well.

“we have a contract, doyoung. you may not remember that i exist but if there’s one thing i can’t forget is that i have a role that i have to play.” you spit the words out on his face “and all i have as a reminder is this giant ring on my finger.”

he’s gapes at you for only a moment, not letting you see himself as weak for longer than that. “you have as much of a say in this contract as i have, if you want to-“

“oh please, you have no idea what i want, kim doyoung.” you whisper, voice angry and ready to explode. you hate that even now he looks collected, like none of this is affecting him.

“then tell me. what do you want?” he’s so close you feel overwhelmed by his cologne.

“i want you to show me you feel something.” you are not sure what you mean by that but maybe deep down you do know.

maybe deep down you wanted him to press his lips to yours like he does, with so much force that he has to grip your hips to keep you balanced. maybe you knew this is what would happen but you’re still left surprised.

it takes you a moment to reciprocate it but when you do he kisses you like a mad man, like he has been starving for this for ages. he kisses you like he means it for the first time since you said i do.

it’s so intense that you think this isn’t the doyoung you know. his lips move against yours slowly but with a force that makes you get out of breath in no time.

“is this what you wanted?” he asks, forehead pressing against yours and hands gripping your hips.

“no.” you have the nerve to say, eyes staring right into his almost in a challenge. “i want more.”

“i know you can do better than that, _____.” his voice is teasing.

you take a moment to take in the look on his face. eyes staring at you so deeply you’re afraid he can see right through you. his lips are slightly red from your lipstick and he looks ready to eat you alive.

“i want you to fuck me so hard that i forget this isn’t real.” saying it out loud makes you feel so confident that when he smirks you kiss it right off his face.

the journey to his room is all messy kisses and hands moving around. he scatters kisses all over your exposed neck, hands gripping your ass tight. you get lost for a second in the feel of it, imagining what he will do to you.

he was never someone who left a lot for the imagination. his stoic behavior never giving away anything but you liked to imagine that he would be as dominating as he was in his business.

you’re interrupted from your thoughts when he pushes you down the bed, leaving you there as he undoes his tie. you sit up and gently push his hand away, doing it for him. you feel his eyes glued to you as you unbutton his shirt, there’s and strange intensity in the air and the small feeling of inadequacy sits on the bottom of your heart. this feels too intimate, something you shouldn’t be doing with a man that barely looks you in the eye.

the feeling is forgotten when you finish unbuttoning his shirt and one of his hands come to your chin, making you lift your head to look at him. you wonder how you look, with your swollen and red lips that are probably smeared by now. he kisses you too softly that it feels out of place.

“you’re so hot.” he says, a thumb rubbing your cheek and then pressing at your bottom lip. you know what he wants you to do but you want to tease a little, get him mad just a bit.

he press his thumb down a little harder, getting you to open your lips and just then you move your tongue to lick it slowly before sucking it into your mouth. his eyes grow darker at the view and you do your best to please him, swirling your tongue around.

one of his hands move to your neck, running it down to the strap of your dress and then the other. you shiver when it falls to your wait, breasts coming in full view and nipples hardening. he must’ve been surprised that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it because it takes a minute before his next move.

you whine a little around his finger when his hand comes in contact with your chest. what a scene it must be, you with your fallen dress and mouth sucking on his finger while doyoung massages your breasts.

“are you going to be a good girl and suck me off, huh?” he asks and you just nod. his takes his finger out of your mouth, moving his hand to lay on your cheek. it’s filthy how you can feel your saliva still on it, even more when he slaps you gently. “come on, if you want my cock in your mouth you have to say it.”

it’s embarrassing how his words are making you wet, how you look at him with eyes pleading and do exactly what he wants you to. “please,” your cheeks turning pink only makes him want it more “i want you to fuck my mouth.”

he hums, pleased and you watch as he undoes his belt, slowly unzipping his pant as if he’s the one teasing you now. you get up, unzipping your own dress and letting it fall on the floor, taking your heels alongs the way before you’re kneeling in front of him. he discards himself of his shirt, chest bare and you have the urge to run your nails on it, scratch him, mark him.

his hand moves to your chin again as he pushes his pants along with his underwear down. you lick your lips when his hard cock comes into view, him stroking it lazily before running the tip on your wet lips.

you open your mouth when he tells you too, tongue out and welcoming.

he pushes it in slowly letting you get used to the feeling. you like it, the weight of his cock on your tongue and his eyes staring at your lips like there’s nothing he would rather see right now.

when his eyes meet yours, all glazed he starts thrusting. you enjoy the pace of it, he starts slowly and builds it up to the point you have to grab at his thigh for balance. the grip he has in your hair makes you moan around it and it only serves to press him on. he goes so deep and so fast and it has been so long since you’ve done this that you gag a little around his dick, drool coming down your chin and eyes wet with tears.

he seems to enjoy the view but still slows down the pace, the hand that was on your hair moving to your cheek, rubbing gentle circles on it. “your mouth feels so good, baby. i wish i could fuck your throat raw until you had my come filling up your mouth.”

a wave of arousal hits you and you try to ease it by rubbing your thighs together. he laughs a little at the view. “you would like that wouldn’t you?” he asks, taking your dick of your mouth with a wet sound and starts finishing undressing. “but you wanted me to fuck you, remember? so i have to do just that.” he helps you get up from where you are kneeling on the floor, your knees red and sore from the carpet.

he starts kissing you again and your eyes close at the sensation of getting attention again. you like the way his lips move against yours, like it’s not the first time you have done this and he knows exactly how to rile you up. his hands massage it’s way down to your hip bone and he settles it on the sides of your panties, as if asking for permission to take it off. when you wiggle your hips a little he hooks a finger around the waistband and brings it down your legs with a little help from you.

when you’re left bare in front of him he moves away from you and positions himself on the bed, lap inviting for you to take a seat. “come on, baby. you want it so much that i’m gonna let you work for it.”

his eyes don’t leave you as you get on the bed and move until you’re on his lap, sitting on his stomach. he can feel your wetness just above his belly button and when your ass presses on his dick he lets out a hiss, hands gripping your hips strongly. “it’s all yours, angel.” he says and then you’re sinking down on his length, slowly because it has been a while and even if his size is not out of this world it still serves to stretch you nicely.

you enjoy the feeling of being full when you’re fully seated on him, hands coming to rest at his chest for leverage. he lets out a sigh when when you move for the first time, coming down slowly as if to test the waters.

you set up a pace that you manage, moaning when you get just the right spot and throwing your head back at the sensation. his hands move from your hips to your breasts and he massages them, pinching your nipples to get a reaction out of you.

he seems to find your pace not enough, if the way he starts bucking his hips up is anything to go by. you gasp when he moves a little too harshly and he decides to fake full action, gripping your ass and moving you up and down to his liking.

“you’re such a little brat, aren’t you?” he says, his cock pushing against the place that makes you see stars repeatedly. "throwing all that fit just to get what you want, huh? all that to get a cock inside of your tight little cunt.”

it’s suddenly too much and your arms aren’t enough to hold you up anymore. you fall down on his chest, face hiding in the crook of his neck as a sob comes out of your lips. “yes, please, please. i want to come so bad, please.” he’s pounding into you so fast that you feel like a doll in his arm.

“then come, baby. no one is stopping you.” just as he says it one of his hand comes in contact with your ass in a slap, it’s not so hard that you think it’ll leave a bruise but it’s enough to get you arching your back and moaning close to his ears.

your orgasm hits you so hard that you have to bite his neck, walls clenching around his length repeatedly as he slaps you again.

he starts fucking into you faster, chasing his own orgasm and groaning when it finally hits him. his nails press crescents against your ass as he rides it out.

when he removes his dick from inside of you, you fall out from his lap and into the bed. you watch as he gets up from the bed, getting a pair of underwear on his way to the bathroom.

you decide to close of your eyes, body feeling heavy and you know you’ll fall asleep at any moment. something comes in contact with the inside of your thigh and you open your eyes to find doyoung cleaning you up.

“feeling okay?” he asks when he finishes it up, throwing the towel somewhere in the room and laying on the bed next to you.

you hum, smiling lazily at him. “just sleepy.” you reply and he moves to press a small kiss on your lips. it makes your heart flutter and you let yourself fall asleep in his arms. let yourself fall to the lie this whole thing is.

—-

your body feels sore when you wake up and the arm draped around your waist feels heavy and alien. you open your eyes to see doyoung’s face close to yours and as if sensing you’re looking at him he wakes up slowly too.

“good morning, _____.” he says voice groggy and eyes opening to look at you. his hand stays at your waist, and you have the impression that he’s trying to bring you closer. you suddenly feel self conscious that you’re naked underneath the blanket.

“morning.” you say, your own voice sounding raspy.

it stays silent for a couple minutes, the sun invading your room just a little by the small opening on the blinders. there’s a peace in the room that you don’t quite feel. doyoung’s eyes stare at your face, like he’s analyzing it and you want to tell him to stop.

his finger touches the tip of your nose and you feel something at the pit of your stomach. you want it to go away. “i never notice you had a mole here.” he says.

you try to bite off your words, you really try. “you only notice things when you pay attention.” is what you say and there it is again, the wave of hurt that crosses his eyes and leaves just as quickly.

“listen, i’m sorry, _____.” he starts and you are already annoyed, this is not what you want. “but let’s not do this right now, okay? can’t we just enjoy-“

you move abruptly, getting out of the bed and he lets out an unpleased noise that is unlike him. “let’s never do it, what about that?” you don’t even mind that you’re naked right now, don’t mind that his eyes are probably roaming around your body. all you focus on is leaving him room as you gather your clothes on the floor.

he lets you go without saying anything else.

___

nothing changes. you live your days like the perfect and boring housewife the contract wants you to be.

you eat breakfast alone, walk the dog and water the plants. have lunch by yourself and read a some pages of a book. you like it like this, like the silence of the house even if you know there are other people around it. you like that there’s no one to stop you when you move to get your fifth bonbon of the day, savoring the way it tastes like sweet and guilty.

you like the way there’s no one to judge you when you pick a gossip magazine and read the whole thing. you find out about the latest pregnancy and a cheating scandal, wondering if the day you and doyoung cover the front page will be because of an ugly divorce or finally the baby that everyone is waiting for. there’s a pic of the two of you on the events page, a fake smile on your faces and the most expensive pair of earrings you wore shining. you fight the urge to rip the page off.

by the end of the day you have learned a flan recipe and that monday won’t be a very good for your zodiac sign.

you don’t see doyoung for a week, and then two and you’re starting to think it will be a whole month before you have to face him.

there’s nothing new or weird about that, of course, but your mind seems to think so because you end up thinking about him a lot these days. the ring on your finger feels heavier these days.

comes the weekend you get a text from doyoung that doesn’t surprise you. you blink at the words on your phone once, think about how it sounds like a doctor confirming an appointment, blink again and shut the phone down.

Event tonight at 8PM. Please be ready at least half an hour before, a car will come to pick us up.

at 6PM you start getting ready. when you and doyoung started your deal, going to events together so people would get used to your relationship before the marriage, you would always make sure you looked your best. you would spend hours and dollars on saloons, getting your hair and makeup done so that in all the pictures the paparazzi took you look perfect.

now, with the black long dress you are wearing, you ponder which of the expensive jewelry you own will be the subtlest one. for makeup you decide on light traces of an eyeliner and the red lipstick you are known for.

at 7PM you know doyoung is already downstairs waiting for you, probably sitting on the couch with his armani suit and eyes focused on his phone.

at 7:30, you walk down the stairs and his eyes move to you. he doesn’t say a word, you didn’t expect him to, just gets up from the couch and leads you to the mercedes outside.

the only words you say for the entirety of the ride are goodnight to the driver. doyoung stays focused on his phone while  you choose to watch the city move through the car window, the sky looking like fire from the sunset.

your thoughts start on the bonbon you had that afternoon, wishing you had brought some with you. they are followed by the small feeling that you didn’t really want to be here and you wonder what your life would be like if you hadn’t agreed with this deal, if you hadn’t been born in this reality. you’ve thought about this before, have fantasied about this enough that you know it ends with an ugly heartache.

you wonder if you would find love then, if you would believe in the first place. your minds take a radical turn and you’re invaded with the possibility of meeting doyoung in other circumstances. would he be different, would he be able to fall in love with you. you shift in your seat suddenly, forcing your mind to go blank as you focus on the song that’s playing on the radio.

as if your mind is playing tricks with you, you feel doyoung’s hand to touch yours where it’s laying on the leather seat. you blink at the feeling of his fingers lingering for a second and then you are moving your hand to your lap. your eyes stay glued to the window and his to the phone as if nothing happened.

___

the party is as boring and golden as any other. the champagne tastes the same but you still down two glasses, the slightly bitter taste not phasing you. the only difference this time is that doyoung stays by your side, making small talk about the weather and business because it wouldn’t be too good for a couple that is supposed to be in love to stay quiet.

you think to yourself that you are a very good actress, smiling at his words and body language relaxed so that no one can even doubt the authenticity of this relationship. he is just as good, eyes not leaving yours while he talks.

you maintain your composure when someone approaches, a man, that looks as rich as he is old, that makes doyoung’s posture go rigid and his arm to go around your waist almost in possessiveness, almost in affection.

“hello, mr. sooman.” doyoung says as he shakes hands with him “this is my wife, _______.”

you’ve hear that name before, on a magazine probably. he’s the owner of one of the biggest companies and has a huge influence on the market. you figure doyoung wants to impress him quickly so you let him kiss your hand, not showing a sign of being bothered by the smell of liquor that exhales from him.

“oh, ______! of course i have heard about you.” his words are slurred and one of your brows raised at his words.

“oh?” is all you manage to say, seeking for doyoung’s eyes and they look unfazed at the same time they look focused.

“you’re all these businessmen can talk about.” he explains and doyoung shifts next to you. the song changes to a jazz one. “the most beautiful girl in all these events, doyoung here sure got lucky.”

doyoung laughs and it’s so forced that you  are thankful the old man is probably too drunk to notice. “oh, i’ll have to agree with that.” he says and there’s a blush on your cheeks as you playfully hit his chest, annoying voice telling him to stop it.

“i’ll assure you that probably every men in this room would want to have you in their bed instead of their wife.” he says staring right at you and this time you shift on doyoung’s hold. “myself included.”

you feel sick, the smile on your face hard to put on. you bite off the snarky remarks that are on the tip of your tongue and as you feel doyoung starting to talk you quickly excuse the both of you.

you lead him until you get to a more secluded area, stopping and staring at him. “whatever you were about to do.” you begin “it wasn’t worth risking the chance of doing business with him.”

he has the nerve of looking offended by your words. “what? like i would want to have anything to do with a man like that.”

you roll your eyes. “please, doyoung. we both know what’s important in this situation, the money.”

“your vision of me sure is pleasant, isn’t it?” he sounds like he had a bit too much to drink but you know for a fact he didn’t. you notice that he’s standing to close.

“you don’t give me much else to work it.” is your reply and you feel the blood starting to boil inside your veins, this is what you have been waiting for weeks. for him to pick another fight, to let it all out.

but he doesn’t, he just sighs and closes his eyes for a moment. you notice now that he looks tired. with dark circles around his eyes and shoulders slumped he looks almost fragile, vulnerable and you realize that since you have gotten married there was never a night that doyoung got home before 10 PM.

“______.” his voice sounds weak and when he opens his eyes to looks at you you see the hurt that never stays for too long. “i didn’t realize that there was something wrong. i don’t have time to wonder if i’ve made mistakes, i was raised to think rationally. the rational thing to do in my mind was to give you as much space as possible.”

you avoid his eyes, deciding that staring at the golden lamp on the wall was better. “i’m sorry, i should’ve noticed things more.” he says, hand moving to your cheek and he caresses it softly. you let him. “i want to be better for you.”

you should think that it sounds like a lie, but you don’t. you shouldn’t let him move your head so you’re facing him, but you do. when his lips touch yours you should move away, tell him that you don’t believe a word he says, but all you do is kiss him back.

it’s so sweet, the taste of champagne fresh on your lips and his lips moving against yours. you sigh, letting him deepen it. letting him move his hand down your body to hold you tight by the waist. his body coming closer to yours that all you can feel is him, all you can smell is his cologne and you can taste is his lips as he kisses you like you’re in love. like there’s more here than a contract that you both signed.

you heart feels like it will burst out of your chest and all the butterflies will escape at once and you won’t be in control anymore. a voice in your head screams no, all you have is control while the other begs you to let it go, begs you to be putty in his hand and believe every word he says.

it’s not that black and white but for now you let the butterflies chase after him as your lips chase for his.

later when you leave the party, drunk on expensive champagne and his taste, you let your hand rest on the leather seat of the mercedes while a jazz song plays. when he moves his hand to lay on top of yours, and his fingers interlace with yours, you let him.

[itslula1991]

My Jewel (In Corrections)

Hello everyone! I am very sorry for the delay in uploading this chapter but the inspiring muse is failing me lately. Here is the second part, sorry if this is too long. I hope you enjoy ❤️

Genre: Adventure, comedy, romance, fantasy

Summary

An ancient spell causes a millenary young lady to weaken, it is up to Larry and her friends to help her find the key to return her to normal while an unknown woman, along with three known individuals, and in order to proclaim her “how hers,” she try to take over a captive jewel somewhere in Egypt. (The shock of all the chaos in the girl).

Objective? The guard and the exhibits must prevent it from falling into the wrong hands while between Ahkmenrah and the girl, a romance will slowly emerge that will bear fruit over time.

Chapter 2 

Nowadays…

After graduation he was able to move to a fabulous place in Queens, without any more instability, without any more worries about unpaid bills and all thanks to his good salary as a teacher when getting the job in the same career in which he was oriented for a better life. However, at night Larry still worked as a nightstand at the New York Museum of Natural History, because after all for his wax, metal and polyurethane friends, he is a hero so to speak.

Larry mentioned: "Follow everything as it was the last time.", walking happily as he toured his workplace.

"Not much has changed, Lawrence. Except for one detail.", Mr. Roosevelt mentioned in his peaceful voice.

Larry frowned in confusion: "I've been out of the museum for over three years due to my studies and I'm not very aware, what is it about?"

The sky razo remained the same, like all the inhabitants, revived by the magic of the table of Ahk, who walked their house going from one place to another, browsing other exhibitions than their own, in themselves continued the consistency of each of the corners of the enclosure in details, also the floating floor of warm color, waxed and always slippery as usual. What could have changed over the years?

Well, Larry's curiosity was answered by Mr. Roosevelt when he pointed to a museum space where a pretty girl with ornaments and Egyptian clothing, she was sitting on the bench in a neutral room conversing animatedly surrounded by four girls from different times, a girl Colonial, an Italian girl, a Greek girl and a Native American girl, sitting on the floor the women listened to her narrate, perhaps a funny story about her because the women laughed along with the young woman.

But not everything ended there, hidden behind a showcase with artifacts from the first African tribes, King Ahkmenrah allowed his striking eyes to be seen above a vessel at the level of his nose, observing the lady in question. It could be seen how the polychromatic orbs radically mutated from a deep tourmaline pigment to a brilliant green-water, and everything indicated that the change was connected according to their mood, making their eyes clearer, denoting joy or darker, showing absolute sadness, and in this case it seemed that the green color exposed light to all its essence.

"She is new, I hadn't seen her before I temporarily retired from here."

"She's a lovely young lady.", Teddy commented with acceptance towards her.

Larry smiled looking at the scene: "So that detail is Ahk and the Egyptian girl."

"This is Larry.", Sacajawea contributed her good eyesight being sweetly taken by the arm by Teddy. "Ahkmenrah has not skipped a day since she appeared. They are the same as two young people from this time playing to fall in love."

Sacajewea was tenderly made by the king to spend hours at random, other times too, choosing the hiding place behind the plants of Africa spying on that particular someone.

"I still remember the day the boy first saw the young woman.", Teddy smiled at the two teenagers.

**** Flash ****

A month ago...

It was night, and there was a little party, maybe it was the one that Larry started attending night classes to get his teaching degree.

Nothing particular happened as King Ahkmenrah came down from that balcony leaving Jed and Octavio in charge of the music.

Since Doctor McPhee already knew everything that was happening with the tablet, it was not surprising to see a figure come to life, so wandering next to one of them was not considered nonsense either.

It turned out that the aforementioned was a beautiful Egyptian girl, with light skin, hazel eyes, long brown hair, sandals, a fine long kalasiri (dress) with two straps that covered her bust made in real white linen with bows gold at his waist. She, too, was wearing a kind of short cape covering her shoulders, a two-piece cylindrical snake bracelet adorning her left arm, a small crown with a baby cobra, and a delicate pendant in the shape of a winged golden and green beetle with an ankh completing the young woman's outfit.

Ahkmenrah's face said it all, it seemed that everything happened in slow motion in his mind.

"Wow...", Ahkmenrah whispered as if he were seeing a wonder of the ancient world. "By Ra and all the gods."

Ahk's face lit up as he was dazzled by the bubbling chestnut. It was as if he were in a dream.

When he saw her speak willingly next to the Museum Director on one of the stairs, he was fascinated. No matter what she was doing, he smiled and his eyes filled with love and wonder. Ahkmenrah did not miss a single movement of the pretty girl, standing next to the desk watching her with a half-twisted smile and her gaze was as if billions of stars lit up within her eyes. The boy was indeed in love, and although not any woman managed to shake his heart as the Sheik of a harem in the past, she instantly shot him or, as the cliché is vulgarly said, love at first sight.

“I had not seen a museum more impressive than this one. It's amazing.”, she was so happy.

“I am extremely pleased that you feel comfortable, Your Highness. I will leave you with the figures of the establishment so that you can get to know the place. Miss.”, Doctor McPhee said goodbye with respect and she made a slight bow allowing her withdrawal.

Like everything an Egyptian goddess, she glamorous went down the stairs, the girl moved exploding sensuality and with a comic touch when everything happened in slow motion to the rhythm of the background music.

She ran her hair back with one hand, blinking coquettishly looking around while some exhibits threw roses at her, adoring her presence, therefore she greeted with extremely overwhelmed and gratefulness as she slid down the hall, seeming to parade like a 1999 BC model.

And to all this Ahk thought that she addressed him with that hip shake, he enlarged his smile but it was not, she followed long and the comical sound of when one track is run to another, made him raise an eyebrow reflecting a little disappointment. However, he continued absorbed in his thoughts without taking his eyes off each line of the toned and fine female figure, wandering in those curves when Mr. Roosevelt's voice made him come out of that trance.

"I don't want you to be the same as me.", Teddy spoke solemnly.

Ahkmenrah was half foolish trying to spin his answer well: "What do you mean?"

“In the sense that I have spent more than 50 years observing and not daring to say a word to my dear Sacajewea until Larry's arrival prompted me to do so. Do not hesitate or let her escape, Your Majesty.”, Teddy wisely advised as the boy sighed looking at the Egyptian girl.

The young woman with an unknown name detailed every corner and she never realized that those jade eyes did not lose sight of her.

Sac spoke very sweetly: "Teddy?", Appearing on the scene as she wrapped her arms around Mr. Roosevelt and inevitably smiled.

"He knows what he's doing, love."

It seems that the words of Mr. Roosevelt encouraged the king to arm himself with courage, inflate his chest, accommodate his deshret (crown) and approach her to relate, establish a bond, perhaps.

"This is so beautiful.", she whispered fascinated looking at the divine building and how the party continued with its magic.

"Hello.", Ahkmenrah finally said with real elegance behind her.

She gently spun on her axis as she was distracted watching the constellations form mirror balls illuminating the room in soft blue. The pretty girl greeted him with a friendly smile once they were face to face.

"Hello."

"What is your name?"

"I am Larempteh.", she introduced herself with singular elegance.

And Ahkmenrah raised an eyebrow detailing her peculiar appearance at a considerable distance, she had almost no makeup, just a little soft brown shade that accentuated her sweet eyes and bushy lashes, kohl for a discreet black liner and lipstick lipstick, privileged to possess the fleshy. Beautifull.

"High Blue Sapphire of the Nile, fourth queen of the fifth great king and sovereign of the reign of my pharaohs. It is a pleasure.", Larempteh added with graceful finesse in his speech.

She was not conceited, only that the way of presenting herself in the ancient world was that way when you were belonging to the nobility of Upper Egypt, and her voice was a caress with words for him since the girl was cordial, warm and very respectful , in addition to sweet and possessing that mix between shy and intellectual. She illuminated the whole place only with her presence.

"What a beautiful name.", Ahkmenrah recognized and she smiled, she was hypnotic and Ahk's eyes could not detach from the young woman for any reason. "Excuse me, I don't look at girls like that."

Larempteh excused him with a pleasant laugh: "Don't worry, it's fine. For that you have a view, you appreciate what you see."

"Also your English is perfect, you speak divinely, where did you learn?"

"I went to Cambridge University."

Ahkmenrah was amazed with a smile.

"Were you in Cambridge?"

"On display..."

"From the Egyptology Department?", both agreed in the sentence with surprise.

"Yes, that's right! What a coincidence!"

"Have you been there too? Wow, that's great."

"Is this your first night at the museum?"

"No, I came here in 1954 from the Giza expedition.", Larempteh said.

"How come I have never seen you before?"

"Here or Cambridge?"

"Both answers have value."

"Well, I arrived there in 1940 and have spent 14 years in my sarcophagus."

"That explains a lot."

"Yes. And here they kept me away in the warehouse until they created my showroom just around the corner from your showroom. I have had so few visitors interested in the old world that all this time I have been around my exhibition and never dared to abandon it, habit, melancholy perhaps... It is difficult to detach yourself from Cambridge once you belong 14 years."

"Indeed. It feels weird."

"It would also be due to the fame of a little docile nature that was instilled in us and I did not want to be feared by the other exhibitions. Apparently, today I took a lot of courage after 66 years being here and I left tonight finding a beautiful place."

Larempteh apparently hinted at Ahkmenrah, but Pharaoh did not catch that eulogy in the air.

"I understand you."

"I must add that it may be by fate, I would say."

"And why were we in different temples?", Ahkmenrah joked.

Larempteh found a cute shoulder: "Or maybe the gods had prepared our meeting for a suitable moment and I think it worked today."

"It is wonderful and you believe in destiny, that is fabulous."

She gave him a sweet smile with the music still playing in the background and neither she nor he stopped inspecting each other, reviewing his features, the most prestigious in her and manly in him. Larempteh decided to cut the air to get into the conversation a little more.

Larempteh said: "And, you're from around here I guess or..."

"I belonged. I am a limited time conservation."

She was stunned, Larempteh asked, "Limited time conservation?"

Ahkmenrah gave the queen a cute smile.

"Yes, I am a British museum of treasures."

She frowned and asked a little confused: "What?"

That's where the voice came into play in the king's mind.

"Great Ahk, now you will look like a clown from 4000 BC for the rest of your life."

Ahkmenrah was slow to process his own words, what he least wanted was to be an idiot in front of her and accidentally he did, he mentally reprimanded himself for the inconsistency he had just said, feeling ashamed for possibly making a bad impression within minutes of having her known.

The pharaoh spluttered trying to accommodate the correct sentence in her brain while she paid no attention to anything other than the strong blush of shame that formed from her cheeks to the bridge of her nose, therefore Larem smiled attentively at that detail. because it made her feel tender that there was still a young man like him and that she blushed in such a way, and that made him more nervous.

His throat went dry, his usej suffocated him, and Ahk swallowed thickly, omitting such awkwardness.

He adjusted his voice and said: "No, I meant that I am part of the treasures of the British Museum."

"No problem, I understood.", Larempteh laughed lightly. "And what is your name?"

"I am Ahkmenrah, the fourth king of the fourth king, the ruler of the lands of my parents and the pleasure is all mine."

Ahkmenrah showed up bowing in his presence showing Larem cordiality when he kissed the back of the queen's hand, she could not believe that that kind of young man with approximately 18 years of age, a classic conservation of 4000 years, was real. Like the man she dreamed of all her life but hearing the boy's name, she divinely opened her eyes at a certain surprise of having him face to face.

"For Isis! Are you the famous Ahkmenrah?”, Larempteh questioned with deep happiness.

Ahkmenrah frowned in confusion: "Famous?"

"Yes, in Cambridge. All the time the museum figures have talked about you, you are an icon there. By Ra! I can't believe it, I didn't think I had the chance to meet you one day and... Oh, what happiness! What an honor, son of the Sun. You must be considered a legend in the history of Egypt, not many reach one of the most remarkable and visited venues in the world as the British museum. It is a luxury that you are there then, you are very lucky.”

"Yes, I do not know if I am as important a figure in the history of Egyptian humanity as Ramses was, I knew later that he was more important than me."

"But you must have had fabulous feats to have been a part of here in the past as well."

“I suppose, although I don't entirely remember it, my memory has always been blank since I arrived. I mean, I wish they would help me a little more to understand myself and to know who I am apart from my name because all I know is that my determining home is there because my family is there. But sometimes I am only treated as a piece of archaeological piece from my Era.”

The glitter in Ahk's eyes faded slightly.

Larempteh grieved: "Oh what a shame they make you feel like this because you are a very nice boy."

Ahkmenrah analyzed the girl's words, the pharaoh blushed timidly again, his face was a poem and he frowned with a vague smile thinking that she could not not get over you by not resisting her charms.

Larempteh had a blush when reformulating his sayings: “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, it was not my intention to bother you. I mean, you're cute in the sense of your soul.”

“You don't care, I've never been told before. It is precious that it comes from you. Thank you."

Larempteh smiled at Ahk's intense gaze, wiping a slight perspiration from her dress against her palms.

"You do not have to thank. After all, you do have a splendid shine and impressive eyes, they attract attention, they are very pretty.”

Ahkmenrah did 'the thing' with his smiling mouth, showing off his defined cheekbones.

"And maybe it must be because I just have them in the middle of my face.”, Ahkmenrah built a good sense of humor in which she laughed refinedly. "I also like your eyes, they are very warm and sweet. Since they are conspicuous and shocking to the delight of others, it would be considered a crime not to appreciate them in such a way nor are they how to be wasted.”

Queen Larempteh's eyes sparkled. An action that made her smile.

"Thank you. So your family is in the British museum, huh? It's great to have your parents nearby in one place or someone by your side to remind you of where you came from.”

“Yes, the boys made me stay close to them and it was also to keep my board safe. But don't worry, it's just a long story that I'll tell you already.”

"Okay, no inconvenience.", Larempteh said quietly.

"And where are yours?"

"I do not know. I am adrift just like you with my mind.”

"Oh I'm sorry."

"Do not worry, nothing happens. I suppose it is part of our life as museum exhibits having to find pieces of ourselves at random to feel complete. It's just a matter of divine intersession.”

"We can change the subject if you want."

"As you like."

Ahkmenrah watched her closely: "Dynasty XIX? I suppose."

"Yes, how did you know?", Larempteh cackled with sophistication.

She was charmingly curious to tuck a strand of hair behind her right ear, revealing one of her sparkling triangle-shaped hoops and elegant burgundy nail varnish.

"About the above, it is that you have an unseen face and it is impossible for you to go unnoticed. My guess is that you happen to be an old relative with proximity to Nefertari's family ancestors or perhaps it is because she has reincarnated in you."

Ahkmenrah learned to maintain his cordiality by behaving like a great nobleman, he was taught that his feelings should be fair and necessary before anyone but it seems that Larempteh appeared only to make him break the rules, disobeying his archaic teachings.

Well, Ahk always did, but Larem made it worse, like a fever with no disastrous results.

What he could never hide was a dazzled observing of her tangible beauty, he winked at her giving her a warm smile indirectly telling Larempteh how extremely beautiful she was.

Perhaps the young man hinted that the girl would be a descendant of the most important queen that Egypt had, making her an extremely attractive goddess for her taste and reach.

Larempteh thought, "No, I don't think that's the case either. Well, one knows who it comes from to reincarnate as a living human god on Earth, but one of my parents may have had the honor of belonging to the offspring of the Nefertari's lineage from the many children she had. Perhaps I am some great-granddaughter or great-great-granddaughter, as were the many siblings I had."

"The hundreds of kings who claimed your love should tell you."

Ahkmenrah guessed vehemently. And how not to do it? If she radiated sweetness and owned an exquisite exotic image; how it was not possible that the kings would not argue the hand of that venerable woman.

"No, well, yes, in part, but it was my older sister who received ninety-nine point nine percent of all these courtships.", Larempteh let out a natural laugh.

"Sister.", Ahkmenrah was not interested, rather he was unsuspecting. Shocked by the fact that her beauty is not praised.

"Yes. You see, Dad wanted two male rulers, one who was a strong pharaoh and who knew how to command the kingdom and another who was a champion in battles, especially in Kadesh. As you see, it could not be, he had my sister and me some time after that event. And considering that my father's wish was fulfilled very late, yes, he had more secondary children, but she and I were the eldest daughters of the family and for Real rules we had the privilege of direct access to lead a nation for being of pure lineage. Although something happened along the way and it was damaged or rather someone made history change its course regarding that. A long story that I will tell you.", Larempteh commented with a frown with a smile naturalizing his story.

"And why her and not you, how is that possible?", Ahkmenrah used a tone of Royal disbelief.

"It was just that she was extremely beautiful.", Larempteh just shrugged her shoulder in a cute way continuing the thread of praise. "She was so crazy though."

"I am sure she does not exceed the honey of your voice or your delicate presence.", Ahkmenrah said raising his jaw with elegant bearing.

The young queen did not know where to look, and of course, if Ahk's electric eyes did not dare to detach themselves from his youthful features.

Larempteh was intimidated by these charming courtships and tilted her face to the side a little hiding a faint blush keeping a thin smile as she tilted her head to later observe him.

"Excuse my daring but I couldn't stop watching you since I saw you. It's just that you're more beautiful than the Giza pyramids.", Ahkmenrah complimented her and the girl felt another strong blush take over her face.

In a delicate tone, Larempteh said: "How divine.", stunned with a slightly strange smile wandering her lips for all the praise she got from him.

"I spent 54 years wrapped in dirty linen bandages, locked in a sarcophagus and after waking up 66 consecutive nights to meet you, that's divine. You are a precious, beautiful creature."

Ahkmenrah after that praise, smiled sideways showing his immaculate teeth, without showing lewdness or perversion, it was like a seductive tactic in him.

The queen laughed in elegant confusion as she said: "Thank you?"

Obviously, in her time she was not very familiar with more than 100 compliments in a row due to her real beauty and so many coming from a single pharaoh, it was something intense but that was still a nice touch on her part.

"Don't be thankful since the pharaohs used to have an aggressive and unkind image. You should be suspicious.", Ahkmenrah commented regaining his posture of standing up.

Larempteh said: "I'll be careful then."

And her whispering was a little less than what's called suggestive, perhaps being eerily suggestive was a healthy seduction tactic to start the romance game.

"Although if someone stands between me and your beauty, probably the king of 4000 years ago, perhaps he will make an exception. But as long as none of that happens..."

"I knew what pharaohs were like in our time. Not tolerant, only in tiny exceptions.", Larempteh reaffirmed.

Ahkmenrah leaned down again, bringing the female hand to her lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

"I am kind, believe me not unless..."

The pharaoh straightened up, winking at the girl again so she smiled at him causing Ahk to wrap himself in the infinite tenderness of her beautiful grimace and lose herself in the brilliance of her precious eyes.

Maybe it was because of an attraction that burned inside her or an irrepressible instinct to want to touch her, even if it was to take something from her to remember her before returning to the darkness of her sarcophagus, extinguishing that sadness and going to 'sleep' happily and waking up a bit more alive by an obtension, and then the pharaoh felt the need to approach very slowly to Larem's face reviewing his eyes for each of its smooth details directing his lips to hers, who incidentally, looked at that mouth with reverie.

Larempteh for her part closed her eyes at the preamble of the stimulus in which her heart beat a thousand times stronger than before, announcing that perhaps she would have her first kiss under the beautiful blue light of the constellations. How romantic would it be, right?

She stood still with her eyelids hiding her pupils without startling when Ahkmenrah gently cupped a hand on her right cheek, it was such a sweet touch, he transmitted so much peace to her from the first moment.

Ahkmen closed the distance between the two more, and more, and more, and more, and more until Tilly's voice was heard as he ran to Laaa through the hall interrupting the moment.

"Laaa, no! Don't touch that! Those aren't headphones! It's a defibrillator!"

Ahkmenrah and Larempteh suddenly opened their eyes and immediately regretted the situation in which they found themselves and laughed without penalty or glory.

Larempteh said with a laugh: "How pitiful."

The queen touched her own face that burned from the strong blush, but she continued to laugh, being accompanied in good humor by the loud and manly laughter of the pharaoh.

That commotion where Tilly chased Laaa, made Rexy and Trixy freak out and make sounds minimally chasing away the crowd causing Larempteh to dodge the alpacas, the flames, the terracotta soldier and the Vikings fleeing in terror in his direction. .

There was a moment when the girl lost her balance due to their action and it was there when she fell into the arms of Ahk, who reflexively held her tight by the waist like the gentleman she is. That caused her to sink her face into the hollow of the precious and soft neck of the king, thus forming an electricity that was made at the clash of skin against skin and at that moment a spark ignited between the two upon closer inspection.

"Well, I must reaffirm it, now more than before, what divine eyes you have."

Ahkmenrah praised the color of the girl's irises that now mutated to the striking honey pigment, giving Larempteh a soft grimace on her lips as she watched him from behind her thick lashes as she smiled tenderly, with her too, of course losing herself in his eyes.

**** End of Flash ****

@sherlollydramoine​ @xmxisxforxmaybe​ @txmel​ @moon-stars-soul​ @sunkissedmikky​

[q-card]

With or Without You

I wrote this major self-indulgent fic back in February for Valentine’s day. You can read it on AO3 (x) but I thought I’d share it here as well. Hope yall enjoy! Note: listen to this while reading, it makes everything more intense hehe

The suns were setting over Makus III, and Jean-Luc Picard was watching them sink under the horizon. A light breeze ruffled the grass around him. Tapping his combadge, the captain of the USS Enterprise sighed, “Ready to beam up.”

Setting suns on Makus III – almost midnight by ship-time.

He kept his eyes on the orange sky as his vision blurred and a light tingling feeling numbed his body. As he was transported back up to his ship, he thought of the twin suns setting over the peaceful planet, and of the little house on the hill he had left behind – how the couple living there had thanked him, how happy they had seemed despite their differences, despite the slight impression of unevenness in the way they stood next to each other, like mismatched puzzle pieces.

He closed his eyes then, cursing himself. The tingling was fading, but the transporter’s chime still lingered in his ears. He’d been having such thoughts – such dangerous thoughts – for too long. And for too long, the person he’d been thinking of with such recklessness had refused to show himself.

After their last encounter, Jean-Luc thought things would change. The quivering of excitement in Q’s voice had seemed almost like a confession – the words had been a gentle warning, but the tone had told a different tale. For weeks afterwards it had echoed in Jean-Luc’s ears, that simple sentence that Q had spoken with such human passion; “See you… out there.” And then he’d disappeared, and he hadn’t come back.

Jean-Luc was left alone with the gut-wrenching words, not knowing if he’d ever see Q again. Not knowing if it had all been a lie, a ruse, a trick of his imagination – or if it truly meant something.

And then Q had begun invading his every thought. Everything was a painful reminder of him: every person, every situation, every forbidding dream. He’d started pondering things Q had said in the past, giving them different meanings, analysing everything. And sometimes… well, sometimes it ached and sometimes it soothed, but no matter what interpretation Jean-Luc pinned upon Q’s words, they always sent him reeling.

“You're not alone, you know. What you were, and what you are to become, will always be with you.”

“In any case, I'll be watching.”

“The Continuum didn't think you had it in you, Jean-Luc. But I knew you did.”

“Goodbye, Jean-Luc. I'm gonna miss you. You had such potential. But then again, all good things must come to an end.”

The transporter chime faded entirely, and Jean-Luc opened his eyes. He wasn’t in the transporter room, but in his own quarters. And standing in the very center of the room was Q, wearing a captain’s uniform – the twin to the one Jean-Luc wore.

It felt like being punched in the stomach.

“How cruel must you be?” Jean-Luc breathed. He dared not move – dared not speak above a whisper.

Q said nothing. He stood there with unnatural stillness; his eyes alight with an entirely alien gleam. A shiver snaked down Jean-Luc’s spine, but he straightened his back and swallowed hard. “Why are you here? You haven’t deigned a visit in ten months.”

A small, vicious smile slowly spread onto Q’s lips. “You’ve been counting,” he said. His first words in ten months – yes, dammit, he had been counting.

Jean-Luc could feel his hands tremble with rage. All this time and now he chose to appear, just when Jean-Luc was thinking of him. “Have you been mucking about in my head, Q? Planting thoughts into my mind?” he spat, his rage a white-hot wall of flame in his chest.

Q’s smile widened into a lazy grin. “Oh no, Jean-Luc,” he tilted his head back with inhuman grace, “I’ve made it a personal rule of sorts to never interfere with your tiny human brain. It ruins the fun. Whatever thoughts are bothering you, mon capitaine, are entirely your own.”

Jean-Luc’s cheeks burned with shame and anger and hurt, and although he tried, he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice as he said, “Fun – this is all a game to you then, isn’t it? You know perfectly well what I mean. For once, Q, let me know the truth.”

And then those alien eyes darkened, and it felt as if a cold wind had swiped the room when the smile faded from Q’s face. “What truth are you looking for, Jean-Luc? The one that pleases you or the one that is hard to hear?”

A wave of panic gripped Jean-Luc so unexpectedly that he staggered. He reached out a trembling hand and held onto his desk. “I don’t understand,” he whispered.

Q closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. Such a human expression. “You never understood…” Q’s voice was strained.

The anger seeped back into Jean-Luc veins, making his blood boil. “Yes,” he nodded resentfully, “how could I possibly understand? What with my ‘tiny human brain’…”

Silence fell upon them, thick with anger and hurt and words left unsaid, unspoken. And then a sharp intake of breath, and Jean-Luc was calm again. So very calm as he asked, “What do you want from me? Why are you here?”

Q’s eyes flew open. “I don’t know. I told myself I had nothing more to do on this ship, but I keep coming back, and I thought that you would’ve understood by now…”

“Why must you make me crawl for an answer every damn time?” Jean-Luc shouted, his calmness and control snapping like a twig, “Just tell me, Q – you’ve made me beg before, I won’t do it again – tell me what you’re here for!”

Q’s eyebrows tilted upwards. “I can’t,” the entity breathed.

There was something desperate about the words – something desperate and pleading and so unlike Q… but, no, he would not relent.

“Then leave,” Jean-Luc said, seething with an anger he wasn’t sure he still felt.

Q straightened his back. His eyes were veiled, cold and barren. Unearthly, unknown: he was one of the Q, and the power of billions of years of existence coiled in his very being.

“I will,” he spoke with his human voice, nodded with his human body, but Jean-Luc had never been so utterly aware of how otherworldly the entity truly was. “A human lifetime is but a nanosecond to me, Picard. I will not be coming back.”

A flash of blinding white light – and he was gone.

Gone. Forever.

Jean-Luc, still gripping his desk, let out a gasp of disbelief. He pushed himself into the sleeping area of his chambers, a heavy weight on his chest, his entire body a brutal reminder of his own mortal misery. This, all this – it was but a nanosecond for Q.

But, damn it all to hell, it was everything for Jean-Luc Picard. The past ten months – the past seven years – he’d somehow known that this would mean everything to him. Something had pulled him towards that entity from the very start. The most annoying being in creation – devious and amoral and unreliable and irresponsible and definitely not to be trusted…

And now he was gone forever and Jean-Luc’s world was collapsing. He let himself fall onto his bed and buried his head into his open palms. The world was collapsing.

~

Q hovered above the Enterprise, invisible in his non-corporeal form. He could see right through the bulkhead of Starfleet’s flagship, right through walls and walls of primitive Federation technology. He could see Jean-Luc Picard, sitting on his bed with his face in his hands.

And Q ached. Not in the physical way he’d experienced when punished by the Continuum, when he’d been a hapless mortal on this very ship. No – this was an entirely different pain. Something was wrenching at his very being, triggered by the sight of the captain’s misery.

And Q longed. He knew the longing by now, it was familiar. He hated it, but it had been there for quite some time. How they had mocked him, in the Continuum. How they had sneered.

But Jean-Luc’s words had been haunting Q’s thoughts.

‘Thank you’, he’d said, with such unashamed gratitude, with such Human warmth. Jean-Luc Picard had thanked Q, after all that was done and said. Noble – he was noble and decent and honourable and everything that Q wasn’t.

Everything that Q was supposed to abhor.

Everything that Q loved.

Q loved this Human. Q loved this puny little Earthman who was mourning him on his puny little bed. Oh, but for his noble Human heart, for the grace in his unwavering goodness, Q could not fool himself into believing that Jean-Luc was puny. He may not have the all-powerful supremacy of the Q, but he had something stronger. Something brighter, and better – something Q cherished.

So, without warning, without light or sound or artifice, Q materialized back in Jean-Luc’s quarters in his human form. He stood there for a while in silence, watching Jean-Luc who simply sat on his bed, lost and broken. It hurt – oh how it hurt, to see the man he loved in such a state.

Just then, Jean-Luc turned.

Their eyes met. The silence was a living thing, spiralling around them and through them and suddenly Jean-Luc was on his feet, eyes wide, mouth open. “Q,” he whispered.

Q blinked. “Jean-Luc,” he answered.

And then they were running towards each other, desperately, like every second could tear them apart, like every moment was their last. They fell into each other’s arms. They looked into each other’s eyes. Jean-Luc’s hand was on Q’s neck, pulling him downwards.

“Your eyes… they look so human,” Jean-Luc said softly.

Q raised his eyebrows. He was about to give a sarcastic retort, but Jean-Luc silenced him with a kiss.

Jean-Luc Picard kissed Q.

Stars exploded and galaxies shattered. Q rattled the very core of creation as Jean-Luc kissed him harder, deeper; desperate and passionate and angry.  

He pulled away to breathe with such charming mortal vulnerability. “Don’t ever make me wait again,” he panted frantically, “every day without you, I could’ve died. Q, I could’ve died without you.”

And it shook Q so much that he let his human body lean into Jean-Luc, let their foreheads touch. “Can you live with me, though?”

Jean-Luc smiled. “I think it’s worth a try.”

And he kissed him again.

[gumnut-logic]

Coping Mechanism

Title: Coping Mechanism

Author: Gumnut

9 - 10 Jun 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “I get you guys are busy and I’m spoilt that you all visit when you can, but honestly, this isn’t about me. This is out of character for Virg.” A pause. “And I miss him, okay?”

Word count: 7342

Spoilers & warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 EPISODE 13

Timeline: Episode Tag

Author’s note: Thank you to @scribbles97 for all her support. While the natural topic to episode tag this major ep is in the Pen & Ink department or even the Gordon!whump department, I actually write Virgil, so this happened. It has its moments and it just kept going. Again, its about brothers and coping with the situation the ep left us with. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

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

-o-o-o-

Virgil Tracy is not a fish.

That’s not to say he has no love of the sea. Nor does it say he can’t swim. It’s just his preferred medium is air and rocket engines. Besides, he has a little brother who would rather swim than fly any day, so there was no need for Virgil to get his feet wet.

But he had never wanted his ‘bird to swim more than he had in the last couple of days.

Thunderbird Two had been in the water...once. Gordon had taken great joy at poking fun at his older brother as TB4 ran circles around the swamped Two as they all worked to get her space-rigged shell out of the Pacific. It had taken four souped-up pods to lift her module-less carcass off the surface of the ocean. The rest of her had been nabbed by One and Shadow, a fractured convoy of Thunderbird eventually coming to rest on her runway several hundred kilometres to the west. It had taken him a week to get her back up to par, combing through her systems, draining her vents, reassuring himself that his girl was safe to fly. Scott had dragged him off her several times. The one conclusion from that whole fiasco was that he was never doing that again. No matter how exciting he had thought it might be.

Despite it all, he would love to be able to dive beneath the waves now. Yesterday. The day before. Especially the day before.

He was used to being the backup, the hovering older brother, monitoring, keeping watch, but always that niggle in the back of his mind of what could he do if something went seriously wrong? Gordon was the aquanaut and he always worked alone.

It broke the most basic rules of diving. Never dive alone. Gordon did it all the time, his confidence was so strong, and Virgil reconciled it with the fact that he always had a brother hovering over him.

He always had Virgil hovering over him.

Or at the very least, John.

Gordon was watched with loving eyes.

Hadn’t counted when it was most needed though.

Virgil bit his lip and glared at the display tracking his eldest and youngest brothers. Scott and Alan were on retrieval duty, pulling Thunderbird Four...no, her remains from the bottom of the ocean.

Again.

The pods were efficient, but they were no TB4. His eyes followed the dots over the holographic landscape as they moved the rocks that had crushed his brother’s ‘bird.

John was with his brother in the hospital. Eos was monitoring the retrieval, her quiet and unusually respectful tones relaying important data.

Virgil sat hovering above the ocean with only his thoughts for company.

Lots of whatifs and should haves, none of which gave him a satisfactory answer as to what he could have done better.

Chatter over the comms - Scott had freed the remains of her cockpit, Alan part of her cargo bay and they were returning to the surface.

Virgil sat.

He watched as the buckled remains of the compartment that had saved his little brother’s life slowly emerged from the thankfully calm surface of the ocean. The buckled shape, the busted marine acrylic, the...augh, Gordon had been in that? Something inside Virgil curled up, twisted and cried. His ears listened as his two brothers coordinated themselves and loaded the wreck into the module before once again leaving Virgil alone, above the ocean, waiting.

“Virgil?”

“Yes, John?” Blink. “Aren’t you at the hospital?”

“Yes. Eos asked me to check on you.”

Huh? “Okay, why?”

“She said you needed a little company.”

“I’m fine, John.”

“That I highly doubt as none of us are fine.”

He did have a point.

Alan’s pod bounced to the surface sporting another chunk of broken yellow submarine.

And there started the earworm his little brother so often enjoyed planting in his brain. ‘We all live in a yellow submarine’ was the bane of the Tracy existence.

Scott followed. His piece was torn in half, the paint scorched. There was heat down there.

So damn close.

“Virgil?” John again.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe you should take a break?”

“A break from what? I’m not doing anything. Alan and Scott have it all under control.” Another shredded yellow piece of metal emerged. Change of subject. “How is Gordon?”

“Complaining. They ran another series of blood tests and he’s claiming the hospital is run by vampires.”

“More tests? Why?”

A pause. “Nothing to be concerned about.” Another pause, this one longer. “Scott wants to speak with you.” John cut himself off.

“Virgil, you okay?” Big brother was definitely on the line.

“I’m fine.” A frown. “How are you?”

“Getting there. Almost got all of it. Some of it is scattered so we’re double checking.” Another pause. “Hey, could you drop down to the module and make room for the pods. We’ve kinda made a bit of a mess.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Well, at least it gave him something to do. “Eos, can you secure Thunderbird Two?”

“Certainly, Virgil. Are you feeling better?”

“What?”

“Did John help?”

“Help with what?” He was paused half out of his pilot’s chair, frowning.

“Oh! Oh, never mind.”

Virgil stared at the speaker. He was missing something.

“Virg, you coming down?”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on.”

-o-o-o-

The mess he found in his module was as heart-breaking as he had expected. Scott and Alan dragged up the last few bits and pieces of his brother’s trashed ‘bird. Virgil secured it all for transport, his exo-suit shifting chunks of yellow thunderbird to one side to allow the pods to dock with the module.

At some point his heart stopped hurting and just fell numb. Scott caught him staring at the scarred and buckled four on her yellow dorsal fin. It was stashed on top of one of the piles like a tombstone. An arm snaked across his shoulders and squeezed.

“She’ll fly again.”

Virgil swallowed, the lump in his throat, hard. “Yes, she will.”

And she would. The moment Thunderbird Two came to a stop in her hanger, Virgil was out of his seat and down in the module.

It wasn’t her module. She wasn’t in four, she was in two, and that was wrong.

Shouldering on his exo-suit once again, Virgil began moving her parts to her home.

Eventually she was laid out like a broken lego kit on the floor of her module. Virgil took a deep breath and shed his suit before exiting to his workshop.

“Virg, you coming up for lunch?” Alan’s expression was as far from his usual upbeat self as it could be.

“Be up later.” He waved his little brother off.

Alan shrugged and left.

Virgil pulled up Four’s schematics and began planning.

-o-o-o-

Scott spent a great deal of time in transit over the next week. Caught amongst the hospital, the GDF and International Rescue, not to mention Tracy Industries and the media, he barely had time to eat much less sleep. By the end of the week, John was calling him on it and bundled him off to bed despite his protests.

The moment the media discovered one of the Tracy boys was in the hospital, the networks exploded with stories. Apparently, Gordon had sixteen love children by twelve different women, the Hood was actually an alien, all the Thunderbirds had exploded and the vent field was heralding the end of all life on Earth.

Gordon found all of the above totally hilarious and had to be banned from the internet after launching three new rumours of his own. Scott was most unimpressed with the idea that Gordon was the next six-billion-dollar man and could shoot lasers from his eyeballs.

Grandma had to break that one up.

So, Scott was tired. Ever so tired.

Perhaps that is why he didn’t notice that he hadn’t seen Virgil for all of that week.

There had been a rescue in the middle of that and Virgil had been on comms, but Scott hadn’t actually seen him, as he had answered with TB1 from London. If his brother had sounded a little tired, it wasn’t surprising. Scott felt like he’d parked his ‘bird on his own head.

Alan was almost as scarce. He wasn’t handling Gordon’s absence very well at all. Also not surprising. Scott eventually threw him onto One and parked him at the hotel with Grandma and ordered him to stay there unless he was needed for a mission.

Grandma needed the support and Alan needed to see Gordon.

John was up and down to TB5 several times that week and it was showing. Scott actually heard Eos yelling at his brother at one point.

In short, the whole Tracy family was a mess, and understandably.

Then there was the question of their father.

Scott found himself both desperate for further information and shying away from the whole idea.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited by the possibility that his father might still be alive. God, please let him be.

Please.

It was the hope that hurt. He had been burnt so many times by the chance, by the mere glimmer of finding his father that he wasn’t sure he would be strong enough to face disappointment again.

Or watch his brothers face the same.

Brains knew it. Brains had been through it with them that same number of times. The engineer disappeared into his work, determined to find the answers as fast as possible. To follow through on that glimmer that had so much potential for destruction.

So, no, Scott didn’t notice his next younger brother’s absence and it shamed him when he did.

It was Gordon who pulled the blinkers off his eyes.

“Scott?” The sound of his injured brother’s voice shook him out of the mental doze he had fallen into. A glance at the clock told him how much time he didn’t have left to sleep tonight and why his brain had half shut down. The lights were on in the comms room, but the darkness outside through the wide-open windows sucked the illumination into a black hole of sea breeze and distant waves.

“Gordon? Do you have any idea what time it is?” His brother was several hours behind Tracy Island and likely bored again.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?”

“I am now.”

“Good. Have you seen Virg?”

“Huh? It’s 2.30am.”

“Yeah, so? Virg is a night owl, not an early bird like you. This is barely knock off time.”

“What did you want him for?”

“He was going to give me an update on Four after dinner and I haven’t heard from him.”

“An update on Four? Gordon, we haven’t even started on Four. Brains has been working on Calypso and Brayman.”

“No, Virgil asked me yesterday what my preferred calibrations were for her rear thrusters. He said he was ready to tune.”

“Ready to tune? Gordon, the last I saw of your ‘bird, she was broken worse than you.”

“Thank you for that image, great big brother.” A pause. “When was the last time you slept? You look awful.”

Scott sighed. “Yesterday? The GDF are dancing, the media are annoying and Tracy Industries is complaining about a six point drop on the share price.” He nodded in Gordon’s direction. “You should be proud. Six points is decent. Our shareholders obviously love you.”

But Gordon didn’t pick up the joke. In fact, he was frowning. “You need sleep, Scott.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. John has been nagging me constantly.”

“You let Virgil see you like that, he’ll hogtie you to your bed.” The frown deepened. “Why hasn’t he tied you up already?”

And that was the clincher. It forced Scott to think back to when he had last seen Virgil...and came up blank. “I haven’t seen him.”

“What do you mean you haven’t seen him? I told you, he’s working on my ‘bird.”

“And I told you we haven’t started yet. Brains has been too busy.”

“Yet you haven’t seen Virgil today. When did you last see him?”

Scott found his throat dry. So damned tired. “Can’t remember.”

His little brother’s bandaged head glared at him through the hologram. “You are going to do two things right now. First you are going to find Virgil for me. Then you are going to bed. Obviously, Virgil is shirking his ‘kick your ass’ duty. Can’t believe it, I break a couple of bones and you all fall apart.”

“Watch it, Gordon. Not a joking matter.”

“Neither is the fact that my second eldest brother is MIA. Go and find him, or you’ll have to put up with my nagging voice instead of his much more pleasant baritone telling you to damn well go to bed.”

Scott was of the distinct impression that if he did find Virgil, the nagging wouldn’t change tone, it would simply duplicate. Since his brown eyed brothers’ voices could often be mistaken for each other it would just be a louder rumble.

But Gordon was right. Now he realised Virgil was missing, he had to find him.

Shunting the work aside on the desk, Scott pulled up a map of the island and keyed in Virgil’s tracker code.

Module Four.

At 2.35am.

Well, he would go down there, drag his brother back to bed and then find his own. GDF reports be damned.

A sigh and he struggled to his feet. Not enough exercise this week of the fitness kind. Time was non-existent.

Virgil would kill him.

Why hadn’t he?

He hit the elevator and used the few moments it took to descend to the hangers to just lean on the wall and close his eyes. Gordon was going to get better. It would take some time, but he would be hale and healthy eventually. The chaos of the last week would be in the past and slowly everything would return to normal. As normal as it got on this Island in any case.

The elevator hit the bottom of the shaft and the doors slid quietly open. Pushing off from the wall, Scott straightened himself and started the trek across Thunderbird Two’s hangar.

The massive ‘bird sat quietly in her ready to launch position, ever hulking over everything around her. Scott’s footsteps echoed across the empty cavern.

As he neared the module bay, soft piano music wafted over the cool air. Light shone from the open hatch of Module Four. There was no doubt where Virgil was.

Stepping into the shaft of light, Scott’s eyes landed on Thunderbird Four, snug in her module.

And in one piece.

He blinked and took another step forward. Gone was the pile of scorched scrap that once was a beloved Thunderbird. In its place sat a grey ghost of a machine, her shape matched perfectly to the TB4 he knew. Bare metal, undercoated in places, yellow in others, the raw cahelium alloy shining dully in the artificial light

How the hell? “Virgil?” It came out as a croak.

Only the music, apparently on loop, answered.

As he approached closer, Scott resisted the urge to reach out and touch that gleaming metal. Walking around her, he found one of her thruster casings had been removed and left on the floor. A panel gaped open showing her inner workings like an abandoned medical procedure.

“Virgil?”

He completed his circle of the submarine and still no sign of his brother. “Virgil?”

He peered through the pane-less windows. Empty.

“Virgil!”

It wasn’t until his third circle of the craft that he noticed the boot sticking out under one of the rear thrusters.

“Virg?”

Down on his knees and he realised the ‘bird was up on jacks.

And his brother was asleep under her.

Shit.

Virgil was curled up, spanner still in hand, a panel hanging open above him.

Scott resisted the urge to simply pull him out by the feet. The danger...their jacks were amongst the most secure in the business, but still...not safe.

He reached under the submarine and shook the sleeping mechanic. “Virgil, wake up.” No response. A solid shove. “Virgil!”

For a split second, a ‘what if he is not simply sleeping’ scenario danced across Scott’s mind and froze his blood. A disgruntled groan from his prone brother, sprouted so much relief he almost forgot to be angry.

Almost.

“Virgil, what the hell are you doing? Get out from under there.”

“Wha-?”

Newly awoken Virgil equals dopey Virgil.

This time Scott did simply reach in and pull his brother out from under the submarine. Virgil flailed but was too asleep to squawk.

“Are you okay?”

Brown eyes blinked up at him, frowned, and Scott was shocked to see the dark patches under them. His brother looked gaunt and drained.

It took a moment or two, but Virgil’s brain slowly came online. He rolled over and, wavering, pushed himself to his feet. “M’okay.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Just a little tired.”

“A little. What have you been doing down here?”

Brown eyes turned on him with a half-awake glare. “What does it look like?”

“It looks great, Virgil, but you look like shit.”

His brother blatantly stared him up and down. “You’re no ray of sunshine either.” A concerned frown. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Me? What about you?”

“About a minute ago. Sleeping nicely, thank you.”

“Under a jacked-up submarine with a spanner for a bed partner.”

The spanner in Virgil’s hand was suddenly shoved into his tool chest. “Guess I got tired. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

Scott just glared. “Go to bed.”

“You first.”

“Oh, for the love of...I don’t have time for this. Just move, Virgil. Up to your room. A good twelve hours at least or I’m siccing Grandma on you.”

Virgil glared at him for a whole second before turning abruptly and shoving the open thruster panel closed. He grabbed a rag that looked dirtier than his hands and wiped them thoroughly before making a beeline towards the elevator on the far side of the hangar.

Scott’s lips thinned a moment before he hit the light switch and followed.

-o-o-o-

Scott considered the matter solved and after a decent night’s sleep of his own, he returned to wrestling the GDF and Tracy Industries.

Three days later, this time ten in the morning, Gordon commed him, again asking for Virgil. It was at this point that Gordon revealed that he hadn’t actually seen the engineer since that first visit at the hospital. He had only spoken to him over comms about Thunderbird Four.

“He hasn’t visited you at all?”

“You getting hard of hearing, old man?”

“This is Virgil we are talking about?”

“Senile apparently, too. I get you guys are busy and I’m spoilt that you all visit when you can, but honestly, this isn’t about me. This is out of character for Virg.” A pause, russet brown eyes refusing to meet his blue. “And I miss him, okay?”

The admission to vulnerability landed somewhere in Scott’s left ventricle and caused a stutter.

“I’ll find him. You rest.”

“I am resting. All I do is rest. It is so boring.”

“Anything we can do?”

“Find Virgil!”

“Okay, okay.” A mock salute. “Calm down. I’ll find him.”

“How you flippin’ lose him, I have no idea. Don’t you notice when he goes missing?”

That chopped off a chunk of his heart. “I’ll do my best.” He killed the connection and kicked the desk he was apparently chained to.

He grit his teeth, cursing the Hood to the cellular level.

Another flick of a finger and he pulled up Virgil’ tracker again.

Module Four.

Scott sighed and headed down to the hangers.

His brother was awake this time, fortunately since he was on top of the submarine working on who knew what. A welding mask was flipped up, caught in his hair, and he had earphones in his ears.

“Virgil!”

The engineer had his back to him and didn’t answer.

“Virgil!”

Still nothing.

Scott strode around the vehicle attempting to get into his brother’s line of sight. The man’s red flannel shirt fluttered about him, open at the front and Scott realised the material was torn on one side. “Virgil!”

His brother kept working, eyes trained on whatever he was doing. A hand reached up and flipped his visor down. Violet sparks flew as he activated a welding torch and Scott was forced to throw up a hand and look away. “Goddamnit, Virgil!”

The light flickered against the walls of the module, Scott, forced to stare at his own shadow, waiting for his brother to finish doing what he was doing.

“Ah, shit!”

The welding light shut off to be replaced by an amber glow. Scott dared to look up at his brother only to widen his eyes in shock when he found the man on fire.

Virgil stood on top of TB4, mask up, swearing and beating at his flannel shirt, the material happily burning a black streak up his side.

Scott didn’t think, just hurried over to the nearest suitable fire extinguisher, grabbed it, and, clambering up the ladder, shot his brother with it.

It would have been funny if it was.

It wasn’t.

His brother gasped, flailing in the stream of harmless, but undoubtedly cold, chemicals. A white haze coated Virgil by the time Scott was satisfied the flames were out. The man stood staring at him a mixture of shock and anger on his face.

Well, at least he finally had Virgil’s attention.

The engineer ripped out his headphones. “What did you do that for?”

“You were on fire, Virgil.”

“It was under control.”

“Could have fooled me.” A sigh and Scott put the extinguisher down. A step and he was beside his brother gently pulling off the soaked and damaged shirt and examining him for burns.

“I can undress myself, you know.” It was said quietly and without anger.

Scott balled up the shirt and chucked it over the edge. It hit the module floor with a splat. Reaching up, he slid the welding mask out of Virgil’s hair and placed it beside the discarded welding torch.

“What are you doing?”

“Something I should have done three days ago.” He gestured towards the ladder. “After you.”

Virgil shook his head. “I have to finish this connector.”

Scott grabbed his arm, a touch alarmed at the focus in his brother’s eyes. “No, you’re coming with me.”

“Scott-“

“Now.”

His brother’s shoulders tensed a moment and Scott thought he was going to have to push harder, but a sudden wilt and Virgil let out a disconsolate groan. He shed his gloves, the fireproof pair landing beside the discarded helmet. Without a further word, the engineer turned and climbed down the ladder.

Lips thin, Scott followed.

He followed, then directed his brother’s grey shirted shoulders out of the hanger and up to the kitchen where he sat the man down and made him a hot chocolate.

Not a single word was said.

Turning back from the fridge, Scott found Virgil staring into nothing, five fingers tapping on the table. In the bright light of the morning sun, he finally got a good look at him.

The shadows under his brother’s eyes were almost caverns. He was pale, even gaunt. His hair uncharacteristically stuck up in all directions, most likely stiff from grease more than hair product. Virgil had a habit of running his fingers through his hair when thinking, no matter what was on those fingers at the time.

The lack of red flannel bleached the man out, his dark hair a smudge against the grey.

He placed the hot chocolate in front of Virgil, but to Scott’s surprise, it was ignored.

Those fingers continued to tap.

“Gordon is looking for you.” It took a moment, but those brown eyes turned to him. Scott sat down across from his brother and nursed his own warm cup. “He wants to see you.”

A slow blink, and the fingers stopped tapping and were dragged through hair. “Yeah, I need to give him an update.”

“Update?”

“On Thunderbird Four.”

Scott frowned. “Why?”

“So he knows how she’s doing.”

“What about how you’re doing?”

“What about it? I’m fine. She’s coming together good. Shouldn’t be long before we can finish her shell and get that yellow happening.”

Scott stared at his brother.

“When did you last sleep, Virgil?”

A shrug, but no answer and a complete lack of eye contact.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Brains is busy and Gordon needs his girl. Not a hard equation, Scott.”

“Gordon needs you.”

That did it. Brown eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“You haven’t been to see him.”

“I’ve spoken with him.”

“About TB4.”

“Yeah.”

A sigh. “He misses you, Virg. Why don’t you hitch a ride with me this afternoon and we can go visit him together?”

His brother held his stare. “I’m quite capable of flying myself out.”

An arched eyebrow. “I could easily take that as you not wanting my company, but I’m not buying it and there is no way you are flying anywhere. Hell, at this point I wouldn’t give you a license to walk, much less fly.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, downed the previously ignored hot chocolate in one gulp, and stood up. “I’m fine. I need to get back to work.”

“No.” Scott put down his own mug and stood up to face his brother. “You are going to have a nap and then we are flying out to the hospital so you can see Gordon.”

Those brown eyes flared, but Scott shifted his stance, his intentions clear.

Again, his brother’s shoulders wilted, his gaze dropping. “Fine.”

Scott stepped back from the table and walked around until he was standing beside Virgil. The man’s hands were clenched and white knuckled. Scott wrapped an arm around his little brother’s considerable shoulders. “C’mon, Virg, give yourself a break. Gordon misses you.”

The fists unclenched, muscles going limp.

“Go up to your room, have a nap. I’ll call you when I’m ready to go.”

A flicker of brown shot at him, but his brother turned away and headed up the stairs, leaving Scott alone in the kitchen.

A tap at the holographic interface and the eldest brother was able to watch that tracker enter the elevator, climb up to the residential section and plant itself in Virgil’s room.

The house suddenly felt empty. Because it pretty much was.

Another tap, this time at his comms. “Johnny, you got a minute?”

-o-o-o-

Gordon had never been so bored in his life. Four walls, a window, a holoprojector with access to the entire world, his brothers at his fingertips, he had every comfort he could have in his situation.

But he was bored.

It had partly to do with the drugs in his system. Sure, there were less than there were before, but he had put his body through the wringer and it didn’t fail to remind him of it as often as possible.

He could hardly move, the bed beneath him shifting pressure points like some creepy jello monster. He had one arm to play with. Well, hell, it could be worse. There was always worse. But yeah, bored.

Penelope was a blessed ray of sunshine. Her smile lit up the room every time she entered it. He clung to her visits, though shy in expressing his appreciation. Grandma was a continual reassurance, her soft touch always welcome. None of her cooking had appeared as yet, thankfully, but her words, her touch, her Grandma-ness meant all it possibly could and he cherished it.

Alan was a firecracker set off in the room. Or at least he attempted to be. Even Gordon could see his little brother wasn’t handling this very well. He couldn’t blame him. If their positions had been reversed, Gordon had no idea how he could stand to see Alan lying in this bed like a broken doll. So yeah, it sucked big time.

Scott, of course, was the stoic, reassuring, worried-as-shit big brother. The man was burning candles at both ends. Gordon had yelled at him on his last visit. Hell, a brother wasn’t supposed to worry the invalid. The invalid had more ways than one of kicking said brother’s ass if he didn’t stop wearing himself thin.

John, looking almost as tired, had backed him up.

Gordon had then proceeded to chew out John, telling him to get his ass either to Tracy Island or TB5 and stop hopping between the two. Gravity sickness wasn’t to be trifled with. Even Gordon knew that.

So yeah, big brother bawl out session. Actually, felt good to let a little of that steam out in a worthwhile cause. A call to Eos, who to his surprise actually answered and was willing to conspire with him, and he was able to track both brothers.

Even more surprise when they actually did what he asked, both of them holing up on Tracy Island for the night.

That left Virgil.

Gordon was worried and just a touch hurt that his big brother hadn’t come to visit. Sure, he was little more than a comline away and answered almost every time Gordon hailed him, but he hadn’t visited.

And all he spoke about was Thunderbird Four.

Detailed summaries of progress, reassurance that his ‘bird would be ready when he got home, holographic images of the work that had been done.

Gordon appreciated it. God, he did. But as time wore on, his brother’s absence began to gnaw at him and appreciation turned to worry. What was going on? He had expected his usually sensitive brother to be the one marshalling the other three. Virgil was the one who sent Scott to bed when he over did it. Virgil was the one who cornered John over comlines and interrogated him on his sleep pattern. Virgil, in the absence of Gordon, would chase up Alan and check to make sure he was okay.

Virgil should be looking after Grandma.

That was what Virgil did.

Instead the man was rebuilding Gordon’s ‘bird and he hadn’t seen him.

Why?

What bee was under his big brother’s bonnet?

So, it was with some surprise that, waking from one of his many impromptu naps, he discovered that particular brother curled up in the chair beside his bed snoring.

It was the snoring that had woken Gordon up.

He stared for a full minute.

Virgil was facing him, his face slack against the back of the chair, eyes steeped in shadow. A snort of interrupted breathing and he frowned, shifting in the far too small chair. He looked so uncomfortable, Gordon had no idea how the man could possibly be asleep.

He reached out to touch his brother, but a hand came from behind him and gently drew his hand back. A stiff turn of his head revealed Scott, an equally deep frown creasing his brow. He mouthed the words ‘leave him’.

Gordon blinked and withdrew his hand. Scott sat back down, looking as tired as Gordon felt.

The aquanaut turned back to his sleeping brother, echoing Scott’s frown. Virgil was dressed in only his grey undershirt, his hair soft and falling into his eyes, but the most defining factor on his health was his paleness. Virgil was an active man and had a tan to prove it, but not so much now.

Whispered. “What’s wrong with him?”

Eyes, darting at his eldest brother, caught the worried shrug.

They couldn’t have been sitting next to Gordon very long, yet Virgil had fallen asleep.

“How are you feeling?” Scott’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Me? I’m fine. What the hell is wrong with him?” A gesture in his sleeping brother’s direction.

Scott’s gaze landed on Virgil and his expression grew sad. “Tired. Hasn’t stopped.”

“Why?”

Another shrug. “Coping mechanism?”

“But...Virgil?”

“Who knows, Gordon. I can’t say any of us are handling this very well.”

A swallow. “I noticed. Sorry.”

Scott’s shoulders slumped as he sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. “Not your fault, Gords.”

Gordon echoed his sigh. “What you going to do? Ban him from his workshop?”

“Thinking about it.” A slight smile. “Maybe lock him up with you.”

A half-hearted glare. “You trying to kill us both?”

The smile became a full-fledged grin. “I thought you said you missed him. That’s why I dragged his dopey ass all the way over here.”

The glare intensified. “Liar. This is big brother fully deployed and you know it.”

Scott’s lips twisted, the grin becoming more of a smirk, eyes dancing. “Call it my prerogative.” His brother stood up, stretching. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.” A nod in Virgil’s direction. “Let him sleep, he needs it. I’ll be back later.” A brush of finger tips across the back of Gordon’s injured hand and his brother strode to the door. A glance at Virgil, a smile at Gordon and he was gone.

Virgil snorted in his sleep again.

Gordon was left to watch the engineer drool on his own sleeve.

-o-o-o-

Waking up was a fifty-fifty situation. Fifty percent of the time it sucked and this rise and shine definitely fell onto that side of the scale.

He was cramped. All of him was cramped. What the hell? A groan and he attempted to unfold his body.

“Oooh, Virg, don’t break yourself.”

Gordon.

What?

He pushed his eyes open and was immediately blinded by sunlight on white walls. Ugh. There was a reason why he had blackout curtains in his room on the Island. A blink and a scrunched-up face and, augh, pain shot up his neck and bounced around his brain. What the hell was he doing sleeping in a chair?

“That’s right. Hold that position.” Something electronic beeped. “Woo, that’s a good one. Definitely saving that for the archives.”

What?

His brain was its usual slow self upon waking. It took several solid attempts to recall where he was and how he had gotten there.

Scott.

His shirt on fire.

Hot chocolate.

His room.

A shower.

Sleep.

Tracy Two.

The hospital.

Gordon asleep.

Waiting.

And now.

The conclusion was obvious. He had fallen asleep, too.

In the chair.

Ow.

“You gonna hold that face much longer, bro? I’m expecting a wind change at any moment.”

“Shut up, Gordon.” Now that came out raspier than an un-greased chainsaw.

“Ho, and hello to you, too, dear brother.”

He forced his eyes open, blinking at the light in the room. Gordon had a grin on his face brighter than the sun. His tablet was also in his hand.

Virgil eyed him. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying some entertainment. Why?”

“What entertainment?”

“Did you know that that scar between your eyebrows has a following?”

“A what?”

Gordon’s grin was ready to split his face in half. “Oh, you were asleep just long enough for me to set up a social media account for Thunderscar Two the Triumphant. He already has over five thousand followers and has only been live for, oh, fifteen minutes.”

“What?”

Moving hurt like hell and Virgil groaned, but Gordon obliged by turning his tablet around to show a series of photos titled The Many Moods of Thunderscar Two. The photos consisted of various shots of Virgil’s eyebrows. There was even a short video of those eyebrows bouncing up and down...it was the most recent and the number of likes was still going up.

“Ooh, we just hit six thousand. Wow, I never knew you were that popular, Virg.” A laugh. “Hah, Vegetina wants to kiss your scar all better.” Gordon cackled. Maniacally. Like a villain from a B-grade movie.

“Gordon, what the hell?”

“Do that again.”

“What?”

That same electronic beep. “Niiice. They’ll love this one.” Gordon busied himself with his tablet. “Two does Dopey. Sleep is the enemy.” His brother was prodding his tablet. “Posted. Aaaah, they definitely love you, Virg.”

Virgil resisted the urge to rip the tablet from his brother’s hands. Exasperation or anger or not, the playing field was not level. He bit his lip instead. “You are not in a position to escape, Gordon. Are you sure you want to challenge me?”

“Challenge you? I should kick your ass.” And all the humour disappeared.

“What?” He appeared to be saying that a lot.

The tablet was dropped to the bed covers. “What have you been playing at, Virgil? I haven’t seen hide or hair of you since I’ve been here.”

Oh.

“Sorry. Busy.”

“Doesn’t cut it, Virg.” Gordon picked up the tablet again. Another electronic beep and his brother stabbed at the glass. “Scott’s the busiest of us all. Yet he’s been here nearly every day.”

The thought of the flight time his brother must be clocking up hurt somewhere deep in his gut.

“Sorry.”

“Virg, I don’t want you to say you’re sorry. I want to know what is wrong. This isn’t you.” He stabbed at the tablet again. “This, however, is bonafide Thunderscar. Look at that frown.” The tablet came up and yet another photo was gaining likes by the moment. Followers were clocking eight thousand and rising.

He ignored it. Couldn’t really do anything else. “Gordon, I don’t know. I am sorry.” He was still tired. “Just wanted to fix your ‘bird.”

“At the exclusion of everything else?”

Virgil shrugged. He hardly understood it himself. “Just wanted to help you.”

Gordon reached out with his good hand and grabbed at his fingers. Surprised, Virgil let him have them.

“You know you’ve thrown us all for a loop. You’re the steadfast one, Virg. The one everyone else leans on. You disappear and Scott falls on his face...and if you’ve seen his face lately it appears he’s been dragging it around on the ground. Now, John. Do you realise I had to yell at him the other day? That has always been your job, bro, but you haven’t been playing.” A bit lip and Virgil was confronted by a pair of unusually earnest russet brown eyes. “I’m going to be fine, Virg. I’ll be home soon, out of the reach of the local vampires, and I’ll need you to be you. Virgil the Rock, my big bro. Four can wait. I’m not going to need her for a while.”

And there it was, the heart of the matter. Something must have shown on his face, because Gordon yanked him closer to the bed. Virgil didn’t miss the wince that bounced across his brother’s face at the movement. Shit.

“Careful, Gords.” His hand landed on top of his brother’s, sandwiching it between his two.

“There you are.” It was quiet, whispered, and Gordon was still staring up at him. “That’s my big bro. The big softie who will be playing me the piano when I get home whether I like it or not.”

“You like it.” Virgil frowned at him.

Gordon smiled. “Yes, I do.”

-o-o-o-

His brother demanded he stay to keep him company and Virgil found himself holed up with a maniac with a camera and an obsession with his eyebrows. But they talked. Shared. Gordon fell asleep eventually and Virgil was left alone with the tablet, watching the followers count pass the one million mark. Twenty-five photos of his eyebrows, that scar in every single one.

He should be annoyed. He should be yelling. But instead he sat there listening to his brother’s soft breathing and stared at pictures of his own forehead.

Something had lifted.

His heart felt lighter.

He didn’t know what or why, but the how was sleeping beside him wrapped in bandages.

Gordon was a goofball. A loveable goofball. Seeing him hurt...

Virgil closed his eyes.

The door opened quietly and Scott peered into the room.

Placing the tablet on the bedside table, Virgil quietly walked over to his brother, nudging him gently back out and following him through. He closed the door silently behind him.

“Virg? You okay?”

Virgil didn’t answer him, not really sure what to say. Instead he grabbed his brother in a hug and buried his face on his shoulder.

Scott grunted as Virgil hit him with a little more enthusiasm than he had planned, but immediately wrapped his arms around him. “Hey.”

Virgil just held him tighter.

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know.” Muffled.

“We’re going to be okay.”

“I know.”

Scott apparently ran out of words because for the next minute or so, neither of them said anything. Virgil just clung to his brother.

The foot traffic around them was ignored.

Eventually Virgil pulled away. He found he couldn’t look Scott in the eye. It wasn’t embarrassment, but it was.

“Virg?” Blue eyes seeking. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t know where to put his hands.

Pressure on his shoulder, he looked up and was caught by that blue. “You hungry?”

And suddenly he was. A single nod. “What about Gordon?”

“Grandma and Alan will be here in a moment. Kayo and Penny will be by later. He’ll have company. We can come back later.” The hand on his shoulder slipped around to a one-armed hug. “C’mon, let’s get some nutrition into that stubborn ass of yours before Grandma gets hold of you. One look and you’re locked up with home remedies for a week.”

He couldn’t help, but smile a little, and, with a prod, fell into step with his big brother.

-o-o-o-

“You know, if I had known they would be this popular, I would have started this site years ago. We could be millionaires.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to look up at his little brother. Head first in Four’s thruster assembly, he stuck out a hand. “We’re billionaires, Gords. Hand me that wrench, please.”

“This one?”

“I can’t see what you’re holding up.”

A chunk of metal landed in his hand. It felt about right. Folding his arm proved it to be right. Jamming it around the stubborn bolt, he gave it a shove.

“I know we are, Virg. Can’t really miss it. But this would be for something special.”

“You’re talking about a series of photos of my eyebrows.”

“They are very popular eyebrows. That scar has been nominated for president.”

“Considering most politicians, my scar would probably be just as effective.” An electronic beep. “If you start putting pictures of my butt online, the Gordon Tracy Hall of Embarrassment will go live immediately.”

“Hah, what have you got on me that could possibly outrank anything I have on you.”

Virgil didn’t say a thing. He simply straightened, yanked his phone out of his back pocket, searched a moment and, with a smirk, held it up for Gordon to see.

It was most satisfactory to see his brother’s eyes widen in shock. “You wouldn’t.”

“One picture of my butt and the world discovers this.”

“Okay, okay, I get the message.” An electronic beep. “And Thunderscar is triumphant!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “All monetary gain goes to charity.”

“Already set up. You are rehabilitating the Supreme Barrier Reef as we speak.”

He stared at his tablet absorbed brother. Perched in his hoverchair, the man was still pale, still wrapped in plaster and bandages. Virgil would have to see him back to his room shortly as his stamina just wasn’t there yet, but he had to admit, to have him home and safe and...here...

“Good to have you here, Gords.”

Gordon looked up at him and grinned. “Great to be here in the presence of Thunderscar the Magnificent.”

Another eyeroll. “I thought he was ‘The Triumphant’.”

“Only when I let him.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yes, really.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re always welcome.”

“Well, hand me that screwdriver so I can finish this off and send her for coating tomorrow.”

Gordon grabbed the tool and handed it to him. “Painting?”

“Yep, which pink would you prefer?”

“Virgil.”

“Yes?”

A pause. “Love you, bro.”

Virgil blinked and turned back to find his brother eyeing him.

A small smile. “Love you, too.” A shrug. “But she’s still gonna be pink.”

The sound of Gordon’s laughter meant more to him than he could express.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[klaineanummel]

eighteen going on extinct 18/20

Kurt Fabray just wants to relax after a tough week at school, but that is shown to be impossible when he realizes that his absent father has once again blown into town. Not wanting to spend more time around him than necessary, Kurt goes to his old babysitters house, the one place he feels safe when his father is in town. While there, he stumbles upon a secret he knows he was never meant to find out - one that could change the entire course of his life.

An AU very loosely based on Mamma Mia.

Hey everybody :) Sorry it's been so long since I last posted ugh. 

For this chapter, I'd like to please refer everybody to the extended warnings for this fic, as many of them come into play in this chapter.

I don't usually do this, but I'd really love to hear your thoughts on this particular chapter, so please, if you're still around, leave me a comment with your thoughts!!!! This is my favourite chapter of the fic, and I'd love to hear what you think :) 

I'm hoping to post the last two chapters of this fic this weekend! Hope you enjoy this chapter :D

Previous Chapter  |   Read on AO3

As he walks from the bus stop to his apartment, Kurt has the crazy thought that maybe he should buy his mother flowers. That would be a good show of reconciliation, wouldn’t it? Some nice daisies, like Finn would take him out to buy on Mother’s Day.

Of course, it’s past nine, which means any decent flower shop is closed, and it’s Lima Heights, which means there isn’t even a decent flower shop in the area.

Still, he feels empty handed as he turns the key to the building. He wishes he had known he was coming back today. He could have brought something more appealing than simply himself.

The moment he opens the door to the building, all thoughts of flowers fly out the window.

Someone is screaming. Like, really, hardcore screaming. His heart starts to race as he hurries to the stairwell, the screams only getting louder as he climbs the stairs.

He recognizes the screams before he even reaches the second floor, and so he hurries up to the third floor even faster, heart pounding even quicker in his chest.

He may recognize the voice, but he has never heard his mother this angry. Ever.

He pulls the door to the third floor open and is hit by a wall of shouting. There are a couple of neighbours peeking out of their doors, clearly trying to get in on the latest Fabray gossip.

Kurt hurries to the apartment door and is surprised to find it ajar. He pushes in slowly, finally focusing on the actual words his mother is saying.

“Your mistress, Puck,” she is screaming. He can see her standing in the living room in her robe, Puck’s shit spilling out of the bedroom, hands waving wildly above her head. “The fact that it was your goddamn mistress makes it a billion times worse. When did you even have time to sneak off and see her, you asshole?! You haven’t even been here a month, and you’ve already managed to fuck around and knock her up in the process, you absolute moron!”

“I don’t understand what I said that warranted this response,” Puck shouts back. “I keep telling you that I need the money because—”

“Because the garage bill wiped you clean, I know,” Quinn screams, face so red Kurt is worried it might explode. “But I know why you really want it, because she told me. She came to me and told me the truth, about all of it, so fuck off with your excuses because I’m done.”

Puck takes a step back at that. “What?” he asks, voice genuinely surprised. “You can’t – we’re not done, Q, don’t say that. You and I are never done!”

“Yes, we are,” Quinn continues shouting. “We should have been done years ago. Fucking years ago, Puck! The fact that I even gave you the opportunity to fuck me over like this is just—”

“I’m not fucking you over with anything, I told you, I’m broke because your asshole ex-fuck and apparent father of our child robbed me fucking blind with those motorcycle charges. I don’t know why you’re screaming at me about some mistress and—”

“Can you just give it up?!” Quinn literally screams the words, and Kurt winces at the decibel she reaches. “Kitty told me fucking everything. She told me about the affair, she told me about the drinking, and she told me about the fucking abortion.”

“The what?!”

“The fucking abortion you’re forcing her to get that you were going to use my fucking money for!”

“Quinn, don’t you see how insane you sound right now? I don’t even know who Kitty is, let alone anything about a goddamn abortion.”

“Yes, you do,” Quinn replies, shoving her finger into his chest. “Yes, you fucking do, because she told me, she fucking told me, that you were going to ask for money because of the bike. She told me you were making it sound cool, like oh, no big deal, I’ll just ask my goddamn girlfriend to pay for my mistress’s abortion because she’d drink the piss out of my dick if I asked her to!”

“Quinn—”

“And by the way,” she continues, face only getting redder, “Don’t you ever refer to Kurt as our child again, okay? He’s my child. He’s my fucking child, not yours, and I may have fucking ruined my relationship with him over you. You and your fucking lie that I fucking knew about, that he fucking warned me about, but I refused to let myself see because I fucking loved you so goddamn much.”

“I love you, too,” Puck hurries to say, but Quinn pushes him back forcefully.

“Shut up!” She screams. “Shut the fuck up and get the fuck out. I never want to see your face again, you ungrateful scumbag. You absolute piece of shit. Get the fuck out of here!”

Kurt hurries out of the apartment, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire just yet. The moment he is out, clothing starts to fly behind him, all of Puck’s shit getting shoved into the hall slowly but surely.

He steps just slightly out of the way, so that neither Quinn or Puck will be able to see him, even if they walk out.

“Come on, baby, let’s talk about this,” he hears Puck say. “You’re totally overreacting. Why can’t we just calm down and talk about this like rational adults?”

“Because rational adults don’t fucking impregnate girls behind their girlfriend’s back and then ask their girlfriend for money for the abortion, you fucking asshole!”

“I told you—”

“Stop lying to me!” Quinn shrieks. “Stop lying to me, that’s all you do, you lie. You lie, and you lie, and you fucking lie and I’m done. I’m tired of it, I’m sick of your shit, and I never want to see your disgusting face ever again!”

“This is because of Kurt, isn’t it?” Puck growls. “I know it is. I know you saw him when you found out the paternity results. I know you were with him. I know he’s been whispering in your ear, trying to break us apart. That little snot monster just got in your head, babe, we just need to—”

“Don’t ever speak about him like that again,” Quinn shouts. “Actually, don’t ever speak of him again. Ever. If I even hear a whiff from California that you so much as uttered his name, I will hunt you down and cut your goddamn dick off. Don’t ever talk about my son again.”

“Our son, Quinn!”

“No! No, no, no,” boots fly out of the apartment, followed by a giant suitcase. “My son. My. Goddamn. Son. He is not yours, he is not Finn’s, he is not Burt’s, he is mine.” Shirts follow quickly. “And if you ever come near me or him again, I will not hesitate to call the police.”

“This is insane!” Puck says. “You’re insane!”

“Yeah,” Quinn shouts back. “Insane for wasting so much of my goddamn life on you. Insane for risking my relationship with my son because of you. Now get the fuck out.”

Puck stumbles out of the apartment, almost falling back on the suitcase lying on the floor.

His face is bright red as well now, and he clenches his fists tight.

“Fine!” he shouts. “I’ll get out of your life, you disgusting bitch. Like I’d actually want to spend my life with a whore like you any—”

“Hey!” Kurt shouts, no longer able to keep silent.

Puck’s face hardens as he turns slowly to look at Kurt. “You,” he hisses.

“You don’t talk to her that way,” Kurt replies, blood rushing hot through his veins. “You never, ever, fucking ever talk to her like that. Do you understand me?”

“You,” Puck shouts. “You have ruined my goddamn life from the moment I stepped foot in this town. You did this.”

“Stay away from him,” Quinn shouts, appearing in the doorway.

“You don’t ever talk to her like that,” Kurt says, standing his ground.

Puck shakes his head and takes a step toward Kurt. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this. I have been wanting to do this since the moment I saw your disgusting little face my first day here.”

Kurt barely has a moment to realize what’s happening before Puck pulls his fist back and punches him in the eye.

He stumbles back, pain flooding through his face. “Holy fuck!” he shouts.

“Don’t tell me how to talk to my bitch, you punk,” Puck shouts, and then punches him again. He can feel him breaking skin this time, at the same time as he feels himself falling to the ground.

“I’ve called the police,” a neighbour says, her voice like a distant bell. “They’ll be arriving any minute.”

Puck swears under his breath, and Kurt can hear him quickly packing his clothing. Soft hands are suddenly on his face, and he manages to open one eye enough to see his mother standing above him, glaring at Puck in a way he’s surprised doesn’t eviscerate him.

“Fuck you, Quinn,” he hears Puck shout. “Fuck you and your asshole of a kid, too. I hope you both rot in hell.”

“If you ever come near us again I will file for a restraining order, you fucking asshole,” Quinn shouts back. “Get the fuck away from me and my son.”

Kurt doesn’t know if Puck responds, only that he can hear wheels retreating and can feel his mother and a couple other hands trying to get him back on his feet.

As soon as he’s standing his mother pulls him into a hug, so tight it nearly knocks the breath out of him.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt,” she says, voice hoarse. He can feel tears on his back. He tries to hug her back, but his body doesn’t seem to be responding to anything he does at the moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry I let him come between us. I’m just… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt says, trying to hug her back. “It’s okay, mom.”

“It’s not,” she replies. “It’s not, but I promise that it will never happen again.” She cups his face with her hands, and he can almost see her clearly when he stares at her directly. “I will never let myself forget that you are the most important person in my life again.”

Tears sting at his eyes, and it burns so goddamn much. “Please don’t make me cry right now,” he whimpers.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers. “Let’s get inside.”

“Quinn, do you need anything?” one of neighbours asks.

He can feel his mother shaking her head against his shoulder. “Thank you, Maureen, but no,” she says, pulling Kurt closer to her than before. “I have the only thing I’ll ever need right here.”

Chapter 19

[savingbuckyb]

Fix You

Warning: Anorexic/Bulimic O/C, Purging, Angst, Fluff

Summary: Peter finds out his girlfriend is suffering from anorexia. 

(If any of these trigger and or offend you , I suggest you please do not read this. Thank you)

Author’s Note: Sorry that I have decided to go on a hiatus, been stressing. Also, sorry I’m a little rusty. Hope you guys enjoy!  P.s please let me know if I missed any warnings.

Peter was meeting your mother for the first time in 6 months since the two of you gotten together. With your mother being a single parent you didn’t really bring anyone around. Your mom kept pestering you, asking when she was going to meet the boy you were spending most of your time with, the boy she kept catching you on the phone with late at night when you were supposedly sleeping.

You slipped on a yellow spaghetti strap spring dress and earth toned sandals. You sighed taking a few more looks at yourself in the mirror realizing for the third time that you hated the way you looked. Just not tonight, but every single day. Your face looked fatter than usual, your collarbones didn’t show as much as you desired them to. You turned away from the mirror before you could point anything else you disliked about your body. You threw on a cardigan before heard your mom’s voice from downstairs.

“Y/N! Peters’ here!” You took a deep breath before walking downstairs being welcomed with the smell of your mother’s home cooked meal and Peter’s warm smile. Peter was wearing a dark blue sweater with comfortable jeans along with his old pair of converse. His smile brightened up the whole room, you couldn’t help but smile back. Peter engulfed you, running his fingers through your tussled curls, giving you a kiss on the forehead before taking a step back, taking a look at you from head to your worn out shoes.

“You look adorable.” Peter grinned a toothy grin before pinching the apples of your cheeks. You shrugged him off a little, dropping your gaze to your sneakers. Peter frowned a little, furrowing his eyebrows as he followed behind you to the dining table.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Y/N I made your favorite.” Your mother smiled as she placed the porcelain bowl of mac and cheese on the table. The buttery aroma filled your nose, tugging at the taste buds in your tummy. You soon frowned, furrowing your brows at your mom.

“Mom, I told you I was on a diet. How can I be on a diet with all these carbs?” You whined a little, gesturing towards the bowl.

“Darling, I thought for this special occasion, you can break that diet for just one night... How long have you been on this diet anyway? Are you sure this is healthy?” Your mother stared at you, literally almost burrowing a hole right through you. You tensed, clenching your jawline, you looked up to see Peter staring at you also as if he was waiting for an answer. You decided not to reply, knowing that the ‘diet’ you were on wasn’t at all healthy. Your mother sighed deeply before fixing both yours and Peter’s plate, placing them down in front of you.

“Wow this looks delicious.” Peter ran his tongue over his lips, picking up a large fork. Your mother finally took a seat, placing her napkin in her lap before making a grabby hand towards you and Peter.

“Time for grace.” Your mom announced. You stayed silent staring at your plate while your mom finished up the prayer. You picked up your fork separating the peas from the potatoes, your stomach churned at the thought of eating it. Peter and your mom began to talk about grades, school and hobbies. You knew a lot about Peter in the past 6 months but not enough you would have liked to.

“What do you do on your spare time Peter?” Your mom asked munching away.

“Oh I have a internship at Stark Industries.” Peter replied taking a few glances at you from here and there.

“Wow, you got yourself a good one Y/N” She winked at you, making you wince a little, your face becoming flushed. You listened while your mother asked several more questions, Peter nearly done with his plate. He took one more glance at you before clearing his throat.

“Is everything okay, Y/N? You haven’t touched your plate at all.” Peter asked, concern coated his voice. Your mother snapped her head towards you, your eyes immediately dropping down to your plate.

“Sorry, I was just lost in thought..” You fixed your lips in a tight line. Peter stared at you as if he was waiting for something. You took a long sigh before slowly plopping a potato in your mouth. You chewed slowly, Peter loosening the tension in his shoulders, giving you a reassuring smile. You continued to eat, cherishing each bite as if it was your last. You were so hungry. You couldn’t help but shove every last bit into your mouth, leaving your plate spotless. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand before taking a deep breath, your body immediately felt heavy as if it was a big rock sitting in the middle of your stomach. You put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from throwing up, taking a huge gulp. Your mother finished up her conversation with Peter before taking our plates, beginning her dishes for the night.

“You kids could go have your fun..” You heard your mom’s smile through her voice as she waved her hand at you two. Peter pulled you to the couch, his eyes bright as always, holding your hand in his, the tv remote in the other. You sat close to him, your shoulders tense, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were going to explode, you were so bloated.

“What do you want to watch?... There’s Moana.. Shr-“

“I have to go to the bathroom.” You abruptly interrupted, speed walking to the bathroom, you cautiously closed the door before slamming open the toliet lid. You hovered over the toilet, hesitating for a moment before dropping to your knees, you sighed heavily, sticking two slender fingers down your throat. Every thought raced in your head, searching for any possible reason why you needed this, why it was necessary for you. Tears streamed down your eyes as you forced your own vomit to protrude from your open mouth. You repeated this routine a couple more times until you noticed the familiar color of crimson pooling in the toilet bowl. You gripped the sides of the seat as your body contracted and comstricted against itself as you did it once last time. You were suddenly startled by a knock and the bathroom door swinging open.

“Y/N, are you ok-“ Peter stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth agape. You could’ve sworn you locked the door.

“W-what are you d-doing?” He was completely at lost for words, and so were you. You wanted to keep this as your deep dark secret, that no one would know until you decided you needed the help. You couldn’t even lock eyes with him as he trudged over to you. He wrapped an arm around your lower back and the other underneath your thighs, he gather you up in his arms, leaving the short walk silent to your bedroom. He sat you on the bed, soft coughs escaping your throat from all the strain you put on it. The room was still silent, nothing but the constant thuds from Peter’s paces. He couldn’t find the right words to say, he would stare at you blankly, open his mouth a bit then go back to pacing.

“If you’re going to say something, say it.” You spat, avoiding his dreaded gaze. He stood in front of you before dropping to his knees, getting a hold of your face in hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was coated in sympathy. You wanted to slap his hands away at the thought of him pitying you, you hated feeling like you were a burden.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me.. I’m sorry Peter, that you had to find out like this..”

“Why do you do that?... Why do you do this to yourself?” Your gaze shifted back to the ground. “Look at me.” He lifted your chin up with your index finger, tears now pooling at the rim of his eyes.

“I-I don’t know.” You muttered out, now it was your turn to cry. “I will never be skinny enough.” And at that Peter’s heart broke in a billion, tiny pieces. He cupped your face a little harder in his hands, his eyes moving back and forth from mine as if he was gathering up everything he had to say.

“Listen to me, you’re the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I wouldn’t want anyone else. Don’t you ever say anything like that ever again. Do you understand me?” Peter basically pleaded, tears seeping through the tiny cracks in his voice. You couldn’t help but feel like shit especially since you were the cause of this.

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You completely broke down into his arms, Peter engulfing you. You sniffed loudly as sobs violently racked your body.

“Don’t be sorry babe.. I got you.” He cradled you until your crying stopped.

“If you ever feel the need to do this again.. or if you’re feeling like you’re not good enough. Just call me please.” Peter ran his fingers through your hair, peppering soft kisses on your forehead. Tears began well at your eyes once again, not only because of the overwhelming moment but because of the way Peter poured his heart to you. But because of the way he showed you he cared.

“Help me, help you.” Peter whispered, and all you can do was nod your head. You needed the help more than ever and by the way Peter stared into your eyes he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

[theheroof]

“Sorry I wasn’t there to thaw you out” Part 2

Note:Continuation of the first part....please excuse any grammer errors and I hope you guys enjoy.

Eden was....tired to put it mildly her whole body ached and she was freezing. She was mostly relying on Theron for support who was blasting every stormtropper that came within five feet of her.She ignored the weakness in her knees looking over at Theron.

He looked....older...the dark circles under his eyes had grown more prominent and he did have wrinkles around the edges of his eyes.

‘How long was I gone?’ she thought pushing herself off of Theron and igniting her own purple blade. She was tired of being useless. She was the force damned Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order she could handle this.

“Eden...”Theron said worriedly as Eden shook her head giving him a slight look.

“I’m okay Theron” she said. deflecting a blaster bolt away from them. Lana was mostly taking care of the stormtroppers up front much to Eden’s relief. Even though she could handle herself...she was a better distance fighter.

“Eden...you’ve just been in carbonite for force knows how long...” he said as they rounded the corner.

Eden sighed but nodded looking at Theron. “I’ll take it easy let’s just focus on getting out of here alright?” she said.

“She’s right Theron. we can worry about her physical health once we are out of here..” Lana said walking over to a blast door trying to get it open. Eden did limp over to the monitor bitting her bottom lip.

“I think someone figured out about your rescue mission...” she told Theron and Lana. Lana’s brow frowned walking over as well.

“No not her...”Theron said eyes widened....Vaylin according to reports was a extraordinary force user....even compared to Eden

“I’ve seen her before...she was....there when I was captured by Zakull”Eden said shifting nervously and stepping closer to Theron. Something about Vaylin made her uneasy.

Vaylin....after handling the knight looked straight at the camera as if....looking straight at them.

“Everyone makes mistakes” she said before taking out the camera.

Eden felt a dark signature stretch out trying to find Eden’s own. The Jedi shivered she felt so much like her father.

“I...can feel her searching for me” she said. Theron’s face hardened at this carefully putting an arm around Eden. 

“Lana we have to go” he said.

Lana nodded opening the door as Eden and Theron both ran through.More skytroppers rushing to meet them. “Skytroppers...Vaylin is far from alone” the sith said as Theron rolled his eyes.

“Clearly” he said blasting the skytroppers in the chest. Lana looked somewhat annoyed but Theron always had a knack for teasing her so she didn’t seem to mind. Eden was keeping her distance trying to throw rocks at the skytroppers watching them break into a billion pieces. Stopping at an elevator.

“Hope you’re not too close yet”Koth’s voice came from the com.

“Kriff...Koth what’s up?” Theron demanded in his com. The two....still didn’t know each other very well.

“Talking to Lana not you Shan....just duck through another tower and I’ll find you guys alright?” he said.They heard a loud noise right on cue

“Argue later we have to go” Eden pointed out as they stepped into the elevator.Theron and Lana did look over at Eden who shifted awkwardly. 

“What?” she asked as Theron just smiled softly at the Jedi.

“Just...really good to see you Eden” he said. Eden managed a small smile at this.

“Save it for later you two....we have to go” Lana said stepping out Eden and Theron following soon after. 

“How many skytroppers are there?!” Eden grumbled seeing more just up ahead...she was annoyed by enemy droids in general but a whole army of them?

“Uh...I’m guessing somewhere in the billons?” Theron said blasting another droid,Finally exiting the office area. “We have to get past this bridge”Lana said as Eden suddenly collapsed holding her side.

“Just a little longer Edi....”Theron said helping her inside turning to see Vaylin to see the reactor rupture making him bite his lower lip.

“She’s getting desperate Lana!” he yelled to the woman as they made it inside the building. 

Koth’s voice came from the com yet agian. “Is my scanners wrong? did you guys just charge straight into a skytropper droid factory?” he said.

“Vaylin’s on our tail...we’re out of options” Theron said.

“And...besides we can handle a couple droids”Eden chimed in igniting her saber.

The three managed to get to the reactor controls as the woman walked over to the window looking over at the exploding reactor.

“We have to do something...” she said to Theron and Lana. Of course she would suggest something like this Theron thought but he did agree they couldn’t let this many cilivians die. 

“Are you two insane...Theron we need to get her out of here” Lana said as Theron shook his head,

“It can’t be that hard Lana” he said following Eden to the elevator.Eden was already at the reactor controls...but they exploded. 

“There...I see the emergency shut downs” she said rushing out.

“Eden slow down!”Theron said...Lana having trouble keeping up as well.

“Can’t remember? Evil lady on our tail” Eden reminded shutting down the first one while Theron kept his blaster out. No one was hurting her on his watch.

“Almost done” Eden breathed rushing over to the next one ignoring Lana who was trying to convince her this was a terrible idea. She shut the next one rushing over to shut down the reactor.

“Eden...”Lana started as Eden ignited her saber slashing at the power source, She fell backward as Theron Helped her to her feet.

“You just gambled with the fate of the entire galaxy!” Lana spat as Eden shook her head.

“We saved lives that was worth it...now c’mon” she said. Theron was already 3 steps ahead....making sure there was no one coming. 

“Unbelievable” she said following.

Running into two knights was...not Theron’s idea of the escape they planned taking out his blaster. 

“Drop your arms and surrender...” the taller knight began. Eden looked hesitant.

“I don’t want to fight but I will defend myself....you can still live if you leave” she began.

“Not happening outlander” he said as he ignited his saber as Eden did the same, Theron kept his distance...a blaster wasn’t good up against a lightsaber but he was doing his damage. 

Eden striked out one last time at Novo but he jumped up before Eden’s saber could incapacitate him.

“Come Tarek! we can fight another day!” he yelled before running off but Lana caught Tarek in a force chock.

“You Knights...you are never taught to properly channel your anger” she said with a grim smile.

“Lana let him go” Eden said crossing her arms,

Lana sighed but released him. “Why?...he will come after us again”she said as the terrified knight ran off.

“He was unarmed”Eden argued. Lana just shook her head. Theron turned to see Vaylin. 

“Uh....Lana...Eden....trouble” Theron said. They all ran to the edge of the walkway. skytroppers already gathering. 

“Vaylin”Lana said standing in front of her friends as Eden looked at Vaylin almost wide-eyed,

“I don’t know you two....but the Jedi....I know her” she said  igniting her saber before smirking and dis-igniting it.

“No I won’t need that” she said just as the words were spoken Koth’s ship came into sight firing at Vaylin who used the force to defend herself

“Head’s down...eyes open run like Hell!” he said.Lana and Theron jumped abroad...Eden was a bit unsteady both from being recently thawed and the blaster bolts agaianst Vaylin’s shield. She jumped aborad .

Theron grabbed her hand. “I gotcha ya...” he said.Pulling her into his arms and helping her to the front....they were safe....for the moment. 

Arcann was sure he watched the security cameras five or six times. The way the force-blind spy held her....was something that was almost protective. Maybe if he caught the spy....he could get Jedi Master Benton to cooperate. First he needed to find them.

He picked up his com link coming his sister....even if he didn’t capture Benton maybe Shan would be a greater prize.

“Sister order the skytroppers to not kill the spy or the outlander....bring them both to me..” he said into his com. His father’s power would be his even if he had wretch it out of Master Benton himself.

[iammarylastar]

5. Donut, 1304. “Tell me more about Alabama, is there any family of yours left?”

We’re enjoying the sandwiches she’s made, everything is perfect, mostly the view I have of my angel, sitting on the blanket I spread on the grass near a little creek, sunbeam dancing on her beautiful features.

OK. Let’s sum up what nonsense my life has been before her.

“Alabama was wonderful, as long as my mother was still with us. The scum of the Earth that was my father owned a farm where my brother and I worked hard. He let my mom die from the flu, spending the slightest penny in alcohol. No money left for the doctor. She died the winter of my 17 years. I left without looking back after I buried her, alone in the cemetery, my bro and that dickhead too busy to celebrate the funeral getting wasted with fake booze. I did odd jobs through the state before signing up for the army which became my real family. I remember thinking… nah, it’s silly.”

Her sweet gaze encourages me to go on, as my fingers tear blades of grass and daisies up from the ground.

“I remember thinking I could be closer to her up there, I liked to picture her face in the clouds. That’s how I became a pilot.”

I chuckle, I’ve never opened up to anyone before. I don’t want to sound too whiny or childish, though I don’t feel like she’s judging me. I feel like I could spit all my sins out and she would still stay here with me.

“I’d like to go back to Alabama when the war ends, back to the farm if it still exists. You know to do something else than blowing up things. I want to build things with my bare hands, I dream of better days, a simple life, a family… Sorry, this sounds so boring…”

The truth is I’ve started dreaming about building a family since the first time we talked.

“Please, no, I like to hear you speaking of better days. I find it…”

“Cute?” I lift an eyebrow, teasing her.

“Yeah, cute.” She laughs.

“What about you? How does a beautiful angel like you end up in a military base in the middle of the Pacific?”

“I’m sorry to tell you your life doesn’t deserve the award of the saddest story of the year. My dad was a Colonel of the U.S. Army. Both my parents died 3 years ago in a car accident. As a ward of state, I was sent to a boarding school for girls, while my older sister married Gessepp who was a friend of our father. He’s 15 years older than Jessica but he used to be nice when he came home for dinner. He helped a lot after they died and when he proposed to my sister, we both thought he would take good care of us. He changed after their wedding. He turned into a disgusting pig, a drunk, racist, misogynistic asshole, who just treated Jess like shit. He stopped beating her when she was expecting their child, but it’s been twice as bad since Abigail was born. He insisted to call her Abigail "the joy of her father”, fuck me, he hates having a girl. Jess did her best to protect her but she’s been so weak after the birth, she begged me to come here and take care of the baby.“

She pauses, her eyes shining with tears, which makes me love her even more. I hate knowing her sad or upset. Or not safe.

"Does he hit you too?” I ask, figuring out the answer.

She rolls her eyes, only to prevent warm tears to spring from her eyelids. Uselessly.

Brushing quickly her cheek with the back of her hand, she looks at me straight in the eyes, begging me not to go further.

“Please, don’t waste this perfect day with unpleasant things. Let’s say Jess and I do what has to be done to keep the baby safe.”

My blood is boiling in my veins, I wish I could wrap myself around her and never let her go, keeping her safe in my arms, along with Jessica and Abigail.

“One day, Cup. One day after the war ends, when we’re back to America, Jessica, the baby and me will leave him. We will run away from him and settle down somewhere he couldn’t find us and have the peaceful life we want. I could be a teacher and provide for my family. I too dream for better days.”

Oh Angie let me save you. Let’s dream of better days together. Let’s live them together.

I have to cheer her up, I can’t stand the hint of sadness in her eyes. Let’s start a show.

I grab a home made pastry, a donut covered with icing sugar and lift it up, like a trophy.

“OK. You won hands down. Your story is the saddest I’ve ever heard. I have the great honour to give you this well deserved donut as an award for your bravery and strength. I’m proud of you and sincerely stunned by your cooking and sewing skills. I wish you the best for your future, and I hope I could be a part of it.”

“Amen!” She laughs.

I laugh with her, despite I’ve never been more serious.

I lift the donut to her lips, so she can take a bite, then I push it up on purpose, covering her nose with icing sugar.

She startles and looks at me, puzzled, for just a second, before bursting into laughter, I heartily follow.

“No, no!” She grabs another donut and hands it to my mouth.

“You ranked a close second. You deserve this one as an award for being the cutest man I’ve ever met, despite your shitty past and the disability you have to keep your shirts dry and clean. I wish this damn war could end in a couple of days, so you would fly us back home, away from this all this shit.”

“What woman wants…”

I stare at her, my need to take her lips stronger than ever, my stomach burns like hell and her eyes teasing me just fuels my desire.

I snap at the donut she holds before me, but that little devil jerks it back and I almost bite my own tongue.

Smirking mischievously, she teases me again, shaking the donut under my nose.

She fools me twice before I grab her wrist, pull her hand to my mouth and take a huge bite of the donut, like a half of it.

It’s jelly filled. Raspberries. Delicious.

She bursts into laughter again while I chew the huge piece, trying my best not to choke or spit it out as I laugh with her.

My mouth and chin are covered with jam that’s running down, she quickly swipes it with her fingers, which unwillingly end up in her mouth.

Her laugh stops as she realizes she’s licking her fingers, my own face crumbling into pieces obviously showing her the hotness of the moment.

I swallow hard as my grip on her wrist tightens, my thumb stroking gently the soft skin of its back.

She on purpose takes her time to lick each drop on her forefinger, ending with a pop that sends shivers through my spine. The way she looks at me doing that… Oh God help me!

I’m close to eating her up, my brain shouts at me “Kiss her now!”

My guts twist painfully, the drool in my mouth tastes metallic, you know that little thing just before you kiss someone for the first time.

I know that feeling, I’ve kissed a ton of chicks before. Except that I’m in love with her, like, totally.

And it freezes me, I’m paralyzed. My brain shows me billions of flashes of me kissing her lips but my body refuses to move.

I know, I feel she wants it too, as badly as me, by the way her eyes caress my lips.

She slowly raises her fingers back up to my face, brushing lightly along my jawline, wiping the rest of the jam off the corner of my lips, then letting her fingertips wandering along my bottom lip. So slowly.

God strike me down if I’ve ever lived a sexier moment in my damn whole life.

I can’t help, Jesus I try but I can’t help but opening my mouth, moving my lips to kiss the pads of her digits.

The gasp she makes finishes to undo me. Her hooded eyes are begging me for more, and I can’t seriously deceive her.

I open my lips and nip gently at her pads, before licking and sucking on them.

Holy shit I doubt I’ll survive.

Our eyes locked, lost in each others, the world stops existing around us.

Her smile vanishes, her lips slightly open in a sexy pout, I’m gonna die.

The urge to kiss her takes over, my hand lets go off her wrist and runs up her arm, goosebumps rising all the way up to her neck.

My heart is close to exploding as I comb her hair back, my fingers entangled in the jungle of her hair, tilting her head so her lips are offered to me.

She just melts into my touch and let the sexiest sigh out, closing her eyes shut, waiting for more.

My lips land on the tip of her nose, stealing the icing sugar laying there, making the drool multiply under the sweetness of the moment.

I lightly brush my nose against hers as my lips burn to meet hers, so close the air she breathes tickles my face.

Pulling her face to me, I just kiss her.

Gentle and slow.

Her lips under mines are soft and wet

and the sound of her taking small breaks for air between our kisses is a serious turn on.

Like I needed some.

I struggle hard not to use my tongue, afraid she’d think I’m going too fast or too far.

My sweet angel once again surprises me when she slips her tongue out and dares to lick my lips, parting them gently, begging me to deepen the kiss.

I gladly comply and with a grunt, open my mouth and taste her.

Jesus, she tastes like Heaven.

Beside my lips and tongue kissing her and my fingers in her hair, there’s no part of us touching, which is a torture. We’re sitting close to each other but it’s obviously not enough.

My free hand moves around her tiny waist and I effortlessly lift her up and settle her down on me. Her limbs instinctively find their way so she straddles me, her hand grips my collar before stroking the back of my neck, pulling me deeper in the kiss.

She rests on her knees, each side of me, using leverage not to sit completely on my lap.

My hands leave her waist to travel north, her dress is bareback just under her shoulder blades so I have plenty of skin to stroke.

She’s all over me, eating my mouth, I have to fight not to fall on my back. Though I appreciate her enthusiasm, I don’t think I could be able to stop if we laid on the ground. And I don’t want to take her like this.

Oh yes I want to, trust me, but not here, not for our first date.

She told me she’s never been with a man before, being her first kiss is already a blessing.

The gentleman in me knows it’s not the right time, begs me to keep control and my cock in my pants, yells at me to cool down.

I cross my arms in her lower back, just to keep our balance, but it accidentally invites her to finally sit completely on my lap.

Let’s be honest, on my fucking boner.

A loud grunt leaves my lung as she gasps and startles, but quickly melts upon me.

Holy fuck!

Still cleaning my tonsils, she pushes lightly her hips against me and the moan that escapes her mouth screams me how good it feels for her too.

Now glued against my crotch, she starts to rock her hips slowly but firmly and I’m sure this will be the end of my life.

The gentleman supposed to help me to regain control just shot himself, quickly replaced by my old demon who suggests to roll her under me and rip her garment off.

Jesus, I can feel her wetness pooling through my own pants!

“Angie…” she doesn’t hear me.

“Angie, please…”

She hums, still absorbed in kissing my soul and it kills me to end this.

I have to push her back a little to stare gently at her. She’s on fire, it breaks my heart to tell her:

“Angie, baby, we have to stop.”

Puzzled and disappointed she looks at me like to ask if she’s done something wrong.

“We have to stop now before it’s too late. I don’t want us to do something you’re not ready for…

Oh trust me I want you so bad it hurts but I don’t think we should… ahhm…I don’t think I could…

Keep kissing me like this and I won’t answer for your virtue.

She frowns and pouts at first, in a so adorable way it’s hard not to kiss her again, then realizes what I’m talking about and blushes, her cheeks already flushed by our kisses.

She sighs deeply, combs her disheveled hair  back then stares at me with an indecipherable look.

"Take off your shirt”

@jaihardy @jaicourtneyseyes @kenzieam @captstefanbrandt @pathybo @jojuarez26 @tigpooh67

@onceinabillionlifetimes, @bookgirlthings href=“https://tmblr.co/m9JHX1l4S6qx4dGSAX5BJ0Q”>@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995, @oddsnendsfanfics, @sajess98 @societalfailure @red-diary @pernilleals

[scifi4wifi]

I didn’t bury the lead. Steve Dikto, one of the foundations of the current Marvel Universe, a forgotten titan, a master of magic, a spinner of webs, with vision as far as the eye could see, has past beyond Eternity’s reach. Steve left us at the age of 90.

Not much to tell you don’t already know, so I am going to tell you a story you don’t know:  the strange story about my rediscovery of Steve Ditko.

Ditko’s Spider-Man

The Universe didn’t want this story told. On the day I got the assignment, I was driving (I am an Uber driver sometimes, so my epiphanies often happen behind the wheel) and I talked to my boss, I had a whole lot of ideas of what I wanted to talk about.

Steve Kitko

Steve is relatively unknown to most of the modern readers of comics, unless they have managed to stumble across a copy of Strange Tales withering in a basement somewhere, Ditko’s name is rarely invoked, even while people consume the timeless quality of his creativity without ever knowing it.

The fact is that many of Marvel’s early creators such as Dikto created work-for-hire, and as such anything they created for Marvel back then meant it belonged to Marvel and the creator would never know any further income from the work, no matter how it was transformed, revised, expanded, or turned into a blockbusting movie making billions and billions and billions of dollars.

That those creators are usually never compensated again, no matter how much money gets made, is wrong. So many of these early creators, these unsung heroes, who created something which became fabulous, would still die broke, without even the most basic amenities of life, while executives who lack the creativity of plaster of Paris, rake in the billions from their exploitation of greater minds.

I understood how such exploitation get done. I know it’s pure greed. But most importantly, I realized it was the secretly the death knell for the Big Two’s creativity.

You see, people like Steve Ditko created because they loved doing it. He created freely, with the hope that his creations would live independently of him. Steve’s creativity was the kind of thing which didn’t just appear or simply exist.

Steve’s designs inspired — when they didn’t mock, or when there wasn’t a secondary meaning in something he created. Steve was a layers kind of creator. In his portrayal of Spider-Man’s foes, he brought to life, the Everyman villain — not a mastermind, sometimes a genius, sometimes a dufus. Usually just that guy up the street, late with his rent. Electro was Max Dillon, electrical worker. Just a regular Joe.

Steve’s signature design on Spider-Man’s costume has morphed over the ages, but has rarely been improved upon. And even all these years later, Spidey’s red and blue has remained as iconic as many other Ditko’s designs.

And this leads me to the crux of the problem.

When creators like Ditko are taken for granted, when they are not seen as the visionaries they are, they wither. They revert into themselves. They lose the faith. They falter. Sometimes they get back up, wading back into the battle. But if they are too far ahead of their time, with ideas too strange for the world they live in, they are mistaken for kooks, birds too unusual to be around.

Steve Ditko was such a fellow. Creative to a fault, his iconic works survived his relatively brief stint at Marvel. Spider-Man’s classic costume, the immortalized cape, costume and accoutrement of the magnificent Doctor Strange.

He would create a number of Spider-Man’s most iconic rogues, foes who would appear again and again, as famous in their way as Spider-Man: The Vulture, Dr. Otto Octavius, Sandman, Dr. Curt Conners (the Lizard), Electro, Mysterio, Green Goblin, Molten Man, The Tinkerer and the Jackal.

And to be fair, he created other heroes outside of Marvel. He helped bring into being DC’s Captain Atom, Ted Kord’s Blue Beetle, the other laughing madman of the DC Universe, the Creeper, Shade, the Changing Man and everyone’s faceless conspiracy theorist, the Question.

I wanted to tell you Ditko’s passion was the ordinary man, te man who rose up through dint of effort to challenge a hostile Universe.

It was Steve’s story and despite his early success, he would never enjoy the fame his creations deserved. He fell from sight, making few appearances and working on a variety of smaller projects, like Mister A, a character based in Ayn Rand’s objectivism, an extreme character whose ideals were literally black and white. Mister A is the Question, if he were able to be R-Rated.

It was a shame that when the Question became part of the Justice League on Cartoon Network, Ditko didn’t make any money. Before you begin your rants on the rights of companies to do work-for-hire and talk about they were fairly paid for their efforts at the time and no company should be expected to pay them again when the medium changes, let me remind you that the creative act is a singular one, not a commodity that comes out of a box. That’s somebody’s soul they’re selling you.

Which would then lead me to the idea that creators have rights now. They don’t want to do work-for-hire unless its with already existing characters. No one wants to create anything now unless they can get a piece of the action.

Good. The side effect of this renewed opportunity is the Big Two’s inability to create anything new. At the very same time new comic companies were popping up like daisies, the Big Two had become moribund, recycling their golden age and silver age heroes again, unable to even create an effective second generation of those heroes.

The last thirty years has been rehashing, re-warming, stir-frying their same old lineup of characters, hoping for something, a new perspective, a new recombination, a chance for a spark of something which would appease the creation of something new, which neither company has managed to do since the early ninety’s, once writers started getting hip.

Those same creatives who made them great were also the last time anyone in those companies created anything new. Anything inspirational. Anything with vision, anything with longevity. I can name the handful of new creations since 1996 that are still in play, well liked, and have a following. Yep. Deadpool.

I wanted to tell you all of this: but the Universe would not let me. Seriously. The next morning after I got the assignment, there was a power outage in my neighborhood. Power didn’t return for hours. When it did, I sat down to a computer which no longer worked. The surge protector may have only done half its job. The computer survived, but the hard drive didn’t.

Jesus saves. So does Thaddeus. Restoring my drive took a bit longer than I was happy with but when I was done, I realized it was almost time for my wife and son to head off to Japan for their first visit to my favorite island nation. The anxiety of dealing with sending them off and waiting nervously to land, distracted me further. Then I passed out for a day exhausted after being awake for two days, collapsing after I dealt with a plumbing issue.

But this whole time, I kept having the feeling I was missing a thread, something which would bring my ideas about Steve Ditko, an artist who defined my childhood. As a fan of Doctor Strange, Ditko’s strange was surreal, super-fantastic, and groovy all at the same time. But it was when I reread Strange Tales #138 that I realized what was missing.

Eternity.

The pages which made me a Ditko fan will follow. The scene when Doctor Strange enters the Eye of Agamotto, exploded my ten year old mind. A world within a world? It was too much.

Then Dikto too me on a magic carpet ride with his dimension hopping and to the meeting which forever made mine Marvel. Doctor Strange’s first meeting with the living personification of the entirety of the Marvel Universe.

Hold on. I just want you to sit with that for a second. This meeting would haunt me for years as I tried to understand what had happened: Doctor Strange left the Universe to be outside the Universe, to talk to the Universe. And it answered. Wooah!)

Eternity.

Steve, you gave us Eternity, a breathtaking vista, to a place beyond imagination. And he’s taken you back. The format of this story is different. Like Steve was, layered, complicated, unappreciated in his prime.

We didn’t deserve you. We didn’t tell you how much we loved you. We’re sorry, man. You were a bloody genius.

I was trying to tell you guys this all week. I’m glad you could wait.

Link Notes

List of Ditko Characters – https://en.wikipedia.org/…/Category:Characters_created_by_S…

Steve Ditko, Mister A: Dial B for Blog: http://dialbforblog.com/archives/296/

– 30 –

Steve Ditko: 1927 – 2018 I didn't bury the lead. Steve Dikto, one of the foundations of the current Marvel Universe, a forgotten titan, a master of magic, a spinner of webs, with vision as far as the eye could see, has past beyond Eternity's reach.

[ericvick]

Can Silicon Valley Beat China In Clean Energy Tech?

Many investors are already aware of the fact that China is the world’s most dominant player in the solar and clean energy sector. 8 out of 10 biggest manufacturers of solar equipment are Chinese with First Solar (NASDAQ:FSLR) and SunPower (NASDAQ:SPWR) the only American representatives among the elite.

It’s not for lack of trying, though—Silicon Valley pumped tens of billions of dollars in clean energy ventures during the first wave of the renewable energy transition that started halfway through the first decade of the new millennium.

Yet, Clean tech 1.0 was a disaster, a fact that still lingers like a bruise on the amygdala of investors from a decade and a half ago.

According to PwC, of the $25 billion invested by venture capitalists in the clean-tech sector between 2006 and 2011, about half got wiped out. Disappointed by the dismal returns, VCs diverted their attention to app developers, software, and artificial intelligence (AI), which promised bigger returns without demanding huge infusions of capital.

In sharp contrast, China has been hugely successful in scaling up solar power and driving huge cost reductions in wind energy and EV batteries.

Which makes this year’s clean energy selloff all the more seem like déjà vu.

After a massive runup over the past two years, the clean energy sector is going through a correction with the sector’s most popular benchmark, iShares Global Clean Energy ETF (ICLN), down 20.4% in the year-to-date while its solar peer Invesco Solar Portfolio ETF (TAN) is down 17.1% over the timeframe.

But make no mistake about it: Clean tech 2.0 is a one-way street with no chance of turning back. After all, it’s got a lot more going for it, including pressing climate goals, much stronger government support, much stronger backing by Silicon Valley, and thousands of useful lessons gleaned from Clean tech 1.0.

Related: Oil Tanker Rates Surge As Suez Canal Blockage Continues

As Andrew Beebe, managing director at San Francisco-based Obvious Ventures, has succinctly put it:

Story continues

“I really don’t believe there’s a pathway where we look back and say, ‘Oh clean tech 2.0 didn’t work.’ That will not happen–this transition, the road we’re on, is a one-way street. We don’t go back to gasoline vehicles, we’re not going to go back to coal plants; we’re not going to go back to dirty air and unhealthy living conditions if we have the choice. What we’ve learnt in the last decade is, we have a choice in virtually every category.”

But as this year’s correction proves, this is by no means going to be a walk in the park.

China’s success

With Beijing’s backing, China’s clean energy entrepreneurs were able to scale rapidly with solar energy recording an 80% cost reduction over the past decade. A surge in production in China was responsible for pushing down the price of polysilicon—a key raw material used in solar panels.

This lessened the demand for innovative technologies backed by U.S. venture capital evaporated. To make matters worse, U.S. investors shot themselves in the foot thanks to Silicon Valley’s “moon shot” approach of hunting for big breakthroughs rather than focusing on smaller, incremental advancements.

The result: the majority of the first American solar startups went under because they were unable to compete with China. Almost all the Silicon Valley-backed startups folded, with a handful such as solar startup MiaSolé and battery startup A123 Systems bought by Chinese companies.

Learning from China

But, finally, Silicon Valley is getting its act together.

Whereas Silicon Valley had little to do with solar energy becoming the cheapest form of energy in the world, China’s success in scaling up solar power as well as cost reductions in wind energy and EV batteries have provided it with a blueprint, laying the groundwork for a new wave of investment in clean energy startups.

Related: Houthi Rebels Launch Missile Attack On Saudi Oil Terminal

First off, Silicon Valley has thrown its full weight behind the sector and the massive ESG boom.

The failure of Clean tech 1.0 was not so much due to technical problems but rather a lack of financing options. Luckily, Clean tech 2.0 is enjoying a much greater variety of capital options available, including blank check companies, aka special purpose acquisition companies (SPACs).

SPACs act as an alternative to the traditional IPO process. SPAC IPOs have truly exploded over the past few years, with more than 220 SPAC IPOs recorded over the past 12 months with gross proceeds exceeding $74B compared to $13.6B in gross proceeds just a year prior. In fact, we now have a SPAC ETF—SPAC and New Issue ETF (NYSE:SPCX), the first actively managed fund dedicated to the asset class, which was launched last year. Last year saw 40 climate-related companies merging with SPACs, including electric vehicle battery startup QuantumScape, which was backed by Breakthrough Energy Ventures—a $2 billion fund by Silicon Valley tech heavyweights including Microsoft Inc. (NASDAQ:MSFT) and Amazon Inc. (NASDAQ:AMZN) that invests in promising clean energy startups. QuantumScape is currently valued at $21 billion.

Part of the appeal is that SPACs not only provide an avenue for early-stage investors to exit their positions but also enables startups to raise more money so they can scale-up production.

SPAC-mania is a real thing: Just a month ago, Brazilian iron ore miner Vale S.E. (NYSE: VALE) invested in one of its startups, Boston Metal, a startup that aims to produce low-carbon steel.

Further, VCs have become a lot more demanding, with Breakthrough Energy only investing in startups that have the potential to remove 500m tonnes of greenhouse gases a year from the atmosphere—about 1% of the planet’s annual output.

But ultimately, the biggest reason why everybody wants a piece of clean energy is simple: Returns are higher.

Companies supporting decarbonization have clearly been outperforming their more conservative peers.

Source: The Financial Times

Government support

The renewable energy sector has yet another powerful ally: Governments committing to climate goals.

For instance, the U.S. solar sector now has the full backing of the government.

A few days ago, the Biden administration set a goal to cut the cost of solar energy by 60% over the next decade.

Specifically, the Department of Energy (DoE) wants to lower utility-scale solar energy’s current cost of 4.6 cents per kwh to 3 cents by 2025 then to 2 cents by 2030. DoE also aims to have the U.S. power grid to run entirely on clean energy within 15 years, meaning solar energy will need to be installed 5x faster than the current rate.

The DoE has committed to spending $128M on technologies including perovskite solar cells and more novel technologies such as cadmium telluride and concentrating solar technologies.

Ultimately, developing any technology from the lab into a low-cost, mass-market product with the potential to lower global emissions is not only incredibly hard but frequently requires long lead times. However, Wall Street is saying this time it’s different because entrepreneurs have a better understanding of what it takes and are also backed by deep-pocketed corporate investors looking to decarbonize their operations as well as friendly governments.

It’s a one-way street that investors will have to travel.

By Alex Kimani for Oilprice.com

More Top Reads From Oilprice.com:

Read this article on OilPrice.com

[orbemnews]

How NFTs are fueling a digital art boom Written by Oscar Holland, CNN This article was updated following the auction of Beeple’s “Everydays: The First 5000 days,” which sold for $69.3 million. When graphic designer Mike Winkelmann started producing a drawing a day in 2007, he was simply looking for a way to improve his art skills. At best, the resulting “Everydays” project would help him promote his freelance work, which includes creating concert visuals for the likes of Justin Bieber and Katy Perry. But selling the digital images was not on his mind. This week, a compilation of over 13 years’ worth of the artworks, collectively titled “Everydays: The First 5000 days,” sold for $69.3 million via Christie’s, putting Winkelmann’s name among some of the art market’s most valuable living artists. A multi-million-dollar auction for Beeple’s “Everydays: The First 5000 days” closed this week at $69.3 million. Credit: Beeple/Christies “It’s a bit surreal, because (digital imagery) wasn’t really something that I pictured, in my lifetime, being able to sell,” said Winkelman, who goes by the name Beeple, in a video call from his home in South Carolina ahead of the sale. “So it (has) come out of nowhere. But at the same time, I also really feel like this is going to be the next chapter of art history.” Virtual art has been created, and talked about, for years. But now, thanks to endorsement from celebrities as diverse as Elon Musk, Lindsey Lohan and Steve Aoki, online buzz in art and cryptocurrency circles, and, perhaps most importantly, blockchain technology, it has not only entered the mainstream — it is generating huge sums of money for digital artists and online collectors. Beeple’s latest sale comes just weeks after his animated work “Crossroad,” which imagined Donald Trump’s naked, graffiti-strewn body slumped on the ground, was purchased online for $6.6 million. Elsewhere, a digital animation of the “Nyan Cat” meme — a flying cat with a Pop Tart for a body — earned its creator Christopher Torres almost $600,000 in a virtual auction. The musician Grimes meanwhile made $6.3 million in under 20 minutes selling a range of collectible digital artworks. At the center of this explosion in transactions are non-fungible tokens, or NFTs. Acting like virtual signatures, they address concerns that digital art’s value is diminished by the ease with which it can be copied or lost. While an oil painting can only be displayed in one place and has a definitive owner, a digital image, video or gif can be infinitely duplicated and enjoyed on screens around the world for free. This has often posed problems for prospective collectors, who don’t know how to price digital art and fear it will lose resale value. But now, NFTs are offering two things that the physical art market has always depended on: scarcity and authenticity. The rise of ‘non-fungible’ tokens NFTs are built on blockchain technology, which — just as it does with Bitcoin — offers a secure record of transactions. This digital ledger serves as incorruptible proof of ownership, meaning that “original” artworks and their owners can always be identified via the blockchain, even if an image or video is widely replicated. A “fungible” asset is one that is that can be replaced with another identical one of the same value, such as a dollar bill, while non-fungible ones, like NFTs, are tied to unique goods and are not mutually interchangeable. Like bitcoins, the tokens can be kept in a virtual wallet. They can then be sold or traded, often gaining value in the secondary market. This makes NFT artworks similar to physical ones — or any other real-world asset, according to Duncan Cock Foster, co-founder of Nifty Gateway, the platform behind Beeple’s and Grimes’ recent multi-million-dollar sales. “We have systems for collecting paintings, and we have systems for collecting sculptures. But until now, people hadn’t figured out a good way to collect digital art — and NFTs allow you to do that,” Cock Foster said on a video call, adding that buying tokens is easier and “a lot more accessible” than traditional art collecting. Related video: Just how much has the internet changed art? On Nifty Gateway, artists set the number of editions for any single artwork by deciding how many accompanying tokens will be made available. This can range from one-offs, where a piece is sold to a single collector, to open-edition “drops,” where tokens are made available for a limited period of time. The sale of Grimes’ “WarNymph” collection, for instance, allowed up to 9,999 purchases of various artworks within a seven-minute window. Several of the creations were listed for just $20 per token, some of which are now selling for thousands of dollars. By connecting artists directly to collectors, NFTs effectively cut out galleries and other traditional gatekeepers. While Cock Foster would not disclose the size of Nifty Gateway’s cut, he claims it is “far less” than what a gallery would usually take. For Beeple, this represents a “democratization” of the art market. “Now I have direct access to my audience,” he said. “I don’t have to go through an intermediary.” And there’s another benefit for digital artists: They can continue making money on their work, even after it has been sold. NFTs can allow creators to receive a cut on all future transactions — on Nifty Gateway, this is typically set at 10% — breaking with the centuries-old model whereby artists do not directly benefit when sold works grow in value over their lifetimes. (For instance, when a David Hockney painting sold for $90.3 million in 2018, setting an auction record for a living artist, the British artist didn’t receive a single cent from the sale. His dealer had sold it for just $18,000 in 1972.) One of digital images that Beeple produced daily from 2007. Credit: Beeple/Christies So, while Beeple made less than $67,000 when he originally sold his “Crossroad” animation, he pocketed a further $660,000 when the initial buyer sold it on. “The royalties are definitely something that make this much more sustainable and equitable for all parties,” the designer said. New breed of collector The collector behind the $6.6 million “Crossroad” sale, Pablo Rodriguez-Fraile, said that supporting creators is one of the unique benefits of investing in NFTs. While there is money to be made, and plenty of speculation happening in the crypto art market, the 32-year-old said that collecting digital works is about more than money. “I try to look into the life and career of the creators. I like to get in contact with them and meet them … for me, it’s important to see consistency and thoughtfulness about everything outside the art as well,” said Rodriguez-Fraile on the phone, adding that he is drawn to works that are “masterfully executed.” Beyond “Crossroad,” Rodriguez-Fraile said he has collected hundreds — perhaps thousands — of NFT artworks, selling only a handful so far. Beeple’s art often plays with pop culture icons in grotesque and unexpected ways. Credit: Beeple/Christies While the Miami-based collector was previously interested in blockchain and cryptocurrencies, were it not for NFTs, he said he would not be involved in buying art. His experience, like Beeple’s, suggests that the tokens are empowering a new breed of artists and collectors rather than taking a slice of the existing art market. “The analogy I like to make is Uber,” Cock Foster said. “When they were trying to make a forecast for Uber’s market size, they looked at the amount of money people spent on black cars (private car services). But because it’s so much easier to call an Uber than it is to call a black car, the actual market ended up being much larger than that. I really think we’re seeing something similar with NFTs. “They are lowering the barriers to collecting significantly,” added Cock Foster, whose platform operates under the ambitious tagline, “We will not rest until 1 billion people are collecting NFTs.” Future prospects Nifty Gateway may be a long way from its goal of 1 billion collectors, but the platform’s growth nonetheless reflects exploding interest in crypto art. In March 2020, the site recorded monthly transactions of $30,000; last month, this figure was up to $75 million, according to Cock Foster. This jump broadly coincides with another major force in the art world: Covid-19. With galleries and auction houses shuttered around the world — and people spending more time browsing the web or shopping online — NFTs have offered a new outlet for art enthusiasts. According to Beeple, this is why interest in the tokens has skyrocketed in recent months, even though the technology has been available since 2017. “You keep hearing that Covid has pushed things 10 years forward, and I think this honestly is a big part of it,” he said. “Everybody was sitting at home over the last year — so while I think this was inevitable, it really got accelerated.” The use of NFTs is now stretching far beyond the art world. DJ and musician Deadmau5 has used the tokens to sell digital merchandise, while the new Kings of Leon album is being released as an NFT. Nike is even reported to have registered a patent for tokenized shoes, branded “CryptoKicks.” This rapid growth has led to fears of an NFT bubble — one that may burst when the world emerges from pandemic-era restrictions. While collector Rodriguez-Fraile believes that “NFTs are here to stay,” he accepted that “we might be going through a period of hype … and I think the general ecosystem might slow down a bit when it comes to pricing.” For Cock Foster, however, the return to normality presents opportunities rather than threats — not least because galleries offer ways to experience digital art beyond a computer screen. “Digital art is very, very immersive,” he said, adding that displaying art is still important to online collectors. “So, I think we can build some really cool physical experiences.” This article was updated to reflect the final amount generated by Grimes’ NFT drop. Source link Orbem News #Art #boom #Digital #fueling #NFTs