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[idontknowreallywhy]

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For @idontknowreallywhy

Popcorn

A little one shot of Scott wrangling set in the Estera universe.

The opinions of snacks expressed are the characters and not necessarily those of the author. Not proof read- just some fluff without any real purpose.

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“Ouch”

“Hands off before the movie!”

“You are a lunatic; who waits till the movie starts?”

“It’s a triple feature, we've only finite supplies, even you can wait five minutes till it starts!” The tone was fond exasperation and Estera rolled her eyes at the hurt puppy expression that met her gaze in the dim light of the theatre.

She sighed, “Fine, one handful!”

There was a happy grabby hands motion and she moved the snack back within reach as a large hand snaffled a handful of the sugary treat from the bucket in front of her.

When he went for a second handful there was a startled yelp, “Ouch!” Scott pulled his hand back aggrieved. She had used the edge of her phone to bang the knuckles of the offending hand. Crude but effective.

“I pity those poor children,” was muttered darkly into the silence. Estera laughed.

“Fine but you have to go get more if we run out... hold on though you have to do it properly.”

She ripped open another packet and dunked its contents on top of the bucket.

“I guess I'm willing to try anything once,” the voice was suspicious.

“I've seen what you do to your burgers and you are suspicious of this?” she added as much incredulity to her tone as she could.

“What are they again?”

“Minstrels, little crunchy circles of joy, which when combined with the sweet and salty...” she brought the tops of her fingers to her lips in a chief’s kiss.

Her companion still eyed her suspiciously. “I mean... I've always been a puritan about popcorn.”

“I've really no response to that, having seen some of the other combinations you consume without thought, I do find it rather amusing that this simple addition is the bridge too far.”

“We take our confection seriously.”

“You’re American you get no say over snacks this side of the Atlantic. I mean what on earth is a Twinky supposed to be anyway?”

“How dare you! I'll have you know Twinkies formed an important source of nutrition for me growing up.”

“I feel that explains so much.”

“I am offended both personally and on behalf of my country and snacks in general.”

“Come on Commander, live a little.” She shook the offensive box in his direction, realising she had been played as the hand eagerly shot out and grabbed a large hand full.

There was the sound of munching. “Oh wow! You are right! This is next level.”

“I told you... stick with me and you'll never think about popcorn the same way again!”

At that point the lights dimmed fully and the feature began. Estera shot a sideways look at her companion who was shuffling in his seat getting comfortable. Sensing her scrutiny he looked at her and grinned. She grinned back but not before registering how exhausted he looked. She hadn't quite got to the bottom of it; he'd not been talkative when he arrived, just wired with the strange fenetic energy she felt from him sometimes, usually when he was stressed and anxious. A lot going on both in business and IR from what she had gathered from the little contact they'd had recently. John had sent a short message; ‘See if YOU can get him to rest,’ just as the doorbell had rung announcing his arrival.

She’d seen the ad for the screening in the paper a few weeks earlier and thought of her friend. She had forgotten about it until that moment and the plan had been quickly formulated.

It had not taken much convincing to persuade Scott to attend the showing of the first three Top gun movies. His dismay that she still not seen two and three, despite her assurances that she'd enjoyed the first when he made her watch it, overcame his desire to keep moving.

The movies were not bad she admitted, but seeing then was not her primary goal. When the commentary coming from her right ceased about three quarters of the way through the first film, she knew she'd succeeded.

Looking over she saw her mission had indeed been accomplished. He was asleep head back against the very comfortable reclining seats. For once she was happy to have paid the extra for the big screen- not that Scott would have allowed anything else, “We need the Super Plus Hyper-Max screening if we're going to do this- I want you to experience it properly, especially as its your first time!”

Grinning to herself, she reached across and gently plucked the almost empty popcorn bucket from his limp fingers before it fell. She pulled his jacket off the seat beside her and tucked it over him; a make shift blanket against the slight chill she felt was always present in the cinema. It was telling that he didn't despite the loud explosions coming from the speakers as, up on the ginormous screen, something very dramatic was happening in the air.

Estera assessed his position. He looked comfortable and shouldn't wake with any unwelcome side effects. That would do nicely. As an afterthought she took a quick photo and sent it to John with the caption, ‘Tada!’

Then, opening another packet of chocolate she’d concealed from her companion she settled down in her seat to enjoy the, she looked at her watch, next five hours of dogfights and male bonding, honestly, the things you had to do when wrangling a Tracy!

[idontknowreallywhy]

“You don’t need another human being to make your life complete, but let’s be honest. Having you wounds kissed by someone who doesn’t see them as disasters in your soul but cracks to put their love into is the most calming thing in this world.”

— Emery Allen

[idontknowreallywhy]

If Scott was able to get past the guilt of even trying with his brother in the back, he’d probably consider now that it COULD have worked if the wings had been adhered with more than duct tape and if the runway wasn’t made of roof tiles that the wings could snag on. And some other things… but IN THEORY…

(Maybe they should try it again sometime but with a little oversight from Brains and more veto power from Virgil!)

I do think they’d enjoy the Redbull Flugtag… obviously no drones allowed… but between them all they could nail both creative and functional elements.

Resurface 22 - Rescue

What went before

In which 11 year old Scott’s physics and construction methods are put under a little strain…

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“Helmet on, Scotty!”

Scott paused mid-clamber into the kayak and came back to take his his cycle helmet from Virgil, fastening it on before giving a big thumbs up. Virgil tried to tighten the strap under his own chin but his hands were sweaty and clumsy and he was relieved when Scotty’s long nimble fingers appeared and made it just right. Scott knocked gently on the top of the helmet just like Dad always did and they both chanted “Use your head - Use a helmet.”

As his brother climbed into the seat at the front the flying machine wobbled alarmingly. Virgil wondered if it might have been better to have launched from a flatter part of the roof but… well Scott said it had to be high and this was the highest bit. Too late now.

“Ok, can you steady her for me?”

Virgil nodded. Then squeaked a “yes” as he realised Scott was looking elsewhere. He clutched the back edge of the kayak and pushed downwards using his own weight to counter his brother’s. He glanced at the safety line wrapped around the chimney and secured with a tumble hitch knot - luckily that was a knot he did know and so he knew how to quickly release it when Scotty gave him the signal. Not yet though, he’d need to be in the boat first.

A crescendo of whining filled his ears as Scott started the lead drone and the rest of the swarm picked up the signal and followed. Sure enough the nose of the kayak lifted slightly into the air, so instead of pointing straight down the pitch of the roof it now looked off into the distance.

Maybe the math did work after all?

Scott looked back at him, eyes aflame with excitement. Virgil couldn’t help grinning back - they were going to do this! At his brother’s nod he climbed carefully into the back of the kayak, and settled into the seat, bracing his feet against the footrest and his knees against the sides.

Scott looked back and gave him a nearly-actual-wink “Ready First Officer Virgie?”

“Ready Captain Scott!”

Scott twisted back to face the front and stuck three fingers in the air, then two, one… he swooshed his hand downwards and Virgil pulled on the working end of the knot and it unravelled, smooth as anything.

The flying machine jolted forwards and downwards and Virgil’s stomach jumped into his neck but then the front wobbled back up again as the drones increased their intensity to fight the sudden pull of gravity. He could feel the part of the kayak immediately under his bottom go thud-thud-thudthudthudthud down the ridges of the tiles until it stopped halfway. The drones strained as Scott increased the power and pushed them forward as well as up and there was a tugging feeing which made Virgil wonder whether the flying machine was trying to escape from the claws of a monster.

Then there was a crack which made him jump and then a tearing noise and the machine slid forwards suddenly, but one of the wings stayed behind and everything tilted sideways. The drones were swaying wildly, all terrifying spinning blades and their pitch raised up another notch to frantic and it filled Virgil’s head with stinging fuzz. He couldn’t help squealing in fear but that was nothing compared to the howl of pain and horror from in front of him.

Without even thinking he dived forward and wrapped his arms around Scott’s waist just as the kayak flipped over and dumped Virgil on the roof tiles. His legs were trapped beneath it. His arms and neck and back and every muscle in him screamed at the sudden strain and he couldn’t work out why but just squeezed his eyes shut and held on tight because as long as they were together it would be alright.

The outer edge of the gutter was pressing into his cheek and Virgil fought against the relentless monster that was trying to pull Scott away from him.

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[idontknowreallywhy]

Had a little reread and ahh this is so cute 🥰 the idea that he does actually quite want a bit of a break - can’t blame him, even parents do and he’s a teenager - but then even a jokey moment of pretending they aren’t the most wonderful thing in his life is a big realisation.

Oh, I just realised I completely forgot my manners!

Please and thank you with my requests from your prompt list, with apologies for the late-night lapse in politeness!

Of course, as usual there is no obligation for you to fill my requests - only if the muse strikes!

:)

Brothers Like These

@katblu42 asks: Fake amnesia

Scott looked up at the whining, nasally calling of his name.

‘Scoooooooooottttttttttyyyyyyyyy.’

He looked around for a quick exit. Scott might love his brothers – deeply love his brothers – but there were times when he just needed a little time to himself. He’d never push them away once they were there, but today he just needed a moment.

Just a moment. Please. Please.

Thump thump thump thump thump

‘Scotty? Scotty! Scotty!!’

Gordon was jumping up the stairs, one at a time as was the seven-year-old’s want, and if he was to escape now was the only time he had to do it.

Scott wasn’t quick enough.

He shot out of his chair and to the door, intent on disappearing into Virgil’s room, but his foot got tangled in the chair’s legs and in his efforts to not fall over he ended up falling backwards out of his room and hitting his head with a resounding CRACK!

Small hands patting his face brought Scott around, and he opened one eye to see all his brothers gathered around him and staring down at him, Gordon almost nose-to-nose with him.

‘Scotty! Are you alright?’

Scott squinted at Gordon’s nostrils. An impish thought occurred to him, something his Mom had once done to the oldest three on a similar occasion. A four-year-old Alan decided it was his turn to ask and climbed on him, sitting on Scott’s chest and pushing Gordon aside so he could not-so-gently tap his oldest brother’s cheek.

‘Scotty?’ ‘Who’s Scotty?’ ‘You are!’ ‘Me? That can’t be my name. I think I would remember that.’

John and Virgil immediately cottoned on to what was happening, and Virgil gave the most over-dramatic gasp, hands flying to his own cheeks.

‘Oh no! Scotty has amnesia!’ ‘Am-amdesa? What’s that?’ ‘Amnesia is when a person loses their memories.’

Alan and Gordon frowned at each other before looking back down at Scott.

‘You forgotteted me?’ ‘I don’t know. I might have. Shall I guess your name?’

Before Alan could just say what his name is John plucked him off of Scott and sat him in his lap. Neither younger brother could see John wink at him.

‘I think that’s a good idea.’ ‘Is your name…Walter?’ ‘No!’ ‘Is your name William? ‘NO!’ ‘Is your name…Bartlett?’ ‘No, no, NO!’ ‘But you look like a Bartlett! Are you sure?’ ‘I’m Alan, silly!’ ‘Ohhh, Alan.’ ‘Me next! Do me next!’

Gordon was grinning from ear to ear. He may not quite understand what Scott was doing, but it was funny!’

‘Let’s see…if I am Scott and this is Alan…you must be…John!’ ‘NO! ‘Are you called…Donald?’ ‘NO!’ ‘Wait – you must be Virgil!’ ‘NOOOOO! I’m Gordon!’

Scott lunged forward to grab Gordon, holding him tightly to his chest and tickling him with his free hand.

‘I could never forget you, Gordon! Or you, Alan.’

John, with another wink, this time to Virgil, set Alan on the ground. As expected the youngest brother wasted no time at all in jumping on Scott, and Virgil wasn’t too far behind. What had started out as a tickling attack on Gordon soon morphed to an all-out attack on Scott, and pretty soon they were all laughing until they collapsed in a heap.

Scott sighed happily. No – he really didn’t need a moment on his own. Why would he, with brothers like these?

[idontknowreallywhy]

Tiny hiccup in his bag is staring at me 😧

So beautifully done, the detail is amazing!

shopping😙

[idontknowreallywhy]

That’s where my mind went too.

can I request: a villain who betrayed the hero and a hero who still loves them and can’t stop themselves from helping/saving them even after finding out about the betrayal?

"You know," the villain managed. "I never thought you were stupid before."

"Mm, just an easy mark I suppose." The hero kept their back turned, busying themselves with washing the villain's blood off their hands. "You're supposed to be in bed. Go back to bed."

"This is stupid. Saving me is stupid."

"So is standing up in your current state, but you don't see me being a whiny little bitch about it."

The villain was still leaning heavily against the bathroom door when the hero finally turned, any attempts they were perhaps making at being intimidating utterly ruined by the bloodless waxy tinge to their face and the dark circles under their eyes.

The hero raised their eyebrows, shoving down the urge to go to them. "If you pass out, I'm laughing at you and leaving you on the floor."

"But you wouldn't leave me in that place."

"I'm not a monster."

"You're not me."

"Oh please. You're not a monster, you're not that mythic. You're just a run-of-the-mill dick."

The villain huffed something like a laugh, only to grimace, clutching a hand to the freshly placed bandages at their abdomen.

The hero was at their side in a heartbeat. They were glad the villain had squeezed their eyes shut against the pain - it gave the hero time to compose themselves, to keep their flailing hands from steadying the villain.

The villain got the pain under control. They slumped against the wall, sweat beading their forehead, jaw clenched.

"Bed," the hero said, again, voice a little quieter and rougher than before.

"You could have taken me to a hospital. You didn't have to take me to your home."

"The first place they'd look for you is in a hospital. But by all means, you know where the door is. I'm not forcing you to stay. You'll do great on your own. You're used to it."

The villain shot them a look at that, but wobbled back to the bed the hero had initially set them up on. They eased themselves down gingerly and had to take another moment where they were clearly fighting unconsciousness.

It was the hero's turn to lean in the doorway, awkward and orbital, arms folded across their chest.

"You weren't tempted to leave me there?" the villain asked. "After what I did to you?"

The hero's chest ached. They kept their voice light.

"Tempted? Sure."

"But you didn't."

"You know, I never thought you were stupid either," the hero said. "But you're repeating the obvious an awful lot today, so maybe I stand corrected."

"Yeah, alright sunshine," the villain snapped. "It's been a bit of week."

They both lapsed into the silence. The villain seemed to realise what they'd said, breath hitching. They always used to call the hero that, after all. Sunshine. The hero used to be that too.

The villain swallowed. They eyed the hero with a wariness that should have been gratifying but really just hurt.

Wariness. Confusion, too. Something else that the hero didn't want to poke at.

The villain, after all, wasn't repeating themselves because they'd somehow missed the whole rescue situation. They wanted to know why, they wanted to understand, even if they weren't willing to actually come out and say it. To ask outright.

They wanted...

Well. The hero supposed it didn't much matter what the villain wanted anymore.

The villain looked away first. Folded first. They cleared their throat.

"They'll come for me, if I stay here," the villain said. "Come for you, if they think you're harboring me."

"And why would anyone think I would ever do that for you?"

The hero could practically feel the villain tracking them in their periphery vision, studying them with every sense except looking at them directly.

Sunshine, turned to a sun. Dangerous to get close to.

"You are..." The villain stopped. They closed their mouth.

You are doing that for me though, aren't you?

The hero's eyes narrowed.

"Well, thank you, anyway," the villain mumbled instead. "For the rescue. Very heroic of you, as ever."

"It's just what I do. I'd do it for anyone."

"Yeah."

"You're not special."

"Of course not."

"Get some sleep." The hero forced themselves to turn away, even when all they really wanted to do was move closer, check again that the villain was truly okay, keep vigil by their side. "The sooner you're feeling better, the sooner you can get the hell out of my life again."

They all but slammed the bedroom door shut behind them.

They wished it was anywhere near as easy to shut off their heart.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Ba ba baa baaaaaaa baaa baaaaa baa baa baaaaa! Ba baaa baaa baaaaaaaa baaaaaa baaa baa baaaaa! Baa baaa ba baa baa ba baaa!

[idontknowreallywhy]

Oh I’m so dense, I didn’t spot it was a c2 sorry! Long day!

What Breaks A Man c2: Slave

Chapter 1 | AO3

With much thanks to @the-original-sineater and @mariashades

~

Zygerria. Hell on earth.

Scott barely had room to sit in the crowded slave pits under the city. When he wasn’t ‘working’ he was sweltering in here. He twisted his neck a little, the shock collar seemed to be extra heavy tonight, and waited.

Ten more minutes and the food would be delivered. It would be a free-for-all as the Zygerrians just sprinkled food over the floor to fall into the grates. There was never enough for even half the men and women down in the slave pens.

He didn’t bother to even try and get some food, hunkering down and trying to keep his space during the stampede and gradually dropping off to sleep. He’d fight for food tomorrow.

As long as he was still here and not moved to the fighting arenas. Although, in the arenas he would at least be fed better.

Sleep came easy – easy in a way that sleep had never come before. Scott supposed that the heavy labour cutting and hauling the local rock or whatever the materials they were mining. His arms, legs and back constantly ached. He now had defined muscles despite his lean frame.

The next day dawned the same as the last eight months had. Clear blue and hot even at 6 am. The guards poked the electrostaffs in and forced people moving and Scott stretched as he moved forward with the crowd.

There was…something off today. He couldn’t put his finger on it. There was something in the air. Even the Brezak were uncharacteristically skittish, one of them even snapping at the guard riding it. The smaller winged creatures – not really birds as such but more like miniature Krayt Dragons – were silent. In fact the air was still in the way that told Scott something significant was going to happen.

The crowd of slaves he was part of was halted in the courtyard of their accommodation. The mounted guards sat watching, their shock whips held ready, as the foot guards moved through the slaves, picking people out seemingly at random. Scott tried to shrink in on himself, but when they came to him he was unlucky enough to be picked.

The ones not picked were herded off to the mines. Those few picked were pushed into a line – the first person not quick enough to move was prodded by the electrostaff until he screamed and the rest were quick to fall in line. They were left there, waiting, while the sun passed overhead and the heat became unbearable.

One of the local skimmers flew overhead, but it wasn’t one of the usual flyers. This one was highly ornate and heavily armed. Scott didn’t need to know the local people to work out what was going on. Royalty were the same on every planet, and sure enough the two who eventually climbed out – flanked by more guards than Scott had ever seen – were even more ornately dressed than the skimmer was.

He watched as the two slowly walked the line, the man making waspish comments on the slaves in front of them and the woman feeling biceps and chest muscles. He kept a tight control on his outward appearance but inside Scott’s heart sunk.

The two were choosing slaves for the fighting arenas.

Scott’s turn came all too quickly. The male humanoid-feline was dressed in blue and gold leggings and tunic, like some of the guards wore, but the material was far finer and the gold was finely woven with tiny gems throughout the geometric pattern and instead of boots he wore a kind of sandal. There was a tiny circlet of gold around his head.

The female was dressed in similar leggings but that was the only thing that was similar. Her tunics were layers of gossamer fabric that, while there were at least seven he could see did nothing to hide her nakedness underneath. The colours were all shades pastels with a delicate gold pattern picked out on each layer. Her circlet was much more of a crown than the male’s, and she had a large yellow crystal around her neck.

The male gave a hum that was mostly a purr and very suggestive as the female ran her hands over his biceps. She licked her canines slowly and nodded.

‘This one is for me.’ ‘Sister, are you sure?’ ‘He is young, despite his eyes. He will do well in the arena. For me, Brother.’ ‘As you say, Sister.’

She ran a painted claw down Scott’s cheek and tugged at his lower lip a little.

‘Yes, this one will do very well.’

She gave him a leer and moved on down the line, picking another three candidates before returning to the flyer where her brother helped her up. As she stood she cast another glance at the line, which Scott studiously ignored, before sitting down, and the motioning for them to leave.

Once they were out of eyesight Scott sighed, and he wasn’t the only one. But they didn’t have any time to consider as the guards separated the two groups, one to return to the mines and the other to go to the arena.

Scott’s group were herded through the under-streets to the slave pens where the combatants were ‘housed’. Here at least he had a room to himself, if you could call a square that he could stand in the middle and touch the walls on both sides. But at least he had it to himself.

He was taken out that afternoon and bathed, scented and dressed in the leggings and colours of the woman who had chosen him for herself. And the attendants placed a new shock collar around his neck with a smaller yellow crystal as hers.

That night he had a meal all to himself. A thick stew with chunky vegetables and some kind of meat that Scott didn’t really want to identify and a very rustic hunk of bread. He ate as fast as he could and his stomach both thanked him for the food and protested loudly that it wasn’t enough.

In the corner was a square of cloth and Scott settled down to sleep alone for the first time in months. It was…strange. The quiet. But he still drifted off to sleep eventually, his mind on what he knew would happen tomorrow.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Ok the “excellent anger management exercises that almost work” line absolutely cracked me up. Ah yes, almost is the key Mr Batman, sir.

It’s a very interesting partnership! Enjoying these a lot!

Cape Confidants c3

Chapter 1 | 2 | AO3

Warnings for canon deaths

~

Anakin: Sorry I couldn’t make it last week Batman: Is ok. It’s more of a casual invitation. Are you ok? You seem…tense. Anakin: I – it’s my Mom. Was my Mom.

Batman: I’m so sorry.

Anakin: Thanks, man.

Batman: I know how you feel. My parents were murdered in front of me.

Anakin: Oh, man, that’s awful. What did you do?

Batman: I spent seven years travelling the world learning every fighting technique known to man then I hunted down the people responsible and killed them, saving the city of Gotham in the process.

Anakin: Impressive! I killed the entire species of those responsible for my Mom’s death.

Batman:

Anakin:

Batman: That’s…that’s a bit much.

Anakin: I know. I know. ::groans:: I couldn’t control the anger.

Batman: The name’s Batman. If you need to talk about it, call me. I have some excellent anger management exercises that almost work!

Anakin: thanks, man. I mean, Batman. I might just take you up on that.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Well yikes. YIKES.

8 months!!! He’s lasted 8 months there?

How did he get there? Where are his brothers? How’s this fighting business going to pan out?

The description of his new owner is not… promising. And the universe in general “royalty the same on every planet” eh? Hmm how many has he seen? That sounds like he travelled a lot before this current life… so what does he do? I’m so intrigued!!! Absolutely gripping!

What Breaks A Man c2: Slave

Chapter 1 | AO3

With much thanks to @the-original-sineater and @mariashades

~

Zygerria. Hell on earth.

Scott barely had room to sit in the crowded slave pits under the city. When he wasn’t ‘working’ he was sweltering in here. He twisted his neck a little, the shock collar seemed to be extra heavy tonight, and waited.

Ten more minutes and the food would be delivered. It would be a free-for-all as the Zygerrians just sprinkled food over the floor to fall into the grates. There was never enough for even half the men and women down in the slave pens.

He didn’t bother to even try and get some food, hunkering down and trying to keep his space during the stampede and gradually dropping off to sleep. He’d fight for food tomorrow.

As long as he was still here and not moved to the fighting arenas. Although, in the arenas he would at least be fed better.

Sleep came easy – easy in a way that sleep had never come before. Scott supposed that the heavy labour cutting and hauling the local rock or whatever the materials they were mining. His arms, legs and back constantly ached. He now had defined muscles despite his lean frame.

The next day dawned the same as the last eight months had. Clear blue and hot even at 6 am. The guards poked the electrostaffs in and forced people moving and Scott stretched as he moved forward with the crowd.

There was…something off today. He couldn’t put his finger on it. There was something in the air. Even the Brezak were uncharacteristically skittish, one of them even snapping at the guard riding it. The smaller winged creatures – not really birds as such but more like miniature Krayt Dragons – were silent. In fact the air was still in the way that told Scott something significant was going to happen.

The crowd of slaves he was part of was halted in the courtyard of their accommodation. The mounted guards sat watching, their shock whips held ready, as the foot guards moved through the slaves, picking people out seemingly at random. Scott tried to shrink in on himself, but when they came to him he was unlucky enough to be picked.

The ones not picked were herded off to the mines. Those few picked were pushed into a line – the first person not quick enough to move was prodded by the electrostaff until he screamed and the rest were quick to fall in line. They were left there, waiting, while the sun passed overhead and the heat became unbearable.

One of the local skimmers flew overhead, but it wasn’t one of the usual flyers. This one was highly ornate and heavily armed. Scott didn’t need to know the local people to work out what was going on. Royalty were the same on every planet, and sure enough the two who eventually climbed out – flanked by more guards than Scott had ever seen – were even more ornately dressed than the skimmer was.

He watched as the two slowly walked the line, the man making waspish comments on the slaves in front of them and the woman feeling biceps and chest muscles. He kept a tight control on his outward appearance but inside Scott’s heart sunk.

The two were choosing slaves for the fighting arenas.

Scott’s turn came all too quickly. The male humanoid-feline was dressed in blue and gold leggings and tunic, like some of the guards wore, but the material was far finer and the gold was finely woven with tiny gems throughout the geometric pattern and instead of boots he wore a kind of sandal. There was a tiny circlet of gold around his head.

The female was dressed in similar leggings but that was the only thing that was similar. Her tunics were layers of gossamer fabric that, while there were at least seven he could see did nothing to hide her nakedness underneath. The colours were all shades pastels with a delicate gold pattern picked out on each layer. Her circlet was much more of a crown than the male’s, and she had a large yellow crystal around her neck.

The male gave a hum that was mostly a purr and very suggestive as the female ran her hands over his biceps. She licked her canines slowly and nodded.

‘This one is for me.’ ‘Sister, are you sure?’ ‘He is young, despite his eyes. He will do well in the arena. For me, Brother.’ ‘As you say, Sister.’

She ran a painted claw down Scott’s cheek and tugged at his lower lip a little.

‘Yes, this one will do very well.’

She gave him a leer and moved on down the line, picking another three candidates before returning to the flyer where her brother helped her up. As she stood she cast another glance at the line, which Scott studiously ignored, before sitting down, and the motioning for them to leave.

Once they were out of eyesight Scott sighed, and he wasn’t the only one. But they didn’t have any time to consider as the guards separated the two groups, one to return to the mines and the other to go to the arena.

Scott’s group were herded through the under-streets to the slave pens where the combatants were ‘housed’. Here at least he had a room to himself, if you could call a square that he could stand in the middle and touch the walls on both sides. But at least he had it to himself.

He was taken out that afternoon and bathed, scented and dressed in the leggings and colours of the woman who had chosen him for herself. And the attendants placed a new shock collar around his neck with a smaller yellow crystal as hers.

That night he had a meal all to himself. A thick stew with chunky vegetables and some kind of meat that Scott didn’t really want to identify and a very rustic hunk of bread. He ate as fast as he could and his stomach both thanked him for the food and protested loudly that it wasn’t enough.

In the corner was a square of cloth and Scott settled down to sleep alone for the first time in months. It was…strange. The quiet. But he still drifted off to sleep eventually, his mind on what he knew would happen tomorrow.

[idontknowreallywhy]

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 22 - Rescue

What went before

In which 11 year old Scott’s physics and construction methods are put under a little strain…

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“Helmet on, Scotty!”

Scott paused mid-clamber into the kayak and came back to take his his cycle helmet from Virgil, fastening it on before giving a big thumbs up. Virgil tried to tighten the strap under his own chin but his hands were sweaty and clumsy and he was relieved when Scotty’s long nimble fingers appeared and made it just right. Scott knocked gently on the top of the helmet just like Dad always did and they both chanted “Use your head - Use a helmet.”

As his brother climbed into the seat at the front the flying machine wobbled alarmingly. Virgil wondered if it might have been better to have launched from a flatter part of the roof but… well Scott said it had to be high and this was the highest bit. Too late now.

“Ok, can you steady her for me?”

Virgil nodded. Then squeaked a “yes” as he realised Scott was looking elsewhere. He clutched the back edge of the kayak and pushed downwards using his own weight to counter his brother’s. He glanced at the safety line wrapped around the chimney and secured with a tumble hitch knot - luckily that was a knot he did know and so he knew how to quickly release it when Scotty gave him the signal. Not yet though, he’d need to be in the boat first.

A crescendo of whining filled his ears as Scott started the lead drone and the rest of the swarm picked up the signal and followed. Sure enough the nose of the kayak lifted slightly into the air, so instead of pointing straight down the pitch of the roof it now looked off into the distance.

Maybe the math did work after all?

Scott looked back at him, eyes aflame with excitement. Virgil couldn’t help grinning back - they were going to do this! At his brother’s nod he climbed carefully into the back of the kayak, and settled into the seat, bracing his feet against the footrest and his knees against the sides.

Scott looked back and gave him a nearly-actual-wink “Ready First Officer Virgie?”

“Ready Captain Scott!”

Scott twisted back to face the front and stuck three fingers in the air, then two, one… he swooshed his hand downwards and Virgil pulled on the working end of the knot and it unravelled, smooth as anything.

The flying machine jolted forwards and downwards and Virgil’s stomach jumped into his neck but then the front wobbled back up again as the drones increased their intensity to fight the sudden pull of gravity. He could feel the part of the kayak immediately under his bottom go thud-thud-thudthudthudthud down the ridges of the tiles until it stopped halfway. The drones strained as Scott increased the power and pushed them forward as well as up and there was a tugging feeing which made Virgil wonder whether the flying machine was trying to escape from the claws of a monster.

Then there was a crack which made him jump and then a tearing noise and the machine slid forwards suddenly, but one of the wings stayed behind and everything tilted sideways. The drones were swaying wildly, all terrifying spinning blades and their pitch raised up another notch to frantic and it filled Virgil’s head with stinging fuzz. He couldn’t help squealing in fear but that was nothing compared to the howl of pain and horror from in front of him.

Without even thinking he dived forward and wrapped his arms around Scott’s waist just as the kayak flipped over and dumped Virgil on the roof tiles. His legs were trapped beneath it. His arms and neck and back and every muscle in him screamed at the sudden strain and he couldn’t work out why but just squeezed his eyes shut and held on tight because as long as they were together it would be alright.

The outer edge of the gutter was pressing into his cheek and Virgil fought against the relentless monster that was trying to pull Scott away from him.

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[idontknowreallywhy]

Right so I first saw this while half asleep and no contacts in… I slightly misread some but feel they could have merit as additional suggestions…

3. Attacked by a mouse

15. Attacked by a topiary

16. Liked by a cat (tiny tracy Scott has already suffered this one)

17. Reaction to laundry power (I don’t know… like I say was half asleep and maybe thinking of the static still)

23. Spider ate breakfast

Unusual Whump List

Here is a short list of unusual paths to whump to inspire fic and/or art. Feel free to reblog, share, and even send me a prompt to see if you can get me writing (maybe include a character as well). Have fun :D

Pulled elastic slap

Frozen confectionery

Attacked by a moose

Stepping on Lego

Bird poop

Pricked by a pin

Slipping in the bathroom

Glitter

Falling pinecone

Stung by a caterpillar

Smell

Caught in a tangle

Stepped on by a dog

Too much food

Attacked by a trophy

Licked by a cat

Static electricity

Reaction to laundry powder

Hit by a ball

Bright light in the dark

Pecked by a bird

Falling bookshelf

Spider at breakfast

Hot glue gun

[idontknowreallywhy]

🥹

Beautiful!

I reckon teenager Alan found a copy of this photo in a family archive somewhere and sneakily took a copy of it which he keeps to look at when Scott is being a parental pain in the butt. And he goes a bit soft inside and sneaks back to wherever Scott is to give him a silent hug and things are better again.

‘I close my eyes- only for a moment and the moments gone’

Is it the best thing I’ve drawn? Nah. Is it the worst? Not by a long shot!

[idontknowreallywhy]

This is so adorable! I’m particularly taken with how Virgil’s act of affection is a prod to the shoulder 🥰

Another draw the squad that was suggested by @preludeinz <3

[idontknowreallywhy]

NEITHER.

I just know where I got up to. Not the page number, just where in the story.

No I don’t know how either I just do.

[idontknowreallywhy]

This is truly mind blowing.

Not only the distance which… just… WHAT… but that after 50 years it was fixable at all… that it’s even still going??!!

Humanity really is capable of fantastical things!

Y'all, the world is sleeping on what NASA just pulled off with Voyager 1

The probe has been sending gibberish science data back to Earth, and scientists feared it was just the probe finally dying. You know, after working for 50 GODDAMN YEARS and LEAVING THE GODDAMN SOLAR SYSTEM and STILL CHURNING OUT GODDAMN DATA.

So they analyzed the gibberish and realized that in it was a total readout of EVERYTHING ON THE PROBE. Data, the programming, hardware specs and status, everything. They realized that one of the chips was malfunctioning.

So what do you do when your probe is 22 Billion km away and needs a fix? Why, you just REPROGRAM THAT ENTIRE GODDAMN THING. Told it to avoid the bad chip, store the data elsewhere.

Sent the new code on April 18th. Got a response on April 20th - yeah, it's so far away that it took that long just to transmit.

And the probe is working again.

From a programmer's perspective, that may be the most fucking impressive thing I have ever heard.