#Dodge Melbourne

[eurofox]

Trying to do my Australian travel itinerary and kind of shocked at how much it costs to see that Uluru

Like it's one of the few famous Australian things, but fucking hell it's a lot of cash and faffing about to get anywhere near it.

Think that's going off the list

[laundrybiscuits]

Found myself reading some old Inception fic and felt the urge to poke at an AU idea—I know ST fandom skews a little young, so I genuinely don’t know how many people will even get this. If there are Inception primers out there, I haven’t bothered to find them, so…you’re on your own, kids. 

“Absolutely not. I do my own forges.” Eddie sweeps the file off the table and directly into the trashcan; admittedly, it’s not the most mature thing he’s ever done, but Henderson’s getting on his last goddamned nerve. 

The little twerp has the fucking audacity to roll his eyes and groan, like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable. “I know this guy, don’t be a dick. He can do it. Don’t you wanna focus on your super special architect stuff?”

“What you and every other dumbass dilettante drowser don’t seem to grasp is that my architecture is alive, and I breathe life into it via my meticulously crafted characters. I create richly textured worlds, Henderson, and I populate them myself. That’s why I’m the best in the fucking business: because I understand that the people and the setting are one and the same, and I can handle both.”

“Eddie.” Henderson crouches to grab the file out of the trash, and smacks it back down on the table. “I’m running this team, and I’m saying I don’t want anything like what happened in Munich to ever happen again. Okay?”

“Low blow, kid,” snaps Eddie. “Munich wasn’t on me.” 

“I know, jeez. I just…” Henderson takes a second to tap the loose sheets in the file back into place, then stands there with his lips pressed together like he’s keeping something in. After a moment, he just says, “This isn’t going to be Munich. Because Steve’s going to be here.”

———

It’s not Munich. It’s not Munich at all. It is the furthest fucking thing from Munich possible. 

Eddie’s never had a job go that smoothly—and it’s not down to Henderson’s obsessive prep, because it should’ve been a slippery one. The kind of job that twisted partway through into something frustratingly unexpected, forcing them to improvise and take whatever half-win they could squeeze out of the mark’s subconscious while dodging completely unexpected security. 

Instead, it’s so incredibly not-Munich that the client gives them a fucking bonus, and when was the last time that happened? The bonus is generous enough that Eddie’s share can cover a whole new safehouse in Melbourne, which should have been great news, something to celebrate, except for the absolutely unholy amount of smugness now radiating from Henderson.

Eddie avoids the I-told-you-so conversation as long as he can, but he can’t run forever.

“I told you so,” says Henderson, flopping unceremoniously into the dark wooden chair next to Eddie.

“This is a library, dude. Keep your fuckin’ voice down,” says Eddie, without much hope. He’d heard Henderson was supposed to be meeting up with Sinclair in Lima this week; so much for that intel.

Henderson waves a dismissive hand, gesturing vaguely at the domed skylight high overhead. “It’s not like a library library. It’s basically a museum.”

“The goddamn State Library of Victoria is absolutely one hundred percent a library library, genius. See all the books? But also, do you think people go around yelling in museums?”

“Maybe they should! What we should be focusing on now, though, is that I was right about Steve, and I think it’s important for our working relationship that you acknowledge I was right.”

“I don’t have to acknowledge shit,” says Eddie, slumping down and ignoring the glares they’re starting to get from everyone in the atrium. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an egomaniac, kid? I don’t even get why you’re so hot on the guy, anyway. He’s like—the least imaginative forger I’ve ever met.”

It comes out a little harsher than he’d meant it. It’s just that forgers, as a people, tend to be easily swept into flights of fancy.

Eddie’s always sort of thought it was a requirement of the profession: when he’s inhabiting a character, part of his mind is always working to generate the little details that make them feel like a whole person. Their secret fears and even more secret hopes. How they deal with boredom or anger, what their gut reactions are. The small gaps between how they see themselves and how others see them. That’s where Eddie thrives, and he thinks that if he were less hooked on the magic of spinning up entire worlds for marks to wander through, he might forge full-time, just for the thrill of riding that uncertainty. It’s how he was taught, but clearly, Steve learned something different.

What Steve does isn’t really classical forging—not in the way Eddie thinks about it, usually. Steve just…walks into a situation, says some stuff, maybe gives the mark a smile all warm and private like a whispered secret. And then the mark folds. It’s maddening how easy Steve makes it look. Oh, he’ll pull on the right costumes and tweak his physicality a little, but it’s always still just Steve underneath. 

Maybe that’s the trick. Eddie’s forges work because he crafts lavishly detailed lies; Steve’s forges work because there’s some kind of real, solid honesty at the core. 

“I’m going to ignore the hurtful thing you just said because I know you hate to admit it when I’m right and you’re wrong,” Henderson informs him. “You really gotta work on that. More importantly, I’ve got a lead on a new job, and Steve already said yes.”

It’s not like Eddie needs the money. Henderson’s a nightmare to work with. And there’s the, y’know. The Steve Harrington of it all. Eddie has a million reasons to say no.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says instead. “When do we start?”

[avis-writeshq]

girl i am thriving imagining aussie!reader content with spencer

like reader casually mentioning something about killing cane toads with a golf club (or the freezer either or) and he just goes ??????

like mans has seen so much shit in his job but that’s barbaric to him

he would lowkey be terrified and a little turned on me thinks 😔

spencer would definitely thrive in melbourne because of all the good coffee places but then have literal heart attacks upon seeing the queues and dodging the lime green scooters 😭 and the tram lines will give him an aneurysm ☹️

[gumnut-logic]

“It’s the last house at the end of the street, Virgil.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.” It was said without the usual spark. The grey of the destroyed landscape sucked everything from everything. A pall of smoke and haze, black remnants of lives, homes and the tragedy of the night before.

International Rescue had been called to a massive bushfire in the Yarra Ranges in Victoria, Australia. The CFA had had it under control the previous day, John keeping an eye on it anyway, but an unexpected change in wind direction in the evening had it jumping firebreaks and tearing through an unprotected valley and directly through a township.

With the vast tall forests of mountain ash, eucalypts full of volatile oil just waiting to burst into flame, combined with the hot and blustery northerly, not even IR could stop the firestorm from taking lives and property.

Thunderbird Two had her fire suppression equipment, but the massive plane was a speck against the wall of flame.

There were forces of nature that just couldn’t be stopped.

The Tracys dodged and nabbed trapped people. Thunderbird Two deployed a huge water cannon, sourcing water from the local reservoir, as the CFA water bombed around them, desperate to protect what lives they could. But nothing was stopping the fire.

It tore through the town leaving agony in its wake.

Dawn was grey and dismal, but it brought rain. The sky rumbled, threatening to spark more fires in the ranges, but the deluge came and dampened the remaining flame enough to once again get the front under control.

But it was too late for the town.

It was gone.

Virgil walked the length of the street, his exo-suit rubbing on aching shoulders. Burnt out cars and collapsed homes lined the road from one end to the other. The skeletons of black trees marched off into the distance behind it all.

Haze hovered above ash-clogged puddles in the pavement.

It wasn’t what Christmas morning was supposed to be.

The last house at the end of the street had fully collapsed in on itself. A burnt-out car sat in the driveway, its trunk lid and one of its doors open.

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, knowing what that likely meant.

He steeled himself and walked past the remains he knew he was going to find in the car.

Nothing could be done.

Nothing.

He focussed on the whine of his suit as his boots stepped in wet ash and strode across the front yard to the remains of the house. He had to clear his throat to speak to John. “Tell me where, Thunderbird Five.”

“Possibly in the basement? The lifesign is below ground level.”

The house had been old, the wooden floorboards disintegrating in the heat. Virgil leapt through the remains of a wall, landing on rubble in what had likely been a wine cellar. The heat had been so intense, that glass bottles had become slag.

Glass crunched under his boots. “Right or left?”

“Eastern side, southern corner.”

There was a mass of rubble collapsed against the only standing wall of the building.

“This is International Rescue. Can anyone hear me?”

He turned up the pickups on his exterior mikes.

Nothing. It was probably a blip. How the hell could anything survive this holocaust?

His shoulders dropped.

But then...something? A whimper?

Maybe?

Virgil began digging.

It took him a good fifteen minutes of solid work to move enough burnt masonry to reach a hole in the wall at the very base of the structure. And in what appeared to be the bottom of a dumb waiter he found the lifesign.

The little puppy whimpered at him, trembling with fear.

Aw, hell.

“John, lifesign is a dog.”

“One moment, Thunderbird Two.” The puppy stared, the green, yellow and blue of Virgil’s suit reflected in its brown eyes. “There is no dog registered at that address. Deliver to the local authorities. You are needed to airlift some survivors to Melbourne. Report to Scott on the other side of town.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

Virgil slid his arms out from the suit and bent aching knees. “Hey, little one, do you want to come with me?”

The puppy shivered and looked him up and down, hesitating.

“I’m with International Rescue, we’re here to help.” He took a step closer. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Maybe it was something in his voice, his stance, or simply because the puppy had no choice, but as Virgil reached into the box it was sitting in, the puppy made no protest as he picked it up.

A quick examination for injury revealed her to be a girl. She shuddered up against Virgil’s chest. “Don’t worry, it’s all over, you’re safe.”

Sliding one arm back into his suit, he started making his way out of the ruined building, turning his back on the tiny hole that had somehow saved the little dog’s life.

-o-o-o-

Perhaps it was because she sat so quietly with him. Perhaps because it was Christmas Day. Most likely it was because Virgil had reached his limit of pain.

When he found the RSPCA tent, specially set up for lost pets, he gently handed over the little puppy. She let out a whimper and began crying.

No barking, just this godawful crying that tore at his heart.

“You will be fine here, little one.” The attendant was one of those kindly older ladies and she hugged the gangly bundle of fluff to her chest as Virgil turned to leave, Scott in his ear.

But the puppy let out such a scream of anguish, Virgil turned around without thinking. She was struggling in the volunteer’s arms and before either of them could react, she managed to wriggle free and dash over to him, her little body trembling on his left boot.

He reached down and gathered her into his arms. “You can’t come with me. I can’t-“ But she was rubbing her head up under his chin, little sounds in her throat.

And he couldn’t.

Just couldn’t.

His eyes met the eyes of the lady volunteer and she smiled. “We will keep her details if you would like to take her with you. If anyone contacts us, we can let you know.” And the volunteer was just as hopeful as the puppy in his arms. After all, there was no life at the RSPCA unless a home was found.

He looked down at her little brown eyes again.

No, he couldn’t.

Damnit, Scott was going to kill him.

Maybe for just a few days?

The excuse provided a simple solution, so he took it.

Without a word, he handed his IR contact details to the volunteer, and, puppy in hand, turned his back to the tent and strode towards the big green hulk parked in the distant haze.

“Well, little one, you have definitely made an interesting choice. Let me introduce you to my big green partner.”

-o-o-o-

It was well past Christmas lunch, or rather the lack of it, before IR was given the all clear to return to base. During the entire time, the little puppy sat beside Virgil’s pilot chair, apparently unfazed by the deep bass rumble of Thunderbird Two.

When he picked up both Gordon and Alan the dynamic changed just a little.

Gordon dragged himself onto the flight deck first, a groan in every step. “Christmas just gets more exciting every year.” It was true. Nine out of ten Christmas Days were side-swiped by a disaster, to the point that the Tracy Christmas tradition was a modular and movable celebration nowadays. No guarantees and no defined day. It happened around December twenty-fifth, there about, when they could, between call outs.

Suddenly the little puppy was in his lap.

“What is that?”

Virgil looked up. His brother was covered in soot and looked as tired as Virgil felt. “This is Bo.” And he had no idea where the name came from, it just seemed right and the moment clicked.

“Bo?”

“Yeah.” Newly christened Bo peered up at Gordon around Virgil’s arm. “She survived the fire.” A swallow. “Her family didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Alan, as always, had more energy than any of them, and showed it as he waltzed into the cabin. “So why aren’t we moving?”

Bo let off a sharp bark.

Everyone jumped.

“What the hell, Virgil?”

Bo was literally glaring at Alan.

“Hey, Bo, calm down, that’s just Alan. He’s annoying, but tolerable.” The little puppy looked up at him, her gorgeous brown eyes just melting him inside. He was so gone.

“Hey!” That from Alan.

“Scott’s going to kill you.” That from Gordon, who was approaching slowly.

“Yeah, I know.” It was a sigh.

Gordon crouched down beside Virgil’s chair. “Hey, little one, what gave you the idea to attach yourself to this big oaf?” Pulling off one of his gloves, the aquanaut reached out and offered the puppy his hand. She eyed him warily before tentatively sniffing at his fingers.

She sneezed.

Alan snorted.

Bo blinked and stared at Gordon for a moment. The aquanaut kept still and eventually she sniffed at him again, before nuzzling at his hand. He blatantly took that as permission and gently rubbed behind her ear. “You are a cute little thing, aren’t you.”

She licked his wrist.

“Oh, I can see why our heavy lifter fell for you. You’ve got it all in those brown eyes of yours, haven’t you.” Gordon shrugged. “Though I will admit they are the best colour for manipulation.”

“And he speaks from experience.” To Virgil’s surprise, Gordon actually jumped. “Did you forget I was here? Not absorbed by those brown eyes are we?” He couldn’t help but smile at his brother. At least one was as besotted as he had to admit he was.

Yes, Scott was definitely going to kill him.

“Shut up, Virgil.”

Bo backed off, once again hiding behind Virgil’s baldric.

“Hey, Gordon, watch the tone.”

“Sorry, Bo.”

“Are we actually going home at some point? I have a date with my bed.”

Gordon stood up, pulling out the co-pilot’s seat. “No rush, Allie, she’ll wait for you.”

“Augh.”

“Sit down, Alan, I’m just finishing pre-flight.” Tired and cranky could easily become nasty if not attended to.

Bo curled up, nestled against his harness, as Alan grumpily pulled out his seat.

“Virgil, where the hell are you?”

Speaking of tired and cranky... “Launching now, Thunderbird One.” As if prompted, he received clearance from Australian Air Control.

TB2 rumbled beneath as he activated VTOL, ash and dust swirling up around them. As soon as he had enough height, he engaged her rear thrusters and tore off over the Alps, across the coast and out into the Tasman.

“ETA fifteen minutes.” At least they weren’t too far from home.

Bo fell asleep in his lap.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was on the verge of joining Bo in slumber as Thunderbird Two spun slowly in her hanger, eventually coming to a final stop.

So tired.

Beside him, Alan poked Gordon awake. “Ugh, what? Oh.” You could almost hear his brain booting.

Virgil worked around Bo as he did his post-flight checks, his brothers, well, mostly Gordon, groaning as they got to their feet and waddled towards the hatch. “C’mon, Virg, Alan’s pining for his bed.”

“You two go ahead. I just need to finish post-flight.” He didn’t turn around, but he could feel Gordon’s eyes on him.

“Sure, whatever.” And he heard the hatch lower to the hangar floor.

His brothers gone, Virgil let himself relax back against his chair, his shoulders sagging. He let out a long breath. “So, Bo, how are we going to do this?”

The puppy woke as if on command and turned to stare up at him. Gently her tail began to wag.

Virgil let a tired smile cross his face.

Encouraged, Bo jumped up and put her two front paws on his chest, reaching up, trying to lick his face despite not quite being tall enough.

The smile became a grin.

“Okay, okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up as he pushed his seat backwards and stood. Immediately he was bathed in puppy drool. He couldn’t help but laugh. He surfaced above her licking and cradled her in his arms. “We need to get you some food.” His stomach rumbled ominously. “We need to get me some food.”

And a shower. A shower definitely wouldn’t hurt.

If he could hold off the sleep.

If he didn’t call it a stagger, it wasn’t a stagger, but he had obviously been sitting in his seat for far too long ferrying all those survivors to Melbourne on repeated trips. It was his turn to groan as both his back and legs complained loudly at the sudden demands for movement.

Bo started chewing on his glove.

Somehow he made it back to his rooms without encountering anyone. Shutting the door, he let Bo loose on the floor and began stripping off his uniform, hitting the buttons on his preprogrammed shower cubicle. Moments later he walked under the spray and let it wash the day from his skin.

God, that felt good.

As his muscles relaxed under the heat, sleep became more and more attractive, and by the time he stumbled out of the water, all thoughts of food had vanished.

He took the three steps across his room from the ensuite and threw himself facedown on the bed, still partly wet, still naked.

He was asleep within moments.

-o-o-o-

He was being kissed.

Her lips were warm, her tongue wet, her whiskers soft against his stubble...

Uh?

She licked his eye.

Wha-?

Virgil, always slow to respond upon waking, opened said eye only to get an eyeful of slobber. A soft paw thwapped him on the cheek. Huh? he blinked attempting to clear his eyesight, a hand coming up to defend himself.

Fortunately, his brain came online and memory kicked in. “B-Bo?”

A tongue wrapped around his nose and left it wet.

Ugh.

He wiped his face with his hand, stretching backwards on his pillow, desperate to get out of reach.

The puppy landed on his chest, her paws kneading his chest hair, her little claws completing his wake-up process rather abruptly.

Oh god.

“Bo, down, honey, down.”

He was completely ignored.

Sitting up, he attempted to grab her in his arms, but missed. The little puppy landed on things that puppies had no right to land on. Or stomp on for that matter.

He winced.

“Ooh, okay, come here.” He lifted her off his lap, holding her close, her tail pummelling his belly. “I’m awake, okay.” Again he found himself pinned by her brown eyes. “Aww, c’mon with the cute, Bo, you’re going to melt my brain.”

“Assuming you have a brain to melt.” And Scott was standing in his doorway.

Virgil glared up at him. “Don’t you knock?”

“I did. Grandma sent me to tell you that Christmas dinner is ready.”

Virgil frowned at his brother over the top of Bo’s ears, ignoring the glare the blue eyes were directing at the puppy in his arms. “I thought we’d do Christmas tomorrow.”

“We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. Grandma thought it would be best to sneak it in tonight, since it is Christmas Day, after all.” Scott’s lips thinned. “Where did you get that from?”

“She’s a rescue.”

“Usually we leave our rescues on the continent we find them.”

“She had no one.”

“Unfortunately, that is nothing new.” And one of his hands had moved to his hip.

Virgil sighed. “Scott, it’s fine, it’s only for a few days.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Virgil held back his retort. He knew to pick his fights and now was not the time. “Her name is Bo.”

Scott looked at him and then at Bo. “Hurry up, your dinner is getting cold.” The ghost of a smirk. “And don’t forget to wear clothes.”

“Funny, funny, ha, ha.” But his brother had left.

Virgil let his shoulders drop. “Sorry, Bo, I think you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Bo just licked him some more.

It wasn’t until he went looking for his boots that he discovered the wonderful deposits Bo had left for him on the floor.

Ugh.

And apparently one of his favourite boots had served as a meal also.

He closed his eyes and sighed again.

Half dressed, he cleaned up the mess, and five minutes later he waltzed downstairs, Bo in his arms and barefoot. Time to face the inevitable music.

-o-o-o-

A Tracy Christmas used to be snow, roast turkey, stockings by the fire, the occasional Christmas carol and family.

Since starting International Rescue it had changed.

Firstly, they were in the tropics. The only fires available in those temperatures were ones that required firefighting equipment. Having grown up with snow, it was still extremely weird. But it had its advantages. For one you could go outside in the minimum of clothing, something Gordon took advantage of every day of the year. There were no snowball fights, but these were fast replaced with water fights. There was no ice skating, but there was water skiing if anyone could get up the energy to get the boat out. And surfing, let’s not forget Scott’s attempts at that. Virgil would admit that he didn’t mind a little surfboard action himself. He wouldn’t say he was very good at it, but at least Gordon had never had to save him like he had Scott.

There were still Christmas trees and tinsel and stockings that no-one ever considered wearing hung from the nearest mantelpiece-looking piece of furniture.

There was still turkey and roast potatoes and all the yummy food crucial for a good Christmas meal, but it was often cooked outside in barbecue ovens and seafood and cold food had been added to the menu. In fact, the traditional dinner had become more of a banquet by the pool.

As Virgil walked out onto the patio, he couldn’t help but smile at the Christmas tree that had obviously been hurriedly moved out here from the comms room. It sat a little lopsided and the star on top was having a few issues with gravity. That was new, as was the liberal tinsel and Christmas lights strung from palm tree to palm tree, across the pool and back several times.

“Fifty bucks says Gordon tries to water volleyball the tinsel at least once.”

Virgil smirked as he stepped up beside his next youngest brother. “Not touching that one. I value my money.”

John was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and had a beer in his hand. Bo was immediately interested in this new person. She strained towards John, her nose literally twitching towards the hand holding the beer.

His brother must have caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively took a step away.

“Oh, sorry, John, this is Bo.” Bo was climbing over his arm, desperate to get closer to the astronaut. Virgil held her tight, worried she would fall.

“Uh, hello.” John turned towards them, frowning. “Since when do you own a dog?”

“Since this morning.”

“Does Scott know?” They both instinctively looked over at their eldest brother who was hovering over one of the barbecues energetically discussing something with Grandma - probably how not to burn the food.

“He does.”

“And you still have it?”

“Her.”

“Her.”

“Yes.”

“Good luck with that one.” John drank his beer.

“She had no one else.”

John arched an eyebrow at him and then frowned. “Oh, Virgil.” His shoulders slumped.

“I am an adult now, John. It won’t be like last time.”

“God, I hope not.”

Virgil stared at his brother, only to see the genuine concern in his green eyes. A sigh. “It won’t happen again.”

John reached out and gently touched his shoulder. “No, it won’t, because you will remember that you have four brothers who are all here for you, won’t you.” God, that green gaze was penetrating.

“It will be fine.”

Bo yipped at John, her tail beating Virgil’s chest.

The astronaut smiled and offered the little dog his hand. She sniffed and licked him almost immediately.

“I think you have been approved.”

John smiled and Virgil couldn’t help but do the same.

“Virgil!” And Grandma was arrowing in on his position.

“Incoming.” John was smirking.

“Hey, Grandma.”

But his grandmother only had eyes for Bo. “Who is this?”

Virgil smiled again. “This is Bo. Bo, this is Grandma.”

Bo whacked him with her tail and literally leapt from his arms into his grandmother’s.

“Woah.” Suddenly with arms full of wriggling puppy enthusiastically licking her face, his grandmother was laughing. “Oh dear, you are a cutie. Let me have a look at you.” And she held Bo out at arms length, her eyes critical. “A little hard to tell at her age, but my bet says she’s of boxer stock, around three months old. Such a beautiful brindle and that face.” Virgil couldn’t help but agree. Bo looked like she had dipped her face in a pot of ink, her brown eyes surrounded by gorgeous black coat that quickly bled to brindle down her back with a spot of white on her front. “Where did you find her?”

Virgil looked at his feet, remembered why they were bare, and looked back up at his grandmother. “This morning’s rescue. She lost everything.”

Grandma turned her attention back to Bo. “Oh, honey. You survived the fire?” Bo licked her nose. “Well, you are safe here.” Grandma curled her arms around the puppy and scratched her ears. “Has Virgil fed you anything yet?” She glanced at him and he shrugged. He got frowned at for his trouble. Grandma turned away, walking towards the barbecues with Bo in her arms. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Well, that didn’t take long, did it?” John was still smirking at him.

A series of barks and a yelp from Grandma, and suddenly Bo was dashing amongst legs in his direction. “Woah.” He crouched down and caught her as she leapt for him. She wriggled and licked, her little body trembling under his hands. “Hey, hey, honey, it’s okay, you’re safe.” She snuggled up under his chin. He couldn’t help but return the hug.

Grandma approached, worry on her face. “I’m sorry, Virgil, I didn’t realise.”

“It’s okay.” He reached an arm around his grandmother, bringing her into the hug. “She’s just had a scary day.” He pulled both of them close.

Scott was glaring at him from a distance.

John smiled at them and drank his beer.

Bo started chewing on his collar.

-o-o-o-

As the evening progressed, Bo slowly let herself part from Virgil as each of the members of his family, bar Alan and Scott, came to say hello or fed her from the table. There was one interesting moment when the little puppy encountered Sherbert for the first time.

Bo yipped.

Sherbert yapped.

And as the entire party fell silent, the two dogs stared each other down.

Virgil was poised for a rescue and Penelope was not far behind him, but a moment later Bo licked Sherbert across the nose, Sherbert gently butted the little puppy with his head, and from that point onwards they were best of friends, Sherbert quite proudly showing his new friend around.

But never out of sight of Virgil.

Bo and Parker had a staring moment not long after, but Sherbert barrelled on in and head butted the driver, snapping him out of it. It wasn’t long before the little puppy had him rubbing her ears as well.

Kayo stood her distance, assessing Bo as much as the puppy was assessing her. A calm arched eyebrow slowly rose as Bo tilted her head up at the security specialist. She pressed her lips together and faced Virgil. “There will be training.”

Virgil blinked and his sister turned and stalked off. Bo eyed her the entire time, only finally distracted by a yelp from Alan as Gordon threw him in the pool.

The engineer was left wondering if he should be worried or not.

The meal was delicious, of course. Scott had managed to keep Grandma away from the barbecues and MAX had been on task for a good part of the day. There was the mandatory turkey, and this year a couple of large snapper had been baked to perfection, along with some crayfish, oysters, salads and roast vegetables. This was followed by pie, oh, so much pie, Christmas cookies, and Christmas pudding with custard and the option of ice cream.

Virgil, as usual, made sure he took advantage of all the options. Consequently, post-banquet found him sprawled on a pool lounger staring up at the stars amongst the tinsel overhead. Bo, who had also eaten probably more than she should have, was curled up between his feet.

The soft sounds of quiet carols and muted conversation wafting across the water lulled him gently to sleep.

-o-o-o-

Scott felt like Scrooge. He was tired, worried and even a little angry. He was not enjoying himself, no matter how hard he tried. Grandma had cornered him at least twice, her hand on his shoulder trying to soothe his ire.

The annoying thing was that he wasn’t even sure what he was angry about. The rescue hadn’t been the best, but they had done what they could and some lives had been saved that otherwise wouldn’t have. The team had performed well, no one had been injured, they were all back home safe and sound.

And there was food, family and Christmas. There wasn’t really much more he could ask for.

His eyes settled on Virgil, asleep on one of the loungers, oblivious to the tinsel being draped across his hair by Gordon behind him.

Scott sighed.

But then a little head bobbed up between his brother’s bare feet and Bo barked at Gordon quite firmly.

Virgil was obviously far too out of it to wake, but Gordon looked appropriately abashed at the challenge.

Scott found himself smiling.

Realised he was smiling, dumped the smile and frowned.

Gordon scampered off leaving a sleeping Virgil in a crown of silver tinsel.

The little dog leapt off the lounger and chased after the aquanaut.

Okay, he had to admit the dog was adorable. He could see what had captured his brother’s eye, and Scott certainly had no objection to adding to their family.

But Virgil...when Virgil loved, he loved with his whole heart, and last time he had lost a pet, it had been bad, so bad.

They had lost so much in their lives already, why volunteer to lose more?

He sighed. It was stupid to think that way, but part of him could remember that devastated teenager, the depression and the mess that followed. Virgil had been as broken as the rest of them when their mother died, but when his dog died two years later, his reaction had been so self-destructive he had needed counselling and a therapist. Scott didn’t know if the two incidents were related or if it was how his brother connected to pets, or whatever. He only knew he never wanted to see his brother go through that again.

Their father was missing, and here was Virgil with a pet once again.

Sure, he was an adult now, and had tackled so much loss since, but...

Another sigh.

A yip and he looked down to see said dog staring up at him with a mouth full of tinsel, tail wagging.

“Gordon!”

“Yesssss, masster?” His brother sidled up with a bow.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Did you want to face your brother having to tell him that his new puppy died choking on tinsel?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Exactly.”

The aquanaut scooped up the little dog and with gentle words extricated the tinsel from her mouth.

A moment later Gordon held her up to his cheek and Scott had the experience of two sets of brown eyes staring at him adoration.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“A puppy?” Gordon grinned at him. “She is a rather cute, isn’t she?”

“Leave it, Gordon.”

His brother frowned. “What’s chewing on your underwear?”

“Gordon-“

“Hey, it was a legit question, bro. You’re a grumpy ass on Christmas Day. Where’s the merry? We have food and there will be presents. And there is a puppy. You couldn’t ask for more cuteness.” Gordon held up Bo who attempted to lick Scott’s nose.

“Gordon-‘

“Nope, so not going down with you, bro. We’ve earned some happy. We’re all here, in one piece, it’s lovely weather. Cheer up, for goodness sake.” Despite himself, Gordon frowned. “Here have some puppy love.” And suddenly Scott found himself with his arms full of wriggling Bo. Gordon turned and walked off, eventually calling out to Alan, no doubt looking for mischief.

Bo tilted her head to one side and stared up at him.

Aw, hell, weaponised cuteness.

She jumped up and licked his nose.

Scott sighed.

Voice low. “You know, you better look after my brother. He’s a good man and he does a lot of good things.” A swallow. “He’s a little prone to heroics. Perhaps we can team up in that department and help keep his butt alive.”

Her tongue lolled out one side of her mouth and she grinned.

“Maybe try that on the Hood and solve all our problems.”

He gave in and drew her close to his chest, rubbing under her chin.

“I really hope we don’t regret this.”

-o-o-o-

“PRESENTS!”

Alan’s voice cut through his slumber and shook him awake. Wha-?

“Time to wake up, sleepy head.” Scott’s voice.

A sharp little bark.

Bo.

He flung his eyes open, and immediately squinted at the fairy lights floating in the light breeze far above. A blink and to his left a shadow formed into his eldest brother. His blue eyes were smiling as he sat on the next lounge over, holding Bo, scratching her gently. She was obviously enjoying it.

Virgil frowned. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“I was.” His brother shrugged. “I got over it.” Bo was licking Scott’s fingers.

Wow, the ability to tame the savage big brother. The little girl must be heaven-sent.

There was a whir of wheels and MAX tore out onto the patio decked out in tinsel and lugging brightly coloured presents. MiniMAX darted in behind him carrying a smaller present which was deposited carefully on the table before he disappeared inside only to return with another.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Virgil peered up at his brother before stretching the length of the lounger. Several joints cracked and the ache across his shoulders from the morning vaguely made its presence known. A yawn. “I’m fine. Just tired. This morning sucked.”

Tinsel slid down his face. He sighed and threw it off. Gordon was getting repetitive.

Scott dipped his head, attempting to hide a smile, and looked down at Bo. “True.” He scratched her under her chin one more time before offering her to him. “Here.”

Bo didn’t bother to wait for him to sit up, she bounded out of Scott’s arms and onto Virgil’s belly. “Oof.” She then danced up and down on it.

Scott grinned at him. “She’s not going to be little when she grows up.”

“Augh, she’s not little now.” He managed to capture her enough so he could sit up, but she struggled free excitedly and dashed from his arms, jumping on the lounger, just as MiniMAX buzzed over with a small present.

Bo barked at him and MiniMAX dodged to deposit the present in Virgil’s lap. He caught it, but with his hands now occupied, he wasn’t fast enough to grab Bo before she let off another bark, jumped excitedly and latched her teeth onto the little robot.

The result was immediate.

MiniMAX shrieked, several of his legs caught in the puppy’s mouth, and with a whir of rotor blades, took off madly across the patio.

With Bo hanging on.

“Bo!” Virgil dropped the present and made a grab for the pair, but missed.

Every eye turned to see what the commotion was about. Virgil stumbled over the lounger and kicked it out of the way. He was vaguely aware of Scott doing something similar. “Brains!”

MiniMAX was obviously panicking. The little robot darted about trying to shake off his assailant. Bo was whining in her throat.

Virgil dashed after them.

Despite the puppy’s weight, MiniMAX still managed a great deal of height, Brains’ ‘build ‘em tough’ policy obviously carrying through to his robots. Despite having the strength to carry the puppy, the off-balance mass hampered MiniMAX’s navigation and they were wobbling all over the place.

All Virgil could see was a tragedy in the making. The pool, the concrete, anything horribly solid. He ran beneath them, desperately attempting to reach the now whining puppy. Family members and furniture were dodged and shoved out of the way as he clambered after them.

A chair ended up in the pool. Gordon squawked and almost joined it. Virgil leapt off an empty lounge, made a grab for them, missed and ended up in the Christmas tree.

Fake pine needles jabbed him in the face as he went down in a pile of tinsel and Christmas baubles. He swore, his clothing caught, his hair caught, and his everything tangled in tinsel, but he made it to his feet just in time to see Bo let go.

“No!”

Oblivious to everything other than the puppy falling, Virgil finally got traction under his bare feet, took a running leap and grabbed Bo from the air. He instinctively wrapped himself around her, rolling in midair, tinsel and baubles flung in all directions.

As he plummeted into the pool.

The splash took his senses, muffling exclamations, and repeated shouts of his name. There was dark blue, and wet, and, for a moment, blessed silence.

Then logic reasserted itself and he kicked for the surface.

Sound, light and cool air on his skin. He blinked water out of his eyes as he lifted Bo up so she could breathe, his legs kicking to keep them afloat.

She whined at him as if to tell him off, sneezed, and began enthusiastically licking the saltwater off his face.

He couldn’t help but grin, and he knew he wasn’t the only one as laughter drifted across the water.

“You trashed the tree, Virg.”

“I don’t think he cares, Gordon.” He looked up to see Grandma smiling at him.

And no, he didn’t. As Scott poked him with a pole to help drag him to the edge and Bo decided his ear might do for her next meal, he suddenly felt joy. It could simply have been relief, but he was going to tack it up as Christmas joy and enjoy it while he could.

-o-o-o-

“Only you, Virgil.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“I have no doubt of that, it never is.”

“Aw, c’mon, Scott.”

“If it was intentional then I would have to accuse you of doing it deliberately just to get out of helping with the Christmas dishes.”

“We have a dishwasher.” Bo let off a bark as MiniMAX flew past dragging a bag full of recyclable cups, plates and cutlery, giving Virgil and his dog an extremely wide berth. “And there are hardly any dishes.”

“You are still getting out of clean up.”

“C’mon, Scott, you know me better than that. Ow!”

“Sit still. I’ve almost got all of it.”

Virgil leant back against the lounge, Bo curled up in his lap. “I’m not particularly happy about this either you know.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know that, Ow!”

“Well, if you would watch where you were going, you wouldn’t have collided with the Christmas tree. And what’s with the bare feet anyway?”

“Bo ate one of my boots.”

Scott snorted and pulled out yet another tiny piece of glass Christmas bauble from the bottom of Virgil’s left foot. “She hasn’t been here twenty-four hours yet and she has already caused havoc.”

“She’s a puppy.”

“I noticed.” Scott sighed, peering through his magnifying visor at his brother’s foot. “I think that’s all of it. Please don’t do that again. You’ll be limping for a week.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

As Scott wrapped his foot in gauze, he eyed the puppy on Virgil’s lap. “And you, young lady, I thought we had a deal.”

To Virgil’s surprise, Bo’s head bobbed up and she looked distinctly guilty.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Hmm, don’t let it happen again.”

Bo yapped at him.

Virgil stared at both of them. “What?”

“None of your business, you just lay back and look after yourself.” And Scott was smirking.

Ooookaay.

He relaxed back against the lounge and stared up at the fairy lights above.

Bo stomped up the length of him and licked his eyeball.

He coughed up a laugh and grabbed an armful of wriggly puppy.

“I think that was a Merry Christmas, Virg.” Scott held his injured foot and grinned. “Merry Christmas.”

-o-o-o-

[l-e-morgan-author]

my current wip list

Hands Made for Gentleness is about my two dear idiots Vaniah and Anneka, who get married to dodge an arranged-marriage law. Vaniah is incredibly traumatised by events in his past. Anneka discovers this as time goes by. It's a story of healing, mainly, and mental health. Boatload of trigger warnings (Vaniah is severely depressed, suicidal and all that goes with that, while Anneka is in recovery from anorexia) but I love them so much and I love the energy that's between them. At this moment I'm writing a scene in which they're arguing because Vaniah abruptly shut down a kissing scene without explanation and the conversation afterwards got mildly heated. Also they basically end up in a QPR more than a traditional romantic relationship and I love that for them. They're late twenties or so during this novel. First draft.

Patience, Changing is about Patience and her adopted sister Rhona. Patience is my autistic darling, Rhona is my current Discord pfp and anyway I love them. They have interpersonal conflicts that form the nucleus of the novel, but they work them out in the end. Teenagers, and absolutely no romantic relationships in this story which I love. Also it's set in my home city of Melbourne. First draft.

To Kindle a Flame is the first book of an embarrassingly big series. I first wrote the earliest draft for camp nanowrimo or nanowrimo itself, 2017. It started out as one book, in fact started out as a simple response to a concept outlined and failed to bring to a satisfying conclusion by a Christian book by someone in my denomination - In Search of Life by Anna Tikvah. I loved the concept (girl has questions about life, turns to the Bible and reads it, things happen), but then Verity never questioned that the Bible was true, which seemed wack to me. So I started writing a story in which my main character (Adira) found a copy of the Bible and then began to read it, but the whole time she's questioning it. It turned into about 300k of messy drafting (I've drafted it uhh three times by now and am gradually working on overhauling it, grabbing what bits I can and then finishing the draft, ideally this year) and has become a story about mental health, choices and the way people figure out beliefs. In the Gospels there's a line in which Pilate says "What is truth?" - that's basically the tagline of To Kindle a Flame. It's also dystopian. It's my beloved baby. Anyway I'm normal about this story. Also Adira is autistic. Oops. I didn't intend that. I just looked at her character one day and went Yet Another Autistic Character Ay. xD It's also set in Melbourne, but aforementioned dystopia renders Melbourne unrecognisable. I've done a bunch of worldbuilding on her. Also features the character who was the first openly queer character I ever wrote - Tom, who's bi, though he ends up married to Adira and never has a mlm relationship during the story (has prior - in the story he's side B). Somewhere between first and second drafts.

Do Roses Cast Shadows? was the most recent nanowrimo, and I got a grand total of 12k into it. I uh. Don't know what's going on really. I don't recall much, but I'd like to get back to it someday. My characters are Wren and I can't recall the male main character's name.

They Told Me To Name My Demons is a poetry collection I'm working up to publication someday. It's about Christianity, suicidality, depression, autism and identity. I plan to include 100 poems and 7 prose pieces, of which I've so far written and somewhat edited 84 poems (might have a few more, I haven't crossreferenced with my phone lately) and 4 pieces of prose. The title is from a blog post I read years ago and then wrote a poem in response to. Most of the poems have been written in the last year or two. I chase inspiration where I see it. First draft.

Sparks Under Heaven is a collection of five short stories/novellas, all connected to To Kindle a Flame (one features Adira, two her grandfather, one someone another character knew in his youth and the other focuses on an event from To Kindle a Flame but from someone else's perspective). I've had it professionally edited but the edits are sitting there still waiting to be touched, largely. Second-last round of edits before I self publish.

Through Lightning, Through Thunder was nanowrimo 2022, the happiest novel I've ever written and absolutely beloved. It features Taira (rabbit), Paddy (fox), Sheba (lynx), and various less important characters. It started out life as a Narnia fanfic, focused around my original characters with occasional mentions of the Four. It was 15k. Then I fleshed it out into a full original novel, 100k-and-counting. Oopsie. The good guys are trying to stop an evil dragon being resurrected (based on the Witch scene in Prince Caspian). In the end everyone lives happily ever after. Yay. Second draft.

[Inklings story] is about Hadassah, autistic darling of my heart who is thrown through a portal and discovers a found family on the other side, essentially. Downtrodden autistic but becomes happy and confident. First draft.

The Time Travelling Midwife is about Felicity, ALSO autistic (surprise!). I haven't got very far with this one either, it exists mostly in vibes in my mind. It's best summarised as the story with the time travelling midwife, who travels in time, is an angel, tries to stop evil from prevailing and when it does eventually through the building of the tower of Babel (mainly facilitated by one of her colleagues), her time travelling powers are taken away and she ends up settling somewhere in the 1900s and having a happy life. First draft.

Only the first and second are in active development right now. Please ask me about any part of any thing of this post. I copied and pasted directly from the Discord in which I rambled about them.

If I've forgotten any wips that you know about please tell me, lol. And this is only about full length novels or collections, not shorter stories.

[firstelevens]

hi hello are we still allowed to send you prompts for the taylor swift lyrics prompts list? 🩵

Hi, sweet Anon! Since you put two numbers in your other ask, I'm gonna post one of them here. Here's a silly little future fic from the F1 AU; I hope you like it!

(also posted to AO3)

14. our very last kiss

The downside of being a professional athlete is that Sam still has to stick to a strict workout regimen, even on vacation.

The upside of being a professional athlete who still has to stick to a strict workout regimen on vacation is the view.

Behind Sam, the cliffs of Ravello seem to drop straight into the sea, the morning sun sparkling off the water and making every color seem brighter. As he climbs out of the pool, however, his focus has narrowed down to a singular point, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the Italian coastline.

Ordinarily, Bucky can always be counted on for some kind of reaction when a dripping wet Sam is involved. Most often it’s a note perfect wolf whistle, but responses have ranged from dumbfounded staring (always entertaining) to a single-minded determination to get Sam warm and dry again (a favorite of Sam’s, rare as it is.) A non-response, though…that’s egregious, especially when Sam and Bucky spent the last week reigning in all of their worst and flirtiest tendencies out of respect for the fact that they were sharing the villa with Steve and Peggy and the kids.

Now it’s just the two of them again, and instead of shamelessly ogling Sam—which he has, on multiple occasions, referred to as a right granted to him by their marriage license—Bucky is completely hidden behind a book, lost to the rest of the world. Sam might be more offended if lost-in-a-book Bucky wasn’t such a fixture in his life: that little furrow that appears between his eyebrows and the frown of concentration that always comes with it are as beloved as they are familiar.

Still, Sam isn’t above demanding attention when he hasn’t gotten his share of it, so he makes his way over to the sun lounger where Bucky is sprawled out shirtless and pokes him in the side with a water-chilled hand. With a yelp, Bucky sits bolt upright, the book nearly flying out of his grip.

Sam bursts into laughter, dodging out of the way as his husband swats at him with a rolled-up towel. After a few ineffectual swipes, Bucky just throws the towel at Sam’s chest, shaking his head.

“What are you, twelve?” he asks. “Not getting enough attention from your crush so you have to pull some pigtails?”

“You like when I pull your pigtails,” Sam says slyly, grinning as a flush spreads over Bucky’s face and neck in response.

“Not the point,” says Bucky, batting away Sam’s hand before he can tug on the hair that’s managed to escape the bun it was corralled into. Then he deliberately turns away, bending his left leg so he can brace the book against his thigh as he flips back to where he was before.

Sam watches him for a moment as he finishes drying off, then tosses the towel onto the next chair over. It lands with a soft thump, and Bucky’s gaze doesn’t lift from the page, but his eyes narrow just a little bit. Over a decade of racing against each other means that guessing the other person’s next move is second nature, and Sam knows exactly what kind of calculations Bucky is making as he keeps his eyes glued to his book.

Deciding to change tactics, Sam nudges Bucky’s leg aside so he can sit at the end of the lounger. Bucky moves out of the way and doesn’t say anything, but the minute Sam is sitting down, he stretches both of his legs out again so they rest across Sam’s lap. His eyes are still on his book, but his lips are twitching with a bitten-back smile now.

“The patented Bucky Barnes ‘I’m not going anywhere but neither are you’ maneuver, huh?” laughs Sam, idly tripping his fingers up and down Bucky’s legs. “I haven’t been on the receiving end of this one since Melbourne 2019.”

Bucky snorts. “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but that’s exactly what’s happening in the mornings when I grapple you like an octopus to keep you in bed.”

“Ha!” says Sam, pointing at Bucky in delight. “I knew I could get you to talk!”

He finally sets his book aside, leaning back against the headrest and watching Sam through half-lidded eyes. “Well played, Wilson.”

“It’s Wilson-Barnes now. And thank you,” says Sam, feeling very smug. “Now what is it about this book that’s so much more interesting than me coming out of the water looking like an Adonis, hm?”

Bucky just nudges the book towards him. Sam picks it up and flips it over, raising his eyebrows as he reads the first blurb on the back.

“‘Witty, tender, and’—oh shit, okay—’effortlessly sexy, Simon and Jack’s story will have you misty eyed and hot under the collar in equal measure,’” Sam reads aloud. “Bucky Barnes, are you just reading smut out here in broad daylight where people can see you?”

“Honey, there’s a literal cliff between us and our closest neighbors; I don’t think being spotted is a real concern right now,” says Bucky. “Do you seriously not know what this book is?”

Sam furrows his eyebrows. “Am I supposed to know what—” he flips the book back over to look at the title, “—Six Evenings at Barnham Court is? I’ve never even heard of it before.”

Bucky sits up so quickly that his sunglasses fall off of his head. “Holy shit, I forgot you don’t read articles with our names in them,” he says, and Sam knows that whatever he’s about to say is going to be wild because his eyes are wide with delight. “Sammy…Six Evenings at Barnham Court is about us.”

“Very funny,” Sam says flatly, but Bucky isn’t laughing. He looks down at the summary on the back of the book. “This book, which is about an earl and the ‘smoldering son of the groundskeeper’ at his family estate is about us?”

“Yup.”

“Buck, they’re British.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t have earls in America, so…”

Sam raises his eyebrows expectantly and Bucky sighs.

“Okay, before I explain this to you, I’m reminding you that it’s about the internet, and I kind of found out about it against my will, so I’m giving you the choice I didn’t have.”

“Barnes.”

“It’s Wilson-Barnes,” says Bucky, with a half-smile. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Fine, I walked into this knowingly and whatever I learn next is my responsibility and not your fault. Tell me more.”

“So you remember when we did that photo shoot at the castle, back in our first season together at Stark?” asks Bucky.

Sam nods. “You got to climb up that ladder in the library,” he says with a grin. Bucky had looked so delighted, up there among the books, that Sam had wished that they could spend the whole day there. Then they’d had him change into a leather jacket and some very tight jeans before pretending to repair a car, and Sam had been very glad for the change of scenery.

“Do you remember Peter telling us how wild people were going for the pictures in that spread? That the Vanity Fair people called him and asked if we had any behind the scenes stuff to post because traffic on the website was blowing up?”

“Yeah, and we had that selfie that we took with that weird marble bust, so we sent him that.”

“You also had that picture that you took when you were hanging out in the backseat of the car, of the view from where you were sitting. They were setting up for a shot so it was just me leaning on the hood of the car, it it was kind of through the windshield?”

“You’re really explaining that whole picture to me like it wasn’t my lockscreen for a month?”

Bucky’s face goes pink. “Right. Anyway, we posted that one, too, and people really liked it. And they liked the car repair pictures even more, and the ones where we were playing with the dog, and there’s one where I’m on a motorcycle, and I guess maybe the clothes were telling more of a story than we thought? Because the internet decided that the story of the photo shoot was that you were a lord of the manor type and I was some kind of hired hand, and that it was an upstairs-downstairs romance.”

“Seriously? We weren’t even together then.”

“Sam,” laughs Bucky, “if you didn’t notice me staring at you with heart eyes that entire shoot day, I don’t know what to tell you. I felt like the most obvious person in the world. Clearly I was the most obvious person in the world.”

“Baby, please. I’ve seen how I’m looking at you in the picture where you’re working on the car. Sarah texted it to me and asked when the wedding was.”

“So we were both obvious, then,” Bucky says. “Point is, some person on the internet thought the upstairs-downstairs thing was a great idea, and they turned it into a fanfiction, and apparently it was really popular.”

“And then, what? The author just changed the names and sold the book to a publisher?”

“I think the publisher approached them because the fanfiction was so popular,” says Bucky. “So yeah, Sam and James became Simon and Jack, and the book became a bestseller.”

Sam blinks. “So this book about an earl and a groundskeeper’s son really is about us.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you…bought a copy?”

“Peggy gave it to me; I think it was supposed to be a joke.”

“You’re like a quarter of the way through this joke present, Buck.”

“I already finished all the books we brought with us,” he says, shrugging a little.

Grinning, Sam starts to say, “Well, lucky for you, I sneaked—”

“—like ten more books inside your garment bag; I know. I read those, too.”

Sam feels a rush of affection as Bucky’s grin turns sheepish, and he sprawls out across the lounger to kiss his husband. “You’re such a nerd,” he says.

“I don’t think the man who took college level engineering and calc courses for fun is allowed to call me a nerd, actually,” says Bucky, leaning in to kiss him again. 

He might have a point, but Sam is hardly going to acknowledge that now. Instead, he settles in on the sun lounger and gets comfy, resting his head on Bucky’s chest and throwing an arm over him. 

“Whatever.” He holds the book out to Bucky. “Are you gonna read me this book about us or not?”

“I’m halfway through, Sam. You’re not even gonna know what’s happening.”

“I hear it’s about some people I know pretty well; I’ll figure it out.”

“It’s literally set in 1950, Sam.”

“So World War Two is the stand-in for your accident and your character coming back to the estate is the start of the 2024 season. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not wrong,” says Bucky. “But that was a lucky guess, and I can’t guarantee how good the prose is. I’m just invested now so I have to know how it ends.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” says Sam, shutting his eyes and tucking himself more comfortably against Bucky’s side. “It’s got a happy ending, and I don’t care that much about the writing.”

Bucky laughs with his lips against Sam’s temple. “You say that now,” he says, “but wait ‘til we get to the next sex scene.”

Sam waves a hand. “You can just improv there if you need to; you know what I like.”

“You want me to improvise a sex scene?”

“You’re telling me you’ve been scripting them so far?”

Bucky gently swats at Sam’s arm with the book, but Sam’s head is over his heart and he can feel the laugh rumbling through his chest.

“You gonna put your listening ears on or not, Wilson?”

Eyes still closed, Sam mimes zipping his lips and gets another forehead kiss for his trouble.

He hears the flutter of pages as Bucky finds his place again, clears his throat, and starts reading.

“When he woke up the next morning, still a mess of confused feelings and somehow more exhausted than he’d been the night before, Simon was itching to start the fight that had been interrupted by Cecilia’s arrival. At least time was on his side now: spring had settled over Barnham Court, and that meant that Jack was going to be in the greenhouses all morning, taking care of the plants he’d so carefully nursed through the winter. 

It wasn’t at all difficult to slip out of the house unseen and take the roundabout path to the greenhouses. The morning was brisk, the grass still dewy, but the walk had done little to quell the frustration that had burned hot since last night. By the time Simon stormed into the greenhouse, he was spitting mad again, already talking as he pushed through the door.

‘When we saw each other in London, you said that you were going home to New York, and I– I only acted the way that I did because I thought that that would be our very last kiss, but that’s hardly any reason to–’

He was cut off by Jack shushing him, like there was a sleeping baby in the room, only there wasn’t a sleeping baby at all. Sleeping babies, he saw all the time when Cecilia visited. What was in front of them now was the first Barnham Court rose to have bloomed in decades, and Jack was cradling it in his hands like it was as precious to him as it was to Simon…”

[poroussoul]

Dodging storms between Sydney and Melbourne onboard Qantas !

Paul Stewart Aviation

[editorialsonlife]

Well well well

Life is never dull, is it? What a time to be alive in and I don't even know where to start with how the last few weeks have panned out but anyway.

We bought a house! We have somewhere to live going forward! I took redundancy at my job! 33 working days left and I'll be unemployed! We're moving cities in 27 days! We move out of our house in 10 days! We go to Melbourne in 73 days! Life is flying by at a great rate of knots!

I have not yet accepted it's august, we somehow blasted through the second anniversary of dad's death, and I honestly just do not feel like I've had time to stop and breathe since May. Work finishing up cannot come soon enough because I just want some mental capacity back. I was explaining to a colleague how every time I finally slow down these days, I end up feeling really panicky because my system just doesn't know how not to be in overdrive mode at the moment and it's really not great, but it is what it is I guess. I've been home for the last 4 days sick with a cold which is quite impressive given how many other bugs I've dodged this winter but I really need to go and get a covid booster.

I'm just in denial about everything at the moment? there is no time to process? I don't want to stop and feel my feelings because they're not going to be fun?

Guess I'll just keep reading terrible mafia romances and drowning in olympics coverage and pretend the world isn't falling to pieces around us??? Yikes.

Overall tho, I'm happy, we're making good moves, were claiming our lives back again after feeling like they've been dictated by other things for the last couple of years.

I'm looking forward to being closer to friends, to having some mental space, to being out of wellington, to being able to focus on my health, to have a break from working and other people's demands, to have a chance to contemplate what I want to do for a career for this next phase of my life, and just..... have the room to breathe. It's gunna be so good!!!

[detailsmatterllc]

🇺🇸Details Matter LLC🇺🇸

🏆Ceramic Coating Specialist🏆

🌴Melbourne Florida🌴

🔥2021 Dodge Durango R/T🔥

[sadafternoons]

The Present

This photo was taken enroute to the Tesselaar Tulip festival, near Melbourne, in the car with my dear friend, Rabia, and reminded me of a poem I wrote in 2017, published in my book in 2021, and revisited today in 2023. And as I did, I stumbled upon this present.

The Present

*

What we write

And leave like pressed flowers

In the books we put together

Brings us back

To the truths

That we had the fortune of

Stumbling upon

Ever so briefly

Once upon a time.

*

And when we do

We see them

Reflected clearly

In the mirrors of the past

As a present

We left for ourselves

To open

When we most need it

In the future.

*

1.10.2023

The light from the window reminded me of this poem, I wrote.

Here it is:

Khan, 2021, ‘The Prism’. On sadafternoons: A pool of orange and other poems, Singapore: Partridge. Pg 40-41.

The Prism

*

And there are times when I think

I am alone

And there’s no one beside me

When I hear

The whole universe whisper

I am here

*

The laws of the universe

Hold me together

And with each breath

I take in

The effort of a million trees

Standing tall

Since forever to sustain me.

*

And I bask

In a sun’s light

That travels

Through eons of empty space

Dodging a host of material obstructions

In its determination

To reach me

*

And I see it all

And I empty my heart and mind of the ingratitude

That prevents me from acknowledging the love

And let it pass through me

Like a prism

Knowing it is bound to light me up

In all the bright places.

*

1.10.2023

[dragonlover44]

after dodging covid for 3 years while working retail, i probably picked it up flying to melbourne, while seeing Paramore in melbourne,or at Good Things Melbourne (there was so so so many people there).

RAT negative, but considering one of my friends there tested positive with the same symtoms, yeah, its not looking good for me

for now seeing Fall Out Boy in Melbourne was worth it, but my answer might change depending on how sick i get

[maxverstepponme]

Steppy...Are we entering our Logan era because BABE I AM ON BOARD 😍💃🏻 He looks so adorable, confused and a little shy all at the same time 😅🤩 I think he is the best rookie of this season in my opinion becasue I am a total DR3 fan so I can't even look at Oscar. I get fucking triggered 😂 🤷🏻‍♀️ Plus Oscar looks very dead inside and Logan gives off the vibe that he is a good person. I hope he doesn't get involved in any negative stuff or drama. I wish the best for him. He almost makes us forget his family is a little sketchy 👀 //

Idk bro that sketchy family shit got me fucked up. Otherwise, he’s seems like a humble person, although you can’t trust shit with how formula 1 pr works. Half of these clowns are fake af.

BUT OSCAR. WHAT DID MY BOY OSCAR DO TO YOU. Okay maybe he took Danny’s seat but Daniel legit looked sick driving for McLaren. Like it physically and mentally draining him. He lost hair and weight. Personally, I’m happy he left. He needs to heal and find his own way. Plus he lowkey brought it upon himself. He has a tendency to be indecisive about his career and I hope he works on that.

As for who is the best rookie. Skills wise : it has to be Oscar piastri. Logan starting off good in Bahrain but Jeddah and Melbourne were not good and he’s massively being outperformed by Alex (even if he’s just a rookie). Nyck is also doing shit but he’s at the same level as Logan. I think Oscar definitely got points from the red flag shitshow so we do have to keep that in mind but he is closer to lando then other rookies are to their respective teammates, so I’ll let it slide.

But with personality, it’s hard to tell. They all weird but I would say Logan and Oscar seem more layback. I still have a soft spot for Oscar even though I’m American. We will have to see more 2023 Logan content before I change my mind. 😗

LISTEN 😭

I have nothing against Oscar and I’m also glad Danny left -he dodged a bullet LMFAO-, but he’s just too bland for me. Like, I would re watch prema videos to see Mick and Logan and Oscar where on a lot of them. Logan was fucking confused the whole time it was cute, meanwhile Oscar was like “hahaha 🧍🏼‍♂️”

Logan keeps being bullied for being American -read it with Mick’s American accent- and I 😭😭😭

[mswyrr]

Multiple studies show this can impair patients’ immune defenses, potentially reactivating viruses that linger in the body, such as those that cause mononucleosis and shingles. Long Covid patients whose initial illnesses were mild can sustain immune changes that slow the response to infections and exacerbate chronic conditions for as long as six months, researchers say. Alterations in immune-cell populations, persistent activation of certain white blood cells and other immune disturbances have been observed up to a year after severe cases.

Even if immune dysfunction occurs in just 5% of Covid patients, the effect across populations could raise the threat posed by many other infections, says microbiologist Brendan Crabb, director of the Burnet Institute, a nonprofit medical research organization in Melbourne. “Under this circumstance, you would expect non-Covid infections to have a greater chance to get a foothold, amplify and evolve in people with immune dysfunction,” he says. “These infections are then free to transmit to the wider community more readily than they otherwise would.”

...

In the US, life expectancy fell in 2021 to its lowest since 1996, extending the biggest two-year decline in a century. Covid’s delayed effects may stymie a rebound. In the year after a Covid infection, patients experienced a decline in kidney function equivalent to that from four years of normal aging, according to research by epidemiologist Ziyad Al-Aly, director of the Clinical Epidemiology Center at the Veterans Affairs St. Louis Health Care System in Missouri. Even nonhospitalized Covid patients with no preexisting renal problems have almost a twofold higher risk of developing end-stage kidney disease, compared with someone who’s never had Covid.

Similar effects may be occurring in other organs. “I worry that we’re not even seeing the full effect of it now,” says Al-Aly, who also works as a kidney specialist. Covid has left a lot of patients like Guerinot “alive, yet suffering with these chronic diseases that they probably otherwise would not have had,” he says. “What makes this really profound is that we have literally millions of them.”

[link]

There’s been a series of articles like this--providing real information about the stunning scope of the ongoing pandemic, instead of gaslighting-- in Fortune as well. This information has been known for years, but my hope is that if enough people with money start to care (out of concern for themselves, their families, and the impact on the bottom line of Long Covid) we might see some change.

Until then they will keep dodging the problem and inventing bs concepts like “immunity debt” to explain away what’s happening. It’s important for people to know that infection does not provide good immunity as variants multiply at stunning speed. Not only that, but it can damage your immune system. And the longterm “cost” to your health overall can be very high.

Vaccination is good and helps, but doesn’t seem to prevent these problems for millions of people. Furthermore, with each new variant, the protection from hospitalization and death provided by the vaccines has lessened and boosters are needed to keep it up to even that level. With the rapid mutation of variants, many other treatments have been rendered obsolete: the newest rising variants have outpaced EvuSheld, which immunecompromised people (those who have been able to access it: like Paxlovid, the US admin has never made these much vaunted “tools” available widely and equitably) were relying on for protection.

I can’t overstate how important it is to avoid infection/limit the number of times you’re infected and the “viral load” (how much virus you’re exposed to) when you are infected. Masks, HEPA, ventilation. All of these things work. If you can manage access to Paxlovid, that seems to help insulate people from the worst impacts as well.

In a weak gesture at doing something about the winter wave, the White House is making rapid tests free again, which can also be a helpful way to assess risk for yourself and others.

[rushescapegameme]

5 Mind-Blowing Escape Room Themes That Will Thrill You

Are you ready for an escape room adventure like no other? Get ready to immerse yourself in captivating scenarios that will challenge your wits and keep you on the edge of your seat.

From mysterious ancient temples to high-tech espionage missions, here are five mind-blowing best escape room Melbourne themes that are guaranteed to thrill you.

1. Lost in Time: The Ancient Temple

Step into a world where ancient mysteries await at the Lost in Time escape room. As you and your team venture into the depths of a forgotten temple, you'll unravel cryptic puzzles, dodge ancient traps, and decipher ancient hieroglyphics to uncover the secrets hidden within.

With immersive sets and atmospheric lighting, you'll feel like you've been transported back in time to an era of exploration and adventure.

2. Espionage: The Secret Agent Mission

Do you have what it takes to be a secret agent? Put your spy skills to the test in the Espionage escape room. As part of an elite team of operatives, you'll embark on a thrilling mission to thwart a nefarious villain's plans.

From cracking codes to defusing bombs, every second counts as you race against the clock to save the day. With high-tech gadgets and heart-pounding action, this escape room is perfect for adrenaline junkies and aspiring spies alike.

3. Zombie Apocalypse: Survive the Undead

Brace yourself for a terrifying adventure in the Zombie Apocalypse escape room. As the world succumbs to a deadly virus, you and your team must navigate through a post-apocalyptic wasteland overrun by the undead.

With hordes of zombies hot on your trail, you'll need to work together to find a way to safety before it's too late. With realistic special effects and spine-tingling scares, this escape room Melbourne is not for the faint of heart.

4. Space Odyssey: Journey to the Stars

Embark on an interstellar adventure in the Space Odyssey escape room. Blast off into the cosmos aboard a state-of-the-art spaceship as you and your crew explore distant planets and unravel the mysteries of the universe.

From navigating asteroid fields to solving cosmic puzzles, you'll need to use your intellect and teamwork to complete your mission and return home safely. With stunning visuals and out-of-this-world challenges, this escape room will transport you to galaxies far, far away.

5. Murder Mystery: Unravel the Whodunit

Put your detective skills to the test in the Murder Mystery escape room. As amateur sleuths, you and your team will step into a scene straight out of a noir film, where a dastardly crime has been committed.

With suspects to interrogate, clues to analyse, and red herrings to decipher, you'll need to think fast and trust your instincts to crack the case before the killer strikes again. With immersive storytelling and unexpected twists, this escape room will keep you guessing until the very end.

Conclusion

Whether you're a seasoned escape room enthusiast or a first-time player, these mind-blowing themes are sure to captivate your imagination and test your skills.

So, gather your friends, choose your adventure, and prepare for an escape room Melbourne experience like no other. The clock is ticking—are you ready to escape?

Source: https://escaperoomgameau.blogspot.com/2024/04/5-mind-blowing-escape-room-themes-that.html

[yomikestevens]

Out to pasture

Spotted this old Dodge on the long trip between Melbourne and Echuca. I love that the owners have kept it prominently displayed on a corner block for passers by to admire. That's the way to do it!

[hummerhire]