#having background noise makes coding easier to focus on than silence

[aphel1on]

listening to podcasts when you have adhd+auditory processing issues is so funny. i'm on season 3 of the magnus archives and the plot is heating up and i suddenly realized that i understand only like 50-70% of what is happening. several minor characters i barely remember at all. sometimes i would skip back in an episode if i realized i missed something important but HALF THE TIME I WOULD SPACE OUT AT THE SAME MOMENT AND MISS IT AGAIN.

so i found the transcripts on the website and have gradually been reading through all the episodes like a horror short story anthology. and i keep making connections like OH SHIIIIT THAT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE🤯

Information i learn from audio simply does not tend to stick in my mind the same way as the written word, assuming i even comprehend all the spoken words in the first place😭

[spacestationdaedalus]

post-canon JM but make them vigilante monster hunters

never seen a single episode but i think this might be the plot of supernatural? idk i bugged the server with this and now other ppl have to see it.

tw for general monster-related horror and descriptions of it, and very very mild injury

ao3 link here!

...

It's late. Again.

She sighs, rubbing at her eyes until starbursts dance in her vision. If her lab manager knew she was in here at god, is it already 3? in the morning, he would probably have a fit. But it's not her fault her work has been so. Uncooperative. Realistically, she could be doing some of this at home, but the lab computer already has everything she needs, and it's so much easier to focus here.

Well. Most of the time.

Her water bottle is still half full, but she decides a walk to the vending machine at the end of the hall would do her some good. She can stretch her legs and get some caffeine at the same time. Best of both worlds.

Right then, a sound cuts through the air. It's a dull roar, crescendoing to a peak that it maintains for a handful of seconds before fading away. As jumpy as she gets this late, she hardly bats an eye as she digs her wallet out of her backpack. It's a common sound to hear in the building, one that you get used to quickly once you spend some time here. The university has a wind tunnel it uses for classes, as well as research. She's seen it before, used it first hand - even down in the basement of the building, the roar of the compressed air tank when the valve is switched practically shakes the foundation. That's how you tell the first years apart from everyone else. They're the ones who jump when they hear it, looking around in confusion, and sometimes fear. But it doesn't take long for it to become background noise.

She's more concerned about the fact that it's so late. Some poor graduate student, down in the basement in the middle of the night running the tunnel instead of sleeping. Or doing literally anything else. Unfortunately, she can relate.

The door shuts with a weighty slam behind her. The silence of the building is even sharper after the echo of the wind, and she fights down the urge to shudder. The hall is long, dark - the university installed motion activated lights in most of the buildings a few years back, and the effect they create as she walks down the hall is surprisingly eerie. The fluorescents flicker on with the faintest clicks and hums as she walks below them, boots clicking against the tile floor. She's a fast walker, always had been - and the incessant sound of her footfalls in the quiet somehow puts her even more on edge.

The pale light from the vending machine reflects against the linoleum in a way that could be inviting. In theory. But it's really more off-putting than anything else, like the sickly glow of a motel sign off of the interstate, flickering a destitute "no vacancy" into the night. The selection is slim, but she punches in the code for an overpriced iced coffee that feels cool and familiar in her hand.

The scream of the wind tunnel comes and goes again, louder, now that she's outside the lab. She can't help the unease creeping down her spine in the wake of its silence. On one hand, it's a comfort to know at least one other person is in the building with her. But even then, the still quiet it leaves behind is always worse, and it sends the hair on the back of her head standing at attention.

It only gets worse as she walks, and she fights the urge to look over her shoulder. Everyone knows the feeling - when you're a kid, and you sneak into the kitchen in the dead of night to get a drink, only to sprint back up to your room as soon as you can because you're so, so sure something is coming for you.

And now that she's thinking about it, she can't not think about it, which is as futile as it is frustrating. She tries to force it down along with the beating of her heart, but the fear simmers beneath the surface like a pot on the stove, two seconds from boiling over. She's already more than halfway back, just a few more seconds and she can slam the lab door shut behind her and feel almost safe.

The roar of the tunnel, again. She can't help the jump, this time, on edge as she is. Strange, they don't usually run it so many times in so few minutes-

A thought comes to her then, without warning, the way they do when you realize you've forgotten something important. She remembers the conversation with striking clarity - Ajay, her roommate, working on a big research project. He needed to test his prototype in the wind tunnel, and he'd lamented to her over dinner the other day that a replacement part they needed downstairs wouldn't arrive until next week. Which sucked, because he has a deadline for a paper submission coming up and needed more data-

Most of this is useless. But she remembers, now, better than anything she ever has, that the wind tunnel hasn't been working all week. The lab is closed, would be until Wednesday, until the new part comes in.

The roaring shriek comes again, pounding against her eardrums in a way it never has before. Oppressive. Almost hungry. It's closer, it's louder.

It's behind her.

She turns. As she chokes on her own heartbeat and sinking dread, she turns.

And something is behind her.

Thin and wrong, inky black and too many limbs. A long torso with a long head attached, crooked on its neck. Gaping white sockets where eyes would, should, be. It has no mouth, and yet she knows with absolute certainty that it was making that sound. A mocking imitation of something so familiar.

And she knows, an anchor sinking into pitch black water, that it's going to kill her.

blood blood i need blood your blood your face you

It's in her head, a voice with no mouth to speak it. She opens her own mouth to scream, but it's useless to her. Nothing comes out, not even air. Maybe she can run, she has to run, has to get away. But she can't bring herself to turn even a sliver from the nightmare in front of her. A deep, primal fear convincing her that the second she can't see that thing is the second it will get her. 

Maybe she can run, still, with her eyes on it. But one of her feet finds the other in her panic, and she falls to the floor. She thinks she feels a pain in her wrist, but it's dull and far away. Hardly a blip on the radar of fear fear oh my god what is that thing-

It's coming for her, all bending joints like limbs of a puppet, pulled by invisible strings, limping, creaking in unnatural steps and lunges. Its eyes never once leave her, glued to her in hungry determination. The roar comes again, but it's twisted and warped like scrap metal and just as jagged around the edges.

And then it stops. Not more than ten feet from her. Frozen. She doesn't breathe, she doesn't think she could if she wanted to.

"That's enough."

It's a man's voice, from behind her. She doesn't have it in her to turn around, to look away. But it doesn't matter. Whoever it is god she hopes it's a who and not a what steps up next to her, in front of her. It might not be accurate to say he's shielding her, but he's between her and it, and she doesn't feel relief, but she feels. Safer, somehow.

She's never seen him before. His hair is long, streaked with grey, half tied up in a bun at the back of his head. He's wearing a long dark coat over long dark pants, tucked into black combat boots. And that's really all she can see from the floor.

As he steps forward, the creature seems to recoil. It hisses, maybe, and then another sound follows. A sad remixing of its own imitating screech from before, not quite a howl but more of a cry. It sounds pained, almost, creaking and desperate. Limbs rear up, but amount to nothing. It's an uncoordinated movement as it falls back on something like haunches.

"I'm watching you, now. There's nowhere you can hide from me."

The man's voice sounds strange to her. There's a cracking, almost static quality to it. She has no idea what the man could possibly be doing, but it looks like it's working.

Until it isn't.

The thing writhes and shrieks again, louder. She can feel it down into her bones, scraping at her marrow, god she wants to throw up. The man in front of her staggers slightly. He mutters something like a curse under his breath, brings a hand to his head. The thing is moving again, shambling towards them. It looks weaker, shakier than before but no less threatening. No less horrifying. Maybe even more so, with the look of a sick, maimed animal as it staggers down the street.

She thinks she might be about to pass out with the sudden chill that overtakes her. But the fading of her vision never comes, and is that. Her breath? She can see it in the air in front of her, condensing like it does on cold winter mornings. With a blink she realizes there's a fog as well, come seemingly from nothing. It's thick and low-hanging, coating the floor of the hall and swirling upwards. It chills her exposed skin, goosebumps racing up and down her arms.

She assumes the thing must be doing this, a defense mechanism or something, but it's slower than before. Subdued. It's still making its way toward them, but it looks lost, like a fawn trying to walk on new legs.

Until another man comes from an adjoining hallway, and bashes its head in with a baseball bat.

It's a solid hit, and the thing goes down almost immediately. The man, the new one, gives another swing, and another, and a few more, for good measure. His bat is slick with something dark and oily. And then the thing is still.

It's quiet for a second, two, then-

"Excellent timing as always, dear." The staticy click of the first man's voice is gone. He sounds out of breath, even though he hardly moved.

The second man laughs, and the cold and the fog seems to fade with it. He's bigger than the first man, taller. He's wearing a bomber jacket over a nondescript t-shirt, fingerless gloves and jeans frayed at the edges. Like he just walked out of an action movie. Or a horror movie. With the thing laying at his feet, the second might be more fitting.

"That was cutting it a little close, Jon. We knew it was with the Stranger, that it could fight you off-"

"Yes, yes, thank you, Martin. That's what the bat is for, after all. The Lonely was probably a bit overkill, though."

"It's not overkill if we don't get ourselves maimed, Jon-"

The first man - Jon, apparently - turns to her then. His face is scarred, and dark shadows hang under oddly bright green eyes. But his gaze isn't unkind as he looks down at her.

"Sorry, are you alright? I was hoping we could take care of this when everyone was gone, but-" He laughs darkly. "Well, I was in university once, I should have known at least one student would still be here in the middle of the night, even on the weekend."

The man going by Martin walks over, as Jon extends a hand to help her up. She's lost all hope of her brain trying to process what's happening but step one can at least be get off the floor. But she can't even do that properly. The hand she raises is the same one she fell on, and the twinge from her wrist shoots up her arm almost immediately in a shout for attention.

It must show on her face too, because Jon makes a sound and then Martin's asking her, "Oh, are you hurt?"

"Uh, n-no, I mean…'s just, uh, my wrist. Kinda, fell on it funny." Her voice isn't exactly steady, but it's a far cry from where she was expecting it to be. At least she's orbiting the realm of comprehensible.

Martin crouches next to her. Up close she can see his face in more detail - his eyes are a slate grey, like the fog from before. But they're kind, wrinkled at the edges when he smiles softly at her. "Mind if I take a look?"

She's not exactly in a position to say no, so she gingerly holds her arm out. His hands are rough, calloused, but surprisingly gentle as they probe her wrist. She can't stop the trembling, now, completely unrelated to the pain.

"It's a sprain." Jon says, laced with certainty somewhere above her.

Martin sighs, long-suffering. "Thank you, Jon, I was getting to that."

"Just trying to help." She can't see him, but she can practically hear the cheeky smile tacked to the end of that sentence.

"As much as I hate saying it, he's right." Martin eyes her with something close to humor, like they're in on a joke together. He shrugs a backpack off of his shoulders, rummages through it with one hand. "I think we have some elastic bandages left for something like this…"

"Front pocket." Jon says again. He's moved closer to the thing, the corpse, it must be, now. He's turned away from her, and she can't see his face.

"Thank you, love."

"Of course."

"Um-" She cuts in suddenly, her nerves and panic getting the best of her. Martin looks up from her hand, and Jon turns back to glance at her.

"Sorry, uh, I just- what the fuck was that?"

"I'd tell you not to worry yourself over it, but I don't think that's much of an answer." Jon says, coming back towards them. He crouches down before he continues. "Let's just say this is...our day job."

"It is three in the morning, though."

"That would be the, colloquial use of the term, Martin."

"Just saying." With Martin in front of her she can actually see the cheeky grin, this time.

He uses the bandage to wrap her wrist. It smarts a bit, but the pressure helps. He's clearly adept enough to do this and talk at the same time, because he cuts in next. "We're here to make sure things like that-" he gestures with a nod of his head. "-don't hurt anyone."

Her mouth is full of sawdust. "W- what, like, monsters and shit?" She always did swear a lot when she was stressed.

"More or less."

"If it's any consolation," Jon says. "These things aren't exactly...common. You have to have a special kind of luck to run into something like this."

Yeah, luck.

He sighs, then. He looks tired. "I'm so sorry. If it means anything. This isn't the kind of thing you'll be able to just forget, or-"

"That's why we're here." Martin cuts in. He's finished with her wrist, neatly wrapped and held in place with little wire clips. "To try to stop stuff like this from happening, before it happens. Sorry we were late."

It's not a stretch to imagine what would have happened if they hadn't shown up even later, or not at all. But it's something she will try very, very hard not to think about.

She swallows. "I guess...thank you, then."

"Of course."

The adrenaline and sudden lack thereof leaves her with a jittery exhaustion deep in her core. But she has so many questions, how could she not-

A chill, and a rush of wind and waves hit her before she can get another word out. It's gone as quickly as it had come, so much so she thinks she imagined it. But suddenly, she's alone.

The men going by Jon and Martin and the misshapen corpse of that thing are gone. The hall is just as it had been before, dim lights and freshly polished tile. No sign of anything, or anyone. Except for her.

She knows with crushing certainty that it wasn't a dream. Couldn't be a dream. But she knows that's what people will tell her. So she says nothing. She says nothing, and hopes nothing ever leads her to cross paths with those two ever again.

[daoimean]

Pink in the Night IV | Winter Solstice: Part III

Chapter III | Ao3 Link

Summary:

Fellas, is it gay to be madly in love with your gal pal? As war rages and internal demons fester, Glimmer struggles to come to terms with her feelings.

Pairings: Glimmadora (Glimmer/Adora)

Warnings: Panic attacks, discussions of grief

Word Count: 4,941

Well, that's enough for tonight. 

  Glimmer's only vaguely aware of herself as she half-stumbles, bewilderedly, back into the crowd. She takes the arm of the nearest sober person she recognises— Perfuma, she thinks— and stammers out some lame excuse, about being tired or not feeling well or something, teleporting away before the other has a chance to say anything.  

  Her room is far enough from the ballroom that the noise of the party has faded down to a distant background buzz. She can hear, think, breathe again, like a drowning girl finally coming up for air. But her thoughts are caught in a whirlwind, billowed in a flurry like the blizzard she can see picking up outside her window. 

  Adora just kissed her— she just kissed Adora. 

There's no way she can go back to that party now. That much she's certain of. 

  She's either shivering or shaking as her unsteady hands fumble to remove her headpiece and garments (which are only slightly easier to take off by herself than they were to put on), letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor. She messes up the buttons of her pyjama shirt once, twice, three times, cursing herself under her breath with mounting frustration. All she wants is to go to bed. Maybe after a good night's sleep it'll be like this never happened, things can go back to how they were. 

  (She knows, all too well, that isn't how it works— that things haven't been how they were, how she likes them, in a long time.)

  Frantic eyes flit around the room, trying to find something to focus on, ground herself. Glimmer didn't used to be prone to panic attacks; she's sure she's had more in the past two months than her entire life before then. She tries to remember how her mom had successfully talked her down the one time she started unraveling in front of her. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…

  She catches sight of Kowl on the window seat, the stuffed koala-owl toy she's had since she was a baby. One of the few remnants of her childhood she could never bring herself to get rid of, not even when she reached her teenage years and all she wanted was to grow up. She doesn’t know why that’s what brings the tears to her eyes. 

  Inhale, exhale…

  She's okay. She's okay. 

  No, she's not okay. 

  But she will be, she might be, if she can just— 

  Her hand comes up to wipe her eye, but her fingers hover briefly over her lips, where phantom traces of Adora's kiss still linger. 

  She knows, or at least she's been told countless times by countless people, that time is supposed to heal. One day (though no one dares use wording this crass), she'll get over her mom. One day, she'll get over Adora. One day, she'll grow up. 

  Her eyes fall on Kowl again. Then she picks it up and throws it across the room, as hard as she can manage. It doesn't go very far, and she doesn't feel any better. She watches, chest heaving, as it misses the wall, landing on the floor a few metres before it— and she stares and stares at that wall until her vision blurs, her legs give way under her, and she clamps her shaking hand over her mouth as calculated breaths roll out as choked, pathetic whimpers. 

  Inhale, inhale, inhale— 

  A knock.

  The sound pulls her back to the surface, but the voice that follows wrenches a gasp that tears out what little air she could draw into her lungs. 

  "Glimmer? Are you okay?"

  ...Yeah, no, she needs more air. 

  She teleports without much regard for where she's going, emerging from the light midair and landing on her butt on the snow-covered concrete of some unmanned parapet. 

  It's cold . That’s the first thing she realises when she comes to her senses. The fresh layer of snow beneath her numbs her bare hands, her cosy pyjamas not nearly cosy enough to withstand the icy wind that howls in her ears, tousles her hair. She didn't even have the sense to put shoes or slippers on over her socks. Smart thinking, Glimmer. Truly the pragmatic mind of a Queen-to-be. 

  Yet, it's only up here that she manages to steady her breathing. She grasps the wall, dragging herself to her feet. She's shivering, but she's okay. She thinks. 

  When the urge to cry rises, she doesn't try to stop it this time, the turmoil she releases with every sob carried away with the blustering wind. She doesn't even know what she's crying about anymore. She's crying about nothing, she's crying about everything, she's numb and she's hurting and she's alone and she's cold , so very very cold. She's lost track of time altogether by the time the snow crunches behind her.

  Adrenaline surging through her frozen limbs, she pulls her head from her arms, snapping round to be greeted with a looming figure, a mass of billowing golden hair. 

  Adora.

  (Well, kind of.)

  "Did you really transform into She-Ra just to get up here faster?" Glimmer asks her, having to raise her voice as the storm flares up around them like a freezing inferno. Her teeth are chattering. She can barely move. As the adrenaline leaves her, she's left too cold to think. She can barely even see. 

  "I wasn't sufficiently dressed," Adora bellows back, unaffected as a huge gust lifts her cape and hair, the assault of snow melting on her upon contact, "and neither are you , Glimmer! Come here, you must be freezing ."

  All other thoughts are subdued by just how much she needs to be warm right now. She summons whatever strength she has left to stumble into Adora's extended arms, enveloped in her warmth. She-Ra's warmth. 

  (She prefers Adora.)

  Once she's able to, she teleports them both back inside. Adora, releasing her She-Ra form and closing the window she must have climbed out of, leads Glimmer to sit down on the cushioned window seat, finding a blanket and pulling it around her shoulders. Glimmer's already sufficiently warmed up, but she snuggles up anyway, watching Adora with a newfound calm that warms her insides too.

  "You seem pretty lucid," Adora says, pressing two fingers to Glimmer's wrist to check her pulse,"and your pulse rate is normal. You probably weren't out there long enough for hypothermia to set in, thankfully. Seriously, Glimmer, what were you thinking , going out in that in your pyjamas? If you needed space you could have just told me to go away."

  Glimmer finds herself smiling, in spite of herself. She knows Adora's nagging comes from a place of caring; she almost wants to tell her she sounds like her mom. "I don't think I was thinking." 

  " Clearly ." Adora rolls her eyes, lightly papping her cheek; her mouth is twitching up, like she's trying not to smile herself. "If I go and get you a hot drink, can you promise me you're not gonna go take a swim in the lake or something while I'm gone?" 

  Glimmer playfully rolls her eyes. "I'll try my best." Adora glowers at her, and she bites back a laugh and relents. "Fine, I promise! I'll be right here, okay?" 

.

As Adora slips out, Glimmer notices the plate of party food on the side table, a whole a whole assortment of her favourites. The gift hidden in her desk drawer suddenly feels even lamer in comparison, and something she thinks might be guilt curls in her belly. She really hopes Adora comes back soon. 

  And she does, cradling a cup of chamomile tea. Glimmer accepts it gratefully, motioning over her now half-empty plate as Adora hovers awkwardly before her. "Do you wanna share?" It's a coded invitation to stay, hopefully not laced with the desperation she feels. 

  "I don't think I could eat another bite," says Adora, shrugging off her scabbard and setting the sword aside (that Glimmer cannot believe she brought to a party, but then it's Adora so she guesses she can) before sitting down next to her, though her posture remains stiff, like she's still preparing to leave, like she doesn't know if she should be here at all, "and Bow mentioned you hadn't had dinner after Perfuma told us you said you weren't feeling well, so I thought I'd…" She looks at her hands. "Sorry, I know you um, probably wanted space, I was just going to give it to you and leave, if you wanted me to, but then you were gone and—" 

  "It's lucky you knew where I went," Glimmer interjects. She reaches out, hesitates, then settles her hand on Adora's shoulder. "Look, it's okay , Adora. I probably would have froze otherwise."

  "I'm still sorry." 

  "Don't be." 

  She has a feeling it's not just that she's apologising for. 

  A silence falls over them. Glimmer retracts her hand as Adora shifts around, settling properly across from her. 

  As someone who's had trouble making friends until recently, it's only with Adora that Glimmer came to accept and even enjoy amicable silences. Silences that don’t make her anxious, that she doesn't feel the need to fill for fear of being awkward or boring, where two people can just bask quietly in the pleasure of each other’s company.

  This isn't one of those silences, though. It's heavy, almost crushing, weighed down with things left unsaid; the elephant in the room may as well be sitting on her chest. 

  "It never snowed in the Fright Zone," Adora says after a while. "The smog always got worse during the winter, though. Sometimes you can’t even go out for more than a few seconds without a vog mask." 

  "That...wow." It's far from the worst thing Glimmer's heard about the Fright Zone, but it's still kind of unfathomable. Having grown up in a queendom proudly devoid of pollution, she can't imagine not even being able to safely breathe the air around her. She’s glad Adora got out of there. "It snows every year here. Always around the same time, which is why we centre the Solstice season around it. It's...honestly kind of annoying." 

  "I think it's beautiful." 

  As Adora says this, Glimmer follows her gaze to the blizzard outside, which is ebbing down to a more steady snowfall. She watches the flakes dance in the wind like stardust, settling over the landscape in layer upon fluffy layer of pure white that almost seems to glitter in the moonlight. It's the exact same thing she's seen countless times, but it's like her perspective has shifted through the mesmerised earnesty of Adora's words. Like she's seeing it through her eyes. 

  Then, she looks at Adora, at her profile betraying an almost childlike fascination, the silvery lunar glow softening and highlighting her features in all the best ways. 

  She can still faintly hear the party they're both supposed to be attending, but the more she watches Adora and the snow the less anything else seems to matter. No past, no future, just her, Adora, and a sleeping world enshrouded in white. 

  "Yeah," she murmurs, "I guess it is." 

  Soon enough, the world will reawaken. The snow will freeze over and melt, where it's not already been cleared from roads and walkways or trampled by the shoes of leaving partygoers. It'll dissipate to grey-brown mush then, soon enough, nothing at all. 

  She it’s necessary, that the world has to keep on turning no matter what it tarnishes, but to Glimmer's selfish side, it all seems so unfair. Why does everything have to be so fleeting?

  "You know," she adds, "I bet Frosta wouldn't mind us crashing at hers, if you really like the snow— like, obviously once all of the, um, Horde stuff has blown over. We could go skiing." 

  "Yeah." Adora smiles a little, and it occurs to Glimmer she probably doesn't actually know what skiing is. "That would be nice." 

  She wants to show Adora all her favourite places, showcase the best of Etheria to the girl who’s thrown herself into saving a world she barely knows outside of the dismal corner of it she was raised in, and she wants to experience them all over again with her by her side. Skiing in the Kingdom of Snows; swimming by the Crystal Falls; a picnic in Serenia; tea at that cute cafe in Glenmar, run by a rumoured ex-Hordesman who's managed to embrace a peaceful family life. The fantasies flicker through her mind like a flip book, all vague and innocent and kind of dumb, in a future too optimistically idyllic to even bear thinking about.

  (It ends with a flashback to her conversation with Casta. How she and the girl she loved were going to go to Silaneas. Who was she? Does Casta even remember her name?) 

  "I hate this uncertainty," Adora says, so quietly it's hard to tell if she's talking to Glimmer or just thinking out loud, "not knowing what's going to happen." 

  "Mmm." Glimmer hums. "I really wish we had something to go on. I don't think even Shadow Weaver knows what's going on unless she's giving us the runaround."

  Adora sighs. "Yeah, no, she doesn't have a reason to lie, she wants to bring down the Horde as much as we do. She's not as hard to read as everyone thinks, Glimmer.” She turns to her with a little smirk, trying to bring a little light back into the conversation. “You just have to weigh out how much the situation benefits her ." 

  "Yeah, it’s...weird, she's actually been... really helpful? I know more about my magic than ever thanks to her." She grimaces, almost physically pained by having to talk positively about Shadow Weaver. "It kind of sucks, actually, I have been itching for round two." She straightens herself, palming her fist (a precarious thing to do while she's still holding her tea), and feels her heart do the happiest of little flips as Adora unexpectedly snorts with laughter. She'd missed Adora's laugh. She'd missed being the one to make her laugh. "What? I could take her!"

  "I've know you can take her, dumbface. I still wish I'd been conscious to witness it." Glimmer can see her eyeing the party snacks and pushes the plate over. Adora picks up a mooncake and takes a huge bite, continuing to talk through the mouthful. They're presumably not taught about that kind of etiquette in the Horde, but Glimmer's honestly the last person to care. It's just another one of Adora's weirdly cute little quirks that might only be cute because it's Adora. "Sorry, it was calling to me, I couldn't resist— oh, these are so good. "

  "My face isn't as dumb as her sweater," Glimmer grumbles. It's really hard to keep playing grumpy while she watches Adora's typically theatrical reaction to good food. Even after months of living here, Adora's still so enthralled by some of the little things, and even after months of witnessing these reactions, even when she herself takes most of these things for granted, the joy always seem to rub off on Glimmer. 

  (She could never take Adora for granted.) 

  "Oh, that reminds me—" As Adora reaches into the inner pocket of her suit jacket (Glimmer is definitely not going to take the sight of Adora in a suit for granted), Glimmer can only wonder what could possibly be in there that reminisces with Shadow Weaver's stupid sweater. 

  What she produces, finally, is a little box.

  A very familiar little box, right down to the now slightly smooshed... bow on top. 

  Hmmm .

  "Adora." Glimmer quirks an eyebrow in feigned ignorance. "That's gotta be a really small sweater." 

  "Yeah, no, you sharing your food, then the talk of ugly festive sweaters, just got me thinking about festivities in general, goodwill and all of that— and that made me remember... this, um—" She holds out the box, looking away bashfully. "Weird train of thought, you know? Sorry, I, uh, haven't really— done this before…" 

  Usually, people don’t exchange gifts until morning, but there's no use pointing that out. "Uh, hang on, we should probably do this at the same time," says Glimmer. She sets the tea she's been steadily sipping safely aside as she gets up, leaving her blanket discarded on the seat while she retrieves Adora's gift from her desk drawer; realisation crosses Adora's features as soon as she sees the box, fashioned with an identical bow. 

  "Did..." 

  "Yup," Glimmer confirms, "he insisted on it. Right down to the wrapping." 

  They exchange gifts, along with playful eye rolls directed towards Bow and his meddling, and their own inabilities to settle on gifts for each other without it. Glimmer can only watch from the corner of her eye while Adora opens her, feeling a familiar heat rising up her cheeks. She doesn't know why this is making her so nervous— Adora already pretty much knows what it is. 

  It's a bracelet. A simple gold chain, fashioned with a ruby charm Bow showed her how to painstakingly whittle down into a faceted star. 

  ("Why a star?" he'd asked her, and she'd made some dumb (and in hindsight maybe kind of insensitive) 'out of this world' joke because she was too embarrassed to explain the actual reason.) 

  "Oh, Glimmer." She holds it up to the light, watching how it reflects off the deep red of the jewel. "It's so pretty." 

  Adora's gift to Glimmer is, as she suspected, almost identical. Silver chain, and the charm is a moonstone whittled into a crescent moon, which she supposes makes more immediate sense. On one hand, she's grateful, to both Bow and Adora, she'll treasure this, she already knows that for certain, but on the other— 

  Did Bow really have them make each other friendship bracelets? Adora obviously has the same thought, Glimmer sees it when she accidentally meets her eye as she opens her mouth to thank her— and they both fall into a fit of giggles.  

  It's not that funny, it might not even be funny at all, but there are tears of laughter in the corners of Glimmer's eyes by the time she looks up again. Her cheeks already hurt from smiling more than she has in a long time. 

  She’s a little surprised Adora seems to know what a friendship bracelet is. Maybe it's one of those things that's universal with kids everywhere, like playing tag or drawing that weird S thing all over their school books. There's one likely person Adora would have exchanged them with, though, and...no, she's not entertaining that thought.

  (Bow was actually the one to introduce the concept of friendship bracelets to her, back when they were two dumb kids with stars in their eyes and Glimmer's mom was still there to handle all the important stuff, the high stakes stuff. They wove each other's bracelets from string, and wore them until they began to fray and unravel and they both came to the unspoken agreement to give them up. She supposes when it comes to these bracelets made of silver and gold, the chains or the clasps might just snap eventually. She supposes it kind of does reflect how friendships work, or at least how they end.) 

  "Can you help me put this on?" Adora asks, fumbling with the clasp. "It's really— oh, thank you." 

  Adora helps her fasten hers too, and they both hold their wrists up to each other's for comparison. Glimmer starts giggling again, until she realises Adora isn't. 

  "Hey." Glimmer reaches over to poke her nose, which seems to rouse her attention. "What's up?" 

  Adora pokes hers back, and grins far too wearily to be reassuring as Glimmer does the inevitable nose crinkle. "Sorry, I'm just…happy."

  "Happy?" She's something , but Glimmer isn't sure if happy is the word. Nostalgic, maybe. For the nights in Glimmer's room where the world was still and the moons were their company, where they could talk about anything and everything without the tension, without the damn elephant. 

  (Fearful, terrified, that the comforting familiarity they've found in each other is crumbling, giving way to an uncertain future.)

  "Festive spirit." Adora shrugs, and they're both momentarily distracted as, as if on cue, a distant cheer can be faintly heard erupting from the ballroom, the music rising in volume to the point that Glimmer can tell what song it is. It must be time for the dance. 

  "You can go back if you want." Don't go. Not now. Not yet. Not like this. "I'm okay now. I'll be okay."

  "I'd rather be here. If you want me to." Adora's hand finds Glimmer's, hesitating over it, her smile wavering; Glimmer can see right through the cracks forming across her composure, and it pulls at what she keeps trying to bury with a panic that tightens her throat. Not now, not yet. "I've...really missed you, Glimmer." 

  "I've missed you too." Glimmer's fingers slide through Adora's, like the resurgence of an old instinct. Her gaze drifts to the window. The snowfall has slowed, enough that she can follow an individual snowflake until flutters out of view. "I'm...sorry I've been so absent lately, I've just been really...in my own head, I guess. It's...hard to explain." 

  "It's fine." Adora sighs. "I can't really blame you after...everything."

  Glimmer's eyes widen. Her heart sinks. "Adora..."

  “Sorry, sorry, I—” Adora lets out something that sounds like a laugh, but it's bitter, completely humourless, muffled into the hand she brings over her mouth. It sounds more like she's about to cry. "I always have to go and ruin it, don't I?" 

  "Hey, no—" But Adora's already pulled her hand away, closing in on herself. "Come here." Glimmer's slow in her movements, allowing Adora the chance to reject the comfort at any point, first gently taking Adora's wrists, trailing her hands to her shoulders, then, finally sliding her arms around her, pulling her in like a lifeline. Adora makes no move until she returns the embrace, hiding her head in Glimmer's shoulder as she clings to her with a desperation that harrowingly reminds Glimmer of herself on that first night, her breathing shallow and rushed as much as it sounds like she's trying to steady it. 

  "I'm sorry." Adora whispers, the quivering distress in her words wrenching the tightness in Glimmer's throat. "For everything. I'm so sorry." 

  "You need to stop apologising," Glimmer says, and it might come out more harshly than she means it too. She runs her hand up and down Adora's back, trying to communicate through her touch that she didn't mean it that way. "It's not your fault, none of this is your fault." 

  In the whole two months, they've only kind of managed to talk about what happened. Adora knows that it isn't her fault, that Glimmer's mom made her own decision to sacrifice herself in place of Adora. But knowledge isn't acceptance. The guilt will chip away at her, sullying her every interaction with Glimmer, pulling her away in the currents of time, in the waves of grief, until, unless—

  Unless Glimmer can hold on. 

  And she can hold on, she will hold on. 

  She can't let this end. 

  Not now, not ever. 

  "I love you," she says. It slips out among the typical affirmations, the it's okay 's and I'm here 's, before she's aware of the words taking shape in her mind. "I love you," she repeats, "I love you." 

  Soon enough, Adora's breathing steadies out, but her pulse doesn't slow, its rhythm reverberating even through the layers of clothes between them. Her arms are around Glimmer as she draws herself back, leaning her forehead against hers. Glimmer, suddenly, is aware of her own pulse, picking up in turn. It's the good kind of heart racing, she thinks, she hopes. She wonders if their hearts are in sync. She wonders how long it's been since she last thought about that. 

She’s about to ask, stupidly, if Adora’s okay, until Adora’s words knock her right off course.

  "I've never kissed anyone before tonight," she confesses quietly, her lips twitching in a stifled laugh. "I don't know what I was thinking. I’m—" She bites back the apology. “I probably...shouldn’t have done that.”

  Glimmer's always tentative about touching Adora's face. She knows she doesn't like it, and she's pretty sure she knows why. But as Glimmer lingers her hand over her cheek, silently requesting permission, Adora actually leans into the touch, closing her eyes briefly with a releasing sigh. "I kissed you too," she points out softly, "it takes two to tap dance, or whatever that dumb phrase is." 

  A light dusting of pink rises up Adora's cheeks. She places her hand over Glimmer's, holding it where it is, her fingers calloused yet her touch feather-light where she runs her thumb across the smoother skin of a hand that's never wielded a sword. "I'm so embarrassed," she almost whispers, "Everyone was staring, I don't know, I just— did I even do it right?" 

  "Shh." Glimmer soothes, bringing her other hand up to Adora's other cheek. "I wouldn't know." She pauses. Her heart is pounding, her skin is tingling, the butterflies finding their home in her stomach — the good kind, definitely the good kind. "I mean," she adds quietly, so quietly even the omnipresent reach of the moons can't eavesdrop, the moment theirs and theirs alone, "we could always try again." 

  When their lips meet, the white and red sparks dancing between them mingle and merge into one unified light that glows and grows, so warm she momentarily forgets what it is to be cold, so vitalising she momentarily forgets what it is to be afraid. It's hard to define a moment. It could have been a second, it could have been an eternity. And when she opens her eyes, Adora is still there in front of her, eyes sparkling and a soft, bashful smile gracing her features that Glimmer swears, then and there, is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

  Silence falls over them again after that. The best kind of silence, filled with warmth and butterflies. They find a settled position neither of them are going to move from anytime soon, Adora resting against the cushions behind her, Glimmer resting across her with her head on her chest. She could stay here forever. 

  “Glimmer?” Adora chimes softly. 

  “Hm?”

  "I love you too. Did I mention that already? I’m not sure I did." 

  Glimmer lets out an amused huff, shifting ever so slightly to drape her arm across Adora's waist. "It’s okay. I kind of gathered." 

  "I wish I'd told you before.” Adora sighs. “Even before...any of this, I was just…" 

  "Scared?" Glimmer's eyes flicker up to meet Adora's. 

  "Scared. Confused. Not sure whether you... I actually confided in Bow before the party and he gave me this big pep talk that got me all psyched up. It...probably wasn't the best time to confess anyway, in hindsight, and I didn't account for that whole mistletoe thing—" 

  Well, that explains the way Bow was looking at them when Adora took her aside. 

  "That's…" Glimmer lets out another amused huff. "Very Bow. I got my pep talk from Mermista ." She groans to herself. "You know it's bad when Mermista gets involved."

  “Oh, wow .” Adora groans as well, comedically dramatic. "Why are we like this, Glimmer?" 

  "We're dumbfaces. Both of us. The dumbest faces in Etheria." She pokes Adora's nose again. "And...you know, there's...actual reasons, that are still there.” Ah, there you are, reality. “I don't know if we can, like, feasibly...be...a thing." 

  "Do you want to?" 

  "What?" 

  "Be a thing?"

  "I mean…" Glimmer feels a familiar leap of trepidation in her chest, but it's dwarfed by the conviction of the real answer. "Yeah. I do. I really do."

  "Then we'll make this work." 

  "How?" 

  "We improvise." Glimmer snorts , pulling herself up slightly to lightly shove Adora's shoulder, and Adora’s jaw drops as she pretends to be offended. “What? It’s how we do everything else!”

  “You’re such a dumbass,” says Glimmer, and it’s true, but she makes a compelling point — and Glimmer, is, well, also a dumbass. They’re perfect for each other. 

  "Can I be  your dumbass?" Adora does an excruciatingly cute kissy face and Glimmer rolls her eyes, trying to hide the giant smile tugging her lips. 

  “I guess .” She’s smiling, contrary to the poorly feigned reluctance of her words. She can’t stop smiling. 

  They solidify the decision with another kiss, and it's familiar now, so familiar Glimmer wonders why she was ever scared in the first place. The world is theirs, and it's boundless. They can take it all on in their stride; soar over the moons and dance in the stars.

  Obviously, there's plenty of reasons to be scared. Her and Adora have far more to work through than can be dealt with in one night, both together and as individuals. The future remains uncertain, and Glimmer still bears the burden of Bright Moon and the Rebellion and her own persisting grief on her weary shoulders, and Adora may have multiple worlds on hers. 

  But tonight, once they can bring themselves to detangle to take care of their bedtime routines, Glimmer and Adora will fall asleep together and safe in the warmth of each other's arms. The snow is falling, the moons are bright, and Adora's eyes are gateways to the stars beyond the foreboding void of Etheria's night sky. Tonight, Glimmer will look into those galaxies and come home on those lips as they meet her own, again and again and again. 

[eolian-234]

The Supplejack

Chapter Six: Not so Empty Classrooms

Previous: Chapter Five - The Beginning

Hi Friends! Hope your September is going well. Hope you enjoy!

The subway ride home passed in a blur. The car was crowded but Peter paid no mind to the man arguing with his three children to sit down in their seats or to the group of women that sat huddled at the other end of the car. He didn’t even bother putting in ear buds, which was one of the tools he used to survive in public space. The background sound allowed him to concentrate on something other than what was going on around him. A place like the subway, one that was filled with noise and people necessitated space from those external influences. Sometimes the lights would glare or someone would laugh to close to him and his head was left reeling. The music would let him distance himself from those sensations until he was back in a safe place.

That evening none of those distractions could bring him out of his thoughts and by routine alone he made his way back to the apartment. He didn’t bother to switch on the lights and as he walked through the rooms the floors creaked under his feet. His clothes were a weird mixture of damp and stiffly dried material and he threw them into the dirt laundry pile; a pile that looked remarkably similar to the clean pile right next to it.

Peter headed to the bathroom that he shared with May. He observed the way her bottles of skincare were stacked, teetering on the ledge behind the sink and how the toilet, sink, and shower were all on top of each other. At least it made cleaning easier.

He studied himself in the mirror, the top of which was milky from water permanently. The only thing saving him from taunts about his protruding ears was the mop of curly hair covering them. His eyes migrated from the peninsulas to his small frame. He was aware of how small he had been as a child but now it was increasingly obvious now that his classmates were going through growth spurts. Peter stared at his naked torso as one would look at a science dissection. The bit of fat was malleable under his fingers and he tried to flex the muscles there but saw no difference. The thirty-day abs challenge seemed like a good idea until he forgot about it until the last week.

He pinched it harder, observing the redness that spread out from his fingers. With a sigh he turned away rubbing the sore spot, and stepped into the shower. His hands shook as he went through his routine faster than normal. He never liked the way their landlord looked at May so he volunteered to go ask about the water problem. He had yet to gather the courage so for now they suffered through a cold shower.

The bed beckoned to him from the doorway but he resisted. Peter paused only to gather a blanket and crept out onto the fire escape. Once the warm cover was situated in the right spot over his shoulder and the corner sat folded in his lap as a perfect rest, he started tinkering with one of his receivers. The message in Morse code came loud and clear. He listened to the dits and dahs, and then transmitted his own message back. The sound of their conversation lulled Peter into a pleasant focus. He only looked up to watch the red colors of the sunset turn to the darkness of the night sky.

—

Peter quelled the urge to sigh into his hand again. He was sure that school had never been this long before and wished for nothing more than to be on his fire escape taking to Dave from Dayton on his Ham radio. It had been a perfect night. The frequencies were open and strong.

The classroom sat in tense silence while Mrs. Brzozowski waited with the patience of a saint for an answer. She turned to look directly at him with the expression that plainly said, “I know you know the answer”, and he felt cajoled into raising his hand. The smile she gave him when he correctly interpreted the meaning of Mary’s choice in book made his chest clench and a small smile appear on his face but it quickly faltered when he heard laughter behind him. He knew better than to look a see who laughed. Nothing would come from letting them know he heard and his head remained frozen frontward. The only thing making the day bearable from there on out was the knowledge he was going to the Tower after school.

A bundle of nerves formed in his stomach at the thought of going back. Although he got the confirmation and went through the orientation, the whole experience didn’t feel real yet. The seat he sat in at orientation never warmed under him and the building felt too pristine for him to frequent. He resolved himself to work hard and prove that he should be there. If he did that then no one could kick him out.

The bell rang and Peter went through the motions of a school day. The lunchroom doors stood in front of him and he moved to the side to allow the other students to file in. There was an apple in his bag but the thought of eating made him queasy. Instead of entering he followed the hallway down and turned into the bathroom. The seat was cold and the stall was quiet. Peter flushed the empty bowl and then let the water drip on his hands. He avoided looking in the mirror and wandered out of the bathroom.

He could go to the library but it was surprisingly busy during the day. The thought of facing anyone else made his empty stomach flip so he wandered the halls looking for an empty classroom. Somewhere he could relax for a moment before the bustling students took over. His eyes caught the sight of an open door and it was too tempting to pass up. Most of lunchtime was left, Peter was tired, and he didn’t want to walk around anymore. His eyes followed his feet dragging across the floor when someone coughed.  

His eyes flicked upward as his body froze in place. Peter eased his arms in front of him and he pulled his legs together, aware that he was standing in the middle of the front of the classroom. The boy sat in the middle of the room with books and papers spread around him and Peter remembered they had been in a class together before. The boy’s dark hair was straight and hung down to his full cheeks. His eyes were furrowed and Peter wanted to leave before he interrupted even more.

“I’m sorry,” He said. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. I’ll get out of your way.”

“Peter, right?” Peter’s back tensed as he faced the door. He nodded but stayed where he was. “You can stay here. I only was working on some homework that I didn’t get done last night. That is if you want to?”

It was the hesitation in his voice that had Peter looking back and nodding. In slow steps he wound through the desks and took a seat two rows away from the boy. His backpack slouched on his lap and the straps wrinkled between his fingers. Should he talk to him? Or should he just mind his own business?

It turned out that he didn’t have to worry about making any decisions.

“I’m Ned. I think we’ve had a few classes together before.” Peter glanced up before studying the grains in the wood.

“Yeah, first term choir with Mr. Netterbocker?” Ned’s hand hit the desk and Peter barely suppressed a flinch.

“Dude, I thought he would kill that Sam girl if she chewed gum in class one more time.” Sam was someone in their grade who chewed gum everyday without fail to the irritation of their choir director. A smile stole across Peter’s face as he looked toward the boy, noticing that he was wearing a Star Wars shirt. He liked Star Wars.

“Sam,” Peter mimicked their teacher.  “Let the sound out. You can’t do that with gum. Now round the O sounds.” He blushed when Ned laughed at his poor imitation.

“Exactly! He almost had an aneurysm when she coughed too hard at the concert and spit a piece out onto stage.” A giggle bubbled out of him and before he knew it the boys were laughing and pretending to trace the trajectory of the missile. Peter wiped the corner of his eye and smiled at Ned not noticing that the boy had moved a row closer while they talked.

“Not into the lunch room scene today?” Ned asked. The earnest curiosity in his tone compelled Peter to answer at least with part honesty. Peter played with the strap of his backpack.

“You could say that.”



“Dude, you don’t have to be nice. The freshman suck, Flash especially.” Without thinking Peter looked up and stared at Ned who was back to reading the papers in front of him. 


“He’s not so bad.” Peter spoke quietly, afraid to show that he actually kind of liked Flash even though he was a bully, nervous Ned wouldn’t like him because he didn’t agree. Ned snorted without looking up.

“You’re too nice.” He wasn’t sure how to answer so he stayed silent. His fingers worked against a knot he somehow tied into the straps but it was too tight and he ended up bending his nail.  

“Hey Peter.” Ned was standing by the door with his stuff put away. Lunch must already be over with. “Congrats by the way. On the contest. That must be so sick. Have you met Stark yet?” Peter hurried to the door while Ned waited.

“Um, yeah, I met him once.”

Ned’s eyes widened and questions tumbled out of his mouth, asking Peter what happened, what his house was like, and if Mr. Stark was super cool. Peter was overwhelmed but tried to answer in between the continuous inquiries. He wasn’t sure he got his thoughts correctly across and he didn’t want to gossip. Ned seemed nice enough but Peter felt… protective, for lack of a better word, about the time he spent with Mr. Stark.

On one hand, like the contest, he was sure it was real. He had physical papers and from them a lingering hope seeded in him. On the other hand he still didn’t understand what a man like Tony Stark was doing with someone like him. The trails that thought led were dark and overgrown so Peter shook his head. He was surprised to see that Ned continued to walk beside him and was telling Peter all these facts about Iron Man.

They stood at the corner of two hallways. Peter listened while Ned talked, admiring the way his arms moved in tandem with his words and how he didn’t have to keep an eye out for any people that passed them. His own eyes followed them until they were out of his line of sight and then he wished he could sense them when they were out of his sight.

The warning bell went off but Peter couldn’t bring himself to move. It was the first time he stood idly in the halls talking with someone. Peter felt the blush creep up his cheeks at the thought. He, Peter Parker, was chatting with Ned before class. Ned clapped him on the shoulder saying they should talk again before turning to go to class.

“Hey, Ned.” He called before the boy walked out of hearing and Peter scrunched his nose at the one girl who stared at him for being loud. “I, uh, I like your shirt.” Ned smiled and waved before turning the corner.

Peter leaned back against the lockers pondering what just happened. All he was looking for was a quiet place to hide and he came across, well, he wasn’t quiet sure. He hurried to class barely making it in time but couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face for the rest of the day.

—

The elevator buzzed around him as Peter rested his against the side. He was quiet, thinking about his interaction with Ned, before he remembered his manners.

“Hi Friday! How are you doing today?” He tilted his head up still not entirely sure where to look but figured the effort would be noted.

“I am doing well. Thank you for asking. And how are you doing today?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Um,” he said thinking about his day. “I’m not running late today, at least.”

“Yes, you seem to be perfectly punctual.” He hoped it was humor he heard in her voice.

“Are there, um, is anyone else from the program here today?”

It wasn’t that he was nervous. At least not yet, but there was this thin feeling permeating his bones. It had been a very long day so far and if there was no one there he could let himself get lost in the project for the afternoon.

“There are two members of the other group here, Peter. If you want I can show you to another lab and…”

“No! I mean, sorry for interrupting, but I don’t want to create more work for you. I just was curious.” His fingers tightened on the knot he made earlier and stepped off the elevator. “Thank you Friday. I, uh, thanks for talking to me.”

“It’s my pleasure, Peter.” He nodded and then went to find his way.

The doors opened without warning, he reminded himself to try and get used to that, and he saw the two members working at a table in the middle of the room. The two smiled as he passed but went right back to work. He let out a breath he had been holding when he found a table tucked away against one of the windows. The view of New York was one of his favorites and he took a second to appreciate where he was… and why. With his notebook and pen out he started working on his outline.

The hours went by and the next time Peter surfaced he couldn’t see the skyline anymore. The room was quiet and he was alone. His papers were scattered around him and he gathered them up, periodically glancing about the room as he did.

While there were never official hours mentioned, he had a feeling that he shouldn’t be here. He stuffed the papers into his backpack and made his way toward the exit. The hallway was light brightly compared to the room and Peter swallowed before turning down the hallway. He heard the clicking of shoes and pushed himself against the wall before realizing it wasn’t hiding him.

The doors in the hallway were all closed and he would have been even more nervous to wander in one that wasn’t meant for him. The clicking came closer and he resumed walking to the elevator, making sure his head was down. The door was open and there were a pair of shoes already present.

He raised his head without making eye contact and wished it were just him and Friday in the small room. The shoes were some type of heel and Peter was in awe of anyone who could walk in them, let alone take the confident strides he heard earlier. He switched his gaze to his own sneakers, noting the way the sides of the shoe spilt over the soles. His toes pressed against the brim but they were his favorite shoes and he didn’t want to get rid of them. Still, he couldn’t help the flare of shame that clawed its way in him at the comparison between footwear. This was a fancy lady and she shouldn’t have to share the elevator with him.

“Long day?” Her voice was solid but smooth and Peter was reminded of May when she was more serious. He glanced up and blushed. Pepper Potts was in the elevator with him.

It was a shock to many when Mr. Stark handed control of his company to her but the profit margins and successes following the transition were proof enough of her expertise. She was a formidable woman and Peter looked up to her almost as much as Mr. Stark.

“H-hi, I mean, hello. I mean, yes it has. Not that it was bad. I mean I got a lot of work done if that’s what you’re asking but it was long because of school and I’m sorry.” His head dropped a fraction while he clenched his hands around the knot. “How-how was your day, Mrs. Potts?”

“Same here. Work was long but it looks like we both had productive days.” Peter smiled, keeping his face forward. The elevator seemed to be going slower than normal and Peter wondered if Friday had something to do with it before passing the thought off.

“You can call me Pepper. Mrs. Potts sounds so stuffy. You were in the S.T.A.R.K. contest? The Weaver, right?”

He could have been hit by a train and swept away right there and then. How could he call her by her first name? It might be one of his odd tics but since he was young he always called adults with a title. It was polite and what May and Ben taught him. Not to mention that she remembered him. That could be a good thing but Peter was convinced it was because of his poor performance at the contest. The blush intensified and he nodded.

“Um, It’s Peter, Ms. Potts. Yes, I made the synthetic webs.”

“That’s what it was. I hope you are like it here.”

“Everyone has been beyond accommodating.” He said hoping that placated the searching stare he could feel on his face.

“Peter?” She asked, her voice softer than before. He looked over and was drawn in by the calming expression in her eyes. For some reason he had the errant thought of the day Ben and May took him to the ocean for the first time. It was overcast and the waves were crowned with white peaks. Peter held no fear in his tiny limbs and he ran straight for the water. As if it knew what Peter was seeking the waves calmed for a moment and let the little boy dip his hands in the water, leaving him room to turn to his watchers and show them the wet digits. Her eyes were the same color of the waves that day and Peter’s breathing slowed imperceptibly.

“If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask anyone. In fact,” she paused to open a portfolio binder and handed him a card. “Here is my number if you ever need anything.”

He inspected the card and when he looked up the elevator stopped. Ms. Potts was waiting with her hand stopping the door from closing so he could exit.

“That’s, um, thank you.” He said backtracking from rejecting the number at her firm look. The lobby was empty and Peter offered to walk her out to her car. He should have known she had a driver waiting for her out front. His fingers curled around the handle as he opened the door for her. She thanked him and complemented his manners, which brought another bout of blush to his face.

“Do you need a ride home, Peter? We can take you.”

“No,” He said quickly and then continued firmly. “It’s okay, Ms. Potts. Thank you though. I can get home just fine. Thank you, again.”

She insisted once more but Peter was resolute. They said goodbye and he was left standing on the steps alone. Summer was just around the corner but the spring breeze cut through his thin jacket. He wrapped it around his shoulders tighter before walking down the steps.

At the base of the stairs he turned back to take in the building once more. The structure truly was a marvel and he tried to convince himself he could see the window he looked out of before. He popped his ear buds in and started home. It seemed like a million years since yesterdays subway ride. Peter’s eyes were heavy as the car chugged along and he stared out the window with blurry vision watching the people waiting at their own stops. It had indeed been a long day but a small smile traced Peter’s face as he thought about it.

Thank you!! :) 

Chapter Seven: Friday, Friends, and Jet Rockets

[coneygoil]

“Hostile Takeover”, part 9

Summary: The world is a dangerous place. With his power to control cy-bugs, King Candy reigns supreme, and his biggest target is capturing Vanellope. Her only hope is a small group of rebels hidden in the wastelands of Hero’s Duty that are aiming to take out the tyrant king.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Writer’s note: I’ve been sitting on this chapter for several days, and finally got some time alone for the final read-over before posting. It’s so close to the end! XD

“Come back safe.” Pauline rose up on tip-toe to place a kiss to his cheek as he knelt down by her.

Her words lingered in his mind as the rescue team prepared to leave the safety of Wasteland. He couldn’t promise her a safe return or any return at all, but Pauline knew his allegiance to his mismatched family came first.

Ralph pushed the weighty thoughts aside as he shouldered a cruiser. They had a rescue mission to focus on.

A fortunate run-in with Sour Bill turned the tables. They knew now why King Candy desired to do away with Vanellope so badly. She was the key to his undoing. If she took the throne, his code would be severed from Sugar Rush and Candy would be vulnerable once again.

Doubt crossed Ralph’s mind that Bill wasn’t telling the truth, but the sour candy had spilled with game-changing information before. They would have to take his word. The new plan was to liberate Calhoun then get Vanellope to the throne room. Ralph had a hunch the plan wouldn’t be so cut and dry.

The fungeon was unusually quiet. The few guards they encountered were easily taken out. They’d watched huddled around a corner as King Candy strolled out the largest cell in the facility.

“I’m going in,” Vanellope whispered.

“Whoa, kid.” Ralph snagged her hood before she could make a move. “What if it’s a trap?”

“Don’t worry,” Vanellope reassured, grinning knowingly toward him, “I have back-up.”

Ralph felt like standing on pins and needles as he let her go. He knew his tiny friend could hold her own with the best of them, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch the tiny girl put her life at risk. Vanellope glitched to the giant prison door and touched the metal tentatively. She glanced at the rescue team, flicked a thumb’s up their way before vanishing inside.

Ralph let go of the breath he was holding in. He glanced down at Felix standing beside him. He knew nothing was certain; this mission could go awry at any moment, and he needed a guarantee that Vanellope would be taken care of. “Felix,” Ralph said quietly, and the handyman looked up questioningly, “promise me you’ll get Vanellope to the throne room; even if that means leaving me behind to take care of Candy.”

“But Ralph, I think we should stick together.”

“Promise me, buddy.” Ralph’s eyes pleaded. “Please.”

The promise was a lot to ask his friend, especially when the poor handyman was uncertain of his wife’s condition, but Ralph needed the assurance. “I will.”

Muffled talking echoed in the chamber, and the It-boys fell silent, listening to the voices go back and forth. Ralph’s heart leapt into his throat at the unmistakable trill of King Candy joining in.

“Didn’t we just see that guy leave a few minutes ago?” Ralph hissed, the edginess of the situation cutting into him.

Felix looked just as stunned. “Plain as day.”

Ralph rounded the corner, pressing his ear to the door. “It’s wonderful to see you came alone,” remarked King Candy, and after a brief beat of silence, he heard Vanellope tell Candy she wasn’t alone. No better time than that to make an entrance.

Ralph slammed the door with his giant wrecking fist, the metal banging against the floor. “You called for back-up, kid?”

King Candy giggled in delight. “All four of you in one place.” He flexed his talons making a sickening cracking noise. “I must be dreaming!”

“Felix, you know what to do!” Ralph dropped the cruiser from his shoulder, readying his fists and dashing toward the evil cy-brid. “Bring it, Candy!”

Felix had seen blood before. Prior to King Candy’s hostile takeover, he’d witnessed bloodshed in the wastelands of Hero’s Duty at some point or another. But nothing could prepare him for the sight of his bruised and beaten wife locked in chains.

He paused, the world fading into the background, as he surveyed the shape Tamora was in. Her wrists trapped in manacles, dangling above her head, knees were planted on the ground. A red, dried streak marked from her bloodied nose to her chin. One eye was shining like the sun along with her cheek. A nasty gash that was still in the process of drying ran along her temple. There was no way of telling what shape her body was in underneath the armor that covered her.

“Felix!” Ralph’s urgent call jolted him from his shocked state, “you know what to do!”

Felix rushed to Tamora’s side, Vanellope hanging from the chain carefully picking the last manacle lock. Time flew by in a blur as he helped his wife to stand, grabbed the cruiser, and escaped out the doorway.

Rounding a corner, Tamora stopped to lean against the wall clutching her shoulder. “Fix me, Felix,” she rasped, looking down at him.

It took all Felix had to not turn his gaze and cry. A horrifying thought sunk in his chest. “Tammy. The baby.”

“We have more pressing matters to tend to.  Now fix me.” Even sporting a battered face, it was painfully obvious that Tamora had the same sinking feeling as him. She was right. There was nothing to be done for their unborn child, whether it was alive or not. Right beside them was a child they could save.

“We need to get Vanellope to the throne room.”

“Why?” Tamora winced as she knelt down for Felix to heal the damage.

“No time for details, but it’s the only way to get rid of King Candy for good,” Vanellope chimed in. She handed Tamora the cruiser. “Here, Sarge.”

The wall shook beside them, the sounds of a battle taking place behind it. Calhooun’s eyes became focused, determined, now that there was a mission to be accomplished. “Let’s move, people.”

“Wait!” Vanellope protested, “What about Ralph?”

Felix laid a hand on her shoulder. “I promised Ralph I’d get you to that throne, Vanellope. If we’re gonna stop King Candy, we need to get you there asap.”

“Wreck-It can hold his own,” Tamora reassured. She jerked her head toward the fungeon exit, her movement void of any pain now that the damage was healed. “C’mon, kid.”

The trio hurried through corridors and up flights of stairs. Guards were few in number in the fungeon, and nowhere in sight as they traveled through the castle. Calhoun carried her pistol, prepared to defend them. They rounded a curve in the corridor headed into the throne room, but Calhoun stopped short. Felix and Vanellope were stopped suddenly as she croaked and thrusted her arms out to stop them.

“Sarge,” Vanellope protested, receiving a low hiss from the older woman.

“What’s wrong, Tammy?” Felix whispered.

Movement up ahead caught his attention. Felix gasped quietly. Several cy-bugs patrolled the throne room, their candy-coated armor plating shining in the bright light filtering in through the windows. Two cy-bugs crawled out of a hole in the middle of the throne room, most likely an entire nest hidden underneath.

Calhoun emitted a low growl of frustration. “Now we know where the cy-bugs have taken up their new residence.”

[deverodesign]

Reading Time: 10 minutes

What if there was a better way to increase productivity and get more done? Nowadays, being productive is more important than ever before. Freelancers have to get the job before the deadline to keep their business alive. Entrepreneurs have almost infinite amount of tasks to do to keep their companies afloat. And, there is always another thing we need to do. In this article, you will learn about new way to be productive. Forget pomodoro. It is time to switch to deep work and flow.

Table of Contents:

Define productivity for yourself

One simple test

Drop pomodoro and engage in deep work

Deep work as a gateway to flow

The problem with pomodoro

Finding your flow

Try listening to music or white noise

Experiment to find what works for you

Digital vs analog

Sprints vs marathons

Sound or silence

Through trial and error

Closing thoughts on how to increase productivity

Define productivity for yourself

The first step to increase productivity is defining what exactly productivity means for you. Different people have different guidelines for measuring how productive they are through the day. For example, for some people productivity means finishing all the tasks they have for specific day. Other people see themselves as productive if they work minimum amount of hours. Or, if they write specific number of pages or lines of code.

Another way a lot of people define productivity is how closer they are to their deadlines. For example, let’s say you are working on some project. This project is composed of a number of deadlines or milestones. And, every milestone is divided into smaller daily tasks. Then, you can measure how productive you are by monitoring these tasks and milestones. Are you ahead of time and working faster? Or, are you behind the schedule and a little bit nervous.

One old say says: “What gets measure gets managed.” However, you have to know what do you measure and how. You need to define what productivity means for you. At the end of the day, what, or how much work, would you need to get done so you can say you were productive? And, when you ask yourself this question, be very specific. Forget any vague statements that are not actionable or self-explanatory. Always look for specific numbers or ranges.

One simple test

One easy way to test your “guidelines” for productivity is by showing them to someone else. Find someone and ask her if he could measure her productivity using your guidelines. If you guidelines are clear, she should understand it without the need to ask any questions. And, she should be able to measure very precisely how productive she is. If both of these conditions are true, your guidelines are ready for sharp test in the field.

You may also use this as an opportunity to get some feedback on your guidelines for productivity. If you really want to increase productivity, find some people who are already very productive. Do you know anyone who is incredibly productive? Ask her to review your guidelines. Who knows? There might be some space for improving your productivity guidelines and to increase productivity. Always look for advice from people who are where you wanted to be.

Drop pomodoro and engage in deep work

Do you want to increase productivity? You have to try pomodoro! Over the time, pomodoro became almost synonym for productivity. It is one of the most popular tools or techniques for anyone wanting to increase productivity. Today, I will suggest that you try the opposite approach. Forget about working in short sessions followed by a couple of minutes of resting. Instead, try to work in long and uninterrupted sessions. Sure, followed by a couple of minutes of resting.

I want you to engage in something called deep work. Deep work is term coined by Cal Newport. Well, at least I think he was the first to use this term. Anyway, it is about focusing deliberately, and without distraction, on some demanding task. This task can be anything, from writing software, creating design, writing article or book to working on math equation. It has to be something that requires thinking. Repetitive tasks such as washing dishes don’t apply.

When you look at some of the most prolific and creative people, you will often find one thing. A lot of them engage in deep work. They don’t work in pomodoro-like 25 minute-long sessions. Instead, they work on one task for hours without any interruption or pause. This is quite common among artists, writers and inventors. In others words, some of the most creative people you can imagine. Some may tell you they are so immersed in work they even forget to eat the whole day.

As Cal Newport writes in his book Deep Work:”To produce at your peak level you need to work for extended periods with full concentration on a single task free from distraction.”

Deep work as a gateway to flow

Have you ever seen programmer working on some problems for hours without taking any break? Or, again, what about artist working on painting from early morning till late evening without taking his eyes off the canvas? It doesn’t matter what profession you choose. People are able to immerse themselves in work for a long hours, without noticing how much time has passed. This distortion of time and sharp focus are indicators of a person being in something called flow state.

There is one thing you need to know. You will not enter flow immediately. It takes some time. How much time will depend on a number of conditions. The more conditions apply to your situation, the easier it will be for you. Flow requires your focus and attention. Any distraction is very likely to get you out of it, or prevent you from entering it. So, the questions is, is engaging in deep work is better for entering flow state than other approaches such as pomodoro?

When you engage in deep work, you are not constrained by time. You know the task will require a bigger chunk of your time to get done. Again, it is important that this time is uninterrupted. There is no switching or multitasking. One session, one task. If you suddenly remember you need to do something later, write it down. Then, get back to that task. Logically, the more time you have for the task the bigger the chance you will enter the flow.

The problem with pomodoro

This is why I think pomodoro doesn’t work well with being in the flow. Imagine you work on some challenging task. You finally get into flow. As a result, the time may start to go by much faster. For some people the opposite is true. 25 minutes will go by very fast. It might be just a couple of minutes after you entered the flow when the timer will start buzzing to tell you one pomodoro session is over. This distraction will take you out of the flow immediately.

The problem here is that you will need some time to enter this state again. Now, imagine that this will repeat every 25 minutes. It is almost like setting a timer and then trying to fall asleep. When you finally start to drift off, the timer will wake you up. Result? Nothing pleasant. Commit to deep work and this will not happen. It is similar to going to bed knowing that you have seven or eight hours to get some sleep. I think you will agree that this is a lot of time.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying that pomodoro doesn’t work because you are more prone to multitasking or being distracted. For both, deep work and pomodoro, working on one thing without interruption are the keys. Also, both are great ways to increase productivity. All I am saying is that pomodoro doesn’t work well because flow requires more time than one pomodoro session may offer. Also, the amount of time changes. Sometimes, you will need more and other times less.

Finding your flow

One last thing you need to know about flow. I mentioned that flow happens under certain conditions. Reading that wiki article might be boring. So, here are some of them. First, you need clear goals. These goals have to be challenging, but attainable. Second, you must focus your attention on the task. Be so focused on the present that you lose track of time. Third, the task should be intrinsically rewarding. Fourth, you need immediate feedback.

Fifth, you need to feel in control over the task and its outcome. Sixth, your physical needs are met. Entering flow will be hard if you are starved to death or thirsty. Or, if the only thing you can think about is that you need to go to toilet. The same is true about psychological conditions. High levels of stress can make it harder for you to enter flow state. Interestingly, for some people, stressful situations can do the opposite. Stress can make entering flow easier. So, see what works for you.

So, the action plan for you is following. Find a challenging and doable task or activity. Next, commit to yourself. You are doing it for yourself. Next, divide the task to set of smaller realistic goals. Before you start, remove all interruptions and distractions. Next, track and regularly evaluate your progress. Remember, you need immediate feedback. So, when something doesn’t work, make corrections. Trainer will be helpful. Finally, focus solely on the task and enjoy it.

Try listening to music or white noise

So, we ditched pomodoro in favor of deep work and entering the flow to increase productivity. Another interesting question is how to make it easier to focus. I heard from a number of people that listening to music helps them to focus and increase productivity. There are also some studies suggesting that this is indeed true. What’s more, some sources suggest that white noise has positive effects on productivity and creativity. However, for some people this doesn’t work.

Some people, especially introverts may find background noise or music overwhelming. Extroverts, on the other hand, handle sound and music much better. At least, it seems like it. There is also the issue with finding the right type of music. For example, Baroque music is often suggested as a way to increase productivity. What if you don’t like this style of music? How productive you can be if you are thinking only about how horrible the music is?

It has been actually shown that, when you listen to music you don’t like, your productivity suffers. So, if baroque music is not your thing, it may not work, not even placebo effect. Instead, try different genres. One theory says that, any music is good if it doesn’t contain lyrics. Lyrics can grab your attention and interrupt you. So, for deep work, music without lyrics might be better. One tip. Try movie or game soundtracks, something instrumental. For me, this work very well.

Another way to increase productivity can be listening to sounds of nature. Sounds of nature can improve your ability to concentrate and focus. Since focus is necessary for entering flow, it is possible that sounds of nature can be helpful. Personally, I found sounds of nature very helpful for meditation. Sounds like listening to sounds of rain or river helps me concentrate. I have to admit that I haven’t tried this during deep work, to reach flow faster. It is an interesting idea to try.

Experiment to Find what works for you

It is okay to look at how other people approach productivity to get some inspiration. However, don’t adopt some approach just because someone else is doing it. Let’s say that someone told you he likes to use mind maps for planning his day. In that case, test that idea first. If you don’t find yourself comfortable with this approach, you don’t have to force yourself. Just try something else. Some people like mind mapping and some prefer writing down a simple lists.

Digital vs analog

The same is true about other ways to increase productivity. One segment of people love to use pen and paper and write down everything. Another segment of people swear by todo list apps on their smartphones. And, some people like to combine both approaches. I do that as well. On one hand, I like to write my business and blog ideas on paper. On the other, I’m using Wunderlist app on my smartphone to plan my day. This approach works for me very well.

Sprints vs marathons

The length of work sessions is another great example. Some people like to work in short sprints. Other people like to extend their work sessions to hour or longer. We discussed this in the section about deep work. I used to work in shorter sessions, the pomodoro style. I didn’t like it. Recently, I switched to long work sessions, hour or two at least. And, I love this style of work. It is much easier to immerse myself in the task and get into flow. For me, it was great way to increase productivity.

Sound or silence

Another example is listening to music or noise. This can be one of the best ways to increase productivity. As I mentioned, some people find any sound distracting. For them, working in complete silence works much better. So, the question is, what about you? Can you increase productivity by listing to music or noise or decrease it? Also, it is possible that music or background noise is not the right type of stimuli.

Maybe spoken word without any music will be better. For example, I like to listen to podcasts while I work. True to be told, I can listen to music (not too loud) as well. However, I see that as a waste of time. Listening to podcasts allows me to combine work with learning. The worst thing for my productivity is listening to white noise. Increase productivity? I’m glad if I get anything done with white noise. I can’t focus on anything else than that noise. What about you?

Through trial and error

The only way you can find out if white noise, music, podcasts or anything else works for you is by trial and error. Give yourself the freedom to experiment. The next time you will sit down to do some work, try to listen to music. Another time, try to listen to background noise. And, try also podcast or something with spoken word. Then, compare the results and see it for yourself what is the best way to increase productivity for you.

Closing thoughts on how to increase productivity

This is all I have for you today. Contrary to some popular productivity tips, working in short sprints is not the best way perform at your best. Engaging in deep work and entering flow state seems like a better approach to increase productivity. However, don’t take my words for granted. You should experiment with different approaches, tools and techniques to find what works best for you. In the end, being productive is about working in a way you find pleasant, not painful. Keep this in mind.

I hope that this article was useful, easy to follow and to implement for you. The truth is that writing this article was a bit unusual. This text was a result of stream of thoughts popping up quite randomly. As the saying goes, I let myself go with the flow. It was like an improv session. I hope that you enjoyed this article.

Thank you very much for your time.

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The post A Better Way to Increase Productivity and Get More Done appeared first on Alex Devero Blog.

[kellyhaycock]

The Measure of a Man - Chapter 4

So a few people who’ve had this for proof reading and stuff may well be confused. Chapter 4 had reached 17 pages long and I still hadn’t finished so it’s been split. This seemed like a good place to do it anyway. So here’s chapter 4 and know that chapter 5 won’t be too far behind. Just not sure how far.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Weeks turned into months. Never once did the Tracys stop looking for their missing father, but they all knew they had to continue on with their mission of International Rescue in his honour. Every person they saved, they did for Jeff. Every parent returned to children, every sibling returned to their family, every life that was not lost through their action was because they all knew that Jeff Tracy would not have wanted them to stop just because he was no longer with them. But that didn’t mean they stopped looking. While the majority of their focus was on the task at hand, there were sensors running in the background of their vehicles, looking for some trace of him wherever they went. There was always searching going on, whether directly through the deployment of a Thunderbird, or John’s incessant scanning.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Scott looked up to see his middle brother approaching, a travel mug clasped in one hand and a gentle smile on his face.

With a nod, Scott moved over a little so that Virgil could sit down next to him. “How exactly do you manage to climb up here without spilling the coffee?” he asked, taking the offered beverage.

Virgil chuckled. “I’ve gotten very good at climbing up here after you.” He looked out at the view around them. Scott’s favourite place was to sit on the wide ledge of Tracy peak, just above the treetops so the Pacific Ocean stretched as far as they could see in every direction. “Though I’m glad you’ve stopped flying all the way to the top.”

Scott smiled as he took a sip.

“So,” Virgil said, leaning back on his hands as he looked out. The sky was turning pinks and oranges as the sun lowered towards the horizon. “Wanna talk about it?” Even without looking back at him fully, Virgil was aware that Scott had looked away from him and was focusing on the lidded mug. “It’s alright. I got time.”

There was a sigh and the sound of the loose stones on the ledge being disturbed as Scott placed his cup down. “It was a close one today.”

“I know,” Virgil said, looking back round at him to see him examining his fingers. They’d only been home from Taipei a few hours but Scott had retreated straight up the peak once everyone was home and safe. He noticed the way his shoulders were hunched and he kept his gaze averted. “I gotta admit when I heard you over the comm. earlier I was worried.”

Scott nodded. “That moment when I realised the pack had been damaged by the heat from that dish…” He shook his head. “I should have kept my mouth shut. Just flown back to One as I was going to, but I realised it had been damaged and I just spoke without thinking.”

Virgil put his hand on his arm. “You have good instincts, Scott, and quick reflexes. Yes, I was worried, but then when I saw you on top of One I relaxed again.”

“Yeah,” he replied, quietly, looking back out at the horizon again.

“That’s not all, though, is it?” He watched as Scott seemed to shrink into himself a little. To most people, the gesture would go unnoticed, but to Virgil it was as obvious as if he’d curled up on the ground like a child. “It’s that guy, isn’t it? The Hood.”

Scott looked round at him. “Yeah,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. He cleared his throat as he went on, his tone rising slightly. “It was like he was taunting us. I know he’s the one who was responsible for Dad’s crash! I know it!”

“I know, Scott,” Virgil agreed. “And I’m with you. We all are. But you need to come back home now. No more hiding up here and brooding every time a lead goes cold or comes back empty. Kayo brought him out of the shadows and right onto the GDF’s radar, so now they’re focusing resources on capturing him.”

A small smile managed to find its way onto the older brother’s face. “We’ll find him.”

“We will,” Virgil replied. “Now, come on. I think you’ve been up here long enough to get away with not having any meatloaf surprise.”

The small unsettled smile broadened into an easier one as Scott nodded once again.

With every rescue they carried out, they were all constantly on the lookout for any sign of their father, which was why, when Gordon had found that signal transponder, Scott had gotten his hopes up. He should have known that guy would have planted it there to pique their interest.

With a sigh, Scott shook off the thoughts. They now had the GDF convinced which meant a renewed search on their part too. Hopefully this would mean Jeff Tracy would be located soon.

He looked round at Virgil as he stood up. “Thanks, Virge,” he said.

“Anytime. But will you please stop assuming this is all on your shoulders? Let us help share the burden. We’re in this together, remember?”

“I know, Virgil, I know,” Scott responded.

“Good. Now, I assume I’ll be meeting you at the bottom?”

Scott looked over the edge. He wasn’t anywhere near the top of their little mountain island, but, similarly, they weren’t particularly low down either. “Hmm, do I feel like climbing down there?” he mused.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna fly off, aren’t you?”

“I’d never fly off and leave you,” Scott said, smiling at him as he stepped off the ledge, hovering in the air in front of him. “How about I just follow you as you climb back down?”

“Fair enough,” Virgil said with a chuckle. He looked down, judging the best place to start his descent then slid himself off the ledge, his strong fingertips grasping the ledge as he began his steady climb back to the base.

Several weeks later, Virgil sat at his piano, his fingers drifting over the keys. He wasn’t really playing, wasn’t really focusing at all. His mind was wandering, thinking over all that had happened recently. So many rescues they’d had to attend. An undersea laboratory. That dislodged solar collector in Taipei. A space mine gone rogue. A reopened uranium mine. A sabotaged Fireflash. The widespread power cut in London. A runaway train. To name but a few. But it was the most recent one that was on his mind.

Alan had not long returned from his mission. Normally, the youngest Tracy would be chomping at the bit for a chance at a solo mission to space but when it’s your own brother you have to rescue… Well, Alan was understandably shaken up when he returned home.

A twitch of a digit and a note rang out louder than Virgil had anticipated, making him jump. He looked down at where his hand lay, the ‘E’ note still fading in his ears. E… Eos. She called herself Eos.

Only a few hours prior to Alan’s necessary sudden departure, this ‘Eos’ entity had impersonated their brother and convinced them all that there were no calls, that all was good in the world and nothing was amiss. He still felt a touch of guilt that they’d all been taken in by the subterfuge. How had none of them recognised that this wasn’t their brother? Why did it need to be a phrase so out of character before they noticed?

His fingers curled up into fists as his guilt became frustration that he’d been duped. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and closed the lid over the keys, protecting his precious instrument from the sudden need to bang his hands down on it in anger he felt at himself.

He got up and walked away, heading over to the other side of the room. The sun was setting, casting soft warm light over their garden and he could feel the gentle breeze as he approached the open windows.

“You alright?”

For the second time that evening, Virgil jumped at a sudden unexpected noise, though this time it wasn’t from an errant movement of his own.

“Whoa, sorry, Virgil,” Gordon said as he neared his immediately older brother. “I thought you’d heard me coming.”

Virgil shook his head. “No, I hadn’t.” He looked back out over the garden.

“John’s alright, you know,” Gordon said, standing next to him and looking outside.

“I know,” Virgil replied.

“But you’re still worried.” Gordon sighed as he sat down near the edge, his eyes scanning the view ahead of him. “I am too. But he is alright.”

“But what if we’d been too late?” Virgil asked, sitting next to him.

“Dude, you’re sounding like Scott. Isn’t it his job to worry and overthink everything?”

A small smile formed on Virgil’s lips. “He has been.”

“He’s not up the peak again, is he?”

“No, I think he’s with Alan. And I think that’s the only reason he’s not up the peak. Al was so shaken when he got back.”

“I know, I saw. He’s alright now though. They both are.”

Virgil nodded. “I know. Alan was brilliant up there and John has made a new friend. Okay, so said friend tried to kill him earlier, but…”

Gordon chuckled. “Well, from what I can gather, they’re gonna do each other a world of good. John won’t be alone up there anymore and she can learn from him.”

“Wow, Gordon, when did you become wise?”

“I always have been,” he said, leaning back on his hands and crossing his ankles on his outstretched legs. “I just choose not to flaunt it.”

“Right…” Virgil smiled at him, then returned his attention to the garden.

They sat together in comfortable silence for a while before Gordon looked round at Virgil again. “Virge?”

“Mmm?”

“Where do you think Eos came from?”

“John reckons the code was one he’d written years ago.”

“Yeah, but how did an old gaming code end up sentient?”

Virgil frowned. “Well, he did say the code evolved.”

“But how?” Gordon asked, drawing his legs closer to cross them underneath himself. “How does a computer code evolve into a sentient being like Eos is?”

“I wonder…” Virgil mused thoughtfully, his finger rubbing his chin.

“What?”

“Well, what if the code evolved because of John?”

“You mean he wrote some kind of evolution subroutine into it?”

“That sounded a bit technical for you, Gordon,” Virgil commented with another smile.

“I do know computer stuff,” he answered.

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I know. But no, I don’t think it’s that at all. What if this has happened because of John’s ability?”

“You mean when he created that code he somehow wrote some of his ability into it?”

“Something like that,” Virgil said. “I’m not certain how his ability even works. It seems to be the most complex of all our abilities.”

“I’ll say,” Gordon agreed. “Flying, strength, breathing underwater or in any atmosphere… Okay, they’re not exactly normal traits but compared to his, ours are pretty basic.”

“When things have settled down, perhaps we can ask him,” Virgil suggested.

“Mmm, I think the last I’d heard after Eos had been throwing bagels at him, he was going to turn in.”

“Yeah, she did put him through the wringer a bit, didn’t she?”

“Uh huh. Turning up the gravity in the centrifuge? What’s that gonna do to him?”

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t know but it can’t be good for him. I’ll see if I can convince him to come back down for a check over soon.”

“Yeah, good luck with that one,” Gordon said, grinning.

Scott sat in Alan’s room, watching him pace back and forth. “Alan, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” he said, realising, even as he said it, that that’s exactly what he did when he was stressing over something. Aside from flying up the peak that is. “You got there in time, John is fine.”

“But I was only just in time, Scott,” Alan said, stopping and looking at him. “He can’t survive without his air supply, not like…”

“Not like you, you mean,” Scott finished. “Believe me, I know how you feel. I frequently wish it’d been me in place of one of you when things have happened.”

A hand reached up to cover his forehead as Alan let out a long slow breath. “I only just got there, Scott.”

“Yes. I know. But only just getting there is still better than getting there only just too late. John is fine. You did an amazing job under very difficult circumstances and I’m proud of you, Alan.”

The young blond looked up at his oldest brother as he stood and approached him. “I mean it, I am. And Dad would be too.”

“You think so?” he asked hopefully.

“Seriously? You saved your brother’s life all by yourself, of course he would!”

“I didn’t really, John’s the one who convinced Eos to stand down,” Alan responded.

A smile crossed Scott’s face, his eyes softening as he looked at his youngest brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But John didn’t save himself from being trapped outside Five with no air. That was you. No one else, just you.”

Scott watched as Alan thought about that. “I guess so,” he replied slowly.

“No guessing, Alan, you were a true Tracy today.”

There was the smile that Scott had been trying to induce in his brother, that bright smile that starts off small and builds up until his whole face lights up.

“Now, no more worrying about the ‘almosts’ and ‘what ifs’. You got there, he’s safe and you did your job brilliantly.”

“Thanks, Scott,” Alan said, leaning forward and resting his head against Scott’s chest.

A small sigh and Scott wrapped his arms round him. “Anytime, Kiddo. Now go on. Try and get some rest. I got a report to write.”

“Alright,” Alan whispered, looking up at him as he stepped back.

Scott reached out and ruffled his hair, grinning as Alan swatted his hand away.

The following morning when Virgil walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t surprised to see Scott already there and by the look of him, he’d already finished his run.

“Morning,” Virgil greeted as he went to the coffee machine.

Scott raised his bottle of water as if in salute while he swallowed the mouthful he’d just taken. “Good morning,” he replied.

“Good run?”

“Mmm hmm,” the elder answered. “Right round the perimeter.”

“Hmm, I think your flying ability helps your running.”

“How do you know I’m not just fast?” Scott asked.

“Because it’s barely 0700, Scott. Now, unless you got up about two hours ago for your run, which I doubt, I reckon that ability of yours helps.”

Scott chuckled. “I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest,” he conceded. “Maybe it does a bit. But oh well. Yeah, it was a good run.”

“And the divide?” Virgil asked, referring to a rocky outcropping that split the beach around the back of the island. It was tall, made up of jagged rocks and started at the cliff face, reaching far out into the ocean.

“What about it?”

“Well, I tend to climb over it and I know for a fact that Gordon swims round it. Did you climb?”

Scott could tell by the smile on Virgil’s face as he sipped his freshly made coffee that he knew full well there was no climbing or swimming involved. “You know I love that jump.”

Virgil laughed. “Next time you go out on a full perimeter run, I want to come too. I want to see you jump it.”

“If you like,” Scott said, finishing his water with a smile as Gordon walked in from the garden. “Hey, how was your swim?”

“Refreshing,” Gordon replied. “The ocean is nice and cool today.”

Virgil smiled at him as he sat down with his breakfast before looking over at their elder brother. “Scott, Gordon and I were discussing what happened yesterday last night.”

“Mmm, I had to have a chat with Alan, too,” Scott said, sitting next to him.

“I know. But we were thinking we should see if we can convince John to come back down, even if it’s just for a day. You know, so we can check him over.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right.” Scott brushed a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “After everything that happened yesterday, oxygen deprivation, extreme gravity, being tossed around by the mooring claw-”

“He what?” Gordon spluttered, putting down his orange juice he’d just started drinking.

“I called him last night to see how he was doing with Eos. He genuinely seems to be alright having her up there but he did disclose some of the things that happened before we were aware of a problem.”

“Then we definitely need to get him to come back down,” Virgil reinforced.

Scott nodded. “I’ll get a shower and change then I’ll call him. Unless you want to do it?”

“If you like,” Virgil agreed.

“You want me to come down?” John said, frowning in confusion. “But why?”

“Did you actually just ask me that, John?” Virgil asked, folding his arms over his chest. “Think it through.”

“If this is anything to do with yesterday, I’m perfectly fine.” He admitted he felt a bit drained and stiff, but it was nothing that some painkillers wouldn’t resolve.

“We’d like to be certain, John. That was quite the ordeal you went through.”

John just shook his head. “I don’t need to come down, Virgil,” he insisted.

“Are you certain, John?”

Green eyes rose to meet one of the approaching camera units that now served as Eos’ eyes. “You’re siding with them?”

“I believe what I did to you was wrong and I could have damaged you. I believe I may in fact have damaged you and for that I am sorry.”

“It’s alright, Eos,” John said softly. “I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“Thank you, John, but I still agree with your brother.”

“I’m not going to win this one, am I?” he asked.

“No,” Virgil said, smiling.

John sighed and shook his head. “Alright, fine, I’ll come down, but-”

“I know, I know, it won’t be for long.”

“You know I find it easier to focus up here. Especially since we moved to the island.”

Virgil nodded. “I do know, John. But you know that we need all these systems down here, right? We’re not trying to keep you off base.”

“Of course I know that, Virgil. For one thing, I helped Brains to design the systems. It’s just that trying to keep my mind on my own systems with all the extra ones I’m not used to running at the same time…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, already concerned about the return. The gravity sickness he suffered due to being out of the atmosphere for too long was awful, but coupled with the white noise of all of Tracy Island’s systems, he frequently ended up with a migraine on his first day back. Even the microwave was a distraction he wasn’t used to.

“Want me to get the others to turn off all the non-essential systems?”

John lowered his hand and looked back at his immediately younger brother. “Would you?”

“Of course I will, John. I don’t want you to feel unwell if I can help it.”

“Thank you, Virgil,” he said, his posture relaxing just slightly at the prospect.

“Alright, see you soon. Give me ten minutes before you start your descent to make sure I’ve gotten to everyone and they’ve started shut down procedures.”

“FAB, Virgil.”

“Shall I initiate a time-delayed activation of the space elevator, John?” Eos asked, her camera lens dipping as she regarded him.

“Please. Ten minute delay from now. That’ll give me time to sort myself out.”

“What do you need to sort out, John?” the AI asked curiously.

“I need to transfer the systems scanning for distress signals and the early warning systems down to the hub in the villa, reroute the signal scanners so I don’t miss any leads that might point us to Dad’s whereabouts and put the station in sleep mode basically.”

“Sleep mode. Powering down to save resources by shutting off lights and life support until prior to your return.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Why waste power lighting and heating this place and pumping the air supply if there’s no one up here to benefit from it. The gravity ring will be halted too.”

“A sensible course of action,” Eos agreed.

John smiled at her then made his way towards his living area, adjusting what he needed to as he went simply by thinking about each system.

“John? I have some questions.”

“Go right ahead,” John said, entering his bedroom and taking a small case from beneath his bed. He had a few items he always took to and from Earth with each visit, including books and holophoto-displays.

“My first is what shall I do while you are gone?”

John looked up from unzipping the case. “Oh. Um, I, uh, I don’t know.” He frowned, thoughtfully. He’d never had to consider anything like this before. “I could leave the database running if you like. You can access it and do some research while I’m gone. When I get back I can go through your findings with you.”

“What do you recommend I research?”

“Hmm, well, I said I’d show you how good the world can be, so why not look up some good things?”

“Good things?”

“Kindness, love, family, a really nice cup of tea,” he suggested, not entirely sure.

“You suggest I should research caffeinated beverages?” Eos asked after a brief pause.

“You must have already started some research if you knew what tea is,” John pointed out.

“I looked it up as I was unsure how it was relevant.”

“It’s not really, I suppose, it’s just something I consider good. Everyone has different opinions. Perhaps you could start by looking through our family photo albums. There is a lot of good in there. You could always contact me on the island if you’re uncertain.”

“So I will start with looking up what it was like to grow up with your brothers?”

John chuckled. “Hopefully you’ll see that we were happy. For the most part we still are. We’re always there for each other and we support one another and we care about each other.”

“Alright John. I shall contact you with my thoughts if I may.”

“Good idea,” John said, returning his attention to his bedside table to retrieve his books. “You said you had questions, plural. Was there something else you wanted to ask?”

“How is it you can alter the systems here without a direct interface?”

John dropped his book and turned to face her. “I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m, well, I’m different to most people. Me, my brothers, Kayo, we’re all different to most people.”

“Because you can access the systems?”

“That’s unique to me, I think. We’ve all got different abilities. And, well, there are some people in the world who’d want to use us the way I was worried they’d want to use you. Our abilities make us special, I suppose, which some people would try to take advantage of to gain power.”

“I understand, John,” she said quietly. “Just as you said could happen with me, I agree could potentially happen with you. So, you say your abilities are all different?”

“Mmm hmm, my ability seems to be technological in nature. I’m pretty much linked to Thunderbird Five and I can access any of her systems just by thinking about them. I can pretty much access anything technological and interface with it, everything from a massive computer system like the Thunderbird Five control hub right down to a basic calculator.”

“Impressive, John,” Eos said. “And what of your brothers? Are their abilities similar?”

“Not really,” John said, sitting on the edge of his bed as he started explaining to his new friend everything his brothers and Kayo could do.

"What took you so long?” Virgil asked as John stepped out of the elevator.

John looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Eos was asking about you guys,” he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s curious,” Virgil commented, then put his hand on John’s shoulder. “Already?”

John nodded. “Is everything shut down?”

“Only the refrigerators are still running pretty much. Aside from the stuff in the hangars and the transmission receivers.”

The space monitor nodded again, sighing. “Alright,” he murmured.

“Come on, bed,” Virgil insisted, slipping an arm gently round his brother’s shoulder and guiding him towards his room. “We can check you over when you’ve gotten used to being back down here.”

“Thanks, Virgil.” He allowed himself to be steered into his bedroom and flopped down onto his bed, a hand covering his eyes as Virgil closed his blackout curtains.

“Anytime, John,” Virgil whispered, unplugging the digital clock by the bedside. “Want me to grab some painkillers?”

“Please,” John replied.

“Alright, I won’t be a minute.”

“Thank you,” John whispered sleepily.

Virgil smiled at him as he backed out, closing the door quietly behind him. He turned as he exited, walking straight into Alan.

“Whoa, Virge, watch where you’re going, Bro,” Alan said, staggering slightly. “It’s like walking into a wall with you.”

Virgil chuckled. “Sorry, Alan, you okay?”

“Yeah, I take it John’s back?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You going for painkillers?”

“Yeah,” Virgil replied.

“Poor guy. It’s no wonder he’s always up there.”

“He deals better with only the systems he’s directly linked to than all the others we have operating,” Virgil reminded him.

“I know,” Alan said. “Oh! I forgot to turn my game console off!”

“Well, go! His headache is already worse than usual.”

With a concerned nod, Alan ran off back to his room as Virgil made his way down to the kitchen.

Upon entering, he saw Gordon and Scott sat at the table with Kayo. “Was that John we heard coming back?” Kayo asked.

“Uh huh,” Virgil said, heading towards the medicine cabinet. For the most part, they kept medications in their infirmary below ground in the hangars, but there was also a supply in the kitchen to ensure that the infirmary supply was kept fully stocked should an emergency arise.

“Oh dear, already?” Scott asked, watching him.

“I think that as well as his usual return to gravity groans as he calls them, coupled with the sensory overload of our systems, he’s also suffering with whatever happened to him yesterday.”

“You’re probably right,” Gordon said.

“Want me to take the meds to him?” Kayo asked. Virgil turned to face her after closing the cupboard. “I’m the logical choice, after all.”

“Oh? And what makes you say that?” Scott questioned curiously.

“I don’t need to open the door to get into his room, meaning I won’t let in any light if he’s suffering with photosensitivity.”

“He is,” Virgil said. “As soon as we got to his room, he laid down and covered his eyes so I closed the blackouts.”

“Then I go.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Gordon agreed.

“Of course it does,” Kayo reasoned, taking the medication from Virgil and the glass of water he’d poured, and headed out of the room, leaving the three brothers looking at each other.

John lowered his hand from his eyes and looked around the darkened room. His head felt heavy but he was glad there was little light. He was used to the glow of his holographic systems, even the sunlight up on Five, but somehow the light through the atmosphere felt different to him. It was out of the ordinary and he didn’t like it at all.

Taking a deep breath, he held it for just a moment and released it slowly before frowning. He wasn’t alone anymore, he could hear someone else in his room.

“That you, Virgil?” he rasped quietly, not wanting to raise his voice much further. Perhaps his brother had returned while he’d had his eyes closed. But normally he’d have heard him enter. Feeling a little on edge, he eased himself more upright and looked around, his eyes struggling to adjust to the almost pitch darkness effected by the blackouts at his window. His shoulders sagged slightly as his aching mind finally caught up with him. “Oh. That’s you, isn’t it, Kayo?”

“You really are out of it if it took you that long to figure it out,” she murmured quietly, sitting down beside him on his bed.

“I’m not normally this bad,” he admitted. “Let me get the lamp.”

“Virgil unplugged everything in here earlier,” Kayo reminded him.

“Except the clock,” John said. “I felt him turn that off as I entered. He probably just missed that one.”

“It’s plugged in behind the unit, isn’t it? Easy to miss.”

“He’ll remember all the plugs eventually,” John mused, a hint of teasing in his soft voice.

“Perhaps,” Kayo said, putting the water down on the unit and reaching down to plug his lamp back in for him. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he said, his mind focusing on the device. Soon, a small soft glow lit up just around the bed. “I can’t manage more than that I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright,” Kayo said. “Anyway, I brought you the painkillers and some water.”

“Thanks,” John repeated, taking them from her as she offered them. “By the way, how do you take things through walls with you?”

Kayo shrugged. “I’ve no idea,” she answered. “Not really thought about it, to be honest. But I guess I just have to be holding something for it to be able to pass through with me. I mean, it’s gotta work something like that. Otherwise I’d have trouble with my clothes every time.”

John spluttered on his water, having taken a sip to swallow the tablets as she’d spoken. “Oh, uh, yes, well… khmm…” With a slightly shaking hand, he put the glass down on the unit, trying to hide the colour rising in his cheeks.

Kayo smirked, laughing slightly. “Sorry, John, but it’s true.”

“Yes, well, I suppose that theory does sort of cover it.” He smiled awkwardly then glanced away, reaching out to take another sip of the water.

Her smirk softened into a fond smile. “Want me to bring you some more water?”

“I’ll be alright,” he replied, handing her the now-empty glass as she held out her hand for it. “I think I need to try and sleep off this headache and let my mind adjust to the change in system presence.”

“Alright,” she said, standing up. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you again, Kayo,” he said, laying back down.

“Anytime,” she said, watching as he reached down to unplug the lamp before retreating from the room.

“John, sit still,” Virgil admonished for possibly the fifth time in the space of half an hour.

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t exactly comfortable,” he replied with a frown. He was lying on a bed in their infirmary while Virgil and Brains checked him over, the paper lining crinkling beneath him and feeling horribly rough against the bare skin of his back. “The floor of the gravity ring is better than this thing.”

“Well, the paper is there for, uh, hygiene,” Brains pointed out. His focus remained on the data screen he was regarding before he finally turned back to his would-be patient. “There seems to be n-no permanent damage from your, uh, encounter yesterday.”

“Permanent damage?” Virgil asked, helping John sit back up.

“Well, the pressure caused by the heightened gravity will leave him feeling pretty m-muscle sore and there seems to be no lasting effects from the oxygen deprivation. He wasn’t deprived long enough for-for any damage.”

John reached for his shirt and pulled it back on as he listened to Brains. “I do feel quite achy,” he agreed, reaching up to cradle his forehead almost without thinking about it.

Virgil noticed and looked at Brains. “Are we finished with the systems?” he asked, aware that they’d been running almost constant scans on him since he entered the infirmary.

Brains looked up from his readings to look at the two men in front of him. “Huh? Oh, oh yeah. Sorry, John,” he replied, saving the information to John’s records before shutting it all down.

The astronaut smiled gratefully at them as he lowered his hand again. “I’m sorry you have to do this for me,” he said softly.

“These systems aren’t urgent,” Brains reminded him. “Better we turn them off than have you suf-suffering from sensory overload.”

John nodded. “And to think I used to struggle at school in the IT labs. In comparison, that was nothing!”

Virgil chuckled slightly. “You’ll get used to it again,” he reminded him. “I know you rarely stay down here more than a few days at a time, but the overload never lasts the whole time, does it?”

“You’re right,” John said. “I guess it’s like the equivalent of jetlag for my abilities or something. Or needing to be acclimatised.”

“Exactly. Now, come on. You need something to eat.”

“I’m not really hungry, Virgil,” John murmured, shying away slightly.

“You’re never really hungry, John, but still, you need to eat something.”

John sighed and slid off the bed. “Alright.”

Virgil smiled at him. “And anyway, once you start eating, you might find you were hungrier than you thought.”

“Maybe,” John said as he followed his younger brother out of the room.