#or with close circle of friends / personnel

[whoisthatmovinginthedark]

Everyone who draws gy without the monocle, I appreciate your efforts

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 1

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{next}

face claim: none, random pinterest find warnings: cursing, max is broody, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, idk red bull team aside from Max, Checo, and Horner... (y/n's bestie is named after my irl bestie bc she told me to write this, and y/n's son is not named after Magnussen i swear) Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4293 auth.note: hiii new to writing for f1 so I'm posting this in the middle of the night and hiding in bed - feedback greatly appreciated. also this is forbidden love/he falls first/friends to enemies to lovers

"Hey Max, come meet the new social media admin."

On his way out, he barely heard the words. But they registered and he immediately turned, knowing how important it was to have a good rapport with the social media personnel. He only had to meet them, then he could leave and go to the team apartment and… He didn't know. Pass time in his sim until he couldn't hold his eyes open. Maybe he'd go for a run until he was close to exhaustion. Or see if Lando was in the country and they could go out together. It was only when he was about to pass out that he was able to sleep and not be plagued with dreams.

His eyes swept the small office, swiveling to focus on the new face. She smiled, giving him a little wave as she set down her slice of pizza.

"Max, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Max."

"Hello," he said, watching as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Hi, sorry." She took a sip of her drink and wiped her mouth again. "Sorry – It's so great to meet you."

She was American. Walking over, he extended his hand. "Where are you from?"

Shaking his hand, she smiled up at him. "Well most recently I was with—"

"No, no, where in America," he corrected.

"Oh! North Carolina. I try to keep the country accent to a minimum but sometimes I slip up." She motioned to the pizza box on the desk. "You want a slice?"

No, he had to leave. His work was done, he didn't need to hang around and kill his precious down time. Besides, his diet was strict for the next few days, what with the race coming up. He had to focus on… Within fifteen seconds he was sitting across from her, holding a slice in one hand. One slice wouldn't hurt, he decided as he took a bite. "How long have you been in England?"

"About three weeks?" She glanced at her watch and nodded. "Three weeks tomorrow. I was staying at an Airbnb until a week ago when I moved into my apartment."

He nodded. "Are you going to be based here or go to the races?"

"Races. Gonna be living the glamorous life of travel and hotels and surviving on caffeine and sugar," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not so bad."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it. You've been doing it for, what, half your life now?"

Shrugging, he took a sip of his water. "More than that, really. Are you saying you don't travel?"

"Not like this. I lucked out with my last job because I was able to do it mostly from home. I think I went up to New York or out to Cali maybe six times total? But I know I can do it," she added when his eyebrows lifted. "It'll just take a little getting used to, especially with a little one in tow a lot of the time."

That surprised him. His eyes immediately moved to her hands, which were completely bare of rings. "A little one?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting. "He's three."

"What's his name?" Max asked. It was none of his business about the boy's father, anyway, so he wasn't going to ask about him. And he didn't even care.

"Kevin." Her smile was both shy and sparkling.

His chest tightened. Kevin, he knew, was one of the most loved children in the world. "What's he like?" The words came out and only after saying them he realized he wanted to know.

"He's… He's Kevin." She laughed. "He asks a million questions and will talk to anyone about anything. He's high energy but has laser focus when it's something that interests him – Like the other day I took him to the park. I expected him to be running around and trying out all the swings and stuff, but he spent an hour crawling in the grass following a caterpillar."

"Laser focus can be good at times," Max told her, earning a warm smile.

"I know. He comes by it honest because I do the same thing when I'm working."

"Will you be bringing him to the races?" Finished with his pizza, he shook his head when she nudged the box towards him and sat back to finish his water.

"Yeah. Not all of them, but to the next few. I already talked to Mr. Horner and Wanda about it," she said quickly, as though expecting him to be upset about her bringing her child to work. "He won't be in the way. My best friend – Ellie, she's his godmother – is traveling with me to Imola and Monaco to watch him for me. But her new job starts the first of June so I have to make arrangements before then."

"Does he like racing?"

"He's three," she deadpanned. "He loves anything with cars or trucks."

"You'll have to bring him to the track—"

"He also loves fart jokes and bugs."

Max blinked at her, snorting on a laugh when she grinned at him. "Fair enough."

"I do have to warn you, though," she said carefully, standing to gather the napkins and throw them into the trash. Closing the pizza box, she used a clean napkin to wipe off the desk. "He likes McLaren."

"It's the orange livery isn't it?" Max sighed. When she nodded, he shrugged. "I'll do my best to not hate him."

She giggled, letting out a snort.

And, for the first time in six months, Max felt lighter.

*-*

"There's my lil doodle bug," Viv cooed as Kevin leapt off the couch and ran towards her. Dropping her purse and work bag, she scooped him into a hug. "Hi sweetheart. How was your day, hm?"

Her son grinned, squeezing her tight. "I fell in poop!"

Viv froze for two seconds and leaned back a little. "What kind of poop?"

"Dog. Yes, it was fresh. Yes, he had a bath. Yes, I washed his clothes," Ellie announced as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Your dinner's almost done – How was work?"

Viv kissed her son's cheek and set him down so she could pick up her bags. "I spent the day reading protocols and policies and signing contracts. Oh, and getting my uniform."

Ellie took the knapsack stuffed with team shirts and jackets. "Good thing you love blue huh?"

"No kidding." She glanced over to Kevin, who had climbed back onto the couch and resumed lining his hot wheels along the back. "How was he today?"

"He was fine. You worry too much, mama," Ellie said gently, following y/n to her bedroom. Setting the knapsack down, she took the work bag and reached inside to switch off y/n's work phone. "Ah, ah, you're off now. You don't officially start work until Monday, so they can't expect you to be on call."

"Yes ma'am." Y/n held her hands up in surrender. "I'm gonna change and get him tucked in then I'll eat, promise."

"Perfect. Bridgerton tonight?" Ellie asked on her way out the door.

"You know it!" y/n called after her.

Once she'd changed into sweats and an old t-shirt she went to the living room. "C'mon, doodle bug," she said softly, smiling when Kevin slid off the couch without hesitation. She helped him pack his cars into their cubby, telling him about her boring day at work while she led him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Then to her bedroom, wishing she had been able to afford a larger apartment so he could have his own space. But he didn't seem to mind, and more often than not he ended up crawling into her bed during the night. Something she treasured, because she knew that all too soon he would be "too big" to share a bed with his mama.

Three storybooks and a rambling made up tale about a one-eyed dragon and the princess that saved him from the evil knight later, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned off the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams," she whispered before she left the room.

"So I met Max Verstappen today," she told Ellie a few minutes later while fixing her drink.

"Ooo Mr Tu Tu Du Du himself?"

Y/n snorted. "Yeah, that one." The chicken alfredo with a side of broccoli looked so much more appetizing than the greasy pizza she'd had for a late lunch, and she almost felt like she'd cheated on her best friend for ordering takeout.

"What's he like?" Ellie asked, scooping a little more sauce over the noodles.

"He's nice."

"Just nice?"

"I mean, he asked me surface level questions and laughed at my lame jokes? Yeah, nice." Y/n pulled her plate away before Ellie could push more food onto it and sat down to eat. "Everyone's been so nice, Ellie…"

Her friend squeezed her shoulder. "I'm so glad. I have good news, too."

Y/n lifted her eyebrows, unable to speak because her mouth was full.

Ellie sat down, smiling brightly. "I spoke to HR today and Kev will be able to use the daycare."

Gulping down her mouthful of food, y/n gasped. "Oh that's great!" she cried, feeling the weight of worry that had been plaguing her for three weeks lift. "They're sure?"

"Yep, you just have to come in with me before the first and sign a document giving me permission to take him from the premises."

"Excellent, we can go in the morning? I have to go in after lunch to get my kit. Camera, laptop, all that. And Wanda told me to get more shirts so I don't have to worry about laundry while on the road – Oh and I'll be getting our passes."

"Kevin is so excited about Italy. He wants to see the leaning tower of pizza."

"Bless his heart, maybe I can take him one day."

Plans made, she finished her late dinner and did the washing up then changed into her pajamas before settling on the couch to watch Bridgerton. They were rewatching the series so she didn't feel guilty about scrolling her social media, finally biting the bullet and following all of the RedBull people she knew from headquarters.

"You are the bane of my existence… and the object of all my desires."

"Ugh," Y/N and Ellie whined in unison.

"So much nicer than you've had me hard since we met," y/n muttered.

"Let's be real, practically anything is better than that," Ellie agreed.

They finished the episode and y/n headed to bed, keeping as quietly as possible even though she knew her son could sleep through anything. Digging her work phone from her bag, she powered it on to check for any missed messages, smiling slightly when she saw Max had added her on WhatsApp. Adding him back, she was about to turn the phone off again when a new message popped up.

👋🏻

Rolling her eyes, she replied with the same emoji and waited a few seconds before plugging the phone in and turning on do not disturb. She wasn't going to have a late night chat with Max Verstappen of all people. He was probably just being nice, she told herself as she brushed her teeth and did her skincare. Wanda had told her that Max added everyone but rarely messaged anyone aside from Mr. Horner or the engineers.

Besides, she wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself as she climbed into bed. She could be friendly, but she was there to do a job.

And no flirting with him either, she thought, immediately wondering why the idea had popped into her mind. She would never – okay, she might, if unintentionally. She knew it was a protective thing, knew it was because she had the undesirable need to have everyone like her. But she couldn't do it. Not with him, especially. He'd probably laugh in her face. He was younger than her and probably had a never ending line of gorgeous women waiting to please him.

Before she switched off the lamp she glanced over at her sleeping son. A living, breathing, very real reminder of what she'd gone through just four years ago. And she knew she couldn't go through that again. She wasn't strong enough. She refused to endure that torture and heartache. Kevin needed her, so she had to be strong for him.

Not to mention there was a no hanky-panky clause in her contract?

She had barely closed her eyes when she heard his toddler bed creak. Lying there, she listened to his feet whispering against the rug, smiling in the dark when he slowly slid the covers back.

"Mama," he whispered, and she reached for him. He snuggled close, tucking his head under her chin as she pulled the covers over them.

"Love you, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"Love you, Mama."

*-*

"I think it's good, yeah," Max said, eyes scanning the screens of data from the upgrades. "It'll be great for turn seven." Nodding, he listened to the engineers as they went over potential upgrades for Monaco. Once the meeting was finished he grabbed his water bottle and left the room, ignoring the almost immediate phone call from his father. He knew it was his dad without checking, and strode down the hall, intent on leaving and heading straight for the airport to go home. Where he could ignore everything and everyone until Sunday when it was time to fly to Italy.

Rounding the corner, he lurched to a stop as a small child darted in front of him, his giggles echoing down the corridor. The little boy stopped and looked up at Max, blinking slowly.

"Hi!" He waved.

"Hello." Max heard rapid footsteps and glanced up to see y/n iquickly approaching.

"Kevin Scott—"

"I've got him," Max told her with a quick wave, squatting down to the boy's level. "So you're Kevin?"

The boy nodded, light blonde curls bouncing on his head. "I'm Kevin. That's Mama."

"I'm Max. I heard a lot about you."

Kevin's eyes widened. "You know Mama?"

"About this much." Max held his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart. He quickly looked to y/n, who was walking up behind Kevin. "I work with her."

"Ohh… She's gonna take me to see cars. D'you like cars Mister Max?" he asked seriously. As though cars were the most important thing in the universe.

"More than I like myself some days," Max quipped, reaching to check the miniature car the boy was holding in his hand. "I drive one like this."

Kevin gasped. "Do you got it here?"

Max chuckled. "We have a lot. Do you want to see them?"

"Please," the boy said, and Max couldn't have said no under any circumstances.

"You have to ask your mum," he said gently. "And maybe say sorry for running away from her?"

Kevin immediately turned to his mother. "Mama I sorry. Can Mister Max take me to cars?"

She sighed, squatting down to fix his shorts. "We've gotta be more careful, sweetheart. And yes, Mister Max can take us to see the cars."

Kevin spun to face Max again. "She said yes!"

Grinning, Max nodded and stood.

"Thank you," y/n said softly. "I'm sor—"

"He's three, yeah?" Max reached to place his hand on the boy's head, gently guiding him closer when he started to wander off. "Don't apologize for him being a child."

She tipped her head at that, then nodded, grabbing hold of Kevin's hand as Max turned to lead them back down the hallway he'd just left. "I only came by to get my kit, and his aunt had paperwork at her new workplace to finish up, so I had to bring him."

"I'm glad you did." Max gave her a gentle smile, using his card to open the door leading to the back of headquarters. "Have you been back here?"

"Only on my tour the other day."

"Just stick with me," he said. They wouldn't be entering the engineer or design areas, only taking the corridor to the garage. Otherwise they'd have to travel all the way to the main entrance and walk around to the back, which would be tedious for her son.

"I'm under contract and signed an NDA, and it's not like I'd know where to go to sell team secrets," she told him. "And I wouldn't even know what I overheard."

"Not a car fan?" he asked, accepting the model car Kevin was shoving at him. Slipping it into his pocket, he guided them along the curving corridor.

"Eh… Kinda? I like racing. I don't understand all the mechanics to it, I just like the adrenaline of watching twenty guys drive really fast. And I can admire good craftsmanship, like a Bugatti or a McLaren, ya know?"

"What do you drive?" Max asked, using his card to open the door to the garage. Met with the faint aroma of rubber and asphalt, he inhaled deeply, catching with it a lighter, more pleasant scent.

"Nothing at the moment. I've been taking an Uber to and from the apartment," she explained. "I'll probably get a used car after my first paycheck."

Max furrowed his brows, stopping on the catwalk. "You haven't gotten paid yet?"

"No? Well, only my signing bonus, and that's gone to household necessities like rent and food. It's fine, Max, I don't need a car right now."

What are you going to do, give her one of yours? he thought, reaching to Kevin and lifting the boy to his hip so he could carry him down the stairs to the main level. Kevin was already oohing and aahing over the neat rows of cars. "It's just me, Brandon," he called, seeing the member of the security team at the other end of the garage. "A quick tour for a new friend, yeah?"

Brandon waved and disappeared around the corner.

At the bottom of the stairs, Max set Kevin down, ushering him to the nearest car. The boy's excitement was contagious, and Max gleefully told him about each one that he'd driven, helping the boy climb into each and press buttons on the steering wheel. Laughing when Kevin made racecar noises, he pulled out his phone to pull up some videos for sound effects. Swiping away the notifications from his dad, he turned up the volume so the engine sounds echoed in the garage, enjoying Kevin's childish glee.

"This one you know," he said, guiding him to the most recent addition. Lifting him into the seat, he squatted down. "This is a car I drove last year, which—" He pulled the model car from his pocket and set it on top of the steering column. "—is just like the one you have."

"Wow." Kevin looked at him with pure awe. "Did you win?"

"I did. And I won the championship too."

"You're a champ-een, Mister Max?" the boy gasped.

"I am."

"Like Lightning McQueen?"

"You could say that," he chuckled, affectionately ruffling the boy's curls. Glancing over at y/n, he paused when he saw she was holding up her phone.

She peered at him over the top. "Is it okay to take pictures?"

"Of course." He had a feeling she'd already taken dozens. He stepped out of the way so she could get photos of Kevin in the car, then lifted him out once she tucked her phone away. "Have you seen the trophies?"

"No. Can we see 'em, Mister Max? Please?"

"You have to ask your mum." Turning, he sent y/n a pleading look as Kevin asked permission.

"As long as Mister Max doesn't mind," she said, rolling her eyes when Kevin squealed yay.

"It's a long walk, do you want me to carry you?"

Kevin squirmed, wriggling so he was piggybacking. "Thank you Mister Max."

His chest tightened, and he reached to adjust the boy's legs around his middle. "You're welcome, Kevin. We do have to make a stop on the way to the trophy case, though."

Next to him, y/n cleared her throat. "I can take him if you've got something to do."

"No, it's fine, a quick stop," Max assured her, motioning for her to go up the stairs first.

"A pit stop?" Kevin asked, giggling as Max jogged up the steps.

"Exactly that. No more than ten seconds," he promised.

Fifteen minutes later, he was squatting down to fix the collar of Kevin's new shirt. "There you go, mate. What do you think?"

Kevin grinned and gave him a thumb's up.

Max looked up at y/n, who rolled her eyes. "He has to be Team Red Bull," he explained with a shrug, adjusting Kevin's new cap with a grin. Thanking the merch manager, he handed over the bag of goodies he'd grabbed and motioned for Kevin to climb onto his back.

"Thank you!" Kevin called, waving enthusiastically as he was carried out.

"Thank you, Max," y/n murmured while they walked towards reception. "But please don't get him anything else."

"I won't," he said softly. "If I overstepped—"

"No, no, it's fine. He'll wear the shirts until they're too small and he'll play with the models until they fall apart. I just don't want him to think he'll get this type of treatment all the time."

"I understand." He nodded. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Which he found admirable. "…So giving him one of my old cars is out of the question?"

She halted, jaw dropping. "Max!"

"A joke!" he promised, flashing her a grin as he jogged ahead.

"Not funny," she scoffed behind him, and he heard her huff as she ran to catch up. "Those things cost probably a million—"

Max swung around, easily catching Kevin and swinging him back onto his back. "The car for Miami was about sixteen million."

Her eyes widened. "Sixteen—" She pressed her hands together right in front of her mouth. "Million? As in sixteen then six zeroes behind it?"

Nodding, he started walking backwards, amused at her reaction. She was staring at him in shock, and her son was giggling. "It's hard to pinpoint an exact cost, because we reuse some components from race to race. A chassis, or wings, yeah? If you really wanted to know I can pull up the data and get the price for each part—"

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Please don't. I'd probably faint."

"It's an expensive sport, y/n," he reminded her.

"Yeah no shit," she muttered, exhaling harshly. "I've got so much to learn."

"You'll be fine." He'd meant it to come out in an offhand manner. A generic it's okay so feelings wouldn't be hurt. But it came out gently, laced with reassurance and promise. And, before he could stop himself, his mouth opened again. "If you have any questions you can ask me."

"I can Google," she told him.

"I can change my Wikipedia to say I'm eighty-six. Doesn't make it true," he quipped.

To his relief, she laughed. "Fair point. I'll be sure and ask you."

He turned his attention back to Kevin, swinging him from his back to his hip. Reception was empty, and he set the boy down so he could explore the various displays. "He can't hurt anything," he reassured her, knowing she was watching carefully as Kevin ran over to a wing displayed on the wall.

"I just worry," she sighed.

"Why do you sound like you're apologizing?" Folding his arms over his chest, he watched Kevin walk around the large room, drinking it all in. "You're his mother, you're supposed to worry. If you didn't you would have to apologize."

"Thank you."

"He's a good kid, y/n," he said softly.

"I think so too." He could hear the smile in her voice and turned slightly to see it on her face.

Every other time he'd been in this room the weather outside had been cloudy or rainy. He couldn't remember the sun ever shining as he'd stood there to soak in all the history. Until now. It poured through the windows, causing the trophies in the cases to sparkle and the polished floor to gleam. It shone into her eyes, and he could only stare at her as she squinted a little, a tiny dimple appearing in her left cheek.

God, she was lovely.

She glanced at him and his breathing kickstarted. Unconsciously licking his lips, he cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing well, for a single mom."

Her smile faltered and he mentally kicked himself. She looked to Kevin, who was studying the Red Bull logo on the wall, and looked at Max again. "I didn't have a choice."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

"Oh he's not dead." She watched her son, her smile gone. "Just dead to us."

"Then I'm sorry for bringing it up." It had ruined the day. Well, alright, not the day but the moment. They'd been having fun, he'd been having fun.

You always fuck up don't you?

His jaw clenched as the angry voice from years ago echoed in his mind.

"It's okay, Max." Her gentle voice cut through the echoes of the past and he forced his jaw to relax.

Nodding, he uncrossed his arms and called to Kevin, taking him by the hand and leading him to the towering trophy case. "Come on, y/n, time to learn some history."

She snorted on a laugh but joined them, and he could tell she was paying attention as he rattled off years and races and drivers to Kevin.

You're going to fuck this up too, the voice sneered.

[lilghostiequinni]

Not How it Started

Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist

Pairing: Single mom!female reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: It started with a runaway kid, your runaway kid, but it ended with you being happy and a mom again.

Requested: NO / yes

2022 - Singapore

Taking a 7-year-old to a night race wasn't the best idea, but it was for your birthday, your 23rd birthday, which was September 30th.

Having been to Grand Prixes before, with and without your son, you knew the relative gist of what was going to happen, and your son loved the fast cars as you did, something you had inherited from your own father.

Your son, Langley, had wanted juice, so you turned your back for 2 seconds just to pay and grab the drink. When you turned back, your son was gone.

While you weren't alone, you still didn't trust people with your son, except your father. You were waiting back where you were before, your son had wanted to go with you rather than stay with his grandfather.

But you weren't alone. You had two of your friends, one who was your best friend, and you did trust her with Langley, and the other you didn't trust and was supposed to help you if needed, but she also disappeared.

In a panic, you turned around in a full circle, yelling his name, calling for him to come to you. You raced around the Paddock, and then you returned to your spot and told your father and best friend, both getting in on the search for your son.

You quite literally ran into a member of security for the actual garage of McLaren in your search, and when the guard saw your fear-stricken face, he questioned what was wrong, and you told him that you turned for a second and your son was gone.

The guard radioed more security and asked for a photo, which you showed him, and when more security came and saw the photo just minutes later, you also went back to searching for your son.

If it hadn't been for this fear for your son, you would have been more excited to see Max Verstappen or Daniel Riccardo.

There was the threat of a thunderstorm; you didn't want your son to be in the cold or in the rain.

Being the nice people they are, Max and Daniel helped you search for your son, not leaving you alone, just in case something happened to you in your search.

Daniel saw Lando coming over to the three of you before you did, a kid in hand with him, and when your son saw you before you saw him, he yelled out to you.

Your head whipped around, and you ran over to Lando and your son, pulling the 7-year-old close to you and squeezing him impossibly tight to your body.

"Langley, you can't leave me. I thought something bad happened to you." You said as you looked him in the eyes after pulling him back from you a little before you pulled him back into your embrace.

You picked up your son and looked to Lando and the other two rivers who helped you, "Thank you, I now have to go find the security personnel for McLaren to tell him to call off the search. I really can't thank you enough."

Lando nodded and gave you a bag, "Your son may have won a few hearts over in McLaren."

You nodded and took the bag with a smile as your son tucked his head into your neck.

Daniel and Max nudged Lando in the ribs with their elbows, making him grunt a little.

"Let me help you find them, the security guard. Make it easier."

You nodded at Lando's suggestion and followed him toward McLaren.

2025 - Silverstone

You stood mostly hidden in McLaren garage, your now 10-year-old son, and with your now 2-year-old daughter as of July 5th, she was tiredly being held by a baby carrier, resting comfortably for both you and her, given your rather pregnant belly with twins.

You watched as your now husband of Lando Norris led the final laps of the Silverstone Grand Prix, with fresher tires with about a 6 second lead on Max and Oscar in 2nd and 3rd.

You rubbed your hands together as Lando started his final lap, the gap between 1st place and 2nd growing as Max battled it out with Oscar.

You celebrated in joy as Lando passed the finish line in first place.

You follow everyone else to where the cars are. You are let through to the front as Lando parks behind the first-place spot.

A quick weigh-in and he makes his way over to you after taking his helmet off, Oscar has also come over to you to help hold your son after he was weighed in after pulling into the 3rd place spot.

Lando took your daughter from you and kissed you, cameras catching the moment from every angle, Oscar putting your son down next to Lando to go to the end-of-race interview before the podium.

The team helped you through the brocade to the side with your husband, Oscar, coming back when Lando took your rather now clingy daughter with him to do his interview.

He also took her and your son to the podium with him, getting them off the platform and down to you before the bottles were popped.

For the other interviews and debriefs Lando had to do, you went to his driver's room with your kids, your daughter sleeping, and your son definitely exhausted.

A/N: Please vote in this week's polls. All are linked through each other here(P1)

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @hellothere9597

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[banj0possum]

Heyo! Hope you're doing alright! Firstly, sorry if this is too long... summary: yan oc reactions to male/gn reader with a high pain tolerance whose platonic affection language is rough housing (biting , headbutts, body slams/shoulder bumps, aggressive bear hugs, or a good grip/squeeze. All of these forms of affection are done by reader with as much force as is allowed without actual damage and which reader happily reciprocates). Bonus, what're the reactions of rough housing intolerant yans when said reader starts trying to find someone else as an outlet for this affection need. Context: I saw the mini react to the affectionate chair wielding and had a thought. I am a very energetic and affectionate individual with folks I'm close with, and often times a gentle hug or soft touch just isn't enough to get across the energy and emotion or i just NEED something more grounding/comforting cause "yes this gentle hug is comforting my stress a little but i really REALLY need you to crush my soul and being back together with this next hug. Really trash compactor my body so i can feel whole again :) 💪". It's what i grew up with and what some of my friends encouraged/reciprocated (have definitely popped backs when giving each other hugs and once i popped someone's fingers when i was allowed a good squeeze). When soft affections aren't hitting right (and i have permission from my friend) I tend to turn to play bites (at whatever maximum safe pressure is allowed by the person being bitten), headbutts, body slams/shoulder bumps (again, at a maximum safe force that is allowed), and harsh grips/hugs (again, whatever maximum safe force is allowed). It's really a grounding/comforting thing cause it allows me and my friend to destress, release energy, and also kinda reassures us that we're truly physically and emotionally there. It's definitely not something for all my friend circles and i usually turn to my high energy friend circles that have similar needs (and they come to me if they feel the urge as well). A good example is the time Friend A saw me out and about, shouted out my name and charged me full speed from 30 feet away. I tanked the brunt of their full body affectionate tackle and honestly? Was one of the happiest and closest i felt to my friend. Haven't done that in a while cause we got warned not to do that again by personnel lol. We usually try to meet up at parks (cause indoor places understandably don't like when a group of adults start rough housing) though it's hard to rn cause of the heat and stuff

OCs w/ a Rowdy Darling

My OCs x GN Reader

THIS IS LITERALLY AMAZING !! you seem like a really cool person to hang out with ! id definitely let you give me a back popping hug >w< not sure if im strong enough to give you a hug as strong as that though hehe ^^" anyways heres the fic ! (´ ∀ ` *)

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Adrian is literally the same as you. Every shove or punch or rough housing is a sign of affection.

You two probably rough house all the time ngl, and he loves it!

You're his energetic little lover and he's all for it!

You two might have gone to detention for rough housing to hard a few times hehe..

If you bear hug him, he'll try to hug you harder, it's like a competition to him!

Honestly, he sees everything as a competition. You push him playfully? He'll push you harder.. headbutts? You might get a slight headache after he's done..

He might be your boyfriend, but he's still a bit of a bully, but it's all in good fun! He stops if ever he notices you're getting uncomfy.

Not a biter though, but when you do it, he melts like putty!

He loves how strong and rowdy you are and that you're not afraid to express it, it shows how tough and confident you are!

He likes his gentle moments once in a while, but being able to love you in a love language you both share is so special to him <3

"Cmon babe! One more hug! I can take it!"

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Brandon is kind of impressed..

He's one of the best football players in his school and his little darling is biting and shoving and headbutting him, so adorable!

You remind him of a little goat, so excited and happy and lively!

Definitely makes him more protective of you because of how precious you are to him.

If you get to rowdy for his liking, he grabs you and traps you in a bear hug until you calm down or if you give him an even tighter bear hug than the one he's giving you.

Invites you to play a bit of football with him and his team.

But protection is key! He wraps you in all sorts of gear before you play, he knows how high your pain tolerance is but he still wants to keep you safe! and also he likes seeing you wear his helmet

Your body slams are praised not just by him but by his team, it's too cute!

If he catches you being your little rowdy self around anyone else, he'll get jealous fast..

He shoves you affectionately to get your attention.

"Heya baby! How's my little ram doing huh?"

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Valeth just thinks you're copying him in a way and is flattered.

Aweee, little mate is so strong and tough! He's so proud!

Encourages the behavior, as long as you don't hurt yourself!

He's much stronger than you so your affections don't do much, but you bet your ass he's putting his whole soul in pretending to get hurt.

Rough houses with you as if you were a little child play fighting, he loves playing with his little warrior!

If you do get hurt, he's putting all play fighting to a halt! He's checking up on you and making sure you're ok with the softest voice you've ever heard from an orc.

You might be fine but he's not taking no for an answer, you're getting some rest!

Love love loves your bearhugs! He tests your strength and lets you squeeze him as hard as you can!

Biting is met with kisses all over your face, it's what you get for being so cute!

Body slams are more like you latching onto him and trying not to fall off because of how large he is..

"Oh my little duckling can bite! How fierce! You're so strong haha!"

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Bo appreciates how energetic and lively you are, but please no rough housing ;-;

He doesn't want you to get hurt or hurt anyone else, even though you're perfectly capable of regulating how rough you can me, he's just a lil protective is all

He only allows bear hugs and squeezes, anything else is greeted by the time out corner (him trapping you in his arms in the bed until you give up)

"Now now hun, not so rough ok? I don't want you gettin banged up or anythin.."

Ribs is also a feral little man and absolutely loves that you're as rowdy as him!

You two love play fighting and biting affectionately!

He loves your headbutts! he returns them all the time

"Ahahaha! Again again!"

Soda tolerates it, he just appreciates that you're comfortable enough to rough house with him.

He's not the energetic type but he'll give you sleepy kisses and squeeze you back if you bear hug him

Doesn't bite but he likes nibbling on you

He's not as lively as you, but he loves reciprocating your affection!

"You're so strong hehe~"

Screw is scared

He is oddly aroused

He's also hopelessly trying to stop himself from called you sir or daddy or any dominant title because oh my god you are so awesome

He's looking at you with puppy dog eyes asking for your love and attention

PICK HIM UP TOSS HIM AROUND SHOVE HIM BITE HIM PLEASE HE LOVES IT!

Imagine him kicking his legs and rambling about you to the others

"H-hello si- dadd- (Y/N)! Hi (Y/N) heheh.."

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Wolfie loves how rowdy you are! he loves playing!

That's his way of telling you he loves you, but of course he's extra gentle when playing with you, he wouldn't wanna get his mate scratched up!

Loves rolling around and playing around with you, it makes him feel like a pup again!

Doesn't like you biting him though, you might get something icky in your mouth!

Licks you all over if you get hurt or get a little too rough to make you feel better!

Headbutts are rewarded with his big paws bopping you on the head like he's trying to pet you!

If he's tired and you're being your lively little self, he just takes you and sleeps on top of you so you can't escape.

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Dorik actually has a lot of brothers and sisters back in hell and you remind him so much of how they used to play around with him.

As much as he adores cuddling you close and doing gentle and calm things with you, he loves how tough you are!

Yes he moans when you bite him.

Everytime you're affectionate with him, he can't help but kiss you all over, you're just so cute!

Almost cries if you give him bear hugs, this man is touchstarved!!!!

He gives you his own love by wrapping his tail around you or rubbing his face into your clothes, chest, hair, anywhere! He loves how you smell so good everyday!

Shrieks if you body slam him, but somehow he's as solid as a rock, he didn't even stumble..

But he's all over you asking if you're ok.

"Master? My love? My darling are you alright?!"

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Kalva unfortunately doesn't like rough-housing, he's made it a rule that you can only mess around outside the nest!

But he adores your bearhugs and headbutts and bites, they're comforting to him in a way, it shows that you're close to him!

He headbutts you too, it's his way of asking for your love and attention.

For a while it was also how he kissed you since he didn't know how to do it properly yet.

He might indulge in your rough ways sometimes by jumping around and messing up his feathers on purpose, but you should promise to help preen them afterwards!

Nevertheless, he loves you to bits and just wants to keep you safe <3

"My mate is so excited! My mate is happy!"

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Jasper is scared for his life but in a fun way.

He never knows the next time you're gonna bite him or tackle him into a hug, it's like a game for you both.

He gets you back by surprise tickling you, it's pretty effective.

If he expects the biting, he definitely bites you too, kissing the area right after for extra measure.

Don't get me wrong he's absolutely flustered whenever you do it, but he gets used to it after a while.

But no rough-housing with him! He's fragile and might break something.

Legit asks you to crack his back if ever he's having back aches.

"Hey love, my back's a little weird again, can I get another hug~?"

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Viktor is surprised and a little intrigued.

Oh? My darling is so energetic, I love it!

If you ever try anything on him, he chuckles and 'punishes' you with kisses all over your face and cuddles you until you give up.

Your bites kind of freak him out

Like he's supposed to bite people! It's kind of weird having people bite him, it's a bit exciting..

"My my~ Is my little bat misbehaving again~?"

Garrick doesn't tolerate roughness at all.

You might get hurt! What if one of them reciprocates the affection and goes too far? He's not having it!

That is until you do it to him and he absolutely melts at your cuteness.

He goes from strict to 100% on board with your love bops

Refuses to bear hug you, he might break your spine because of how much he loves you!

"Remember to be careful my turtledove! And I love you!"

Silas is all in on your rowdiness, considering he's like that himself.

He's a mischievous little shit and loves play fighting with you.

Loves picking you up and spinning you around, making you hold onto him as you two giggle like young lovers together.

Always does this thing where he cups your face and shakes your head side to side, he says its because you're too cute and your face must be a mask because no one is that perfect!

Gives you gentle and soft kisses after your rough moments because he wants to make sure he didn't hurt you. He feels the need to remind you always how much you mean to him and how happy you make him feel.

"My little owl, so cute, so adorable~ I'll never leave you Darling~"

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Baron tries his best to keep you calm but you're just to fuckin adorable!

He's a cold hard assassin! Why is he smiling over weak little attempts to hurt him?!

Scolds you for rough housing but his heart breaks if you pout or if he hurts your feelings

Immediately says sorry and holds your hand tight to show he still loves you, he just doesn't wanna see you potentially hurt yourself.

If you're rough with anyone else, he's pulling you off and dragging you away whilst holding you in the tightest bear hug, his actions screaming out 'you're mine!'

Of course he denies it all, saying excuses like 'what if they think you wanna pick a fight?'

But you know he's just jealous that you're not giving him that attention.

Still doesn't tolerate bodyslams or bites but bear hugs, headbutts and squeezing his hand are highly appreciated. Highly

"How about we settle down now boss hm~? I'll run you a nice hot bath if you'd like~"

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Caspian is a wimpy little bitch and gets upset if you play fight with him.

He'll start whining for you to stop but like also whine if you stop giving him attention. (little shit)

Lives for your bear hugs! SQUEEZE HIM HARDER PLEASE!!!

Headbutts make him dizzy and otherwise just confused but he appreciates it and thinks you're trying to kiss him.

He'll pull you close and show you what a real kiss is like~

Bite him and he's flustered.

Like about to have a stroke and can't form a complete sentence flustered.

"Ohohoh~ Oh my~ H-how fascinating~!"

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Hallow loves playing! Wait what are you doi-

Gets the message (i think) and starts to play fight with you too, chasing you around the house and wrapping you up in his long arms to tickle you all over!

Pretends to be a scary monster and nuzzles his face into you once he catches you, imitating eating. That's what you get for trying to fight the big spooky Hallow!

Your headbutts and affections make him so happy he starts jingling from how much he's trying to hold back.

He loves roughing you up a bit too, but his little bops aren't so strong since he's made of cotton and love <3 <3 <3

If you're getting a bit too rough, he wraps you up and kisses you softly before letting you go once you calm down.

"You tired from lovin on me all day sweetie~? It's alright, I got a looooootta lovin left for you~!"

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Ashvan is terrified!

On one hand eeeeee so cute! He wants to return your affections so bad!!!

But also you might die???

He's a big guy, and he's aware of his size and strength, so he's pretty wary on how he handles you.

You're like a little porcelain doll to him! He'd be so sad if anything happened to you just because he wanted to express his love to you!

He loves your bops, but giving you a warm smile and a kiss is all he can do really.

He makes up for it in giving you gifts, helping around the infirmary, cuddling you at night, the little things.

He wished he was more gentle so he can do the things you do to him! He so wishes to hug you as hard as he can!

"S-so cute...I-I mean so uhm..strong and fierce haha! So not adorable and precious in every way possible! Yeah.."

[fancyfeathers]

I had a thought about Yandere Mycroft Holmes after watching the movie Amsterdam last night, a spy/government agent darling

His darling is from another country, perhaps America or France, because in the Victorian Era those governments were not exactly on good terms with the British Empire, but for the sake of this let’s say she is from America. She is merely sent to keep tabs on the overpowering nation, do what is necessary and sent updates to her superiors. She lives there, picking up new jobs and identities when needed, and keeping her eyes and ears open. Then one day she gets a new assignment from her supervisor, she is to retrieve documents that are in the possession by British Military Intelligence that have confidential information on American Military Personnel which could potentially expose her and other projects.

She picks up a new identity, getting paired with one of her fellow agents, a young man, the two of them dressing up as a wealthy young couple who has relatives in an American firearms company, a possession that would be less suspicious when they begins to ask questions. Her partner has to attempt to obtain a membership to the Diogenes Club or obtain a meeting with member there in the Stranger’s Room so he could look there for the documents. Meanwhile she had the back up plan of becoming friends with the wives of the men who worked in Military Intelligence so they could be invited to a party so they could sneak around and find the documents that way.

It is a long shot but both of them succeed in their goals, he is accepted into the club and she is welcomed into the social circle of women. She is unable to find the documents herself and he has an inkling that the documents are in the office of the founder of the club, Mycroft Holmes, and it is no secret of who he is. It is risky to poke that far and they think about potentially leaving it to the diplomats but if they do it will give the British Government to investigate the documents and find out where and who they are and their jobs as agents will be done and dead, the best case is being sent back to America and receiving a reward for their efforts and other jobs, worst case is that they are arrested and kept across the sea, far away from home. So the two do what they have to in order to get the job done.

One day when she is writing an update report back to their supervisor, her partner returns home and she almost calls out to him and tells him exactly what she is doing but he manages to interrupt her first from the other room…

“Dear, we have company.”

She wastes no time shoving the papers away before making her way into the front entryway to see her partner along with the one they have suspected of having the documents, Mycroft Holmes. Apparently Mycroft had approached her partner just outside of the club and wondering if he could spare some time to talk about potential business opportunities with the so-called firearms company they had relatives in. Her partner asks Mycroft to wait in the drawing room while he speaks to his wife. He takes Mycroft’s darling to another room and tells her to go to the now closed Diogenes Club and sneak into Mycroft’s office to get the documents and she is slightly confused and…

“He knows about me at least, I do not know if he knows that I know he- just go, say you are going out to meet a friend, but go.”

She listens to him, rushing out the back door while her partner goes to deal with Mycroft. She goes through a broken window to get into the club under the cover of night and certainly picks a few locks to get into Mycroft’s office but when she is rummaging around she finds nothing, not just the documents, but there is literally nothing there…

Then it hits her…

He knew this would happen…

It was a trap!

It clicks in her head when she hears the clicking of a draw back of a gun. She looks up to see another man, no doubt who works for Mycroft, across the room with a gun pointed at her, but judging by his smile she knew he was not intending to pull the trigger. She is frozen and has no where to go-

“Ah it seems she got quicker than planned, thank you for holding her up, Albert.”

Mycroft does not do anything like arrest her but rather just asks her to sit down with him in his office. He acts as if nothing is wrong when he takes out the very documents she was looking for from his jacket and sits down across from her, addressing her by her real name which she has never told him so clearly they had figures out the documents and it was all exposed.

“I knew from the start, your partner’s discomfort with his wedding band signaled how you were not married for four years, he kept on fidgeting with it in the club.”

The way he kept on pretending was just humiliate them in the end and the meeting was really just to inform her of this and also…

“You will not be returning to America.”

“W-What?”

“I negotiated a trade with the embassy last night, the promise and return of these documents and that we will never use them against your nation and in return we receive one of their top agents any of the knowledge they have on any potential threats to our nation.”

She really has no other choice but give Mycroft all of her old mission reports along with any oral knowledge she has. Her old partner was sent home and she asked him to tell her family what had happened while she works on transferring her life’s work over to another government. This could take weeks or even months of constant supervision and questioning and then when it is over and she has given what she has and wants to go home and asks her captor…

“No, the trade was made for you not just for your mind, besides they traded you over so willingly, clearly they go not care about you how you cared about them.”

She could not deny the fact that he was right.

[mariacallous]

NEW YORK — An unindicted co-conspirator, an accused sexual harasser and a high-ranking cop alleged to have beaten a female subordinate were among Mayor Eric Adams’ most questionable appointees, until this week.

The forced resignation of New York City’s police commissioner, following a federal raid of his home, has intensified concerns about the mayor’s staffing decisions.

NYPD Commissioner Edward Caban’s departure — the first high-profile one since the feds seized phones from members of Adams’ inner circle last week — is the latest chapter in a saga that dates back even before January 2022 when Adams, freshly off his election victory, began filling his administration with people whose checkered pasts were almost certain to invite scrutiny.

When assembling his administration, Adams named Phil Banks deputy mayor of public safety, even though the former NYPD chief was caught a decade ago accepting gifts from people ultimately convicted of bribery.

Adams placed his old police boss and personal friend Tim Pearson in a powerful, nebulous adviser role and gave him control over a small new municipal office with unchecked power. Pearson is now facing four sexual harassment lawsuits, and one of his accusers alleged in court papers his behavior had been common knowledge for years.

The city “knew about” Pearson’s “long history of sexual misconduct … but ignored his history and hired him anyway,” one of the complaints reads. Pearson’s lawyer has denied all the allegations.

Now both Banks and Pearson have also had their phones seized by federal agents, alongside Caban.

The probes have raised new questions about the mayor’s judgment, and whether his loyalty to troubled aides has become an insurmountable political liability. Nearly every Democrat challenging him in his reelection primary next year is zeroing in on his perceived ethical lapses.

“Far be it for me to tell Eric Adams who to hire and fire. But it’s clear to me that he didn’t understand the most important part of being mayor,” Scott Stringer, the former city comptroller who is expected to run against Adams next year, said in an interview with POLITICO. “He made poor choices, and it’s come back to hurt him.”

The list goes on.

Jeffrey Maddrey, whom the mayor named chief of the NYPD, was accused of punching a fellow cop he’d coerced into a sexual relationship. A judge threw out the case, but he was docked 45 vacation days in an internal trial.

Adams’ former chief of staff is entangled in litigation over past business interests and his ex-buildings commissioner resigned amid an investigation that led to an indictment on bribery charges. He has pleaded not guilty.

In his personal life, Adams is close friends with twin brothers who pleaded guilty a decade ago to financial crimes. A pastor who has described Adams as a mentor was recently sentenced to nine years in jail for stealing a parishoner’s mother’s retirement savings.

Adams appointed an anti-gay Bronx clergyman as a faith adviser, over protests from LGBTQ+ groups. And one of his community liaisons is under federal investigation involving a visit to China she made with Adams.

Many of Adams’ picks to help lead the city’s sprawling government have been unimpeachable. But the list of Adams associates enmeshed in scandal continues to grow.

“It just raises questions to me as to why our mayor feels so incredibly comfortable surrounding himself with a myriad of unsavory characters,” said Christina Greer, a close watcher of city politics as a Fordham University political science professor and co-host of the FAQ NYC podcast.

“You’ve got people accused of punching people in the face, of sexual inappropriateness,” she added. “The list of grievances is long and getting longer, so why would you invite that into your inner circle?”

Adams prides himself on giving people second chances, and says his door is open to anybody. That comes from his own nontraditional political rise — from a dyslexic Black kid from Queens who got arrested and beaten by cops, to a police officer who courted controversy, to an elected official who would eventually mayor.

“Yes, I’m going to talk with people who have stumbled and fell,” Adams said in 2022. “Because I’m perfectly imperfect, and this is a city made up of perfectly imperfect people.”

The people Adams surrounds himself with — both personally and professionally — have earned him criticism going back three decades, to the dawn of his political career.

Adams’ first run for office, a 1994 challenge to a congressional incumbent, was doomed in part by his alliance with Louis Farrakhan, the antisemitic Nation of Islam leader. Soon after, Adams was investigated as a cop for working security for boxer Mike Tyson, who was fresh out of prison after a rape conviction.

After winning a seat in the state Senate, Adams became a friend and the top defender of the so-called four amigos, Democrats who caused chaos in the chamber by defecting from their party. Three of the amigos have since served prison time, for unrelated crimes. The fourth, Rubén Díaz Sr., has become a fierce ally of former President Donald Trump.

Later, Adams got involved in the bidding process for a slot machine contract with fellow state Sens. John Sampson and Malcolm Smith. The arrangement fell apart, and Adams got dinged for “exceedingly poor judgment” in an ethics report. Sampson and Smith both later went to prison for unrelated crimes.

As mayor, Adams’ plan to appoint his own brother Bernard to a well-paid NYPD gig leading his security team raised eyebrows. Adams only asked for ethics guidance after the fact, an internal watchdog reduced his title, and dropped Bernard’s salary to $1. He left after a year.

Adams also tapped nonprofit executive Sheena Wright to be a deputy mayor, a decade after she’d been arrested twice in a day over a domestic dispute. Her friend David Banks called his brother, NYPD bigwig Phil Banks to intervene, and Wright was let out and the charges were dropped.

Wright and David Banks, Adams’ schools chancellor, now live together. They were both among the top appointees who had their phones seized by federal investigators last week — maybe the latest example of Adams’ appointment decisions coming back to bite him.

Adams’ loyalty does have its limits. He cut ties with the pastor he mentored, kept his distance as one of the four amigo state senators, Hiram Monserrate, has attempted political comebacks, and now, pushed out Caban.

“There comes a time when we have to look and see: Is our loyalty to the detriment of the people of New York? And if that point is reached, then you need to make hard judgment calls,” said state Sen. James Sanders, a southeast Queens Democrat who endorsed Adams for mayor in 2021.

“I think that when the mayor comes out of this situation,” Sanders added on the latest raids, “he will have learned many valuable lessons.”

[darkstar225]

Twice's 10th member gets traumatized by a sasaeng

A/N: Heyyy, I'm coming up with a lot of stuff for you guys so I can make up for the time I'm gone lol! Sry for taking so long to post :D I hope that my friend smit24123 who gave me this idea on Wattpad likes it! 

The request: Hi It's me again. I have one where the 10th member was attacked by a "fan"while she was going to the bathroom and after that she traumatized. I like it

PS: Tysm for everyone who reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

__________________________________________________________

The air in the bustling Seoul airport was filled with anticipation as TWICE returned from a successful concert tour in Japan. Among the group's members was Y/N, the 10th and youngest member, who had been on cloud nine after the amazing performance they had just delivered. However, there was an empty space that had once been filled by Jeongyeon, who was currently on her second hiatus due to health reasons.

As they disembarked from the plane and made their way through the terminal, the usual chaos and excitement of fans and paparazzi surrounded them. But TWICE was accustomed to it, and their experienced staff kept a tight protective circle around them. Y/N, however, was blissfully unaware of the danger that would soon shatter her world.

The group, tired but exhilarated, decided to take a brief break before their next schedule. The maknae excused herself to use the restroom, a common practice after a long flight. She navigated through the terminal, determined to make her way to the facilities without causing any disturbance.

Unknown to her, a sasaeng fan (a persistent, obsessed, and invasive follower) had managed to slip past the security personnel and blend in with the crowd. They had been stalking TWICE's sunshine for some time, studying her habits and waiting for the perfect opportunity to approach her. This was their moment.

Inside the restroom, Y/N stood before the mirror, checking her makeup and hair. She was utterly absorbed in her reflection, unaware of the approaching danger. Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her, too close for comfort.

Y/N... 

A low, almost whispering voice hissed, and Y/N turned, her eyes widening in shock. It was the sasaeng fan, their face twisted with an unsettling mix of obsession and malice.

The bathroom door slammed shut behind them, and Y/N's heart raced as panic coursed through her veins. She took a step back, her eyes darting around for any possible escape route.

The sasaeng fan's voice grew louder, their eyes filled with an unhinged fervour. 

I've been watching you for so long, Y/N. I know everything about you. I even know what brand of shampoo you use.

The youngest's voice trembled as she answered the crazy "fan".

Y/N - Please, just leave me alone.

But the sasaeng fan was undeterred, closing in on her with each step. 

I love you more than anyone else ever could. I'd do anything for you, Y/N. Anything.

As the sasaeng fan reached out to touch her, a surge of adrenaline flooded the younger girl's body. She managed to push past the intruder and bolted from the restroom, running as fast as her trembling legs could carry her. The sasaeng fan gave chase, but Y/N's cries for help drew the attention of the airport security, and they quickly intervened, apprehending the stalker before they could reach her.

The unnies rushed to her side, concern etched on their faces. She was in tears, trembling uncontrollably, and her voice quivered as she recounted the horrifying ordeal.

Jihyo, the leader and Y/N's mama, took the girl into her arms, holding her tightly. 

Jihyo - It's okay, luv. You're safe now. We're here for you.

Nayeon, mom number 2, called for an ambulance, knowing that her kid needed immediate medical attention for the shock she had endured. The group huddled around their traumatized sister, providing a protective shield and comfort as they waited for help to arrive.

The aftermath of the incident was filled with interviews with the police, airport security, and a growing media frenzy. TWICE released a statement, condemning the sasaeng fan's actions and urging authorities to take stronger measures against such individuals.

Y/N, however, was struggling to cope with the trauma. The nightmarish encounter had left her with vivid, terrifying flashbacks and severe anxiety. She couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and often found herself overwhelmed by fear, unable to leave her room without feeling like she was being watched.

Her fellow members were deeply concerned for her well-being and took turns staying by her side, providing a protective presence and offering reassurance. They were like a family, rallying around their youngest member, vowing to help her heal.

But as the days turned into weeks, it became clear that the maknae's trauma was not something she could easily overcome. Despite the support and love surrounding her, her mental state continued to deteriorate. She became withdrawn and emotionally fragile, unable to participate in group activities, practice, or even the most basic daily routines.

Jihyo and Nayeon, who had taken on motherly roles within the group with Jeongyeon (3mix), had countless sleepless nights as they discussed how to help their child. They were desperate to find a solution and bring their beloved lovebug back to the vibrant, joyful girl she once was.

One evening, as TWICE's angel sat in her room, Nayeon and Jihyo entered, their expressions filled with deep concern. 

Jihyo - Honey, we've been really worried about you. We can see how much you're suffering.

Nayeon - We want to help you, but we don't know what to do. Can you please talk to us, let us in, and let us be there for you, baby?

Y/N bit her trembling lip, her eyes welling up with tears. She knew that she couldn't keep shutting herself off from her members who had been nothing but supportive and loving. With great effort, she nodded and began to whisper. 

Y/N - I... I don't know how to get over this, ommas.

Jihyo and Nayeon exchanged a glance, their maternal instincts driving them to protect and heal their precious Y/N. Jihyo reached out to take the young girl's hand and answered.

Jihyo - You don't have to get over this by yourself, my love. We're going to find professional help for you, a therapist who can guide you through this difficult time.

Nayeon - We'll be with you every step of the way. We're not just a group! We're a family, and we'll do whatever it takes to help you heal.

Y/N's eyes filled with gratitude and hope as she realized she didn't have to face her trauma alone. She had the support of her TWICE family, especially her motherly figures, Jihyo and Nayeon (Jeongyeon didn't know about the situation till she came back). The road to recovery would be challenging, but with their unwavering love and determination, she knew she could overcome the darkness that had engulfed her life.

The journey was long and arduous, but little by little, with therapy and the support of her caring group members, Y/N began to find her way back to herself. Her nightmares lessened, and her fear started to subside. She learned coping mechanisms and strategies to deal with her trauma, and her strength slowly returned.

As time passed, the maknae grew stronger, and she began to participate in group activities once again. Her fellow older sisters were there for her every step of the way, providing the love and support that she needed. Jihyo and Nayeon continued to be her pillars of strength, embodying the maternal care and protection that she had come to rely on.

One day, as Y/N stood on stage with TWICE, the cheers of the fans filled the air. She looked out at the sea of smiling faces, her heart full of gratitude for the love and support that had helped her overcome her trauma. She knew that she wasn't just a member of a K-pop group, she was part of a family, a family that had guided her through her darkest hours and had brought her back to the light. 

And this made her look around with a single thought:

I’ll love my dear older sisters forever.

A/N: I’m sorry for any errors. English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there is something wrong, ty for reading <3

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 11]

Warnings and Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint). Should know the drill on my use of Mando'a, italics and my headcanons by now if you've been following along with the AU series this far. Star Wars and real-world swearing. Can you call it a road trip if there's no cars in Star Wars? Who knows, who cares. Batch and Medic!Reader go on a road trip back to that mining planet so the brothers can have a nice little day to use their skill sets in peace and quiet away from the Empire. More domestic(-ish) moments. Only days into dating Hunter and basically like one of the family, lucky lucky you. If you don't try to embarrass your siblings in front of their significant others, are you really even siblings? Someone figured out where to make a "nap nest" in the Marauder to escape the heat? Sure why not, we don't know the exact layout of the attack shuttle so fuck it we vibe. ❤️✌️ Couple of suggestive lines but overall this is just me finding excuses for fluff/soft content. Batchers need a break and so do you. 

Word-count: 5,479

Trp-trp-trp-trp!

Scraping wet food out of the can, [____] glances down at the light-furred critter winding eagerly around her feet, the sound of the Tooka's curved nails tip-tipping against the floor as she prances and paces in tight circles. "I'm going as fast as I can without making a mess, silly!"

Rorw! M'oww!

She sets the plate down along with the ceramic bowl with water just as there's a knock at the door. The hour, exactly on the dot, Hunter said he'd be by to walk her to the shipyards. "Spoon, you be good for me, okay girl? I'll be home before dinner. Sounds like that's him." Straightening out the hem of an older, comfortable shirt she won't mind getting dirty, she plucks the emergency medkit off the counter as she walks past it. "Be right there!"

Hunter doesn't hide the visual head-to-toe sweep when she opens the door to him, the dark ink that makes up his tattoo of the half-skull making it very easy to notice when he starts to smile at the sight of her. "Hey… Good morning." He looks bright-eyed in a way beyond possibly being awake for an hour or two longer than the medic. She'd slept in pretty late - compared to the days she was working at least - since she'd gone home late after dinner. It was difficult to say no to Omega's suggestion to watch a holofilm once the leftovers were tucked away in the cold-unit and dishes were washed up.

Besides, more excuses to remain close to one another and enjoy the company, the chance to hold one another close while she laid out her thoughts for how to spend tomorrow? (Distract themselves from the collective thoughts of the Imperial at her health practice.) Would they really have passed that up?

She smiles back, threading her arm in the offered space to walk arm in arm once she's locked the door. "G'morning, Hunter." She realizes he's clean-shaven when he moves in close to peck her cheek with a sweet little sound. "Sleep well, mesh'la?"

"Mhm. You?" she asks.

"Probably better than Wrecker and Crosshair…" Hunter chuckles, sighing just slightly. "They were pretty excited, y'know. They have a chance to show off, so there's a chance they'll get a bit competitive like the old days." he warns her; not that [____] needed the reminder that his brothers' habit of competition had survived the war.

"Still a little confused how exactly they competed with such different skill sets at times." [____] admits and laughs softly under her breath as they pass one of the management-personnel of the shipyards, the top fin of the Marauder easy to spot, "But siblings always find a way, don't they? So I suppose that's enough of an explanation."

Ducking under the wing of another ship just before they get to the Omicron-class ship, the two of them are greeted by the sight of his brothers waiting for them, and Omega breaks away from helping Tech with last-minute supply checks to greet her friend. "[____]!" Ordinarily someone would be warning her for forgetting (once again) that shipyards were no place to be running around, but she doesn't go too far before the medic catches her with a laugh and hoists her up in her arms.

"Good morning to you too, sweetie! Looks like someone's excited for today!"

"Yeah, we get to spend it with you!" Omega giggles, lacing her arms around the grown woman's neck and shoulders. Tech was pointedly looking away to conceal a grimace of annoyance, likely having lost track of what he was counting within a very full crate. Oh dear. Lowering the youngster, [____] kindly reminds the girl she was in the middle of helping one of her brothers with a wink and loving ruffle of her hair.

"And as much as I love a good hug from the galaxy's cutest little heat-seeking missile, you were helping your brother count something important from the look of things before you ran off." The crate was marked "SNACKS" in bold, sloppy Aurebesh, but something told her the contents inside were most definitely not bursting with flavor.

Omega's hands wring and twist the hem of her shirt. "Ri-right, sorry Tech! I just got excited."

"It's fine Omega, I understand..." Tech smiles softly, finally nodding in greeting in [____]'s direction to be polite, "I just lost track of how many I've already count-"

"Twenty-four!" Omega declares confidently, swinging off [____]'s wrist with a slight laugh.

"Oh, excellent, I was only one off. Twenty-five, six… twenty-eight. Perfect. Full crate." Lid latched tightly, the container is pawned off to Wrecker, excitedly prancing in place, so he can haul it up the ramp into the shuttle. "Awh right! Can't wait!"

[____] gives Hunter a questioning and amused look. Did Wrecker really have twenty-eight explosives in that crate? "Don't worry, those snacks aren't any spicier than the way Cross likes his fruit and spice-dough pastries." he assures her, nudging Tech and Omega to get into the ship and get things running now that Echo's called from the cockpit that the shipyard crew has given them the go-ahead to lift-off with the rest of the morning rush. They ought to hurry before the skyway was choked with ships.

Crosshair scoffed lazily, collecting his case for the 773 Firepuncher with a lifted brow and a gentle shoulder slugging. "Big words for the guy who didn't make the cut for galaxy's number one cutest heat-seeking missile."

"I'm okay with that." Hunter retorts in a gruffer voice, returning the slug with a touch more effort. He's the last up the ramp after the medic, so he hits the proper button on the panel to draw in the ramp. "I'll gladly settle for being number two." he adds with a smug, confident expression. Oh Maker, her face feels warm, suddenly. Something about Hunter's moments of confidence in himself could be so attractive.

Tech calls a final warning from the cockpit as the engines rumble and burst to life. "Ready for lift-off! Strap in, this will not be very smooth, I'm afraid!"

Finding a crash seat for herself, [____] gets her medkit secured and carefully straps in. Hunter joins her shortly after, having helped Omega get settled in in the cockpit's seats. (Until she was a little more acclimated to a bumpier than average take-off, she could get airsick being further back in the ship.) Crosshair takes a seat directly across from his brother, a devious smirk washing over every feature.

Oh boy, here comes trouble. Hunter senses it too, preliminarily rolling his eyes after securing the shoulder harness. "What is it, Cross?" He's certain he's going to wish he hadn't asked, so he chooses a non-Basic language to get this over with and spare [____] the potential for embarrassment. "Out with it."

Adopting the same language, Cross purrs delicately around the toothpick with a mirthful smile. "Shame you can't act out that bunkroom fantasy you had as a cadet, Hunter." He only groans regretfully, ignoring the provocative grins from the sniper and the strongman once he's gotten seated. "And I shouldn't have asked…"

She looks sideways at him and across the ship at his brothers, and her later reply only makes Wrecker laugh harder. Hunter's mortified because forgot she understands this language thanks to the time she was employed at her first of two health centers. That smirk tells Hunter he should have worried about himself being embarrassed.

Kark…

"Now, now, Crosshair. We both know he'd want a door he can lock before anything else." [____] croons in a salacious voice.

Hunter sinks further into the seat in a way that has nothing to do with the spacecraft picking up speed once hitting clear skies.

Kark!

"That looks like a mining town." Omega marvels, pointing to something she sees out of the viewport.

"That's because it is," Echo replies, reaching overhead to hit some control as part of the landing sequence, "that's the mountain [____] fell down, actually. Thank the Force she wasn't badly hurt at least." Omega shudders, shrinking back against her seat until the landing struts have made contact with the surface of the desert planet. "I know that she said it was more of an uncontrolled slide than a fall after she slipped on loose shale, but still… That must've been scary…"

[____] and Hunter briefly glanced at one another by chance as they gathered their things. The twisting expression of torment in his face when his eyes found that fading evidence of her partially unsuccessful exploit left no doubt in [____]'s mind that Hunter had some really strong what if? thoughts surging right now. Maybe the very same ones she'd had that day when making her way home.

What if she'd hit her head and ended up severely concussed? If she'd been badly hurt, would the wildlife here pose a threat to her? (What wildlife was out here, actually? She didn't know; hopefully no big carnivores.) How quickly would help have come to her if she'd given Echo the SOS; that unfortunately yes, their "favorite medic" had gotten herself hurt?

Was Echo serious about that… is she really their favorite medic?

"Wow. Hardly a cloud in the sky…" Wrecker rumbles with wonder as he's the first to step off the Havoc Marauder. "Good thing we brought so much water and stuff for shade! But first, needa put on all the sun-stuff before someone ends up lookin' like a roasted porg again; c'mere you!" He plucks his sister off her feet with frightening ease as she tries to skip past him after Tech, who'd wandered off ahead to inspect the desert vegetation. She giggles and struggles in mild protest, swearing she can put the protective lotion on herself without any help. "Nuh-uh, we're not repeatin' last time, Omega. Fried the back of your poor neck 'cause you forgot."

"But what about Te-!" she tries asking, gasping when Wrecker accidentally tickles her by moving her hair off the back of her neck to apply the sun protectant. He apologizes, large fingers making quick work of the application process before she's thoroughly covered and she can take it from there. "Awh, someone'll drag him back eventually if he's not coming back on his own. Y'know how Techie is."

"Don't be stingy on the lotion, sweetie," [____] encourages her, "I brought plenty."

Echo laughs, taking one of the many bottles from the crate she and Hunter had collected from her clinic last night as part of the preparation for today with a grateful smile. "Benefits of knowing a damn good medic." He tosses his head in a nodding motion at Cross, "Mind helping me out? Goes a lot faster with two hands." Both chuckle when Echo whirrs the scomplink attachment once for good measure to emphasize his point.

"Sure thing."

"Hey… uh-uh." [____] chides Hunter softly for quickly smearing the sun cream across his face before reaching behind his head to apply it to his neck, "Come here. I want to make sure that nice tattoo of yours is properly covered so it stays nicer longer." Her fingertips carefully paint a thin layer of the lotion over the dark ink of the half-skull on the left side of his face, glazing it in a coat of white before tenderly massaging it into his face so it absorbs into the skin. The whole ordeal, Hunter's keen eyes are trained on her, watching her with rapt attention. She'd become the galaxy's most interesting spectacle to Hunter since freeing himself from refraining from expressing how he realized he felt about her. Becoming braver, bolder, to watch her with adoration, without much shame if she caught him staring.

Her kindness, her compassion, her soothing, nurturing nature that served as the groundwork for her inner and outer beauty had him so enamored shortly from the start, perhaps.

And she… she's wearing the Nabooian pendant.

How in the stars did he miss that? It looked so beautiful in the sunlight. She looked so beautiful in the sunlight. "Something on my face, or…?" she asks softly, teasingly as she takes the container again and carefully applies some to her own face. "Am I missing something?"

"Mm-m." he confirms shortly and leans in to pepper her in sweet little kisses, feeling bold, daring, in this moment.

"Ew," Omega giggles brightly behind them when Hunter grimaces reflexively after hitting a patch of lotion, "I bet that didn't taste very good."

"No… Definitely went a lot better in my head…" he murmurs in answer, pulling on the collar of his civvies to clean the opaque residue from his lips. "Sorry."

She chuckles sympathetically, watching as Wrecker tramped up the gangplank and said he was gonna start getting the charges ready once he had them out of the ship, "Someone better ask Techie if there's a safe place to set these bad boys off! Don't want any serious debris comin' our way!" She agrees to go ask, taking the lotion with her to gently interrupt Tech's deep analysis if she can. He's hunched over in a squat, studying the roots of the shrub-tree now, muttering scientific names from the sound of things.

Recognizing her by the shadow she casts, Tech greets her with an enthusiastic question. "Aren't these fascinating, [____]?"

"Gotta know what I'm looking at, Tech," she laughs lightly, trading his datapad for the bottle of lotion, "and after you put this on, Wrecker wants your input on where he can safely plant the explosives to get the day kicked off with a bang." He takes the lotion with a sheepish smile. He’d gotten so ahead of himself he forgot to explain what he was looking at first. "Ah, of course-'' Tech murmurs apologetically, "These are ucca brevifolia - common name “shu'ah tree”. They have thick, waxy leaves that are capable of retaining critical moisture through prolonged drought that are protected against herbivores with a mild, serrated, outer edge. It serves as a deterrent to grazers.”

“Oh yeah? Is that an adaptation to grazing wildlife or something they’ve always had?” [____] asks with genuine interest as she walks with him back to the ship. Tech grinned appreciatively, a little relieved, as always, when someone wanted to know what was currently of-interest to him without brushing him off. (When he’d given Hunter’s letter a final read-through to catch any errors Hunter worried there being, he was surprised by some of the additional observations his brother had made about [____]’s friendship with him.) “I haven’t gotten that far in the reading I was doing, but I can determine such a thing once I’ve assisted Wrecker.” he admits with an offering, carefully lifting his goggles so someone can help him apply everything without squinting in the sunlight.

Wrecker looks from Tech to [____] with a curious smile, settling the crate at his feet to wait while she helps his brother carefully distribute the protective coverage around his eyes as Hunter helps out by holding Tech’s goggles for the time being. “Whatcha talking about?”

“Oh, Techie was telling me those trees out there,” she pointed over Tech’s shoulder with a free hand to indicate to everyone what their brother had wandered off to inspect, “the ones that have the shaggy-looking trunks and those red-tipped, blade-like leaves. I think they’re kinda pretty, in a way.”

Adding with a nod, Tech turns his face to the left to speak with Wrecker, “Which, once I’ve helped you, Wrecker, I can return to researching to answer her question once we’ve gotten the day ‘kicked off with a bang’. Ack, that tickles…” Wrecker chortles alongside Hunter, stitching his arms across his chest with a warm smile.

This was gonna be a fun day for everyone.

“HAHAHA! That last one could bring down the whole mountain!” Wrecker whooped, caught up in the excitement of planting the last of his charges at the foothills of the mountain the mining town is perched on as he gleefully jogs back to the safety zone.

Tech shakes his head as he ducks back into the ship. “Seems like a gross exaggeration for the amount of-”

“Hah! Dumb ol’ mining town deserves it!” Wrecker declares decidedly, tossing his head at Hunter knowingly, which only makes him chuckle and shake his head with a sigh, “Wrecker… Are you going to try to teach a whole mountain a lesson for hurting [____] when she slipped?”

“Nah,” Wrecker laughs, idly tossing and catching the primer, “not unless you want to.”

[____] and Omega exchange glances and shake their heads softly for more or less the same reason. "Boys…" they agree with a knowing sigh. The explosive charge wasn't going to be enough to bring down a boomtown mountain even if it was riddled with hollowed-out passageways and tunnels, but it wouldn't stop the brothers from arguing - playfully - if it would or not. The idea of showing an inanimate object who's boss after her mistake of not minding her footing was at least a little endearing and nothing she was stranger to either. The first time the medic had been invited to the Batcher's housing, she'd knocked on the door in the middle of Wrecker's tirade against a chair Omega had tripped over.

"Think you can get away with hurtin' MY sister, HUH?! You think you're tough?!"

"Hi... Did I come at a bad time, Hunter?"

"Er, no, it's just- You're fine. H-he's yelling at a chair Omega tripped over to try to cheer her up; make her laugh.”

“Aw, that’s nice of him. Is she hurt?”

Hunter shook his head, perhaps for the fifth time at Wrecker’s insistent offering. “No, really, I- I’m good, Wreck. Kind of you to offer, but it’s not really my thing. You can ask someone else.” He was more interested in just watching his brothers have fun, relax, and do their own things. More interested in listening to Tech rattle off a parts list inside the ship as he worked on repairing something, expressing terse disinterest to Wrecker. More interested in hearing the languid sweep of a cleaning cloth over a trusty 773 Firepuncher as Crosshair made sure sand didn’t settle into the grooves and crevices in the weaponry. Comforted by the aroma of sun-warmed cotton and skin from a pace away where Echo sat, happily soaking in the sun for some much-desired phototherapy. Amused by Wrecker’s delight in this opportunity to blow something up that was coming to a close as soon as he found someone to take him up on his offer. Entertained by Omega and [____] trailing their fingers in the sand of the desert planet, an endless, completely reusable canvas for their creativity together.

Stolen, precious memories the Empire could never take from him no matter how hard they tried. Acts of resistance in their own right. A refusal to be stifled, to be silenced, to comply blindly.

Man, someone in the Empire would hate knowing a stolen crate of their precious bombs were being used to blow craters in the desert sand for the hell of it. That Wrecker had scoffed over the fancy, intimidating exteriors and pulled them apart to scrutinize some sap’s work.

“Hah, that’s pathetic. I’ve made better bombs with half as many wires that I secured so much better than that under pressure! Tech, look!”

“... pathetic. Their wiring is so sloppy.”

“Tha’s what I said!!”

Omega lifts her head from her current work of art in the sand, brows lifted in question when [____] waves down the offer. “Can I set off the last charges?” Initially, Hunter wasn’t sure he liked that idea. Omega understood perfectly well that the vode didn’t mess with bombs of any sort that Wrecker or Tech cobbled together, and her first experience trying to disable a smoke bomb nearly a year ago with Wrecker’s tutelage had ended in, well, a smokeshow on Bracca.

“You let the kid try to disarm a bomb…? That has to be one of your dumbest-”

“C’mon, I’m not an idiot, Crosshair… I’m not gonna let her train with a live explosive. And would you stop calling her ‘the kid’ already? Omega has a name, just like you.”

“Whatever.”

“No, not whatever-”

“Hunter, don’t! Enough fighting, you two! We all just got our chips out for kriff sake!”

Omega looks to Hunter for permission when Wrecker hesitates. Deferring to the leader. But he wasn’t just their leader anymore, he was their brother. He was trying to be their brother more than a low-ranking commanding officer. They didn’t need his permission for every little thing, but it was so habitual. For all of them.

Good soldiers…

“Hunter, can I?” Omega asks softly.

“I’ll leave that up to Wrecker to decide.” he gives Wrecker a slow nod. I trust you, it says.

… follow orders.

“I’d feel better if we did it together, Omega. Jus’ to be safe, y’know. C’mere.” Omega took Wrecker’s outstretched hand and walked forward to get in-range of the charge with the primer, listening to his instructions intently as they walked a few paces closer to the old mountain mining town. Crosshair called over his shoulder into the Marauder that Tech might wanna watch this one, carefully laying aside his rifle. Echo sat up and climbed out of his low seat to move back towards their ship out of an abundance of caution. Hunter and [____] scooched closer together on the old blanket now that Omega had gotten up, leaning comfortably against one another. Hands finding the other’s, clasped comfortably.

“This oughta be good.” she murmurs fondly, head against his shoulder.    

“THREE!” Wrecker called; the signal for all spectators to brace themselves for the noise to come. Three seconds to detonation and total, momentary chaos.

Cross calls them rib-rattlers. She can understand why. A thick plume of dust, debris and spent powder smoke shoots high into the blue expanse of the sky above the seven of them. They can feel the shockwave through the ground below their feet and booming into their chest cavities. Omega shrieks with delighted laughter alongside Wrecker, both of them whooping on their way back to the ship to watch as the dust cloud begins to disperse and dissipate with the gentle breeze that’s picked up across the arid plain.

“Not bad,” Cross approves, nodding to Wrecker and Omega as they get closer to the ship, approvingly before glancing around at his datapad for the time, “think I’ll go sneak a quick break from the heat. Then I hope you’re up for a- Hunter?”

Hunter’s suddenly on his feet in a flash, instinctually and visibly bristling at the sight of a second plume building and rising into the sky from the side of the mountain. The blast in the foothills has one last trick to play; one of the buildings nestled in the winding, serpentine road that had been worked into the stony surface of the natural formation has been knocked from its crumbling foundation and has become mobile. The entire structure is slowly sliding down the slope. It looks like a tiny, very old-fashioned and simple prison house; probably would have held no more than four cells for the roughest and rowdiest in a boomtown.

“Hunter, it’s okay.” [____] says soothingly as she too sees the little building coming down the mountain. “It’s coming to a stop on the next level of the switch-back. We’re not in any danger so far away.” she reminds him, putting a comforting hand on his back, his shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re safe. Right?”

It’s about a moment before he’s satisfied that the little structure sliding down the mountainside is in fact not going to move again before he settles himself down, softening his stance, feeling the fine hairs on the back of his neck lay flat once more the longer [____] keeps her hands on him, the longer her heartbeat remains so steady. “R-right…”

Crosshair cautiously utters under his breath to avoid breaking this newly established sense of calm for his brother that he’s going to find a snap-activated cold pack and hide out from the heat for roughly twenty minutes, and they’d front row seats to another impressive spectacle.

Twenty minutes of calm would do them all some good.

Well, calm as “calm” could be with his brothers. But, Crosshair supposed he wouldn’t have it any other way.

It was just a simple snap-pack and he couldn’t find the blasted thing, Hunter could hear Crosshair tramping through the whole of the Marauder, opening the odd cabinet here and there in his search. Just like he couldn’t find the spare blankets or pillows. Or the misplaced tool when the box tipped over as he helped Tech shift everything outside.

"Hunterrrr… I can't find it!"

He sighs heavily, finally and reluctantly pushing himself off the edge of the old blanket for the third time to assist his brother. "Do I seriously have to find everything around here?" He just wants to spend a little time in the sun, dammit. Some time to settle his head after that last detonation, and the ear-splitting clatter of tools after Tech had tripped over his own toolbox after moving everything so people could escape the heat in peace. (“Apologies! Don’t worry: I’m not hurt!”)

Tech was now working on his project in the shadow cast by the bulk of the Marauder's body, a long cable snaking out of the cockpit plugged into some radio-like device so he could continue listening along to an educational program about the insectoid Yalbec species. (No, she didn't want to know what happened on Yalbec Prime apparently.)

Echo just chuckles softly as his younger brother begrudgingly trudges past him to the ship for the fifth time in as many minutes. "Hey, I'd ask for help finding something from an expert tracker too." Poor guy just sighs, trotting up the steps to the side-ramp a little faster now after asking Tech to turn down the radio a notch. "Shut up…"

"You're a good brother, Hunter!" the ARC calls after him. Sometimes, try as he might, it was harder than other days to turn off that part of his conditioning to lead and look out for his brothers all the time. While letting go of leadership and rank was getting better with practice, it was that gnawing, almost screaming urge to constantly be on high alert and let his brothers mind themselves that was harder to wrangle.

What was it Crosshair had teased Hunter for once? Something about being paternal?

She wasn't quite sure what that remark was off the top of her head while she was more concerned with making sure she had a proper eye on Wrecker while he was moving heavy stones out in the dry heat of the desert. Thank the stars they brought so much water, no one would run the risk of being dehydrated at least, she thought as she watched Wrecker take another pull from his hydro pack. (Her bigger concern was heatstroke or overexertion.) Looked like he was crafting a makeshift bench for the targets and novelty props Cross had brought with them so he could show off his sharpshooting skills; the whole reason [____] had hinted to Hunter she could think of a good excuse to stay away from her clinic today last night over dinner.

(She thought of that letter often, and had read it last night before going to sleep as a way of warding away any dreams of the Imperial forces at her clinic.)

Wrecker sat down under the shade of a low shrub-tree after she flashed him a flat palm that morphed into a cupping motion with a turn of the wrist.

Rest.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't laugh," [____] chuckles softly behind that same raised hand to stifle her laughter, "but is Crosshair getting whiny?" She's no stranger to the often high and nasally whines of a tired tot or a fussy baby thanks to her professional experience, and the hint of impatience in Cross's voice is enough to remind her of the little ones she's treated over the years since completing medical training.

Echo just chuckles before adjusting his sun shades. Omega glances at the medic's time device on her wrist. "It's around the time Crosshair naps at home some days. He sleeps in bursts." Her voice drops into that timid, nervous whisper when she’s afraid someone will hear one of her inner observations that might not be taken so well if said out loud. “He can get… a little cranky in the heat, too…”

“Ahh…” she replies, understanding now, “I see. But hey, he’s got the right idea to escape the heat. Wouldn’t be a bad idea at all to do the same thing. Oh kriff, that’s right; should I tell ‘em they’re not gonna find any snap-packs in there, or do you wanna do it?” [____] had told them while they were traveling and hadn’t quite reached the planet that she was going to add the packs she found in their tiny infirmary aboard the attack shuttle to her medbag so they’d be in easy reach. (She couldn’t blame them for forgetting she did that when she’d done it herself until Echo diligently touched up his UV coverage with more lotion just a moment ago.)

“You better,” Omega tells the medic with a smile, “I’m gonna go get Wrecker. He looks tired.”

[____] nods. “Good idea.” Climbing up the ramp a step at a time, she’s got two snap-activated packs in her opposite hand that are a very welcome sight for the sniper.

“Oh, Maker, forgot they wouldn’t be on the ship. Thanks, doc.”

“I forgot too, sorry boys.” [____] offers an apologetic smile, peering around the marksman and tracker at a mess on the floor between all the sleeping racks near the back of the ship and gunner’s mount. “What’s all that?” It looked like a rumpled nest of blankets and pillows on the cool durasteel floor.

“Omega calls them ‘nap nests’,” Crosshair offers, biting down a yawn (Hunter less successfully) and thanking her for the rapidly chilling pack, “or, somethin’ like that… And how come you’re suddenly tired, vod?” Hunter shrugs. He’d truly slept fine last night, but he felt pretty tired being in the ship, suddenly. Admitted to feeling a little lightheaded, too. Neither [____] or Cross liked the sound of that. “That doesn’t sound good, vod.”

“Have you been drinking enough water?” [____] asks, patting down her pockets. Blast, she’d finished off the last of her hydro pack. “Shiiiit.” the medic hissed, mentally rattling off symptoms. “Are you also feeling like it’s difficult to concentrate?”

Omega and Wrecker poked their heads into the ship before climbing in, a hydro pack, unopened, in her hands. “Hunter accidentally let himself get dehydrated didn’t he? I-I found this where he was sitting.”

“I’ve had at least one pack,” Hunter tried thinking back, feeling that wave of guilt washing over him when his siblings, his… could he call her that, yet? “Girlfriend”? (Would she prefer something else?) “I think I just got distracted and forgot to open the next one. I’m sor-”

“Some water is better than none, could be worse.” [____] conceded with a tender smile, allowing Omega to take a seat next to her in the middle of the “nap nest” when Crosshair suggested Hunter better lay down and he’d climb into a sleeping rack instead, popping in a pair of ear-jammers so he could sleep while sister and friend teamed up to take care of his brother. “Here, bandana comes off, and we’ll give you the second cold pack while you slowly nurse this…” The scarlet bandana was pawned to Omega, and once it was carefully laid aside in a neat fold, she watched with interest (and confusion) as her little brother’s eyes fluttered reflexively at the first pass of [____]’s hand through his hair once his head was propped up with one of the pillows from the nap nest in the back of the ship, but not her’s. That was strange. How’d she do that? What did Omega do differently than the medic?

“Here, try it like this.” the grown woman offered kindly, noticing the girl’s cute pout of confusion. She tried encouraging Omega to give it another shot when it didn’t work as expected. “You’ll get it, sweetie. Just try again. He’s not going anywhere until I feel he’s properly hydrated again.” [____] laughed lightly at Hunter’s mumbled apology for making her play medic when she was supposed to have the day off, again, just to take care of him when he wasn’t being proactive about his safety and health.

Before bending forward to kiss Hunter, [____] playfully rolled her eyes in his line of vision before closing the distance. “Oh, hush, handsome. Like I told Captain Rex, you guys just keep my job interesting for me. And I don’t mind a bit.”

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @ladytano420​ @the-hexfiles @ilovethosebrowneyes9904

Note from Frost: The "shu'ah" trees Tech described for you are space!Joshua trees (I just tried to creatively modify the name and description a bit). The mining town is heavily inspired by Jerome, Arizona, which is what inspired the beginning and opening location of this fic even though it wasn't described in detail until now. Threw in a vague reference to Sliding Jail for funsies. As a born-and-raised desert dweller, this chapter felt like writing about home for me as much as it's about your more domestic/everyday-flavored moments with Hunter and his siblings. Start thinking now if you wanna be added to the all-encompassing SW fic taglist (sans OC stories, most likely) while I get the last chapter all nice and purdy!  🩷 

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[a-solitary-sea-rover-backup]

The Greatest Sailing Movie (N)Ever Made

Discussions of sailing movies online tend to circle around the same dozen names or so. How many errors did you spot in All is Lost? Was Master and Commander just too jargon-heavy to be a hit? Wind— love it or hate it? And just how bad is Waterworld?

But a recent discovery in the archives of Universal Studios revealed how close we almost came to having another name— or two?— in Hollywood’s somewhat dubious pantheon of the sport. While sorting old personnel files for digitization, archivist Tasha Durak discovered extensive material in the files of now-retired Universal screenwriter Avril Debile related to a project called Sunny Sets Sail. The documents suggest that Debile first got the idea for the story when visiting San Diego in 1991, during preparations for the following year’s America’s Cup competition.

Sunny Sets Sail (some documents use the title Sunny: America’s Pup) was to be a children’s sports comedy in a style common in the 1990s, combining cameos from real pro athletes with the hilarious antics of a fictional group of children— and, naturally, their adorable dog.

The story centered around Hannah, a young Navy brat recently moved to then-contemporary San Diego after spending most of her life overseas. Trying to help her feel more at home, Hannah’s parents give her a Newfoundland puppy named Sunny for her birthday and enroll her in lessons at a local sailing club. When Sunny tags along with Hannah to her first lesson, the instructor reluctantly allows the dog to accompany Hannah and her friends Jenny and Robby, noting the Newfoundland breed’s famous swimming abilities.

As the weeks pass by, Hannah, Jenny, and Robby discover Sunny is a natural crewmate, following commands to shift weight and pull on lines with her mouth. As there is nothing in the sailing club’s rules to prevent canine crew, the three compete in a junior racing series with Sunny onboard, and end up winning.

The prize is presented by Robby’s parents, Frank and June Arnold (apparently based on Peter and JJ Isler), who are both sailors for an American syndicate preparing to defend the America’s Cup. Sunny and the kids are invited to come watch the racing. They meet both the American team and the challengers, the usual sports movie band of villainous rivals, this time wearing an Australian coat of paint. (One draft which badly attempted to write out their dialogue phonetically was rejected by an editor for its potential to cause an international incident, as it sounded closer to a hideous mix of Cockney and Bostonian accents.)

The worst of them, of course, is challenging skipper Charlie “Crusher” Mackenzie, a bleach-blond meathead in sunglasses, introduced stepping on Sunny’s tail during a visit to the American compound and barking “Bloody mutt, I outta throw you overboard to the shahhks!” when she whines.

(Although few concrete references to the history of the America’s Cup are made during the script, Robby’s comment “The Australians. They won once before and they want it back.” seems to indicate a recent history vaguely like the real world’s.)

After Sunny jumps onboard the American IACC boat during a practice session and proves to be as adept at following commands as big boat crew as she did on the kids’ dinghy, Hannah and Robby suggest she become part of the American crew. At first, the skipper says no, but after losing the first two races of the match to the Australians, he relents.

Sunny, in a dog-sized windbreaker and ballcap with earholes, assists the Americans in the Cup match, and performs a traditional Newfoundland rescue when Mr. Arnold falls overboard during a maneuver. (In the first draft, she improbably swims fast enough to bring him back to the racing boat itself, in later drafts she more realistically drags him to a chase boat.)

As we might all hope, there indeed is a protest room scene where a white-haired old yachtsman adjusts his reading glasses, clears his throat, and declares “Nowhere in the America’s Cup Deed of Gift does it state that a dog cannot be part of a racing crew!”, followed, according to stage directions, by “swelling, triumphant music”.

Champagne being not-quite G-rated, the final victory scene features the spraying and guzzling of orange soda, and Sunny being showered with kibble poured out of the America’s Cup.

Avril Debile visited the 1992 and 1995 America’s Cups while researching the script, making connections with most American teams involved. The file contained a transcript of a research interview with the Islers and an educational brochure from the PACT 95 syndicate. Both Dawn Riley and Dennis Conner expressed interest in playing themselves in the film, although Conner wrote to Debile to request more lines.

While the commercial failure of Wind initially caused Universal to doubt the project, eventually Sunny Sets Sail was set for a tentative Summer 1996 release, a year after the America’s Cup, to help keep enthusiasm high for the next edition in San Diego. However, with Team New Zealand’s victory in the 1995 competition, the plot suddenly seemed dated, and production was shelved. A story with the heroes traveling to New Zealand as challengers was judged too complex for young audiences to understand. This was still the pre-Lord-of-the-Rings era in which American knowledge of New Zealand, among both children and adults, was judged to be nil. Avril Debile moved on to other projects, but the only one of note to sailing fans was the similar Tsunami: Extreme Cat. This film, created with input from Cam Lewis, would have covered a cat named Tsunami who stows away aboard a trimaran attempting the Jules Verne Trophy in her owner’s seabag. Although charming and with fewer scenes that strain belief, this script had the misfortune of being submitted to the studio in August 2001, just weeks before the 9/11 attacks changed national concerns. With the 90s extreme sports fad now out of fashion, Tsunami was also cancelled.

It’s easy at a distance of a quarter-century to look on these projects with regret, thinking of how they might have raised the public profile of sailing in the USA. As cheesy and corny as the plots sound— surely if they had been made, “Sunny the dog” and “The Deed of Gift does not forbid dogs!” would be as much of a running joke on Scuttlebutt as “The Whomper”— they could have made the sport of sailing part of the childhood of an entire generation of young people.

Our cold comfort is that it is widely suspected that the scripts for Sunny Sets Sail that were passed around Hollywood in the early-mid 90s could have inspired other films of the era about improbable animal athletes, such as Air Bud, Racing Stripes, and MVP: Most Valuable Primate.

“Avril” is of course French for “April”, and “Débile” means “Stupid” or “Foolish”.

[lewisrises]

Hi Bree! If I know right you are British. Please explain me something I've always been curious about. Why don't Lewis and Lando have british accent? Is it because the place they were rised? Or the many travel? But George has! And so many Merc employee has beautiful speech. What is it depend on?

Sorry if it is a dumb question, I don't know about this too much. :) Thanks and have a nice day~

hii friend, this isn’t a dumb question!! full answer under cut bc this got long

i think lots of ppl fall into the belief that everyone in the uk sounds like they just stepped off the cast of downton abbey/speak queen’s english which isn’t true at all!! there are lots of regional accents, and then different dialects within your own accents. ie someone from west london sounds v different to someone from south london, in comparison to someone from essex, or oxford, and yet all these places (geographically at least) are quite close to each other? look at these maps!!!

lando’s from bristol so he’s already got a certain accent from that area, like the stereotypical bristol accent is very strong… i actually recommend searching up videos of it for u to listen to bc it’s v similar to his 😭 his mum is also belgian, so i’m sure that’s influenced his dialect! there was a clip of him speaking dutch to which ppl said you could hear a flemish accent, so he’s got a bit of a mix there.

with lewis, he sounded soooo english when he was younger, but in like the last decade his accent has become very americanised & u really hear it in certain words (like in the middle of a sentence he’ll suddenly pronounce his r’s the way north americans would. at least i notice it a lot with the r’s). i just think it’s a reflection of his travels. he spent a lot of time in different european countries when he was younger whilst competing, had an apartment in nyc and spends a chunk of his winter break in colorado every year with family. a lot of his friends and ppl in his social circles are either from the us, or they spend time there, so it’s natural that he’s picked up some speech patterns through that. here’s what he’s said when he’s been asked:

george grew up in cambridgeshire and went to a grammar school so it’s not shocking that he’s very well spoken lol. he enunciates his words & speaks in queen’s english, but his norfolk accent is v clear so i wouldn’t say he sounds posh? more like your typical tory! but he’s still young(ish) and living in monaco now, so his dialect may mellow out into something incomprehensible one day! u never know.

with the merc personnel, majority of the employees are british/specifically english, or lived in the uk for a while before joining the team. some employees may travel with merc during the season but by the time they were hired they’ve probably lived a good 25+ years in england, so they sound v english with no influence of other accents (like george). ofc merc still have non brits working for them but i’m just referencing the english ones for u bae!!

[tiredassmage]

imbalance

‘Tyr can have a Moment. As a treat.’ Aka, I wrote an entirely different fic because I had a revelation about what would have been a banger line to include in something already written and now I need to fit it in somewhere sknsklfnsdf.

(One day this man might snap like a glowstick entirely, but until then, the very, very, very close call on Quesh. So close you could almost say I robbed him.)

Cipher Nine makes an unscheduled stop on Quesh searching for answers. He’s told more graceful lies, but when friends look like foes and foes may be friends, you take what you can get. Cautiously.

Rating: T // Canon-typical violence.

“Do not follow me.” Cipher Nine nearly growled the words without so much as a glance over his shoulder. “Stay with the ship. Kaliyo’s handling security. And keep an eye on Doctor Lokin. I still don’t trust him.”

“Agent-” Vector tried again with a frown. They’d been circling around this since Nine had initiated their docking run with Quesh’s orbital station.

“What part of my instructions were unclear?” Nine rounded on them with a fire burning in his pale eyes, accentuated by the sharp draw of his brow, parallelled lines of the grim frown set across his lips.

Something twitched down Vector’s spine, but he refrained from flinching. Nine had been irritable since Taris. Maybe Kaliyo didn’t notice, or didn’t care to notice, but he was also restless. The younglings worried.

They reported increased pacing. Trouble focusing. Uncharacteristic.

They doubted Djannis was completely oblivious and, despite her gruff attitude, a part of them still dared to believe she wasn’t completely careless, but Nine had always been efficient in deflecting her barbed jabs.

“We are not looking for trouble, agent,” Vector said carefully. Their eyes narrowed slightly as they watched him. They wondered if he agreed. They did not mistrust his judgement, but Nine played by the rules of engagement just as much as he edged their boundaries. Their presence here on Quesh seemed to be further into the latter than they were accustomed to.

Intelligence had not directly authorized their presence here and Nine had not extensively discussed their reasons before landing. They had simply set course and had been told to stay out of trouble.

Nine held his gaze for a long moment in silence before he sighed. The mask flickered. One hand reached up to his temple. An increasingly common tic as of late. “There’s always trouble, Vector.”

The Joiner’s frown deepened. “Which is why we ask again to accompany you,” he said. “It isn’t safe.”

Nine shook his head. “No, Vector. This is one thing I must do alone.”

Stubborn. Vector inhaled deeply to exhale slowly. “Very well, agent,” they relented. “Just… take care of yourself. We will await your return.”

He could not shake the worry twining through him as he watched Nine disembark. Idly, they entertained a youngling that appeared from beneath his sleeve.

They hoped they were wrong to worry, no matter that he had found he would, regardless of assurances. Even in their relatively shorter time together, they had made more enemies than Vector could count - some far more nebulous and undefined than others.

As of the moment, some of them could have even looked like friends. Human betrayal was such a delicate, devious mess.

x-x-x-x-x-

Quesh wasn’t going to be making any vacationing lists anytime soon and that was well without the spat between the Empire and the Republic over whatever toxic fad currently had the galaxy’s throat.

Routine, surprise inspection. Tyr’s eyes narrowed slightly as his head dropped a hair further, avoiding direct eye contact with any Imperial personnel in the area. Cipher status cleared his landing, but, much like Hutta, he doubted the veil would hold up well under an even half-decent inspection. It’d make the cover up more difficult, at the very least. The less people that knew he was here or “why,” the better.

This was a gamble. It tasted as vile as the stinging air against his eyes. A hand in his pocket held fast to the list of increasingly revolting chemicals. Something itched, tweaked at the back of his mind, or maybe the front, or perhaps it slithered down his spine, twining between the muscle and bone, draining slow like a poison.

Maybe it did all of this.

He struggled to trap the urge to grind his teeth together. If only it was as easy to trap a thought as it was to pin a traitor beneath the heel of his boot.

The cursed blessing of a Cipher had always been the ability to skim through the waters of Imperial life as a ghost - enough authority in squared shoulders and a determined, steady stride to warn anyone within range of the vibroknife doubtlessly concealed somewhere on his person and the silent threat that there wouldn’t be enough people left to ask questions - meaningful ones, at any rate, yet with enough anonymity that most didn’t think to question another face in the crowd.

The facility wasn’t far. The lack of outer security should have been disturbing - or was it lucky, perhaps? Nine’s eyes scanned the stark walls silently as he moved forward. With something this close to the guarded chest of Intelligence, physical guards weren’t his concern.

His eyes closed a moment as he hitched in stride. He could have come up with a better lie about his presence here. Reported inspection might circle back to Intelligence.

Gears grinding, halting, catching, that drain of poison dripping down the back of his neck and lacing his blood again.

Would you tell a soul even if they hadn’t lodged it in your throat? Would you trust them?

He exhaled through his nose. He could lie again. Improvisation. Basic rule of operations.

“Administrator Kroius.” The sharpness carried nicely in this hollowed hell of a place. Nine affixed an almost too-pleasant smile as he settled with a threatening patience into parade rest and pinned the scientist in his sights. “You were told to expect me.”

“Yes, yes, the intelligence operative.” Scan the room. A glitch in the system. Interference on the holo display. Nine’s eyes surveyed quickly as the Anomid gruffly joined him, carelessly sidestepping bodies and leaving a droid behind at the counter. “You’d think for all we’ve done for you people, you could at least afford a courtesy warning.”

Nine’s eyes locked back on target. “Am I inconveniencing you, Administrator?” Fingertips played against his gloved palm.

Eyes widened. Nine’s smile twitched slightly further across his lips. “N-no, no, of course not,” Kroius stammered.

“Then you have the compounds I’ve requested?” Nine produced the list from his pocket - just in case the reminder was necessary.

“Shortly, shortly!” Kroius snapped his fingers at the astromech. “Oh-seven, fetch! Now!” Clawed hands steepled. “I’m sure you’ll find everything satisfactory, agent. We’ve long shared a mutually beneficial relationship with Intelligence.” His eyes were anywhere but the operative.

“You’re holding out on me, Administrator.” Nine’s voice dropped lower with the threatening hiss of a viper. “Spit. It. Out.”

“It’s just… the Dimalium Six,” Kroius said. One clawed hand toyed along the edges of his vocoder. “We’re… out. The Republic confiscated that particular chemical mine some time ago and their security is-”

“Not a problem,” Nine said. “Tell me what you know - everything. Maps of the area, what kind of security?”

The Anomid huffed. “You’ve seen their forces? Snipers? Battle drones?” The agent's gaze didn’t waver, so Kroius huffed again. “Of course, why would it matter to me?” He shook his head. If he’d been capable, Tyr imagined he might be rolling his eyes.

The Administrator prattled for a time - some half-caught comment about appreciation that would have made a Sith eager to crush throats. An itch. An insatiable one. The hum and weight of a vibroblade twirled in his hand, balance shifting over the wrist, or the heated barrel of a blaster, humming from the inescapable march of a plasma bolt.

The chemical supplier. He was involved. He deserves the punishment. A snarl twitched delightedly at the edge of his control.

“Operative?” Kroius cocked his head.

Nine blinked and inhaled, held the breath for a moment. He hadn’t moved and his fingers had stilled their warning song against his palm. A Cipher was never unarmed.

Scan the room again. No surveillance. Just a whisper of his passing. Spilled chemicals and a single blaster shot. No evidence. No loose ends.

The truth of those files in the low light of blacked out Intelligence Headquarters was burned against his eyes. Castellan Restraints. Considered and approved for limited use. Thought irreversible. Thirty days to six months.

Codeword-

It was a simple matter to draw the pistol, in his hand before he’d even blinked, pulled and pressed against the sick bastard’s head squarely between the eyes. The droid beeped and whirred something in alarm, but Tyr’s eyes were glaring down that barrel.

“Agent, I-”

“How many?!” This wasn’t where he was going to get answers. Inopportune location. Inappropriate subject with presumably limited knowledge.

His eyes narrowed and he nearly scoffed. Presumed. As if he’d make that mistake.

He doubled down on the stance, stepping closer as the administrator shrank back from the pressure.

“Answer me, you scum,” he growled. He pressed harder on the blaster. It’d be satisfying if it left an imprint. Evidence that could be burned away in the explosion, if necessary. They’d struggle to find a corpse. “How. Many? How many operatives?!”

“Agent, I don’t understand-”

“Liar!” He hugged the trigger tighter. It’d be so easy. His breath baited in his lungs like a pack of jackals singing to the death throes of fallen prey. “You deal in these chemicals, Administrator, and I’ll be damned if you don’t know a whiff about their uses!”

“Hallucinogenics, loss or alterations of memory, I-” the Administrator stuttered under his blaster. “It’s all well within Intelligence’s demands, I swear!”

Intelligence. All of the air left his lungs in one go. His grip slacked around the blaster and the pressure eased. Tyr looked farther than the end of the barrel and slowly backed off, drawing Nine’s sights off a potential target.

Maybe a justifiable one.

He closed his eyes tightly again and one hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

It was a shot that’d burn fine the whole way down, maybe even ride like a high for a couple hours before inescapable reality wormed its way back in: he was playing with fire with a half-baked plan more akin to a wild acolyte’s prayer to a half-rotted echo of a once powerful Dark Lord than a bloody strategy.

Witnesses or no, there would be questions. What was he doing on Quesh in the first place? What was his involvement? Was there any correlation between the deep cover Cipher operative appearing to a highly secretive Intelligence ally and a massive explosion of unstable chemical compounds?

Fuck. When was the last time he’d slept?

“Who-?!” Administrator Kroius flapped his arms, apparently having relocated his misplaced indignation. “Who do you think you are coming in here like this?! ‘Routine’ inspection? Why, I never-”

“You will not speak a word about this. To anyone.” Nine fixed a withering glare on the scientist. “You wouldn’t want me to make another unscheduled, unannounced visit, would you, Administrator Kroius?”

Kroius took a hesitant step back as the Cipher rounded on him, squared him up in his sights again. 

Nine’s eyes narrowed. “Good man.” And an exhausting act. Nine holstered his blaster. “Now, as for the Dimalium Six.”

“You’re a crazy one,” Kroius muttered. “You’re still going after that?”

“And you won’t lay hands on it again, understood?”

“What?”

“Not another drop - not for Imperial Intelligence, not to anyone, not from you.” Kroius raised one clawed hand, but remained silent in Nine’s penetrating stare. “Don’t worry about them. Remember what I am, Administrator.” He stalked languidly towards his prey, letting a step or two drag for emphasis.

Kroius had the good sense to stay put. A hound was usually given to the thrill of a chase.

“I… didn’t catch your moniker, operative.”

“Cipher.” Nine turned without so much as a dismissive glance to the astromech and collected the rest of what he’d come for. “That’s all you need to know, Administrator. Try not to let it keep you up at night. Bad for health, I understand.”

“O-of course, Cipher. I-”

Nine’s narrowed eyes pierced him over his shoulder as he stuttered.

“It’s not really my decision to make, Cipher, but-!” He raised a clawed hand to stave off the fiery spark ready to ignite in the agent’s eyes again. “I assure you, I will do everything in my power to comply.”

“See that you do.”

Cipher Nine left with his head held high even as it ached sickeningly, twisting a poisoned blade in his heart.

One shot could have ended all of this.

Coward.

How many more agents were going to pay the price because he hadn’t pulled the damn trigger?

You've changed nothing. The cost of maintaining cover, biting back the bile that rose in his throat - a good agent even when no direct command had been inescapably issued to worm its way through him, to hollow out whatever remained that wasn't utterly Cipher Nine. Pride of Imperial Intelligence.

Right. Pride. As if it wasn't the root of this whole damn cancerous mess.

Nine shook his head in a vain and fruitless attempt to clear it. There was still the chemical mines, a job to finish. It may yet be enough - however temporary - to cut the beast at the source.

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 32 - quite a bunch of the next few episodes (stretching into S2) I all listened to while again… apple cutting! It took me a bit to realize, that I could use other activities as well to listen to podcasts.

When I heard that this is Jane Prentiss' statement, I was pretty excited as my sister had told me several times that this is one of her favorite statements! Spoiler alert, listening to this the first time I didn't understand anything of what's going on XD Now I also think it's one of the coolest episodes. Having a statement so early on about the nature of why someone is on the path to become an Avatar and also featuring all 14 Fears as foreshadowing that they can't be separated is really something.

Oliver is one hell of a character. He makes appearances without us realizing until S4.

"I have touched something now, though, that all my talk of ley lines and mother goddesses could never have prepared me for. It is not a god. Or if it is then it is a dead god, decayed and clammy corpse-flesh brimming with writhing graveworms." - this is so Cthulhu-esque to me. Having come in contact with an old one and completely losing one's mind.

11:39 "Did I hear the song then?", at "hear" thumpthump - it is so funny to me how I never heard those in any of my runs but now I always sit with the transcript, listening veeery closely.

12:40 "…than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things…", at "habitat" another thump!

13:06 "I remember shouting", ok is it just me or is there again a thump at "shouting"?

"I do remember that they called me “toxic”. I don’t think I really knew what that meant, except that it was the reason I was so very painfully lonely." That does remember me of a now distant friend. They act very narcissistic and it drains all my energy. It seems like they have this hierarchy in their head, being super friendly when meeting someone and getting to know then until they thought they surpassed them in prestige and then they get… difficult. They pretty much removed themselves from our friend circle one by one, every one of us having had the same experiences in completely disconnected instances. But they still want to be a part of our group, want to be loved by us and everyone, but they feel that we all got very reluctant to doing things with them. I can imagine that this may have been a similar situation to which this description refers to.

17:01 "but she was already showing signs of the… infestation", thump at "infestation", wow, that episode really got them. -"They quickly burrowed through the soft tissue of the medical personnel – eyes, tongue, et cetera" - ok, is this the reason why Martin was so paranoid of having worms infesting his tongue?? -"It’s not, though. I know it’s not natural. Somehow I… I feel it." - Ooooh, and the music starts kicking in! He's starting to Know things… And right after Prentiss' statement of all things.

I love how this statement deals not just with the infestation and creepy crawlers but also the deeper meaning of the Corruption of toxic love. I once read understanding this particular description in a way of a toxic relationship to fandoms. Of having this… need to satisfy and appease your fanbase and it's destroying you.

This one really helps put into perspective Jon's conversation with Martin in episode 39

Ah yes- a fandom is a hive mind that screams love, sometimes in the worst ways possible

[gradible]

the truth - team 2 gold round

For a moment, there is peace. A humbling quiet falls over the ragtag group of heroes, and they are given the rare opportunity for personal reflection. In the vastness of a black void, what else is there to do? Perhaps they are being shown a small comfort to make their upcoming struggle worse, or perhaps it simply takes the universe a second or two to generate the next dream for them. Whatever the case may be, Sirius looks at his allies from the safety of his mask. All of them stand with him in this strange plane, the aura of their lances now emanating from their entire bodies. He is merely a traveler: homebound and unwilling to anchor himself to the academy’s personnel. But this group, despite its general lack of conversation, has shown character through action.

That’s the kind of language he can get used to.

The scene changes again, this time filling their void with a thick fog before they’re allowed the gift of light. They stand in a square shaped arena, its floor a red-and-blue checkerboard with some kind of strange emblem decorating its center. Metal pillars sprawl up and away from their box, trailing into the infinite expanse of fog until they can no longer be seen. Stairs and ladders, too, seem to lead into this unending yellow abyss, but what they’re connected to is anyone’s guess. 

Sirius’ first instinct is to touch his face, and doing so reveals that his mask has manifested as a pair of tinted shades this time. They let him see through the fog, if only just what’s in front of him. They’ll be good enough for close-quarters combat.

For lack of a shining Harmony Lance, he has been gifted something extra special: the divine Gradivus. Holding it in his hands almost makes him feel like he’s hallucinating, but its grip is indeed the one he’d familiarized himself with long ago. “We meet again, old friend,” he whispers, just low enough that the others can barely hear it. With this lance, he is all but invincible. 

His steed, too, has been returned to him, though now it sports a pair of wings. If it is anything like the sturdy mares of Grust or the swift mounts of Rigel, he should have no trouble maneuvering himself this fight.

But to fight, one requires a foe. And at first glance, one does not present itself. Rather than creating a sense of security in the knight, it breeds unease, for there is always a great beast to battle in these dreams, and the lack of one only means it could be hiding. 

...

“...In the fog!” He’s spotted the enemy, and this time it appears as a lion wreathed in shadow. Its movements blend in well with the heavy cloud blotting the air around them, but squinting closer reveals four stalking paws circling round its prey. Sirius takes to the skies, quick to deliver the first, revealing blow,

Sirius uses Gradivus! Roll 1d20+4 = 11, hit! -7 HP; Shadow Self 1: Chosen 8/15 HP

His thrust is strong and true, piercing through cloud and darkness to strike the enemy in the heart. But as he pulls Gravidus’ shining point from the warped body it stabbed, the umbra coalesces around him and assault him in the same way he did it; a Shadow Gravidus is formed from the beast’s midsection to harm him back,

Reflect activates! -7 HP; Sirius 5/12 HP

Shadow Self 1: Chosen uses Mauling Strike! Roll 1d20 = 19, crit! -4 HP; Sirius 1/12 HP

Sirius is inflicted with -2 def for one round!

The stygian point of his spear’s counterpart also strikes strong and true, forcing the Grustian to reel back and gasp. Blood spills onto his saddle, and before he can grab hold of it to steady himself on his mount, the monster follows up, enlarging one of its claws to bat both pegasus and rider.

Each fall to the colored floor with a loud thud, their bodies hanging on by a thread. Sirius winces as he remounts, and looks again to the battlefield. He knows his allies have not caught up or seen the shadow yet, knows they may fall victim to its trick if they are not warned. And the beast moves closer, and though it has no eyes, Sirius can tell it intends to take him down before its secret is spilled. So he turns away from them, not daring to utter another word. With the holy lance in his hands, only he has the power to end this fight before it even begins.

Sirius uses Gradivus! Roll 1d20+4 = 23, crit! -24 HP; Shadow Self 1: Chosen 0/15 HP

Reflect activates! -24 HP; Sirius 0/15 HP

“May this battle be your last!” And again, he charges straight into the action. There is a wordless agreement sown between him and his mount, that should they miss, or should his heavy spear not pierce the enemy far enough or spill all of its black blood, they would surely die on retaliation. And they’re both okay with that. A death as a proud knight beats a life lived in solitude; if they can give their allies the upper hand with their sacrifice, then so be it.

The lion’s head is cleaved from its body when Sirius puts all of his power into his last slash. His eyes go wide, sure that they’ve done it and earned themselves survival, but again he is stuck. Tendrils emerge from the decapitated shadow and assault his torso, bringing him once more to his knees.

Only this time, he has been robbed of the strength to stand.

The world he had only just been introduced to starts to go black. He knows it is not the enemy covering his eyes. Consciousness is fading--a sensation he’s already met with before. Perhaps it is fate that he would end his dream like this. But he would not change if it he could. He watches as the enemy melts into a puddle of black, and they fall together. “Tatiana...” he whispers, and “Nyna...” and then, everything is void again. It’s cold, almost like the sea. He’s been swept from this battle by a force beyond human comprehension, his cobbled form made into a mere pebble to be washed by the tide. But surely they’ve won... Right?

Wrong.

The puddle stands again, this time a crude reconstruction of Sirius’ body. It sports wings--the same wings his mount had--and uses them to ascend to the center of the arena. “I am a shadow... The true self,” it says in a harrowing version of the knight’s voice, “...What a shame. As long as I have Gradivus, I will not fall... You are out of luck; give it up.”

To round out its introduction, it immediately starts charging an attack. It holds its vile imitation of Sirius’ lance in front of its body, and its wings begin to fold in on themselves. Then it glows, a thrum of black almost like a heartbeat. A dark power starts to build up at its core... Ready to be unleashed!

UP NEXT: @diadic @estians @lualamina

[hummingbird-of-light]

Against All Odds

Part 431

McCoy

David gestured to the guard to follow Scotty. The guard gave the king a nod and closed the door after himself.

“When Khan…” McCoy swallowed before he looked up at his father. “When he left us with the Romulans, he said that… that his kind was being treated terribly. That he wanted justice for them. I tried to tell him we could help… But he said we already knew they were being treated like lab rats.”

David shook his head slowly before setting a hand on McCoy's shoulder.

“I had no idea. I’d heard of the augment program of course. Christopher had mentioned it on occasion, but I had no idea how they were treated or raised. If they were created to help mankind, then we should be helping them. Captain Paris said she would pass it on to her superiors to look into and I’ve set a few ministers to the problem as well.”

McCoy nodded slowly. That was his father, always trying to help.

“The others… did they find out if all the augments were in on it or just Khan?”

“That’s still being investigated,” David said. He returned to his chair and McCoy sat again as well. “Khan escaped and left by himself.”

“He was so convincing…” McCoy said quietly. “What if the others are acting like he did?”

“Precautions will have to be taken. We may never know for certain.”

McCoy rubbed a hand across his face. Was that it? They had been rescued and brought back to safety only to have to worry at every moment that Khan or the other augments may do something?

“Khan threatened to kill Robbie once,” he said suddenly.

“What? When Leonard?”

“When Khan framed Jim with drugs. We figured out it was Khan and he threatened Scotty after he was caught.”

“Nobody—”

“He threatened if Scotty told anyone about it he’d do it.”

“I see,” David said slowly.

“But then he began his therapy and started to change. I was always doubtful, but he was so sincere…”

“It sounds like you and Scotty weren’t the only ones he fooled…”

“I know,” McCoy shook his head. “But Scotty believed him the most.” He got to his feet. “I should find him.”

“I was going to send security with your friends anyway, but I’ll have someone assigned to Robbie while he’s still here. Thank you for telling me that Leonard.”

McCoy nodded as he headed for the door.

“Leonard—”

McCoy turned back to look at his father.

“—I won’t make you stay in the palace, but please do stay close. I know you like to go off into the woods, but not yet please.”

“Ok.”

The door closed behind McCoy. One of the guards outside the office took care of it. As McCoy continued up the hallway one of them stepped into place behind him. He let out a soft sigh.

“Do you know which way Scotty went?” he asked over his shoulder.

“He went towards the dining room sir.”

“Thank you.”

As McCoy got closer he began to hear raised voices. Snatches of Gaelic reached him as well, so he knew Scotty and Robbie were both there.

As much as he agreed with Scotty and didn’t want their friends to head into danger again, they didn’t know if it was going to be dangerous or not. And, they couldn’t hide forever from a threat that might not exist.

Part 432

Robbie

The night had been filled with worry and fear. What if Khan showed up on Georgiares? What if he had contact with more Romulans?

Robbie had not been able to get a wink of sleep. Too many thoughts had circled through his head.

In the morning he felt pretty exhausted. He had spent the night with Leah, but not at all as they had hoped. They had simply lain together and held each other.

At the breakfast table, David had informed everyone that Pike had already left in the early morning hours. They had all agreed that they wanted to get back to school as well. They simply could not show any fear or weakness towards Khan. And they wanted to help with the investigation.

The king had said he would send along personnel to protect them, and they had all agreed. Leah, especially, seemed glad that Robbie and the others would be accompanied.

Scotty and Leonard had not been present and David had said that he would inform them personally about everything.

Robbie was still sitting at the table when suddenly his big brother came rushing into the room, closely followed by a security man.

"Ye will not fly back to school until Khan is caught, is that clear?"

Robbie stared at Scotty, aghast. What had gotten into him?

"That... is my decision, Monty."

The younger Scott brother rose from his seat to face Scotty.

"No, it isn't. Ye're staying here until this gets sorted out!"

Scotty seemed agitated, almost panicked. Robbie didn't understand what was going on.

"Robbie, what-"

Leah grabbed his hand and looked at him questioningly.

Only now did Robbie realize that Scotty and he were exchanging pleasantries in Gaelic. All the friends looked at them, confused.

"I'll... in a minute," Robbie explained in English before turning back to his brother.

"We have to try to find Khan."

But Scotty shook his head frantically.

"No, ye can't. Ye... Ye can'nae go back to school."

Out of the corner of his eye, Robbie saw that Leonard had entered the room. He ran to Scotty and tried to calm him down.

"Scotty..."

But the Scotsman only had eyes for his little brother.

"Ye have to stay here!"

"Why?!" Now Robbie was getting louder, too. He wasn't a little kid anymore after all.

"Because he's going to kill ye!"

Tears suddenly streamed down Scotty's cheeks and Robbie blinked in shock.

"W-what?"

Scotty grabbed his hand and held it tightly.

"He... Khan... he told me back then and.... and I know he'll stop at nothing now."

Robbie shook his head in confusion.

"Back then... Told ye then? What are ye talking about?"

Scotty swallowed hard.

"He... he threatened me when I found out he'd planted the drugs on Jim."

Robbie couldn't believe it. Why hadn't Scotty ever told him that?

"Can someone explain to me what you're talking about?" Jim looked from one to the other, had probably heard his name called.

Scotty looked to their friends.

"Ye... Ye are not allowed to leave," he said in English.

Robbie looked helplessly at Leonard and Leah. What were they supposed to do?

[yesterdaysanswers]

Patrick Djivas / PFM / The man with the computer (Fare Musica, 1984)

translation:

Patrick Djivas came to the editorial board of Fare Musica to tell us stories old and new about the Premiata, the band, now almost of age, that continues to represent the only reliable attempt at the internationalization of Italian rock. Then things went a bit wrong, but Patrick will tell us about that in the interview. The only note that I think is right to put before the live dialogue concerns the setting in which PFM wants its work to be interpreted today. Much water has passed under the bridge, many mistakes have been made and a lot of experience has been accumulated. The musicians in question experience these past events in the light of new awareness, which translates into the introduction of an unprecedented language within the band’s philosophy. Patrick insisted on speaking of programming, organization, planning, division and specialization of tasks, of taking responsibility for his role and for his eventual near future. 

Program: to build the relaunch of a group on solid foundations that technically, and from experience, has little to envy to anyone. Work on everything with order, the means, and clear ideas. Revitalize an enthusiasm that the last few years had undoubtedly consumed a little.

Djivas seems to me to have taken the helm of this relaunch operation on the basis of his own undoubted managerial ability. He is a man who manages to combine his enormous skills as a musician with a clear and lucid vision of mechanisms that govern today's music business, knowing its progress and being able to interpret its meaning. He has a rational as well as passionate personality, a mind capable of synthesizing organizational needs, production purposes, and ways of developing group work. Flanked by the effervescence of the public man - Di Cioccio and the artistic sensibility of Mussida, he can count on a work team with all the credentials.

PFM therefore makes an attempt, which is not a bluff, but that has, conversely, great cards to play. Nothing is certain, but starting from this basis it can be assumed that the future of this historical nucleus can again be filled with significance. And, as a natural consequence, of success. Certainly they are musicians that few can teach anything.

Talking about all this, and much more, we sat around a table, with the company of Fernando Fera and an Olivetti M10 from which Djivas never separates, like any good self-respecting manager.

You are good friends with Leo Fender…

Yes. He built for me his first fretless bass…he had never done any before. It was a Music Man.

PFM? PFM! arrives after a long period of silence for the Premiata…

We had to get out of the vicious tour/album/promotion circle: after thirteen years it is a procedure that tires you and makes you lazy. We decided to stop and start working like a group on their first album again, with calm and tranquility. Too many times we have arrived in the studio with not even half of the material written due to time constraints. Performance closed a chapter of PFM: that of changes, of instability of the formation. Now a new one has opened, with defined personnel: it had been years since PFM had made two consecutive records with the same lineup. 

Are you all full members of the group now?

Yes. Walter Calloni and Lucio Fabbri are also members of the Premiata for all intents and purposes. This situation allows us to start looking at the international market again: It is a discourse that you can only seriously face if you have a formidable internal strength; it's very, very difficult. The comings and goings of our lineup have forced us to give up this discourse. 

What are the chances today of a lineup like PFM on the international scene?

They haven't changed at all. The first international attempt of PFM was certainly not exhausted by failure. It actually went great! We didn't realize it. The deal was - let's put it this way - interrupted. The Americans in the music business in recent years have always asked us: why don't you come back? An anecdote: Billy Idol’s guitarist, that we met in Riva del Garda, kept walking around us. In the end he came to the dressing room, apologizing, and declared that he has always been a PFM fan... He had seen us a lot of times in concert and he knew all the parts of me and Mussida by heart; he told us that in NY the Premiata is something that has remained over time... a myth!

Then let’s continue to talk about the international scene: how did the American story end for PFM, and why?

Naturally the thing was paralyzed due to various factors: the deadly blow came to us from that famous Roman concert we held in support of the Palestinian struggle. On that occasion Pagani gave an interview to Rolling Stone precisely on these political issues. A big article came out entitled: PFM support OLP. That same afternoon, Bill Graham, the organizer with whom we were most in contact and who, as you know, is Jewish, showed up, and several others soon after. The message was only one: PFM will never set foot in America again. In reality we still did something there, but in the meantime our internal problems were growing. People who entered and people who left the group, some who did not like the international experience too much, Mussida and Premoli with family problems. If you want to face America you must first go there to stay, concentrating with all your energy. It was a very provincial, if human, reaction. Certainly they are mistakes that we will not repeat. At the time we didn't realize the chance we had in our hands: in 14 states we were first in FM radio and the record company literally went crazy. From the outside, no one understood how at that point we could not finally explode. 

At that time it all seemed due to us; also the fantastic welcome we received in places like London and Los Angeles. In Italy we were number one and every recognition seemed obvious to us. We had a superior attitude and didn't understand that the PFM effect was hitting America. 

At a compositional level, you, Di Cioccio and Mussida do the lion's share on PFM? PFM! 

Yes, Di Cioccio composed a lot for this album. Since singing, Franz has started playing the guitar; he knows 4 chords, but has a remarkable melodic sense. For example, take the piece Capitani coraggiosi: I had created the whole instrumental situation many years ago. It was a piece that I had written to test a system of automatic arpeggio on a keyboard that had come to me, a Jupiter 8. After a long time Di Cioccio got the melody out of it…not a beginner thing, with a nice development. Only in the beginning, the piece was oriented at a slow pace. Many pieces, as in this case, arise from subtle surgeries, cuts, sutures, joints, perhaps between ideas of different people.

You are the production manager of PFM? PFM!: Tell me about the work from this angle.

Initially, we had in mind the idea of ​​making a very sparse record, four or five instruments and go. After the construction of the bases, several things were changed at the Castle from the design point of view of the room. In light of this novelty, and after a series of replays, we decided to start all over again. We only kept part of the drums. The new sound condition thrilled us: it is a very real sound. Usually, for example, when you listen to 120 dB levels you can't speak, you have to scream in your ears; in this case, on the other hand, you don't have to make the slightest effort; the frequencies are so separated that...it seems to be in the open air!

So you used a lot of overdubs…

Yes, because we could trust the placement in the frequency bands. Goldberg and I were able to foresee a whole series of fixes, first of writing and then of sound, which it was possible to respect perfectly during the realization phase. We hear everything we wanted, there is not the slightest overlap. It was not only a very profitable job, but also a very interesting one.

Did you work by ear or using spectrum analyzers?

Absolutely by ear. The analyzers seem like a big rip off to me. They can help you live, but in the (recording) room they only complicate your life. They only serve one thing: to keep in mind that in the realization of the bases the hole in which the voice will have to be inserted is always respected; for Franz this loophole was established around 1000. In reality there is another little secret why it can be useful to adopt the analyzer in the room. By being able to view the position of the voice, you can check that the absolute peaks of the recording are not just the voice itself. It would be a big mistake: it would mean that it is the voice that takes the level of the record forward. 

Why the half speed mastering?

To remedy as much as possible to the cutting problems we have had, as well as to guarantee us a perfectly satisfactory level of quality. Tigre's stereo bass literally made the grooves dance. Thanks in this sense goes to Piero Mannucci who is passionate about the cutting of this album in a formidable way. We absolutely didn't want to miss Tigre's bass, but it cost us two days of work. By comparison, he thinks that Tigre was born in the studio, and that since Franz glimpsed the melody in the final recording, it's only been a day and a half: music, bass, lyrics.

Mussida’s arpeggio on the piece is of a virtuoso level…

It is a Chet Atkins Gibson passed through a Rockman. It is a guitar that works amazingly in the studio: in certain cases it can be confused with a keyboard for the breadth of sonority it possesses. Tigre is certainly my favorite piece, because it manages to balance the commercial side and the technical, virtuosic side. After all, this album has two different levels of reading. You can appreciate it as a listening product, or you can study the web of sounds with which it is built.

Tell me about the making of your bass parts on the album.

The decision to take care of the production of the record forced me to sacrifice the time I usually dedicate to my instrumental parts. After all, I felt tight in the role of the band's bass player. It therefore came naturally to me to conceive my bass parts much more as a producer than as a bass player. I created a very large, very deep sound that served as a support base for the other instruments. The bass is the platform on which the whole sound system of a record rests. Of course if you enter this order of ideas, you have to forget all the virtuosities and solos. I used a Music Man and an active Gibson.

For the keyboards?

I played a good part of it. We used the Yamaha DX7 a lot but the most compelling experience was the encounter with the Synclavier. It is a device through which I truly understood FM programming. Let's say that the Synclavier instructed me to work with the DX7, which proved to be an extraordinary device, with timbral abilities equal to those of the Synclavier.

To conclude: what is the role of PFM today, in the musical scene of 1985.

I think that PFM now synthesizes a concept of exchange between what experienced musicians like us can give to today's music. We do not want to miss what is happening around us, we want to acknowledge, and then add the weight of decades of professionalism.

Is Di Cioccio definitively the voice and the frontman of PFM?

Yes, we needed a character like that. He has to be. Both from the point of view of connection with the public and as a point of reference for the musicians on stage. A singer who, like Franz, is at the service of the group. Franz started out as a histrion, clearly he is not a natural singer, but thanks to the work he is doing, the results are beginning to be felt. It was a joint decision that consciously forced us into a period of adjustment. Looking for a singer abroad would have meant inserting a new character in a central role in a group that has a great history. It is clear that the position of the newcomer in a group does not carry the same weight as that of an elder; if the singer is in this position, it can be a big problem. We didn't want to take this risk.

Concerts?

We will start with a tour in the major cities, playing in small clubs. It is a good habit of American stars to tackle small clubs from time to time. Four lights and two hours of music, perhaps with two outings. Like Zappa or the Stones periodically returning to the Roxy, we want to rediscover the pleasure of playing at the Piper. Then will come the regular tour in the theaters and sports arenas. The whole thing will last four months. We want to do a lot of concerts, because in order to face the international discourse again, a big break-in has to be done.

Restarting the PFM machine is complicated and expensive. We have a facility that costs 4 million a day and a technician of 6 million a month. It's a new management idea; Mamone represents the organizational side. Alongside me, Francone and Franz have created a production group, which we called Performance, within which each one of us has very definitive tasks. Franz thinks of public relations, Francone of the artistic direction and I take care of production, and of actual realization.

[queenspg]

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