#and the next logical conclusion was to draw him being taken away by birds

[meamiki]

siffrin with birds!!!

...siffrin being taken away by birds!!!

who knows where they are going!

[tsarisfanfiction]

Beach Snapshot

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Virgil, Scott, Tracy brothers

It’s Nutty Day today (just gone midnight here so it counts, right?) so here’s a little Virgil at the beach for @gumnut-logic :D  Happy birthday, Nutty!

Far above him, circling with intent to scavenge or thieve from the unwary, gulls circled.  Virgil ignored them, his sole concession to their presence a lack of food in his hands.  He had no intention of losing his lunch to an opportunistic bird.

Some way behind him, his brothers were lounging on the beach – with the exception of Gordon, who was living up to his reputation of being half-fish and was splashing around in the shallows.  Even John had made an appearance down from space, although he was plastered with sunscreen and fully covered from head to toe.  The parasol he and his tablet were sheltering under was just an additional precaution.  Alan was howling something uncomplimentary at Gordon, who had apparently just got him wet, and Scott was watching with the fond exasperation of a big brother from where he was lounging on the sand.

Virgil would rejoin the chaos of his brothers later, but first he had something far more important to occupy himself with.  The sun was glinting off the sea just right, drawing out the multiple shades of blue and greens of pure Pacific Ocean.  Echoes of shadows where rocks lurked beneath the waters mottled the vista.  Where one almost reached the surface, the water eddied into its own miniature whirlpool.  Otherwise, the waves lapped at the beach harmlessly, leaving little ripples in the sand as the tide slowly receded.

The camera was a present from John, gifted at Christmas.  It was a proper, professional one, complete with inter-changing lenses and a comforting weight to his hands.  Virgil had used it to take snaps around Tracy Island, both to get used to it and to document the beauty of the island he was lucky enough to live on, but this was the first occasion he’d had to take it off the island and explore further.

His back to the chaotic scene of his family, he raised the lens to his eye and squinted out across the serenity of the ocean.

Click.

Enhanced by the technological filters of the camera, the resulting image was breath-taking. Already idealistic blues and greens, the photograph came out vibrant – easily rivalling the colour of John’s eyes – with silvers and golds highlighting where the sunlight hit the sea.

Pulling away from the camera, Virgil surveyed the scene with naked eyes again.  He would never tire of watching the ocean swell, untouched by humanity.  Behind him, he could still hear Gordon and Alan shouting, as the splashing intensified in volume.

Two brothers in the water now.

He glanced back over his shoulder to see Alan on Gordon’s back.  John was still lost in his tablet, and Scott had pulled on sunglasses and seemed to be sunbathing.  Virgil shook his head fondly and headed further along the beach.

Beneath his feet, the sand gave way with little complaint.  He picked his way around seashells, fondly remembering the days when Gordon would collect them all and lovingly arrange them in his room.  Nowadays, his squid brother was a little more selective, but Virgil had no doubt that some would be returning with them from this trip, too.

There was a small outcrop of rocks, just before a turn around cliffs.  He assessed them briefly, checking they were safe and not housing anything potentially hazardous, before letting his camera hang from the cord around his neck and scrambling up onto them.

It gave him a new vantage point, a new angle to watch the lazy waves from, and he pulled his camera back up to his eyeline to capture the subtle nuances.  A slightly different shape of shadow here, a different shade of turquoise there.  All moving to the ocean’s ever-changing dance.

A diving bird popped into view, causing the water to ripple around where it had surfaced, and Virgil zoomed in on it, making it the centre focus of the next photograph.

Click.

It was some sort of tern, he saw in the image, a little black cap standing out starkly against the blues and greens circling it in concentric rings.  Dinner was clutched in its beak, and Virgil watched as it swallowed it down before diving beneath the surface again.

A single wisp of cloud passed in front of the sun, too thin to block the light but enough to shift the hues of the ocean ever so slightly.  Virgil snapped that, too, watching the faintest of shadows breeze over the surface of the water.

Then he was moving again, picking his way down the other side of the rocks and placing him closer to the cliff.  That had its own colours, mostly hues of browns and reds banded across varying depths of grey, and contrasted with both the golden sands at its base and the ocean horizon beyond it.

Another photograph, colours singing out as the digital lens caught them.  Virgil snapped another, and then another as birds came and went, coming in to rest before flying out again.

Shadows changed, a previously highlighted section of cliff muted and throwing another section into sharp relief, and Virgil snapped that, too.

A flock of gulls came in low over the water, casting small ever-changing shadows over the vast expanse. Click.

It was his stomach that finally interrupted him, growling quietly and almost apologetically that it would like some sustenance, please.  The packed picnic, hidden in bags and under John’s parasol to stop opportunistic theft, wasn’t made by Grandma, and if that wasn’t incentive enough to go back to eat it, the fact that he would be facing worried siblings if he didn’t resurface for food certainly was.

Still, he took one more snap of the ocean, where it ran up against the beach and left small grooves in the sand, before turning back around to face the way he came.

And jumped.

Scott was stood a little way behind him, leaning against an outcropping of rock with his sunglasses perched on top of his head.  There was a soft smile on his face, the one that meant he’d been there for a while but Virgil had been too engrossed in his photography to notice.

Virgil sighed.  “How long have you been watching me?” he asked. Scott shrugged.

“Long enough to see you’re enjoying your new camera,” he said.  “How many shots have you taken?”

Virgil checked the number, and was a little surprised to see it was approaching the three-digit mark. He was sure he hadn’t been out there that long.  Still, “not nearly enough,” he replied.  Scott could – and obviously did – make his own conclusions from that.

“Well, there’ll be plenty of time after lunch, if you’re ready to come back for food,” his big brother promised.  “I’d say take as long as you need now, but I can’t guarantee there’ll be anything left after the vultures we’re related to are done with it.”

Scott would set some aside for him if he said he wasn’t ready.  That, Virgil knew for certain.  Going back now meant loud brothers and splashing water and a jarring transition from the tranquillity of the rest of the beach.

It also meant precious time with all four of his brothers physically with him, a rare commodity in recent years, and he wasn’t willing to give that up.

He tucked the camera back inside its case, safely away from sand or sprinkled salt water, and walked back to where Scott was waiting.  His brother straightened as he approached.

“You’re not leaving me with Grandma’s cookies for lunch,” he said, and Scott chuckled as they moved to head back to where John was no doubt keeping an eye on the youngest two in Scott’s absence as they continued to play in the water.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Except Scott had a mischievous streak just like the rest of them and would.  Virgil had fallen for that one before.  He rolled his eyes and picked up the pace, rounding the bluff to see that his blond brothers were heaped together on the sand, pitifully reaching for the bags of food behind John.

The ginger was clearly on guard duty, but also had a mischievous streak himself.  Virgil could see the moment they were spotted, because it was the moment John retrieved a box of sandwiches from one of the bags and then moved aside to let the youngest two pounce on it.

Sensing that the battle for lunch had begun, Virgil and Scott shared a look that was half alarmed, half competitive, before abandoning any pretence of a leisurely walk and instead racing across the last stretch of sand.

Scott would have won, except Virgil already knew his loss would have been inevitable without intervention.  He grabbed onto his arm, hauling back on it and destabilising his brother enough for him to stumble slightly.  An additional knock to the sunglasses still perched on top of his head, causing them to fall down awkwardly across Scott’s face, and with an extra burst of speed, Virgil made it to the food first.

“Cheat,” Scott grumbled, but there was laughter in his eyes and plenty of food for all of them, so Virgil just shrugged and took a large bite of his sandwich.  If there was a triumphant grin on his face, well, it wasn’t often he beat Scott in a foot race.

Next to him, Alan whined as Gordon swiped the sandwich he was apparently after, and a light scuffle broke out.  Neither Scott nor John intervened, too busy hoarding their own food, and Virgil followed suit, content to leave the youngest to squabble good-naturedly.

The sun glinted off the ocean, still all those beautiful shades of blues and greens, and Virgil fingered his camera again.

Breath-taking views and surrounded by all of his brothers.  It was a good day.

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Fifty-Eight

There was a thought in me when those two got away that I had to descend further in order to realize my vision. Such thoughts weren’t new by any stretch of the imagination, but the imagination had to stretch in order for the thought to develop, as that was just how such thoughts operated.

Those two: Velvet and Coriander. Two names which may not have been their original names. To that, I could relate. It wasn’t the name that mattered, but the acts; in my case, they saw my actions as ‘evil’. As such, I may as well have played up the act.

No. Not an act. Performance, yes. But all genuine.

My name would have to change in order to suit the occasion, however, as I understood it, the name ‘Dr. Evil’ was already taken. Phooey. Guess I’d have to go back to the old drawing board. Lucky for me, there were many drawing boards in my mind. When one canvas got filled, there were several more that awaited me. Not to mention, being on my back gave me time to think. Something which I already knew was not always a good thing.

Indeed, it wasn’t the first time I had been called ‘evil’. Even the organization which went through many efforts to recruit me had deemed me wicked. What a contradiction! Weren’t they the ones who were also deemed ‘evil’ when they thought they were helping humanity? So then why was I the one excluded?

True, I set a couple people on fire once or twice. It wasn’t my first foray dealing in extremes. That first foray, though, had become lost on me...it must have been far into the Arts and Crafts room, when everything had grown to a point of consternation. Every request, fulfilled. Great things at my disposal. But the time between seeing another soul seemed like an eternity. Long ago, my friends at FU (Flashbulb University, in case it wasn’t obvious) left to join the Fine Arts Department. I had let them. All I asked was to have a room of my own. So I did. But in isolation, I grew to wish I had made a different decision. It was too late; my stubbornness wouldn’t allow me to have it any other way. So I sat, imagined myself in a burning building, and told myself, “this is fine.”

One last flashback. That was a promise: one last flashback...about The Flashbulb:

Late at night when my father was busy painting a commission of a great dragon, I by his side, refilling the ink pots.

Not long into the piece, he spilled a blot of ink all over the parchment, thus ruining it. He grumbled, then went to sleep.

I panicked.

There was NO way I was about to let the commission go unfinished! With all the mess around the house, dishes thrown every which way on the floor, nary a scratch of food. Hell, even if there were, between the two of us, we would have made a negative meal. Our bodies were made for art, but not the art of cooking! We HAD to get that commission money, so we could get good food, none of that ‘homemade’ crap!

I scrambled and paced, likely stepping on a few things in the process.

Then, I drew a breath, pulled out a fresh parchment, and recreated his piece from memory. Each detail added was one he would have in his own style. By the time dawn approached, I had finished, and I set the signature on the bottom, a forgery I grew to master many moons ago.

“Ah! I see I finished it in my sleep!” He got up and looked over. I looked up at him and smiled.

“Indeed! You never fail to impress!”

Of course, a lie. But there was an art in lies; not too harsh, not too delicate. Just as if it were a conversation.

In truth, he really was impressive. Made quite the name for himself. Several names, in fact. He was always seeking out a new medium and would take commissions for everything.

Yet, he was also lazy. Often starting a piece, then taking to the sheets. Really, though, who could blame him, when he started so late into dusk? That was why he had such a great assistant, able to finish anything he started. Because of that, was it any wonder that I managed to paint so fast?

I was about to lay down, myself, as I had deprived myself the luxury long enough. Such luxury would have to wait just a little longer, as we received knocks at our door. Father was kind enough to answer it for me, and I heard indecipherable chatter between my father and the solicitors. Then, father turned to me.

“They’re here for you.”

“What?” I sat up. “What for?”

“They say they have a job offer for you.”

I went over to the two at the door and asked them what business they had.

“We would like to offer you the chance to come with us and improve humanity.”

“What kind of cult is this?” I scowled, then slammed the door on them. My father looked shocked and asked me what I did that for.

“I don’t need humanity. All I need is you and the craft.”

“Maybe they had more to say. If they appear again, please hear them out.”

“If that is your request, then yes.”

Next morning, another knock; they appeared again. This time, I answered it.

“What?” I asked.

“We believe we made a mistake yesterday, so allow us to clarify: we are in need of a talented artist.”

“Why me? Why not my father?”

“Ah, well, you see...he’s a bit famous, and we’re looking for someone with a little less renown.”

“But you should consider him, not me. Because the only person I work with is him.”

“I see. We took the wrong approach. Dr. Monet, if you will.”

The one addressed as Dr. Monet stepped forward and showed me a rabbit in his hands.

“Yes. It’s a rabbit,” I didn’t see what the big deal was, to say the least.

“Actually,” one of them corrected. “It’s a needle felt.”

“What is that?” Those two words, ‘needle’ and ‘felt’ sounded unrelated. The only thing ever I felt from a needle was pain.

“It’s a form of art. There are several forms of art in the future which you may never learn about if you stay here. But if you come with us, the very concept of time won’t matter. Every potential form of art would be at your disposal with the potential to learn it all.”

“No. Time is important. Deadlines are important. Without it, I would never be able to measure my growth.”

“Very well; We will come by one last time, next morning, and if you still decline our offer, we won’t appear again.”

After I closed the door on them once more, I felt the presence of my father next to me with a pressure I couldn’t ignore.

“You should go with them,” he told me. “You may not get such an opportunity again.”

“No. They’re too suspicious.” If I had more awareness, I’d have placed why, and may have said, “they remind me of cultists,” but I didn’t think of that at all.

“That may be, but I could tell your excitement when you heard about new mediums to work with. Hasn’t the thought of ‘if only I had five, no, ten more years’ ever cross your mind just as it has crossed mine? If time weren’t a factor, imagine what you could do.”

“But what about us as a dynamic duo? It sounds like you want us to go our separate ways.”

“No. But yes,” he spoke, almost in a pious fashion. “Our styles are already drifting from one another – I’m leaning more toward nature. Birds, fish, rabbits. While your drawings of people are unparalleled. I know no other who can capture women so well as you.”

Ha. Capture women. If only that had stayed on the canvas and not bled into reality.

“At least think about it until tomorrow morning. Then if you tell them no again, that will be that.”

Then, that should have been that, right? But loathe as I was to admit, all the red flags that popped up when those people showed up excited me. The danger, the idea that it could all go south and I would be in peril, it was enticing. I didn’t even know why that was. Then, my thoughts drifted to its next logical conclusion: if I joined them, would I put others in danger as well?

At the time, I hated such a thought. I never wanted to put anyone else in danger. Plus, they spoke about improving humanity, not putting them in danger, right?

So, on the third morning, I said yes. I agreed to go with them. From then, there was Flashbulb University. There was the plan to integrate the Arts and Crafts and AV Club into the Fine Arts Department, and...there was my placement.

It didn’t take long for me to grow restless. Even with all the art supplies I requested fulfilled, it didn’t help. I’d create sculptures out of popsicle sticks. Dolls. But that wasn’t enough. Not even the assistants that I requested would be enough. I began to no longer see people as people, as the very idea of anyone else’s existence became absurd to me. All the echoed thoughts to keep me company, and in turn, the people who would come to support me became just like the supplies and food sent my way. Just props.

So then why did they get mad when I set one of their props on fire? I was only curious, that’s all. Earlier in my lifetime, I remembered witnessing houses set ablaze and wondering what it would be like had I been in the building. I only meant to find out what the experience was like, the sensation, through another. What about that was evil?

Without the ability to see outside my confines, finding inspiration grew difficult. To make matters worse, my past life, as an assistant, myself, had faded to such a degree that every memory held no environment. Just vague shapes and phrases. Left alone, of course I would grow desperate.

Enough. I lifted myself up. I was in enough pain, but the narrative needed to go on. Through secret panels, I stumbled through. Soon, Velvet and Coriander would meet me again. One of them weakened, the other a puppet. Then, they would meet each other.

“Looks like I must don my mustache and wizard cape and become Dr. Geppetto,” I shook my head and smiled. Those two may not have realized it, but I was prepared to help them in any way I knew how. That was what I said I would do and I refused to go back on my word.

One thing still perplexed me: if I was so evil in the eyes of my peers, why was I sealed away, rather than been disposed of? They could have sent a janitor to clean up the mess they made, but then I realized: isolating me was their clean up. Their damage control. As long as I wasn’t a threat to humanity, they saw no reason to paint me as a target.

Now, the question was, what decision would Velvet reach? I couldn’t wait to find out.

At the moment, I was dealing with some moving statues that were trying to smash me and tear me limb from limb. Then there was the imposing walls. Oh, and not to mention, there were little computer panels thrown about where I had to crack some codes in order for the walls to sink down and allow me passage through. Yes. You heard right. I couldn’t just punch through the walls.

Oh, but you’re probably wondering (hypothetical person) how I got into such a mess. To be honest, I was wondering the same thing. Hmm...ah! It was right after Dr. Fuckface put up a wall to separate Coriander and I. Due to such an unforgivable circumstance, I gave my not-official-girlfriend a free pass to beat the shit out of Dr. Art.

“I do hope she’ll be okay…” I paced about. That phrase repeated a few more times as I grew more and more anxious. “But what about me? I can’t just do nothing and wait my turn. I need to figure out a way to get back to her.”

As I began to walk back, a new wall shot up in front of me until I was trapped on both ends.

“Well isn’t this just grand!” I stomped my foot. Due to my attitude, it may have seemed like I was back at Full Velvet and my energy was restored. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I was just pissed.

To my side, the wall opened up to reveal a pathway.

“Oh, I see what’s going on!” I threw my hands up and trudged forward. It was just like in that “movie” she had me trapped in. No matter how many times we had the upper hand, we were just being pulled into another one of her traps with little room to find an exploit. I cupped my hands and yelled out, “I’ll have you know, I hate being railroaded!”

The passage didn’t go far; soon, it opened up and I found myself in a wide room, which at first seemed empty. Oh, how wrong I was.

Something shoved itself into me and knocked me onto the floor. I looked up to see a marble sculpture (or statue? Fuck. What’s the right terminology here? You know that one thing where there’s that clay guy with a tiny dick who stands around in a museum? Like, one of those things. Except the one I was face-to-face with didn’t really have any features. Like, I’m talkin’ none. Nada. No pussy out look, just a vague shape of a human with no face or nothin’) with arms in the air, and ready to smash.

I rolled out of the way, and once I got back to my feet, I ran for it.

There we go. Something like that was just what I needed to get myself back into gear, but then, another thought emerged. What if I stumbled into a dream again?

No. No thoughts like that!

Before I could get too far, a wall sprung up. Next to the wall also sprouted a computer panel. The obvious answer must have been to crack a code, so I began to get to work. From the corner of my eye, I saw a couple of statues run toward me.

Damn. How are they doing that?

So, I had to scramble to crack the code, but I was getting nowhere. Just when I thought I was getting the hang of things, the statues ganged up on me and both tried to punch me at the same time, but I ducked just in time, and they ended up punching each other instead and their heads rolled right off.

“Whew,” I wiped my forehead, but that relief was short lived, as another came charging in. That was when I had the bright idea to circle around the computer panel and have the statue and the panel collide with one another.

Spoilers: it worked. But also, it was a bad idea.

As the statue/sculpture (fuck it, it’s a statue) crashed into the computer, the combination resulted in an explosion which knocked me back. Once I got back up, I noticed that the wall in front of me had been demolished. Not only that, but something about the broken statue on the floor stood out to me: circuits and wires.

That explains it. They’re all robots. Or Terminators.

So now that all that background was out of the way, suffice to say, I went through a bit of trial and error with hordes of statues and walls appearing and disappearing, but it didn’t seem to end.

I began to huff and grow short on breath. I was beginning to wear down again and I knew that’s what she wanted, but I didn’t know what else I could do.

More came in greater numbers, surrounding me on all ends. I noticed a vent cover next to me that looked like I could fit in. Not seeing any other option, I ducked down and slipped through, closing the grate behind me. I crawled forward and upon emerging, found myself in another large room. This time, it was reminiscent of the initial room that we met Popsigirl in.

“All right. You probably had it planned that I would go through that, too!” I called out. That time, I got a response.

“Actually, I was planning on you cracking the code on one of the consoles, but it doesn’t matter what method you chose, because every path would have led you here!” She was a considerable distance away, and yet I could tell she was in the same room.

Like I said, I hated being railroaded.

“Where are you, anyway?”

“I’m on a platform next to the ceiling!” Was her response in an inappropriately chipper voice.

Dim spotlights started to shine down on the floor and that’s when I saw Coriander on the other end of the room, hunched over, head down.

“Hey! There you are!” I waved, and before I could get another word in, she flung herself forward and lunged at me. I moved out of the way, but I still felt my heart pound.

Did she lose control while facing Dr. Geppetto?

Coriander turned to the side and then swiped at me, and a wide cut etched its way onto my arm. I yelled out, but did not retaliate.

“Damn it,” I seethed. “That was a nasty cut.” The sting was still fresh, but she would not relent – she continued to swipe away in such awkward, jerking motions. I managed to avoid them that time.

She grunted and made sniffling sounds. I had a hard time distinguishing between whether she was in a frenzy or if she was in pain, but either way, I didn’t want her to stay in such a state.

“I know you’re in there somewhere! You can fight this!” I protested.

“Ugh! You idiot!” The words forced themselves out of her. That proves it: she’s definitely in pain. “I’m not being mind controlled! It’s my limbs!”

I froze. So that was it. My fists clenched, and all around, I shook.

“Dr. Lynch! Dr. Geppetto! I told you! That if you...if you…” That also shook. My voice. “I can’t forgive you! Do you hear me?”

“I’m okay with that! Kill me if you must! But first, you should worry about yourself.”

Coriander lunged once again with the knife. I jumped back, all the while, Dr. Geppetto provided commentary.

“You should have known that sooner or later, you’d have to make some hard decisions. Do you really expect to defeat The Flashbulb without anyone being killed? And if you do end up having to kill, what will you do with the bodies?”

While I tried to drown out her words, I failed to notice Coriander being pulled forward and the blade she held scratched me across my cheek. “I’m sorry!” She cried out after doing so and although I winced, I smiled.

“Why?” I covered my cheek with my hand. If I could avoid a few more hits, I would be golden. Two cuts, maybe a gash, that was enough. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Again, she swiped, but I leaned back and the blade missed me by about a good two inches or so.

“I fell for her trap! I became pulled along on these strings and forced to attack you! I can’t pull them off, I can’t break free!”

I continued to smile and nod. I’m sure both of us could tell that it was a forced smile, but I felt it as necessary a moment as any.

“It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. We both fell for her tricks.”

Her swipes grew more furious and to avoid them, I had to run. Not the ideal solution, but all I had to keep myself from being a bloody mess.

“Wow! Amazing! I thought you’d be worn out, but look at you go!”

“Please!” I retorted. “I’m running on adrenaline!”

Coriander was close behind me. I glanced over to see her gliding and floating.

“Go! Get to the exit! Leave me behind, or kill me if you have to, but just go!” Coriander pleaded.

I stopped in my tracks. She was about to strike down with the knife, but I grabbed her wrist.

“I’m not about to give up on you,” I grunted. “You can kill me if you want to, but I refuse to harm you.”

“I...I don’t want to!” She broke out in tears. “I have no choice! S-So, stop being foolish!” It must have been one of the strings, but she next tried to stomp her foot down on mine, but I caught on too quick and held her feet down with my own. She continued, “Defeating The Flashbulb is more important! So if I have to die, so be it! You need to see this through!”

I’m sure if it were any other protagonist, they’d probably accept that, deal the blow to their lover, and go on to save the day with a bittersweet feeling. But nah. That wasn’t it for me.

“Well sorry for being selfish, but I don’t want to defeat the big bad if you’re not next to me while I’m doing it!”

“Why?”

“Boring! I thought there’d be some stabbing, not a lovers’ quarrel! I wanted to see faces being ripped off!” Dr. Geppetto booed and hissed. Ignoring that, I kept my eyes on Coriander.

“Why? Because who ever said the day couldn’t be saved with you alive? Why should I have to choose when I can have both?” I leaned in, keeping my grip on her arm, and whispered in her ear, “hey, do you wanna break free?”

She mouthed the word ‘yes’, and that was all I needed. I gave her neck a peck and she got so flustered that she dropped the knife and I managed to catch it.

“Hey! Give it back!” Dr. Geppetto spat and used the strings to reach Coriander’s arms down to try to grab it from me, but I rolled away just in time, and once I got up, I cut loose the strings holding down one of Coriander’s arms. The rest was up to her.

She stretched her free arm a bit, rolled her fingers, then reached over to the arm that still wasn’t free and yanked down, causing Dr. Geppetto to fall down alongside the strings she must have been holding. The force and the height must have coupled together with such an intensity that once Dr. Geppetto hit the floor, a loud cracking sound was heard.

Coriander, now standing over the fallen artist, stared down and her breathing grew shorter, more hoarse.

“ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?! ARE YOU?!”

She wailed and repeated that phrase. I walked over to her, saw the body of the one who had caused us both torment, and hugged her from behind.

“It’s okay,” I leaned my head over her shoulder. “It’s okay.” She continued to sob and wail, but no more words. There wasn’t much else I could do but continue to hold her, and slowly, she calmed down, although still in tears.

It didn’t take us long to find the exit. Weary, I held on in order to figure out the code, and once I opened the door, we held each other up as we made our way out, into the light.

[prophetparadox]

Birds of a Feather Chapter 5: Unease (A Prompto x OC Soulmate AU)

Chapter 4 <-/AO3/-> Chapter 6

Word count: 1,946

I apologize if things have felt slow up to this point, there’s a lot I needed to do to develop the relationship between these two. But after this point, the story will start moving at a faster pace! Especially now that the gang is in Lestallum, next chapter is gonna be a doozy so stay with me here! And of course, I had to bring up Cindy at some point because that is gonna affect the story. Nothing’s coming of it right now, but it’ll change soon enough. Gotta have that conflict and drama, you know?

Tagging the usuals: @themissimmortal, @blindbae, @cupnoodle-queen, @nifwrites, @takuahijackedthetardis, and @mini-moogle-queen. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates.

"Hey Prompto, wake up."

The sound of Noctis' voice slowly broke Prompto from his slumber. He turned his head to look up at the prince, that smirk once again on his face. It was like that was the only expression he made now. Prompto didn't move, the sleeping bag feeling so warm and cozy that he didn't want to get out. "Noct? What're you doing up already? You usually sleep in." he muttered, still waking up.

"Guess I just woke up before you did this time," Noctis replied. "I see the two of you slept well."

Huh? What was that supposed to mean? "I guess so? What makes you say that?"

Noctis pointed down at the sleeping bag. "I'm surprised you didn't notice it yourself."

Now he wasn't making any sense. He turned his head back to where it was. "Noct, you're not making any sense, stop being so cryptic and-" Suddenly he saw just what he'd meant and felt as if his eyes would pop right out of his sockets.

He was now lying directly next to Katia, his arms wrapping around her from behind. She was still asleep, thankfully for him, letting out a content sigh. Prompto let go of her and quickly schooched back to the other end of the sleeping bag. When did he start doing that? How long had he been doing it for? Did Ignis and Gladio see anything? He could feel his face heating up and he heard Noctis try to hold back his laughter. "Shut up, Noct! It's not like that! I wasn't doing that when we'd gone to sleep!" he whispered, not wanting to wake Katia up.

"Hey man, I'm not judging," Noctis said. "If you want to get all cozy with Kat, we can get you two a seperate room at the next hotel."

Prompto had gotten out of the sleeping bag and lightly punched Noctis' arm. "I'm telling you, it's not like that! She's my best friend, she'd probably kill me if she knew I did that!"

"I dunno. She looked pretty content to me."

"Whatever, the others don't know, do they?"

"I don't think so. Ignis always wakes up early to make breakfast, and I think Gladio went to do training before the sun had risen. Ignis was telling me to wake you guys up, and I found you like that."

"Well don't tell them, and don't tell Kat either. The last thing I need is my friendship with her to be ruined, alright?"

"Alright, your secret's safe with me," Noctis said. He knew that Prompto was oblivious to this whole thing, but it was only a matter of how long that would last. "Anyway, hurry and wake Kat up. I'm sure she wouldn't want to miss out on more good food." He walked out of the tent, leaving the two to themselves.

Prompto sighed. Noct better not act like this for the whole trip. Besides, there was totally a logical explanation for why he ended up spooning Katia. He just needed to figure it out first. Figuring it wouldn't do good to keep the others waiting, he nudged Katia's shoulder to wake her up. "Hey Kat, time to get up. Breakfast is almost ready."

Katia groaned, she'd never been the type who liked being woken up but they had a schedule to keep. They'd taken too long getting to Lestallum as is. Katia's eyes slowly opened as she realized she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. She sat up, Squeaky still in her arms as she rubbed her eyes. "Morning already?" she asked, still not fully awake.

"Yep, afraid so," Prompto joked. "You sleep well?"

"Ehhh, I've slept better but it wasn't the worst sleep I've ever had," Katia explained, getting out of the sleeping bag. "I don't think I'm cut out for camping."

"Neither am I." Prompto said, getting a laugh out of her.

"But I did feel really warm and comfy, oddly enough. At least until right before you woke me up," She placed Squeaky back into her bag. "I don't know how to describe it though, other than it felt nice. Never felt like that while sleeping before."

"Huh, weird." Prompto said, trying to avoid talking about it any further. Hopefully she wouldn't jump to conclusions and Noctis would keep his mouth shut like he promised.

"Anyway, you said breakfast was ready? In that case, let's go eat. It's nice not needing to get diner food for once." She stepped out of the tent, the thought of food the only thing on her mind now. Prompto let out a sigh of relief. There's no way she'd realize what happened. Everything was safe.

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

The five of them headed to the Regalia, the bounty for Deadeye received and their destination set. Katia felt lucky, she'd never riden in the car before and never expected to. But now she was going to be riding in style with her friends. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't excited. "So where should I sit?" she asked.

"There should be plenty of room in the back for you, Noct, and Gladio," Ignis explained. "Hopefully you don't mind the middle seat."

"Oh, no, it's fine." Katia said, hoping that she didn't sound too irritated. She certainly wasn't getting a comfortable ride, and it was gonna be a long one too.

"Hey Gladio, mind if we switch seats?" Prompto asked. The other guys looked at him in confusion.

"I guess so, but don't you prefer the front seat?" Gladio asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not about to let Kat get crushed by all your muscles," he tried to laugh, hoping Gladio would realize it was a joke. "Besides, I want to see what kind of pictures I can take from the backseat!"

Katia stayed quiet as they discussed this new seating arrangement. Once again, Prompto was coming to her rescue it seemed. Sure, she'd still be stuck in the middle seat, but at least now she didn't have to worry about Gladio pressing directly up against her.

"If that's been settled, let us be on our way. We're long overdue at Lestallum and Iris is waiting." Ignis said, getting in the driver's seat. Gladio took his new spot in the passenger's seat while the trio of best friends hopped in the back. Katia was surprised at how comfortable the seats were. Granted, it was a special car made for royalty, of course it'd be comfortable, but she felt like she could fall asleep in here which Noct already seemed primed to do by the looks of it.

As the car started, she felt Prompto's elbow brush against her arm. She turned to ask him what that was about as she was interrupted by the sound of a camera going off. He looked at the picture he just took, pouting when he saw how it turned out. "Aw man, you're not even smiling," he said. "Now I need to take a new one."

"You think you could warn me next time first?" Katia laughed, giving him a slight push.

"Oh, right, probably should've done that." Prompto nervously laughed.

"Just make sure you get my good side, alright?"

"I thought all your sides were your good ones though."

Katia laughed again, how was he so good at telling jokes? She smiled and made a peace sign, giving Prompto a better look for his picture. The camera clicked once again, and this time Prompto smiled at the photograph he'd taken. "So? How's it look?" Katia asked.

"Perfect."

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

The drive was amazing, Ignis had opted to take the scenic route and Katia was thankful for it. Riding in the Regalia was a different experience from all the trucks she'd hitchhiked in before. She could see everything, Duscae was breathtaking. It made her regret never leaving Insomnia before now, even if it was to keep her safe, but that was in the past now. As she saw the Disc of Cauthess, she couldn't help but stare. She'd never seen anything like it up close before, only in pictures and books. She wished she could draw it for herself, but there was no way that was happening in a moving car.

"Enjoying the view back there?" She turned away to see Gladio looking back at her. "You've been pretty quiet since you and Prompto stopped singing along to that song ten minutes ago."

"Oh, yeah, I guess I was so interested in the scenery that I spaced out or something," Katia admitted. "It's just so amazing, you know? Being able to see the world so clearly from here. You guys are so lucky to have this car."

"We're lucky that Cindy was able to fix it up for us. Otherwise we'd be walking the whole way." Gladio said.

"Cindy?" Katia asked, her head tilting to the side. "Who's Cindy?"

"The mechanic in Hammerhead who fixed up the Regallia," Ignis explained, not taking his eyes off the road. "She's rather skilled when it comes to cars."

"I thought Prompto told you about her." Gladio said.

"No, he didn't. Not really." Katia said. Prompto had only mentioned a great mechanic who'd worked on the car. He never mentioned her name or the fact that she was a woman. Not that her gender mattered all that much, but something about that made her feel uneasy and she didn't know why.

"Weird. He barely shuts up about her. I'd thought he'd yapped your ears off talking about her." Gladio said.

For some reason his words made the uneasiness worse. Why did she care so much about this, it's not like Prompto was only allowed to have one female friend in his life. Was it because he never said anything about her? It almost came off like he was trying to hide something.

As if he read her thoughts, Prompto finally spoke up. "Hey, I didn't think she'd want me going on and on about Cindy when there was more important stuff she needed to know," he explained. "I mean, she is pretty amazing, I wouldn't mind going back to Hammerhead to see her. Plus her and Kat haven't met yet, I bet you two would be great friends!"

His words did nothing to soothe the uneasiness she felt, in fact the dreamy tone only seemed to worsen it. The reasons made sense in her head, but for some reason Katia couldn't come to believe them. She wanted to, but something was holding her back. Why was she feeling like this?

"You okay there, Kat?" She must've been making a face, as Prompto sounded concerned. Katia tried to shake the thoughts out of her head. It was nothing she should be worrying so much about. Prompto wasn't the type to hide things from her and he had no reason to hide this. She smiled and looked back at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just started thinking too much, I guess," she said. She needed to stop wondering about this Cindy thing. She'd get herself worked up over nothing otherwise. She looked ahead, seeing a tunnel coming up. "Hey Iggy, we almost at Lestallum?" she asked, hoping the change in conversation would distract her.

"We need only to go through that tunnel and we'll be there," Ignis explained. "It should only be a few more minutes."

"Awesome, can't wait to see it!" Katia said. She tried to focus on Lestallum and meeting Iris, the excitement pushing away her negative thoughts. Yet as they drove into the tunnel leading into the town, she couldn't ignore the burning feeling in her wrist or make it stop. She grabbed her wrist, hoping that whatever this was would go away on its own.

[lunakinesis]

Regarding My Attic

(Part 1)

Remember me? I'm the guy that had something in my attic. The one that couldn't have even begun to imagine the horrible reality of what was up there and how impossible it was.

How does anyone even begin to rationalise what I saw? I tried to think logically, sceptically...but it didn't work. It didn't change what was up there. It didn't change that I saw it and I wasn't imagining things.

Or that I can never look at my parents in the same way ever again.

How can I? I found the skeleton – or rather malnourished-but-still-alive-near-skeletons – in their closet. Or attic in this case. I found their doubles. Their sickly, dirty, clones. Or the originals. I didn't know which way it was. I don't know which way was worse to think about. I didn't even know if clones are what they were, but it's about the only thing I could think of as a semi-rational conclusion. That or identical twins; as in both my parents by some small miracle happened to be born with an identical twin and just so happened to meet one day. The odds are slim. Slimmer than slim, but it was a possibility to my panicked mind.

It still didn't explain what the HELL they were doing in the attic. Beyond my 'parents' clearly being a special kind of deranged and evil.

I managed to bullshit my reason for being down in the basement to my mom. Told her I'd been looking for some toys to give to my friend's kid sister – she was mad about dinosaurs and cars – when I'd suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous. She had no reason to not believe me and helped me stand up and get back up the stairs. I tried to hide the way my skin crawled with revulsion when she touched me. I felt so scared and betrayed. The people I was supposed to love and trust most in the world had been lying to me my entire life.

If they'd figured out I'd been in the attic, they said nothing about it. Maybe they were waiting for me to confront them, maybe they were waiting for me to feel like I'd gotten away with it only to lock me up there with their doppelgängers or maybe they – by some blessed miracle – really hadn't realised I'd been up there.

I tried to forget about it, tried to tell myself it had been a hallucination or fever dream. That was futile, there was no denying what I had witnessed and that it had been all too real. Especially once the nightmares started. That skeletal woman covered in her own filth...slowly reaching out to me. Only in my dreams she grabs me, smothering me with her stench and trapping me in their prison.

I could only handle about a week and a half of those nightmares before they started to get too much. No matter how much I wanted to sear those images and memories from my mind, I couldn't. I would have to confront my parents.

Over breakfast the morning after another replay of that nightmare seemed as good a time as any to do it. If any time could be called 'good' in this scenario.

My stomach was twisting at the thought of it, my fork mindlessly stabbing at the maple syrup covered pancakes my mom had placed before me. To say I was terrified would be an understatement. I don't think any word used to describe fear even comes close.

"Is everything all right, sweetie?" Mom asked. It was odd seeing her still concerned for my welfare knowing what I did. It felt like nothing but a perfectly crafted façade. Had either of them ever actually loved me, even for a moment?

"I know," I answered, settling my fork down and looking up at her and my dad. "I know about the attic."

I expected the blunt knife my dad was using to spread butter on his toast to be rammed into my eye socket. But it wasn't. They didn't do anything, neither of them. Well that's a lie, my mom sat down beside my dad. Then they both just looked at me.

"Are either of you going to fucking tell me why two people who look exactly like you are in the attic or not?!" I was shaking, out of anger and fear. I wanted – needed – answers, and they were going to give them to me.

"Watch your language," my mom scolded, clicking her tongue in the way she did whenever me and my dad were being irritating.

"Watch my language?" I repeated, snorting in disbelief. "That's all you can say to me? You're damn lucky I didn't run screaming out of the house to the police!" I could feel my heart and breathing growing rapid with anger. How could they be so calm and nonchalant?

"Suppose you were going to find out one day," my dad sighed, leaning back in his chair, "we'd hoped it wouldn't be until you were an adult, but you're close enough to that now." He looked over to my mom, silently asking her to continue for him.

"You were probably too young to remember any of it. A blessing really, I don't want to think about how those memories would've haunted you." She leaned forward, attempting to clasp my hands but I flinched away. I swear she looked hurt, and once again I was left wondering how they could act like this with what was in the attic.

"Too young to remember what?"

"They weren't good people."

I stared at my mom; her usually soft eyes seemed glazed over with something cold and full of hate. But it wasn't directed at me.

"Who weren't good people?" I was getting more confused by the second.

"Your parents," my dad took over again, his fingers curling into his palms so tightly his knuckles turned white, "we never intended on this happening. We were just passing through, trying to avoid hunters. That was when you caught our eye. You couldn't have been more than three and you were just sat out in your front yard. Alone. It was the middle of September so it wasn't exactly warm, definitely not for a toddler with no shirt on. The front door was closed so you weren't even being watched. You were just sitting there, eyes glazed over. Anyone could've just come along and taken you."

"That's when we saw the bruise. Right on your eye. It was all puffy and swollen up and starting to go purple." My mom seemed troubled by this memory. I couldn't even remember it, but it was making my chest feel tight. "That wasn't from a fall. Someone...Someone had hit you, and it obviously wasn't a child."

"I marched right up to the door and knelt down for a moment to pat your shoulder before knocking. Your...I hate to use the term 'real father' but it'll do...he answered the door. He stunk of alcohol and the way he nearly ripped the door off its hinges when he opened it told me he had a nasty temper. I tried to point out he shouldn't be leaving a baby outside in the cold half-dressed and the man grabbed me by the collar and threatened to 'beat the shit' out of me if I interfered with his 'family business' ever again."

That feeling of wanting to throw up hit me again, and my mom stood up and went to the sink, grabbed a glass from the draining board and filled it with water. "Here sweetie," walking back over, she placed the glass in front of me, "you seemed like you needed it."

I didn't need telling twice, and quickly brought the glass to my lips and gulped the water down. What did they mean by 'hunters'? What was with that man in the attic, my 'real' dad...had he abused me?

"We're old, son. That's all you really need to know about what we are. Old things that can take other forms. There's no point in trying to explain more than that. Anyway, we watched the house for a couple of days and it just got worse. They were yelling all the time. More like screaming, actually, and you were always crying. We found more bruises...afterwards too. They were monsters, they didn't deserve you." My dad was not an angry man, I only ever saw him lose his temper once or twice growing up, but now, even with his voice no louder than his general talking level, I could hear the cold fury in it. The same kind that had been in my mom's eyes before.

"What did you do?" I didn't need to ask, I knew the answer. But I couldn't get my brain or mouth to work to form any other words.

"Came back one night whilst you were all sleeping. Made sure they didn't make a sound. Neither of us like to kill, it's not in our nature the same way it is some of our kind, and death would've been too much of a mercy for them. So we made them suffer like they did you and took their place. Gave you the home and family you deserved." He looked down, as if ashamed.

"We never wanted you to find out like this, but the damage is done. We've always been prepared for you to shun us like the monsters we are once you learned the truth." My mom spoke next, her voice soft and shaking as if she were fighting back tears.

Monsters. I'd be so set on thinking they were just that until now. Who can blame me? How could I have come to the conclusion they were something inhuman that had saved me from a lifetime of abuse?

"What were you planning on doing with them? You said you were going to clean out the attic."

My parents stared at me, understandably confused by the fact that was the question I had raised and that I hadn't angrily denounced them.

"We...We were going to finally get rid of them. You're getting older; we figured we couldn't pass the noises they made off as the settling house or your imagination anymore." My dad answered, once again looking ashamed, his head hanging.

"Don't do that."

"No, no we won't. I'm so sorry so— "

"That's not what I meant."

"What?" He looked back up, forehead creasing as his brows knitted together, my mom's head tilted like a curious bird, equally puzzled.

"Like you said, death would've been a mercy for them back then and it still would be now. You aren't the monsters, they are. God knows what would've happened to me if you hadn't done what you did. I could've ended up in the care system and forgotten about or worse," I paused, drawing in a slow breath, "they don't deserve to find peace yet. Leave. Them. Up. There."

And that's exactly what we did. Left them up there, my parents occasionally providing food and water so starvation and dehydration didn't kill them; occasionally cleaning it out so the smell didn't permeate the whole house, I helped sometimes and felt nothing when the woman who had given birth to me outstretched her hand towards me. Maybe it seems cruel but as my parents spoke that day I got flashes of things my infant mind had buried, things I didn't want to tell my parents about in fear of inspiring rage within them that would lead to my 'real' parents’ deaths.

Glass bottles thrown my way, a backhanded slap from a screaming woman, a painful and empty feeling in my stomach as I was refused dinner and then breakfast. Flashes of terrible things that proved that my inhuman guardians had been telling the truth.

My parents are monsters, and I help hide them in my attic.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Unexpected

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen (brief, family-friendly allusion to the birds and bees) Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John, Gordon, Alan, Virgil, EOS

Yup, another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief!  The prompt used here is ““We’re going to be uncles!” A Tracy has reproduced (can be Kayo too)” from @shirubie.  Maybe not quite what the prompt implies, though.

When it came to the next generation, Scott didn’t think it would happen quite like this.

“I can’t believe it!”

Gordon’s sudden exclamation was greeted by silence from his older brothers.  Scott raised an eyebrow before returning to the metaphorical mountain of paperwork on his desk.  EOS had been a thoroughly internal affair, and while none of them intended on letting anyone in the GDF – including Colonel Casey, for all that she was on their side – learn the truth about what exactly had gone down during those disastrous moments on Thunderbird Five, the fact remained that several distress calls had gone unanswered for hours and the GDF wanted answers.

Finding a way to cover it all up without revealing John’s inadvertent creation of a sentient AI several years earlier, or the fact that said sentient AI now resided full time on the most technologically advanced satellite in the world, was tricky.  It was not helped by the fact that she was currently only trusted entirely by John, although Scott suspected the rest of his brothers were being fast won over, and she reminded him more than a little of John when he’d been that age (assuming, of course, that EOS was approximately ten years old – John had not been forthcoming on when, exactly, he’d written the base coding).

Like creator, like… creation?

“What is it, Gordon?”

Unlike the elder brothers – Virgil was steadfastly tickling ivories without pause, and John might not be actively hovering, but Scott knew his line with them was always open (unless a certain AI – nope, not going to go there right now) – Alan had not mastered the art of working out when Gordon needed to be listened to, and when he was simply attention-seeking.  Or maybe he had but had yet to tire of enabling him – or maybe, just maybe, Alan was bored of cleaning.

It was probably the latter. No-one liked cleaning, not even MAX.

“John!” Gordon called out, his tone almost accusatory, instead of directly answering his younger brother.

John, blessed with the patience of a saint but also, more importantly, the ability to tell when Gordon should be listened to, and when he should not, didn’t answer.

He did, however, pop up in miniature in the corner of Scott’s holoprojector, out of Gordon’s line of sight, and rolled his eyes.  Scott appreciated the proof that the line was indeed open, and not being hijacked by EOS. He shook his head slightly in return, amused if a little exasperated at the elder blond’s outburst – whatever inane thing it was he’d thought of.

“Joo-oooohn!” Gordon repeated, in that annoying, grinding way of splitting a brother’s name into two syllables when it clearly only had one that both Scott and John hated.  “Johnny!”  Turquoise eyes hardened in frustration – two syllables in ‘Jo-ohn’ was one thing, but ‘Johnny’ was detested.  Scott couldn’t agree, preferring ‘Scotty’ to ‘Sco-ott’ himself, or even ‘Scooter’, as his brothers occasionally bastardised his name.  ‘Scotty’ was childish, but ‘Sco-ott’ was just whining.

Still, John remained silent.  Patience was a virtue, and one John had far more of than Gordon.  The eventual victor was already clear.

“I know you’re listening!” Gordon continued, and oh dear, there was the end of the patience.  Willing or not, they were all about to be made privy to whatever revelation the aquanaut had come to.  Scott didn’t have a clue what it could be, but knowing Gordon, it was probably going to be nonsense.

From the look he got from John, he wasn’t alone in that opinion.

“Jooohnny.”  Now it was a whine.  Dogs whined, little kids whined.  Fully qualified aquanauts with military training also whined, apparently.  Or maybe it was just ones named Gordon Cooper Tracy.  Scott had never really interacted with WASP during his time in service.  “Why didn’t you say you had a kid?”

John choked, immediately drawing the attention of the two youngest as they whirled around to see his miniature hologram perched on Scott’s – Dad’s – desk.

“Were you hiding?” Alan asked, launching himself away from the broom he was supposed to be sweeping popcorn crumbs off of the den floor with – which clattered to the floor loudly – to cling to the edge of the desk.  Gordon was hot on his heels.

“A kid?” Virgil asked, the quiet melody stopping as the middle child abandoned his sonata and came to join the huddle of brothers around the desk.  “Where did that come from, Gordon?”

“You mean EOS?”  Alan sounded surprised, as though he’d only just drawn the conclusion.  Scott wondered if Gordon had already brought him in on this crazy scheme, but even if he hadn’t, Alan had beaten him to the punch on whatever was going through Gordon’s head, anyway.  Maybe blond-haired teenager brothers had a psychic link.  It might explain a few things, anyway.

“EOS?” John asked, jogging Scott out of suppositions about psychic younger brothers and back to the bizarre conversation at hand.  “My kid?”

“Well she is, isn’t she?” Gordon challenged, arms crossed and eyebrow raised in a manner that looked rather familiar from the mirror.  “You made her.  And now she’s living with you while you teach her how tell right from wrong.”

“I know you know how children happen,” John said bluntly.  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You made her,” Gordon repeated, and beside him Alan, who had been looking thoughtful, began to nod.

“Gordon’s right,” he said, and John turned an incredulous look on him.  Scott shared a look of ‘what are we supposed to do about this’ with Virgil.  “You made her base coding, and now she’s growing up.”

“She is growing up?” Gordon interjected, and Scott realised John had been backed into a corner. Saying EOS wasn’t maturing would both be a lie – she was – and also a sure way to upset the AI who was no doubt eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Of course she is,” John defended her.  “She’s learning.”

“Like a child,” Gordon pressed.  “Ergo, your daughter.”

“Those two things aren’t mutually-”

“John?”

EOS cut off the ginger’s argument, her recently installed own hologram projecting into the midst of their discussion.  Scott just started wondering when she was going to appear.

“Yes, EOS?” John asked, his head turning to look at what Scott assumed was the security camera EOS had taken for a ‘body’ up in Thunderbird Five.

“Your brothers are referring to me as your ‘daughter’, but I checked the internet for how ‘daughter’s are created, and I have no recollection of such an act occurring to create my code.”

Alan and Gordon burst out laughing, and even Scott couldn’t resist joining Virgil in a chuckle as John’s face turned redder than his hair.

“EOS, that’s- why were you looking at that?” he demanded, over Gordon’s gasps for air.  Virgil helpfully patted the aquanaut’s shoulder, and got a baleful look for it.

“To understand, John,” the AI said.  “You said I should research facts before reaching conclusions.”

“I did,” John sighed, rubbing his face with one hand.  “I should have known that would come up sooner or later.  So, what conclusion did you come to?”

“That I am your daughter.”

Scott found himself witness to the rare sight of a baffled John.

“But you just said you didn’t understand what Gordon meant,” Alan pointed out, before John could articulate whatever was going through his head.

“Research implies that while intercourse is how a daughter or son is created, it is not the only way one may be obtained,” EOS replied, sounding as smug as a computer-generated voice could – and perhaps more than Scott ever thought one would.  “The act of sheltering a younger being in one’s home and assisting in their growth and understanding is also one of parenthood. Thus, it would not be incorrect to state that John is my father and I am John’s daughter.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works,” Virgil muttered, but he was drowned out by Gordon’s triumphant shout.

“I told you so!” he crowed. “EOS is John’s daughter!”

John was shaking his head, but Scott saw the fond smile on his face.

“Okay, fine,” the ginger said.  “Yes, EOS, that makes you my daughter.  But, please, just keep calling me John.”

“Spoilsport,” Gordon sulked. “Hey, EOS.  If you’re John’s daughter that makes you my niece, so feel free to call me ‘Uncle’!”

“And me!” Alan chimed in. Scott shared another look with Virgil, and they silently agreed to stay out of it.

“Don’t encourage them, EOS,” John muttered, and the white ring of lights flared again.

“John does not wish me to,” she said.  “So I shall not.  After all, research suggests that daughters obey their fathers.”

Her hologram vanished, leaving behind a pair of gaping blonds.  John turned his attention to them.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now I have some explaining to do.” His hologram disappeared as well.

Scott shook his head in despair.  John was patient, but one day he’d get revenge on the teenagers.  Scott was quite content to remain a fly on the wall for the eventual payback.

In the meantime, he had the GDF to throw off the scent of his newly-named niece.  Not quite the way he’d imagined the family expanding.