#johnny however suspects more than he’d let on

[acorrespondence]

I’m very glad I turned on email receipts for asks yesterday (I didn’t even realize it was off!), because tumblr ate this one from @toli-a!

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

Oh, this is a hard one, because I’m very bad at remembering when and how I learned information unless the circumstances in which I learned it were very memorable, and most of my fic research involves getting lost in a link chain rabbit hole for hours and coming back up like I’ve just woken from a fugue state. Actually, as I was writing this I was thinking about the justified og au and remembered one of the things I researched in depth for that: the details and dangers which “robbing a mine” entails, as well as some very specific instances where attempts to do so ended in disaster. A lot of mining companies would pay people under the table to do this for them, but of course some people did it for themselves because they could make more money per ounce on the coal than the mine was willing to pay them for it. Guess which of these equally illegal activities more often resulted in arrest? Yep; if you were doing this for yourself behind the company’s back, you weren’t just accused of robbing the mine, but also of robbing the mining company.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

This is from a collection of prequel snippets in the heavy heart universe. It was never intended to be published and instead is really just for my own reference, so it’s rougher than I’d prefer:

"Arlo says the two'a you's queer for each other."

Boyd freezes, but Raylan just rolls his eyes. "Arlo says the mailman's queer because he—I’m quotin, here—‘spends all day shovin things in mail holes.' And when my mama told Arlo that's just his job, Arlo said that made it worse, on account'a he's gettin paid for it."

Johnny laughs. "Shit. Your old man may be an asshole, Raylan, but he's a funny one."

Raylan's said far worse about Arlo himself, but he feels his hackles rise anyway. "You oughtta watch what you say, Johnny."

Johnny lounges back on the dugout bench and looks at Raylan through hooded eyes. "Careful, Raylan. We ain't in high school anymore, when our families left us to it. Your affairs are your daddy's, now, and his affairs are yours, and he ain't exactly got his affairs in order."

Boyd, still lounging against the chain link, having since recovered from his earlier jolt of fear, smirks at him. "Maybe you're well-served to mold yourself blindly in your daddy's image, cousin, but if I am truly to become my daddy, I must first become my own man."

Johnny spits on the ground. "Long as your own man ain't a fag."

(Questions here)

[gumnut-logic]

John intervenes 1

This is all @flyboytracy 's fault with their magic gif making skills prompting fic ideas.

However I have to apologise in advance cos this fic comes with a tissue warning. Also, it was supposed to be Allie-focussed and it is, but big brother Scotty plays a very big part in this, and is most of the source of the need for tissues. I'm sorry, Scotty!

Many, many thanks to @katblu42 and @onereyofstarlight for the read throughs and the listening as I wibbled about the ending (I wrote more, but cut it). Also for the tissues needed.

So a heavy angst warning on this for a very upset pair of brothers.

Canon did it, not me! Honest!

-o-o-o-

It was dark and a little scary.

Alan peered out of the elevator into the hangars. The massive caves were quiet except for the distant sounds of the ocean and the wind whistling over the Island.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Dad said he wasn’t to enter the hangars alone as there were too many things that could hurt him. He was too little. One day, yes, but not until he was grown up.

He had, of course, been in here with an older brother or Dad. Brains had even let him in once when Scotty had been hurt, and had shown him what had happened and how he was going to stop it from happening again.

Alan suspected Virgil had asked the engineer to do it because Alan had been scared for his big brother. But the reasoning didn’t matter right at this moment.

What mattered was that he knew how to get aboard Thunderbird One.

An unseen breeze tickled his hair.

The residential elevator opened at the top of the stairs leading down to Thunderbird One’s launch bay. As Alan moved, the gaping cavern lit up automatically, lighting up all the machinery and the stairs he was creeping down.

He needed to do this.

His brothers weren’t so he would.

They spent more time arguing than anything else. Virgil in particular. At least Scotty said he wanted to go. Virgil wouldn’t let him.

The fights were loud.

And hurt.

Alan was sick of crying.

He needed to do something.

Thunderbird One glinted ever so silver and red in the overhead lights. She was massive.

And so…wow.

Alan’s heart thudded in his chest.

International Rescue was shut down. Had been ever since…it happened. His brothers had taken out their ‘birds. Many, many times.

But not anymore.

Alan’s hand seemed small on the pilot delivery system. Brains had hit it while talking a mile a minute, explaining that this was a maintenance delivery system and not the main one Scott used. Something about safety and his brother’s death-defying feats. In any case, the wide platform that assembled at the edge of the chasm below had all the guard rails an eleven-year-old could need.

Thank goodness. Brains had demonstrated how Scotty made it to his pilot chair and it looked terrifying.

Fun but terrifying.

He wasn’t as tall as Brains…yet…he had plans in that area, but he was able to reach the controls and direct the delivery platform over to the huge rocket.

A press of a button and her doors slid open.

Because this was maintenance, the pilot’s chair did not deploy and Alan was able to step off the platform and into One’s cockpit.

He stared at the chair for a moment. The quilted red silicone leather had dips where his big brother sat.

Alan adored Scott. He was his biggest brother and so cool. He’d been in the Air Force and now he flew the fastest plane on the planet and saved lives.

Well, he did until…

Alan blinked. This is where Scotty had been sitting.

A swallow and Alan climbed up. Scott wasn’t sitting here now. Hadn’t been for days.

So now Alan was going to sit here and take One and do what needed to be done.

He thumbed the switch that closed the cockpit doors.

“Alan?”

He jumped as Johnny flickered up blue in front of him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going out to find Daddy.” Alan straightened in the pilot’s seat and reached for the lever to activate launch.

His older brother hovered before him with wide eyes. “Alan-“

“I’m doing this, Johnny.”

“I can’t let you, Alan.” There was no appended ‘you’re not old enough’ but it was there anyway.

“You can’t stop me!” He activated the launch procedure. He could do this. He knew enough and he was old enough.

Nothing happened.

No.

“I’m sorry, Alan.”

His brother’s voice was calm and kind but it was the trigger point, nonetheless.

“Why?!”

“Allie, -“

“No one is out looking for him! Not you, not Virgil, not even Scotty!”

“Al-“

“You’re not even down here helping!”

“Alan, we are looking!”

“Not enough! We need to do more!” He kicked his feet against the base of the chair. “Let me go!”

The pilot doors suddenly slid open. Scott was standing there, pale, hair askew, in his pyjames.

The chasm loomed below.

“No! We need to keep searching! We need to find Dad!”

Scott leapt into the cockpit, the doors sliding closed immediately behind him. “Allie!”

The Scott-the-hero warred with current Scott-the-sick standing in front of him. He was no longer recognisable. Gone was the shine of confidence, laughter, the big brother he knew and loved.

What remained was a battered mess that argued and yelled.

“I’m going out to look for Daddy.”

“No, you’re not.” Scott’s voice was parched.

“Yes, I am. Why aren’t you?”

And to his horror, there was suddenly tears in Scott’s eyes. “Because he isn’t out there, Allie.”

“He is, you said he is!” He’d heard it yelled at Virgil so many times. It had to be true.

The chair made him taller than his big brother. The partition that made up the floor Scott was standing on slid down when the rocket was in flight and became the back wall of the cabin. Alan had seen it happen when Scotty took him flying.

Old Scotty.

Not new Scotty.

His brother didn’t say anything, but a tear did run down one cheek as he climbed up the chair.

“No! We have to go out!” Alan fought off his big brother, but Scott was strong and determined.

His brother scooped him out of the chair and hugged him within an inch of his life. “I’m sorry, Allie. I’m so sorry.”

“We have to find him.” It was muffled into cotton pyjamas. Anger slipped into grief. “We have to.”

“I know.” Scott was turning, the sound of the cockpit doors opening again, the dip as his brother stepped onto the maintenance platform.

Alan was still being crushed, but found himself clinging anyway.

The cool wind of the hangars dried tears he didn’t know he was crying.

Once the platform reached the other side of the chasm, both Virgil and Grandma were there with worried words, hugs and touches.

Scott didn’t quite let him go, and it was his big brother who carried him back to his rooms and sat down with him on Alan’s bed, still holding him close.

Alan leant into his brother. “We need to find him.”

“I know.”

“We need to keep looking.”

“We-“ Scott’s voice broke. He didn’t continue.

“It’s what Daddy would do.”

Scott shook in his arms, somehow hugging him even tighter. A small, strangled sound whispered through Alan’s hair.

He tried to pull away, but Scott wouldn’t let go, holding onto Alan as if his life depended on it.

It was a long moment before his big brother spoke, his voice hoarse.

“Yes, he would, Allie. He would.”

-o-o-o-

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 8 Ep. 49: Cold Case, Hot Hearts

While his relatives were engaged in romance, Peachy was engaged in work. Ever since his comedic hero Johnny Zest made an offhand comment about victims who had been denied justice, Peachy had made finding solvable cases in the precincts cold case files his personal calling.

He’d recently found one that seemed incredibly promising. A large sum of money had been embezzled from SimNation Trust Bank, and although the store room held boxes of promising evidence, it seemed very little analysis had been done, and the statute of limitations was just days away.

Unwilling to let the perpetrators escape justice because the district hadn’t been willing to do the work before the clock ran out, he asked Jack for help.

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

Peachy had been right to engage his partner. Just as he’d hoped, with their combined brainpower and two sets of eyes going back over the evidence after hours, they caught a breakthrough in a surprisingly short time.

They both had not been able to understand why the detectives who had looked at the case before them had let the trail go cold… until he and Jack put it all together and realized the prime suspect was none other than high society scion Nancy Landgraab.

Talk about a dangerous accusation to make! It could be a career ending move if she was innocent, and maybe even if she was guilty.

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

Peachy and Jack went to a park near the station for some some privacy at lunch to talk about their next move. The Landgraabs were the oldest, richest, family in SimNation and with their shared immortality had been a fixture on the political scene for generations.

Peachy wasn’t worried about his own career. He wasn’t ready to give up policing, but he had Johnny’s card and was confident he could ace an audition with the agency any time. He was, however, worried about Jack, who had been driven out by politics once already.

Taking Jack’s hand in his Peachy felt his face heat up as he admitted that his world would be much less bright if Jack wasn’t in it.

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

The two men hadn’t yet sat down and talked about their future, but Jack decided to take the opening Peachy’s admission had provided.

He told the rookie that he thought they had a solid case and anyway he was always of the opinion that doing the right thing was worth the risk. More importantly, no matter what happened he wasn’t going anywhere. The truth was he would like to take their relationship to the next level, if Peachy was willing. In his experience what they had didn’t come along very often and he’d like to see where it could lead.

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

Peachy didn’t know what to say. He cared deeply for Jack, but he also feared giving up his single freedom for any relationship. He couldn’t quite meet Jack’s eye as he told him that he had mixed feelings about commitments. He’d grown up surrounded by successful relationships, but he’d also observed his grandfather’s failed attempts and how much pain could come when love didn’t work out.

Jack stood up and gently turned Peachy to face him. He didn’t have to answer right away, they could take all the time Peachy needed.

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

Peachy felt unexpectedly disappointed when Jack let him “off the hook”. He considered Grandpa Don’s latest upcoming wedding and Grandpa Chance’s new relationship and realized he didn’t want to let his fear hold him back. There was really only one right answer.

Meeting Jack’s eye at last he told him he was ready to answer now, and the answer was yes. Smiling from ear-to-ear Peachy’s boyfriend sealed the deal with a kiss before taking his hand and heading back towards the station.

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

Want To See More? View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[kingfishered]

Johnny heard Simon’s panicked call of his name and decided he hated it, hearing Simon that worried.

But he also kind of loved that it was worry over him.

He heard Simon land behind him and moments later there were steady hands pressed against him, both his back and his chest, and felt himself relax slightly. It was quite easy to relax when you had large arms practically wrapped around you, holding you up. The muscles of his arms were tensed, and Johnny wanted nothing more than to reached up and squeeze his bicep, feel the strength it held in his hand.

Maybe he should get hurt around Simon more often, if it afforded him this kind of treatment.

A twinge of pain told him what his body thought of that particular idea, bringing him back to reality.

“I’m fine,” Johnny said, trying to dispel some of Simon’s worry, though his tense jaw gave away the lie, “I can still walk. ‘S an old thing, my knee acts up sometimes. Jus’- give us a sec.”

He took a moment longer to catch his breath, before using Simon’s shoulder to help push himself back up to standing. He hoped he wouldn’t mind, but he really didn’t trust his leg to support his weight right now. He gently tested it out, still holding Simon’s arm, slowly balancing his weight between both legs. He winced as it caused more shooting pain through his leg, though thankfully not quite as bad this time. He could walk, it was just going to hurt like a bitch.

“Stupid fuckin’ thing,” he grumbled, “Broke it ages ago, had t’ get surgery on it. Still hurts, even after all the physio.”

He had been told that was a common complication with that kind of injury, that it might never quite work the same. In all honesty, he was lucky it still worked as well as it did, considering the severity at which he had broken it. It only hurt sometimes, to varying degrees of pain, and thankfully a knee brace and some painkillers usually sorted it out.

It had completely slipped his mind, however, that he’d left his painkillers (on purpose) in Simon’s office.

“I’m good now,” he said, patting Simon’s arm, the pain having subsided as much as he suspected it would for now, “Let’s go.”

Simon didn’t think that getting called a gentleman would make him blush, and yet here he was. Standing, staring after Johnny’s retreating form with a redness to his face that he was sure, against the cold night air, was making steam rise off his skin. His lips curled up into a grin as he continued to watch Johnny, sitting down on the edge of the roof getting ready to get down, and he swallowed back the swell of pride before following behind him.

He liked Johnny calling him that. He’d have to be gentlemanly more often, he supposed.

Standing just behind him, Simon watched Johnny amusedly for a moment until he didn’t. Johnny landed, hard, and one leg gave out beneath him. Then, he didn’t fucking move.

“Johnny-!” Simon called out, maybe a little louder than necessary, but he was panicking, goddamn it. 

With no concern for his own safety whatsoever, Simon practically vaulted over the edge of the roof, landing firmly on both feet and letting out a soft huff of air at the impact. He wasn’t hurt, just jarred by the jump, and even if he was, his mind was solely on making sure Johnny was okay. Nothing else mattered right now.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell,” he hissed, kneeling beside Johnny the second he got close enough to check on him. He placed one cold hand on the covered small of his back and used the other to press against his chest, making sure he could stay upright. His muscles were tensed in both arms, biceps and forearms bulging as he held him in place. “You’re alright, yeah? Nothing broken? Sprained?” he asked hurriedly, giving him a quick once-over look to make sure no bones were sticking out anywhere. 

Satisfied that there weren’t, Simon suddenly realised just how close he was to Johnny. Somehow, this felt even more intimate than the roof had. Maybe it was the brain damage talking, but the second he heard the grunt of pain, his mind had begun to scream at him to protect, to make sure that sound never left Johnny’s mouth again. “Can you put weight on it?” he asked, much calmer though he wasn’t feeling any calmer. That’s what you were supposed to do in this situation, wasn’t it? Stay calm? He could be calm. “Don’t push yourself t’do it, Johnny. Not if you don’t think you can, alright? No shame in it.”

[therealvinelle]

Hi! I was reading through your meta (which is reeeeally interesting) and noticed you said you don't like Eleazar? I was wondering why that was?

Tumblr ate this ask when I had almost finished it and I hate everything. Also, thanks for the compliment, I’m really glad you like my things.

Now to try and remember what I wrote about Eleazar…

I think Eleazar is a disagreeable person whose gift wasn’t useful enough to warrant a place in the Volturi guard, and Aro jumped on the Carmen-shaped excuse to give him an honorable discharge.

To start with the gift, we see him use it twice and neither time is particularly impressive.

Siobhan Siobhan has the power of reality manipulation. Her gift is noticeable enough that Carlisle is certain she has it, so when he gets Eleazar and Siobhan in a room together he pulls Eleazar over to see if he was right. Eleazar squints at Siobhan. And he squints. Finally he says, «I’ve got nothing.» Now, gifts are an iffy, complicated matter everyone has their own theories about, but I think that at the end of the day we can all agree it’s a binary, you’re gifted or you’re not. Some gifts may be weak, but those are still gifts. And maybe someone will touch the gray zone of «is it a gift or is Johnny the vampire just really good at juggling?», but Siobhan has the power to manipulate reality, and she must do it a lot for Carlisle to have come to suspect it in the first place. She has a definitive and powerful gift. And even if I’m wrong about gifts being binary, if Eleazar wants to be useful to Aro he should still be able to say: Yes, this person has a gift, or no, this person does not have a gift. Sadly, he is not. When brought before Siobhan he says «She could have a gift, she could also not have a gift.» This means he hasn’t detected her gift, which is bad enough by itself. Being able to tell if someone has a gift or not should be a dealbreaker. The way he answers, though, that she could very well have a gift he doesn’t know about, makes it clear that people having gifts he couldn’t detect has happened enough for him to be open to the possibility that the gift there, and he can’t see it. In other words, Eleazar isn’t reliable for detecting gifts and will give Aro false negatives.

Bella This is an aside but as it’ll inevitably come up later in my blog I’ll just drop here that I think Bella’s gift is something more complex than a shield. She has prophetic dreams, hallucination!Edward, and there’s a weird inconsistency as to who is blocked by her and who isn’t. I think her gift is self-preservation, and the shield is one of its manifestations. Anyway, onto discrediting Eleazar. (I’ll be pretty closely paraphrasing what happens in chapter 31 of Breaking Dawn, but since the interaction goes on for several pages I’m not going to clutter this post by pasting all of it.) To his credit, he does notice Bella right away, and he identifies her as a shield based on the fact that he gets this sense of nothingness from her. This is all he can do, however, and I can’t stress that enough. He assumes that she can block Edward, but he’s shocked to learn that she can block Aro. He’s just as surprised that she can block Jane and Alec. He has to interview her to deduce exactly what her gift does, which again has nothing to do with his gift. Anyone could ask questions, in fact Aro found all this out two books ago, without the help of Eleazar. Eleazar then starts musing aloud about who-would-win in a Renata vs. Bella showdown (more on that later), which is as tactless as it is revealing. The guy genuinely doesn’t know, and it’s because he doesn’t understand their gifts well enough. Eleazar’s power means he can tell Bella that she has a gift, and he knows roughly what it is. He muses that usually he can’t even tell that much, which again is quite damning. He can’t tell her exactly what she does without a game of 20 questions first. She gives him more information than he gives her, which he then regurgitates back to her with slightly different wording, and everybody claps. «My god, Eleazar, you’ve done it again!» (No, really, this is pretty much what happens. Eleazar brought no new information to the table, yet he blew Bella and Edward’s minds.) It’s all fun and games to do this for Bella and Edward, as they for various reasons genuinely didn’t realize she had a gift. For Aro, who figured this one out on his own, one begins to wonder what Eleazar was bringing to the table.

Carlisle Bonus bullet point! I’ll make this one brief. I believe Carlisle in canon has a gift he’s unaware of (Yes, I have a post planned, but it will get ugly long so god knows when it’ll come), which makes him another one of Eleazar’s gift detection fails. In short, I think he’s extremely charismatic, able to win over anybody. To list a few examples - he has an extremely diverse set of friends who in Breaking Dawn are willing to lay down their lives for him, Jacob muses how his instinctive hostility around vampires doesn’t apply to Carlisle, and vampires are terrifying to humans (don’t be fooled by the movies, people) yet Carlisle is able to work as a successful doctor, meaning his patients don’t mind being exposed to a killing machine even when they’re at their most vulnerable. He’s able to keep his family of sociopaths in line. There’s not a single person in the Twilight ‘verse that dislikes him. (Billy and Caius excepted, but Billy has no direct exposure to him until late Eclipse, and Caius is responding to a coven that’s potentially threatening the Volturi) People are free to disagree with me on this one, but if I’m right (and I have a lot of book quotes as well as a theory on what gifts even are to back me up on this one. I’m right, damnit!) then Carlisle is another gifted vampire Eleazar failed to detect.

So. We’ve established that Eleazar’s gift will yield false negatives, and that he can’t tell you much about the gifts he does detect.

I think his power is to point out the obvious.

Which means that Aro’s eyelid was twitching slightly, but alright, Eleazar could still be useful.

Unfortunately, there is the matter of weighing up your pros with your cons.

The Volturi are, at the end of the day, a group of people who live in a commune together. Coven, guard, evil minions, call them what we like but they’re exposed to each other and some sense of agreeability is required. And Chelsea is not omnipotent.

More, I imagine that in a coven as large and old as the Volturi, they’ve developed a culture of their own. This means that newcomers will need social awareness and a willingness to fit in.

Eleazar, from what we see of him in Breaking Dawn, appears to lack both.

It’s in the way he speaks of the people he used to work with. It’s utterly impersonal. He tells us how their gifts work, no more and no less. When he speaks of Aro, he speaks only of actions Aro took and orders he gave, nothing about the man’s personality. Now, considering the context, he was speaking in a context where Jane’s thoughts and feelings were far from relevant, but it’s still notable.

Also notable is the fact that he has no issue contemplating a Renata vs. Bella scenario, even though this would mean the deaths of two people he worked with for years. Perhaps it’s a thought exercise, but it’s not a thought exercise I would have gotten into when it was days away from becoming reality. If Renata can’t deflect Bella’s power, she and Aro die.

I’ll put it this way - I don’t think he’d do a «who would win» like this involving Carmen.

At no point in the book does Eleazar show any concern for the eventuality that members of a guard he used to be a part of may get killed.

It seems he didn’t form personal relationships with the rest of the guard. I suspect he considered himself... if not quite above them, then still someone who could evaluate them. Their gifts is what he looked at in them. I also think it’s likely he asked Aro not to use Chelsea on him, which in turn would have made him stick out even more as there’s nothing making him and Volturi Guard Member X just click in the way I imagine Chelsea can be very helpful with. Which in turn means that the other guard members will feel close to one another in a way they’re not close to Eleazar.

Also… he’s just a douche. I’m sorry, but I don’t make the rules and the whole guy radiates douche. I can’t even point to a specific quote in the book, it’s just is.

I don’t think this guy never really fit into the Volturi guard, and his gift wasn’t useful enough to keep him. Aro was thrilled to have him at first, but as time went on and Eleazar proved to just not be all that, he eventually realized he had to get rid of him.

Because as others have pointed out before me, the Carmen excuse makes no sense. There would be no problem in one more vampire in the castle, yet Aro wouldn’t let her in and Eleazar had to choose.

It was a solution that sent Eleazar on his way with his ego intact, and no hard feelings towards the Volturi. More, Aro is on record doing this with it’s-not-you thing with at least one other vampire. Laurent wanted to join the Volturi, had nothing to bring to the table, and Aro used past association with the Romanians as an excuse for why Laurent couldn’t join rather than tell him to his face that he was useless. With Marcus, Aro, and Chelsea around, the Romanian connection isn’t a problem, meaning Aro was bullshitting.

TL;DR: Aro is the kind of person who’d lie and say his grandma died if he doesn’t want to go to your party, and Eleazar is the kind of person who’d say «My condolences».

[samwilsonsbabymama]

What’s Best

Part 2/3

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black Reader

Summary: Angel Reyes has always been a part of your life. He’s helped you through the hardest parts of your life, and you’ve stuck by him through the toughest parts of his. Angel has always done what he thought was best for you, even if doing so meant that he hurt you in the process. Angel only wants you to be happy, what he can’t see is that you’re happiest with him.

Warning: angst, fluff, smut (loss of v-card), angst... angst... and more angst

Word Count: 4,231

A/N: Thanks again to @akimi-youngblood​ you’re amazing 💖

After you graduated high school, you decided to go to community college. You had once dreamt of moving away one day but your heart was in Santo Padre. You knew that you would never leave.

Ez, the genius, finished high school at the top of his class and went off to University. He would often come back to visit his family, his girlfriend, Emily, but he spent most of his time at school.

Angel attended community college with you and worked at his father’s carnicería to help his ma and pop for a few years. Angel was always in and out of trouble. He would often get into bar fights where you would have to patch him up afterward. He spent more time at your house than his own, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed having him near you, and you suspected that he enjoyed being near you as well.

But your life changed the day Angel went to jail. He’d gotten into another fight, and he couldn’t make it out in time before the cops came and locked him up. Every Saturday, for eighteen months, you visited him. And when he got out, he made sure that you were the first person he saw. 

He didn’t bring you around many of his friends saying that he wanted to keep that part of his life separate from you. You knew that he worked at the Romero Brothers Scrapyard, but Angel had made you promise to never go there without him.

About a year after Angel got out, and after you continued asking about his job, he finally introduced you to someone that he worked with.

“Hey, y/n,” Angel yelled from outside your house.

You stepped outside a few moments later with a scowl on your face. “Why are you yelling, Angel?” you paused at the top step and looked down at him with your hand on your hip. It was another hot day, so you had chosen to lounge around the house in your usual shorts and a tank top.

“I want you to meet someone,” he said as he walked up to give you a hug. “This is Coco. I met him while I was locked up.”

Coco took a step forward, and you reached out to shake his hand. He grasped it without looking at you and mumbled, “Johnny “Coco” Cruz”, before he dropped your hand again.

You smiled, “Well, any friend of Angel’s is a friend of mine. Come on in, I’ll make you guys something to eat.” You turned and walked back into your house when you heard Coco speak.

“That’s your old lady?” he asked Angel, but he didn’t receive a response, well not one that you heard.

After that day, Coco spent a lot of time over your house, and you two became good friends. He was quiet around most people, but he talked around those that he was comfortable with. He would often spend the night when he didn’t want to go home and you would patch him up just as you would do for Angel.

On the nights when either of them would come to you looking for your help, you wanted to ask them why, but you knew you wouldn’t get any answers. When they started riding motorcycles, you got a nagging feeling that they were a part of the Mayans MC, but you never outright asked them. 

Things were finally settling in Santo Padre for you again. Angel was back in your life, and it looked like he’d learned from his time in jail. Coco was a great addition and things were running smoothly.

But life is a funny thing. When things are going well, life tends to shake things up and ruin things for people.

It was a hot summer day when Mrs. Reyes was killed.

You didn’t have all the details, but you knew that Ez had been the one to find her. You spent hours at the Reyes’ house with Felipe and Ez in the aftermath. You were trying to locate Angel, but he had been dodging your calls and you knew it had something to do with the club. 

You insisted on spending the night, but Felipe assured you that you didn’t have to and said that it would be better if you went home. 

“Angel will be looking for you,” he explained, “he won’t come looking here.” You nodded and gave him another hug before you returned home.

Hours later, you were awoken by pounding on your door. You slipped on your slippers and went to open it.

“He kept saying your name,” Coco explained with a shrug as he stood holding Angel up against your doorstep. Angel’s eyes were glassy as he stared at you and he could barely keep himself upright. You moved aside to let them in and pointed him towards the spare room. You wouldn’t dare let Angel sleep in your bed this drunk.

“Thanks, Coco,” you said with a soft smile as you walked him to the door. You waited until he drove off before you went to check on Angel and you were thankful that you had placed a trashcan next to the bed when you walked in. 

You waited until he was finished before you handed him a bottle of water and he pushed your hand away.

“Fine,” you mumbled. “I’ll be in my room,” you said and placed the bottle on the nightstand and moved to walk away but Angel grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry,” his whisper was broken. He was broken, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave him.

You climbed onto the bed behind him and held him to you. He turned over to face you, and you tightened your arms around him.

“She’s gone, y/n,” he whispered before his tears broke through.

Angel had seen you cry many times throughout your friendship, however, this was one of the few times that you had seen him cry. You wished that you could take all of his pain away but you knew that wasn’t possible, and it broke your heart that all you could do was hold him close as he cried. 

The next morning, you woke with Angel still in your arms. This wasn’t a new thing for you, as you two would often sleep in the same bed together. You removed yourself from his hold and made your way to the bathroom to relieve yourself. You tried to stay as quiet as possible because you knew he needed the rest. You also knew that he would be hungry when he woke up.

When you entered the kitchen, you pulled out enough food to make Angel’s favorite breakfast. You smiled when you heard him grumble Good morning from the kitchen door as he shuffled into the room.

You continued to cook in silence as he sat at the table.

“They said that it was a robbery gone wrong,” Angel mumbled from the table.

You placed the spatula down and looked at him. “That doesn’t make any sense,” you responded. “Your parents have been there forever, and they’ve never been robbed before.”

“That’s what Ezekiel says,” Angel sighed, “but it doesn’t have to make sense. The cops aren’t going to look into it. I already know that.”

You fixed his plate and brought it over to him. “But they have to do something,” you countered, “that’s their job!”

“Yeah, like they did anything when your father kept disappearing on you,” Angel snapped.

You frowned at his words.

“Shit, I didn’t mean that, y/n. Can we just,” he sighed. “Can we just drop it?”

You nodded. You knew that he didn’t mean it, but it still hurt to hear him say it. 

“You’re not going to eat?” Angel asked from behind you.

“I’m not hungry,” you responded as you left the kitchen, “I’m going to visit Felipe soon. You can come if you want.” You slammed the door to your room shut without waiting for an answer.

When you emerged from your room a half an hour later, you found Angel and Coco sitting on your front porch each smoking a cigarette. When you walked out of the house, they both turned and looked at you but only Coco smiled. He pulled you into a hug and mumbled Good morning when you pulled back.

Angel watched the two of you with a frown on his face, but he didn’t say anything.

“Are you coming?” you asked looking up at Angel and frowning when he shook his head.

“I’m gonna stay here,” he responded. “I’m sure pops doesn’t want to see me right now.”

“Angel, that’s not-”

“I said no, y/n,” Angel snapped at you for the second time that morning. You turned and walked to your car without responding and drove off.

You stayed with Felipe for a few hours. You weren’t sure what to say, so you just sat in silence with him. You cooked a couple of meals for him before you left, promising to return the next day and he thanked you for your kindness before you went on your way.

You drove home in silence, and you thought about the Reyes brothers. You hadn’t seen Ez all day, and you wondered how he was doing. You smiled softly as you pulled up to your driveway and saw Angel and Ez talking near Ez’s truck, and you hopped out of the car and they both turned to look at you. 

“Don’t make me regret giving that to you, Ez,” you heard Angel say as you made your way closer to them. You quirked your eyebrow up in question when you reached them, but Ez ignored it and gave you a hug.

“I gotta go, y/n, thanks for taking care of everyone,” he said before placing a kiss on your cheek and walking back to the truck.

“What was all that about?” you asked Angel as Ez drove off.

“Nothing,” he responded. You wanted to ask more questions, but you knew that he would shut you out if you did. 

“Is Coco still here?” you asked instead, looking around for his bike.

“What’s going on between you two? You two have gotten pretty close,” Angel narrowed his eyes at you.

“Seriously, Angel?” You turned and walked away without another word, but he followed you into the house.

“I’m serious as a fucking heart attack, y/n!” He yelled from behind you and you laughed. You threw your keys on the table near the couch and turned to face him, your two fingers pointing in his face.

“Fuck you, Angel,” you yelled, you couldn’t believe that Angel was accusing you of sleeping with Coco. “You have no right, no right at all to accuse me of anything. And so what if there was something going on between Coco and me! That’s between Coco and me.” 

“I knew I shouldn’t have brought him around,” he retorted as he stepped closer to you. “I knew you’d spread your legs for just anyone.”

Angel’s head turned to the side from the force of your slap and you stepped away from him. Your eyes filled with tears as you moved away from him and into your bedroom. You understood that he was hurting, but that didn’t give him the right to say such hurtful things to you. You thought he knew you better than that after being best friends for your entire life.

You slammed your bedroom door and flung yourself into your bed and clutched your pillow. You were shocked when you began to cry; it had been a while since you had allowed yourself to cry. You heard Angel as he made his way to your bedroom door and knocked. 

“Y/n, can I come in please?” he begged.

You ignored him, and silently hoped that he would go away. You heard his footsteps begin to retreat from your door and your heart slightly seized when you heard the front door close. You listened and waited for the sound of his bike starting, but it never came. You stood up and looked around and began to make your way to your door when you heard three taps on your window.

You rolled your eyes and moved closer to the window and opened it for Angel.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he climbed in. “There’s no excuse for what I said, I can’t lose you too. I- I love you.”

“I love you too, Angel,” you responded. “But that doesn’t-”

“No, y/n, I’m in love with you,” he clarified. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. You’ve always been it for me.”

You stood a few feet away from him slack-jawed as you put two and two together. You thought about how your ex-boyfriends would get jealous when you spent time with Angel. You thought about all the times that Angel would come to your rescue even when you thought you could handle it.

“That’s not true, Angel,” you whispered.

Angel kissed his teeth, “The hell it isn’t, y/n,” he took a step closer to you and cupped your face, “and I know you love me too.”

He licked his lips when you gripped his shirt and leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours.

“We’re meant to be together, y/n,” Angel mumbled against your lips, “I know you love me, don’t you?”

You nodded your head and leaned forward to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back.

“I need to hear you say it, y/n.” Angel held you still not allowing you to move forward or backward.

You opened your eyes and looked into his brown ones. “I-” you started before you cleared your throat, “I’ve loved you my whole life, Angel.”

You’d imagined your first kiss with Angel over the years. You imagined what would lead to his lips finally connecting with yours and the whispered ‘I love you’s’ that would pass between you two. But you never imagined just how right it would feel. The world felt a little more at peace during this moment with him.

Angel grasped the backs of your thighs and lifted you up and walked you to your bed. You squealed when he dropped you on your mattress, but your protests were cut off when he reached behind him and pulled his shirt off with one hand. You’d seen Angel shirtless thousands of times, but this time was completely different.

Angel smirked at the look on your face and bent down to kiss you again. You spread your thighs so that he could fit between them. Angel slid his hand under your shirt and rubbed your soft stomach before moving to your covered breasts and pulling your bra cups down. You moaned at the feeling as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You pushed lightly on his shoulder, and he detached himself from your lips and frowned.

“Wha-?” he began, but cut himself off when he noticed that you pulled your shirt over your head and reached behind you to remove your bra. He blinked as he watched it fall to the floor. “Fuck.” He stared for a minute, taking in the soft glow radiating from your soft brown skin, and the air around you buzzed with excitement as you waited.

You reached up and pulled him back into a kiss; his hands roamed over your breasts and stomach freely before he pulled away once again. He trailed kisses down your neck to your breast. His lips latched onto one nipple while his fingers lightly pinched the other. You moaned and bucked your hips encouraging him to continue.

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of having you just like this? Underneath me?” he asked as he hovered above you. “Look at me, y/n.”

Your eyes flew open and locked onto him.

“Keep your eyes on me.” You nodded as he moved down and took off your shorts. You wiggled under his intense gaze and moved to cover yourself up, but stopped when he flashed you a serious look. “Don’t try to hide this beautiful body from me, y/n.”

He reached out to touch you, but your nerves got the best of you. “Angel, wait,” you called, and he froze just inches from touching you.

You sighed and covered your face, and you felt the bed shift as he laid beside you.

“I’m sorry I moved too fast, y/n,” he apologized and you laughed.

“No, Angel, that’s not it. I just… I’ve never...,” you paused trying to find the right words.

“You’ve never had sex before?” Angel asked and you shook your head ‘no’. “But you’ve had boyfriends before and they never wanted to?”

“Oh, they’ve wanted to, but I never wanted to, you know,” you clarified before continuing, “it never felt right.”

Angel pulled you close to him and kissed the top of your head. “We don’t have to do anything that you aren’t ready to do. We can just lay here and sleep if that’s what you want.”

You shook your head, “No, Angel. I didn’t want to have sex with them because I wasn’t ready, but with you, I am.”

Angel leaned over and kissed you, once again stealing your breath away.

Your chest heaved when he pulled back again and you pouted.“It’s unfair that you’re fully clothed, and I’m butt ass naked, Angel.”

Angel laughed and placed a kiss on your cheek. “We’re getting to that, mi amor, but first, you gon let me eat?”

You felt your pussy clench in response. You nodded as you spread your legs to make room for him. Angel hitched your thighs over his shoulders and placed light kisses along your inner thighs. He locked eyes with you as he slid his tongue inside of your pussy and curled his tongue upwards. He made slurping noises as he continued to eat you out. He moaned as he sucked and nibbled on your clit. 

Angel’s fingers dug into the meat of your thighs every time you broke eye contact with him. He wanted you to watch him as he watched you come undone for him. Your eyes rolled back when he added a finger inside of you as he sucked on your clit. Your legs began to shake when he added the second finger. You felt his fingers deep inside of you as they reached places even you’d never reached before. Angel released your clit with a ‘pop’ and sat up on his knees keeping his fingers deep within you.

“I can feel you grippin’ my fingers, mi dulce. You wanna cum, don’t you?” He asked, his voice purring above you.

You clutched at the sheets beside you and nodded. Angel reached up and tweaked your nipple, and the unexpected pain sent you over the edge. His fingers continued to work you through your orgasm. Being able to hold him once again and feeling his muscles against your body for the first time in a year and a half sent your mind careening with possibilities, but having him bring you this pleasure was just as good.

Angel smiled down at you when you opened your eyes. He pulled his fingers out of you and sucked them into his mouth, and you watched, mouth opened wide. When he bent down to kiss you once again, you welcomed him with open arms. You tasted yourself on his tongue, and that made you hungry for more. Your hand moved down to his waist and you slipped your hand into his boxers. You wanted to taste him, but he stopped you.

“I won’t last any longer if we do that, mi dulce,” Angel warned before he pushed his pants and boxers down and kicked them off, “I’m going to go slow, y/n, I don’t want to hurt you.” You nodded when you felt the tip of his dick at your entrance. You spread your legs wider and bit your lip. Angel slipped his dick between your lips, coating himself in your wetness. You could feel how big he was and it made you a little nervous.

“Anytime you want me to stop, tell me and I will,” he whispered, and when you nodded you felt him push the head in. Your hands shot up to his shoulders and you dug your nails in. “Relax, y/n, please,” he whispered, “do you want me to stop?” You shook your head no and held still. Angel cupped your chin and made you look at him. “Y/n, do you want me to stop?” He asked again.

“N-no, k-keep going, please!”

He nodded before pushing in farther. He told you how good you felt wrapped around him as he pushed into you. You relaxed as you got used to the feeling of having him inside of you and before long, he was completely inside. Angel held himself there for a few more moments, giving you the chance to fully adjust to him. Your breath fanned across his cheek as he waited and he continued to hold himself still as he waited for you.

When you started to calm down a bit, you rolled your hips a little, and Angel groaned above you. When you moved a second time, his eyes snapped to yours and you smiled. Angel slowly pulled out enough to only leave the tip in before he pushed back into you. After a few thrusts, you began to match his rhythm. He leaned down and placed a sloppy kiss on your throat when you dragged your nails down his back. 

You hitched your right leg higher upon his waist when his thrusts began to speed up. Angel pulled you closer to him whispering how much he loved you and his name fell from your lips like a prayer. The two of you moved together like a well-practiced dance, your names falling from each other’s lips, and confirmations of love passed between the two of you as if you had been saying them forever.

Your orgasm snuck up on you this time and you let out a silent scream as it washed over you. Angel’s hips stuttered against you when you came. Your pussy clamped down on him making it harder for him to move, but he continued. He watched you as you came, taking in how beautiful you looked, and when his name fell from your lips, he lost all control, spilling his seed deep within you.

Angel laid on top of you, spent, as you both tried to catch your breath. You whimpered when he rolled from on top of you causing your pussy to clench around nothing once again. You felt the stickiness of his cum dribble from you and onto the bed below you and you felt Angel move around a bit before he removed himself from the bed. 

You were too tired to move, so you kept your eyes closed and waited for him to come back. You heard the faucet running in the bathroom for a few seconds and then you heard Angel return. Angel spread your legs once again, and you felt a warm cloth press against your skin. You let out a contented sigh as Angel wiped you clean. When he finished, you waited for him to climb back into the bed. You quickly attached yourself to him as he settled in next to you and pulled a blanket over the two of you. You finally allowed yourself to drift off to sleep when Angel’s breathing finally calmed.

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but when you woke up the sun still wasn’t up. Angel laid next to you and he looked so peaceful, so you watched him for a minute before drifting back asleep.

The next time you woke up, it was because of Angel and his cellphone. The shrill sound pierced through the air startling the both of you from your sleep. Angel slowly blinked his eyes open as if trying to remember where he was as his phone rang. He soon got his bearings when your face came into view, and he smiled.

“Good morning,” he whispered before placing a kiss on your lips.

You kissed him back and grumbled against his lips when his phone began to ring again. You attempted to pull away from him, but he followed you, refusing to break the kiss. The two of you continued to kiss and ignore Angel's ringing phone, and it wasn’t until your phone started to ring that it struck you as odd. Somebody was trying to get a hold of Angel, and they knew he was with you.

You placed your hands on his chest and gently pushed him away before nodding towards your phone. “You should probably get that, Angel.”You said and laughed as he pouted.

He stood up from the bed and picked up your phone.

“Hello,” he answered. You watched him from the bed and smiled.

“What?” he said, his voice serious, and your stomach dropped. You watched with curious eyes as Angel moved around your room and gathered his clothes.

“I’m on my way,” he snapped before he ended the call.

“Angel?” you questioned from the bed, “Angel, what happened?”

His eyes snapped towards you before he tossed your clothes onto the bed.

“Ez killed a fucking cop.”

[Part One] ~ [Part Three]

[wild-aloof-rebel]

Do you have any David and Patrick wedding reception/after party/wedding night headcanons?

absolutely! here are nine…

i.

even though the rest of the catering is delicious, david still misses the pizza that should have been, insisting that his carefully crafted menu is incomplete without it. halfway through the night, a dozen of elm county’s finest pizzas mysteriously appear, and though it isn’t fresh-baked the way it would have been had everything gone to plan, it’s salty and cheesy and hot and precisely what everyone needs to keep the night going. no one takes credit for ordering it, but patrick suspects that roland and jocelyn’s sudden absence during the cake cutting may have been for more wholesome reasons than he and david had assumed.

ii.

the cake is a traditional white almond sponge, but there’s a cherry filling and a thin layer of matcha buttercream in the middle that perfectly balance out the sweetness with bright and earthy notes. david had made patrick promise that he wouldn’t smash cake in his face, and he holds true to that vow, feeding him a careful bite from his own fork and relishing the way his eyes close and the corners of his lips quirk up, the same as they had the day they’d first sampled it at the bakery in elm glen, tipsy on free champagne and each other. but as soon as all the eyes in the room turn away from them and back to their own plates, patrick dips his finger into the icing and dabs a single dot of it to the corner of david’s affronted mouth just to have the excuse to lick it off of him.

iii.

there are too many toasts for david’s taste, which is to say any at all, the spotlight of stories and well-wishes making him wriggle in his seat, patrick’s hand squeezing gently at his thigh every time his leg begins to bounce. johnny, despite david’s worries, gets through his brief words without a single tear, just a huge, proud smile that doesn’t seem to leave his face all night. clint, on the other hand, tears up as soon as he starts, leaving marcy to swap his champagne flute with a tissue from her handbag. stevie, traitor that she is, opts to give her speech responsibilities over to alexis, and david braces himself for whatever horror story from their past she’s about to unleash. but instead of the past, she talks about the here and now, about the ease of david’s laughter and the quickness of his smiles, about the way patrick looks at him when he isn’t watching, about getting back a brother she hadn’t realized she’d lost and gaining another she hadn’t known she’d wanted, about how the walls we build around ourselves aren’t what protect us but love and friendship and family and trust are, about all the ways that letting others in only makes us more ourselves in the end. her charm and endless warmth invite everyone in to the story, make them a part of it, and there isn’t a dry eye in the room by the time she finally raises a glass, not only to david and patrick but also to this little town that brought them together–all of them–and gave them happiness they hadn’t known was possible.

iv.

patrick tears up watching david dance with marcy, his husband taking advantage of his height to spin her under his arm, her buoyant, carefree laughter floating out over the sounds of “brown eyed girl.” impossibly, he sometimes thinks she might love david even more than he does, and while he’s so glad that everything has worked out the way it should, there’s still a part of him that knows he could have missed this, that he could have let her miss this, not just the joy of dancing with david, which on its own is a beautiful thing, but the certainty of knowing that patrick is living this happy, comfortable life of his own choosing. they’ve talked a lot since his birthday, and he knows that all she and his dad have ever wanted is for him to be happy. there’s guilt and sorrow that twist in his gut like knives when he thinks about how close he came to denying them that, to denying himself that, and he still isn’t sure some days how he managed to walk away from that life and straight into this one he hadn’t even known he’d wanted instead. he honestly suspects some kind of divine intervention; it’s the only way to explain the miracle that is his husband, holding out a hand to him from the far side of the room, inviting him in once again to this world of joy and laughter and light that he gets the privilege of sharing with him every single day.

v.

moira wears 4 different outfits throughout the night, and david can only roll his eyes fondly at each costume change. in addition to the white alexander mcqueen dress she wears for the ceremony, she slips into a black stella mccartney gown before the start of the reception, the fabric split at the shoulders to reveal sleeves made of the same delicate crystal-adorned mesh that’s stretched across her shoulders. at the end of the night when it’s time to retire to the motel, she says her final goodbyes in a gareth pugh striped pantsuit that reminds david so much of her pajamas he briefly wonders if she might actually sleep in it. but his favorite by far is the ethereally structured iris van herpen she dons after dinner and toasts and cake, the dress flowing around her in elegant waves as his father spins her across the dance floor, art come to life, all the sharp, swift lines of her blurring into something–someone–softer and subtler and more at ease than he ever thought she could be in this place.

vi.

after a dance with stevie, patrick spies his husband tucked into the far corner of the room, his nose buried in his phone. david startles when patrick’s hands slip around his waist from behind, but the surprise of it passes quickly and he relaxes back in patrick’s grasp, comfortable and safe and at home in his arms. he drops his phone to his side though when patrick presses up on his toes to hook his chin over his shoulder, but not before he can catch a glimpse of a picture of the canopy of tulle and flowers that hangs over the center of the room. you can admit it you know, patrick tells him. admit what? david asks, though he clearly knows he’s been caught out. patrick presses a quick, soft kiss to the curve of his neck, tightening his arms around his husband as he breathes him in. they did a good job. this place is beautiful. david scoffs, but there’s no truth in it at all and patrick buries a chuckle in his shoulder. you’re beautiful, david replies instead, raising his phone again but flipping to the front-facing camera this time. he catches patrick’s left hand in his own, squeezing them to his chest so that both their rings are visible on the screen. he snaps several, both of them grinning dopily at the camera or at each other, as if they can’t stop themselves from looking deliriously happy if they try. after a careful debate over which one is best–patrick argues for the picture where the crinkled laugh lines around david’s eyes are deepest, though david vetoes that one in favor of another where patrick’s smile is wide and bright as david presses a kiss to his cheek–david posts the picture to the store’s instagram account since he no longer uses his own, captioning it we’re officially a family-owned business now. family. david is his family. the thought bursts into happy sparks, a cascade of fireworks hot and bright inside of patrick, and he can’t help but kiss david then, turning him in his arms to press all this glittering joy against his lips.

vii.

much later, patrick opens instagram on his own phone to clear away the overwhelming number of notification that have popped up on the post. hundreds of likes and dozens of congratulatory comments have rolled in, but the very first of each is from rachel.

viii.

thought i might find you out here, patrick says as he finds his husband standing in the inky darkness out behind the building. he looks overwhelmed–by the noise and the people and the emotions of the day–but in that way like he still can’t quite believe this is all real. let’s go for a drive, patrick offers. david’s brow wrinkles but he climbs into the passenger seat without a word, and patrick knows that however many mountains he’d climb for this man, he’d never have to do it alone. he can feel the moment that david realizes where they’re going, his fingers digging excitedly into the meat of patrick’s thigh. it’s well after midnight, so he doesn’t pull into the driveway, stopping instead on the shoulder across the road. he drags a blanket from the trunk and throws it across the hood of his car, offering david a hand to help him clamber up on top of it. they sit together there under the stars, shoulder to shoulder, looking out at their future, sketching the shape of it in whispers and hushed giggles and kisses soft and warm. only when they’re both shivering in the damp night air do they finally climb down and crawl back into the car, taking one long last look at the place they’ll soon call home. i wish it was already ours, david confesses into the safety of the dark, and patrick threads their fingers together, squeezing until he can feel both of their rings digging into his skin. me too, he says, but you’re still the only home i need.

ix.

they slip in quietly through the back door, though stevie grins wolfishly at them from across the room to let them know their absence hadn’t gone unnoticed. but there’s more dancing then. and drinks. photos. conversations. all these beautiful memories in the making. and later still, when things finally wind down and their parents and most of their other guests have said good night, david’s stomach rumbles loudly enough to be heard over the hushed strains of whitney houston still playing in the background. patrick, half-drunk, buries his fond, ridiculous laughter in his husband’s neck, and twyla suggests they head to the cafe. together with alexis and stevie, they wander right down the middle of the street, arms linked between them, david shaking his head as the other four make a sloppy, over-loud attempt at belting out “willkommen.” at the cafe, they all pile in to a booth together, talking loudly enough that twyla can still join in, calling back to them through the pass-through as she cooks up a mountain of scrambled eggs with cheese and warm, buttery toast, which she brings out all on one big plate. as they dive in, david thinks back to all the best meals he had when he lived in new york–expensive dinners at michelin-starred restaurants, quick lunches at greasy spoons, long boozy brunches and cheap late-night dives–and none of them could possibly compare to 3 AM scrambled eggs at the only restaurant in town, with his husband pressed so close he’s practically in david’s lap, surrounded by these people he loves more than he ever thought he could, all of them cackling wildly as they try to steal bites off each other’s forks. it’s the kind of moment–the kind of life–he would have never even thought to dream of, but it’s his and it’s real and he’s going to do everything he can to hold on to it for as long as he’s able.

[breanime]

Vampire! Boys!

warning: mentions of blood, mentions of steam

Billy Russo: Billy had walked the earth for centuries, taking what he wanted and building his empire as he went. When he met you, he was just looking for another fun affair, but you were... special. Intoxicating. He found himself not even bothering to glamour you, he just revealed himself to you, trusting that you wouldn’t try to destroy him--and you didn’t. If anything, you loved him more. And the taste of you--the taste was fantastic. Billy had to remind himself not to drain you when he had his fangs in you--which was also out of the norm for him. He’d killed many a human in his time, never regretting his actions, but with you, he wanted to keep you, no matter how delicious you were. So one day, as you came down from his attentions, his hand covering the two small holes in your neck, he smiled as he looked at you. “I want you to know,” he began, “that I don’t do this often, but... You’ve changed things... My perspective... So....” He leaned close, his dark eyes making your breath hitch in your throat. “...Do you love me?” He watched you nod. “Do you want to be with me... for all eternity?” When you nodded again, his smile grew, and you watched his fangs glimmer before he descended on you. 

Logan Delos: Logan’s entire existence had been dedicated to pleasure. So when he met you, he wasn’t concerned with destiny or fate--all he wanted was to have some fun. But the more time he spent with you, the more he started to fall for you, and the first time you let him drink from you... God, it was like seeing the sun again. He was actually shaking from the force of it, of you... And it was then that Logan realized that all of his lovers, all of his conquests were just ways to pass the time until he got to you. You tasted so good, so perfect, when Logan pulled back, all he could do was stare at you for a moment--feeling more human as he looked at you then he did when he was still alive... He grabbed you then, making love to you while your blood was still wet and warm on his lips. 

Jax Teller: Jax was a well-known vampire, the Tellers were some of the oldest vamps in the city, so you knew what he was when he approached you. But he had a smile and a swag that was just so... human, it almost made you forget what he was. Almost. But then he leaned in close to you, his blue eyes strikingly clear in the night sky, and said “I’ve been wanting to get my fangs in you for so long, darlin’.... What do you say?” You said yes, and as soon as his fangs penetrated your skin, you were crying out in pleasure--you’d been bitten before, but it never felt so orgasmic. Jax held you tight, and you could feel his grin against your skin as he fed. He was careful not to take too much, and when he felt your knees weaken, he pulled back, smiling. He picked you up, licking his lips. “Let’s get you home, sweetheart... and see how much you can take.” 

Coco Cruz: The entire town knew to avoid Coco Cruz. He was a vampire, and a violent one at that. But you were curious, and brave, so when you marched up to his home and introduced yourself, you caught him off guard. Coco didn’t like consorting with humans, but he liked you. And he loved your taste. “Fuck,” he groaned, his mouth on your neck and his hand on your breast, “baby... I can’t get enough of you.” You wiggled underneath him, turned on and getting weaker by the second. He chuckled when he pulled back, sensing your mood. As he held you, Coco knew that he would never be able to let you go. You were his now. He’d do anything to protect you, anything to make you happy...even interact with other humans. 

Angel Reyes: Angel was the only vampire you’d ever met who wore silver, even though it burned him. But the bracelet he wore on his wrist was his mother’s, and that fact was one of the many reason that you fell for him. Angel never tried to hide what he was from you, and when he drank your blood, he would always cuddle you afterwards. He was reluctant, at first, when you asked him to turn you... He didn’t want to condemn you to a life in the shadows, but he also didn’t want to have to sit back and watch you die from old age. The two of you talked about it at length, and he finally agreed. Once he turned you, the two of you traveled the world together, quickly becoming legends in your own right. 

Miguel Galindo: The Galindo clan was known all over the world. They were a prominent family when they were human, and their power and wealth only grew once they became vampires. Miguel was said to be the most powerful of all of his kin, and when you first met him, you could feel his strength in the air. He wasn’t what you expected; he was suave and controlled--charming. So much so that you ended up in his bed--because Miguel Galindo did NOT sleep in a coffin. But when he first fed from you, you saw a different side of him. Miguel was careful not to hurt you, but he was rougher than he’d ever been. His fangs felt incredible in your flesh, and you sighed as he drank, his hands roaming your body, his touch possessive and firm. Afterwards, he fed you grapes as you lay in his lap, smiling down at you. “You’re mine now,” he said, and for a second, you thought he was just being sweet, but when you looked up at him, you saw how dark his eyes had gotten, “I marked you,” he explained, “You’re mine. And you will be, for the rest of our lives.”

Nick Amaro: It was hard for Nick to be a Latino vampire in the NYPD, and you respected him for being so outspoken about it. He refused to drink from humans, consuming animal blood or the synthetic blood the government produced, but he was still dangerous-- a fact that only made you want him more. His fangs come out when he’s in a high emotional state, the first time you saw him was when he was interrogating a particularly disgusting suspect. You saw them again the first time you made love--his fangs descended as he came, and it was sexy as hell. You’d been together for five years before you brought up the subject of him drinking from you. There’d been a pause in the production of synthetic blood, and animal blood could only do so much for him. Nick refused, at first, but the more you talked about it with him, the more he started to consider it. And the night he drank from you, you both cried--it felt unbelievable good for both of you, despite the small prick of pain. It was another year before you asked him to turn you, and he was more than happy to fulfill that request. 

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny was of a rare breed of vampires. He could go out in the sun without burning, making him invaluable to his superiors. He had a strict moral code, and so when the two of you met, he promised that he wouldn’t feed off of anyone but you, if that’s what you wanted. You did. Johnny would lay you on the beach, the soft sound of waves in the background, as he bit into you, both of you moaning lowly at the feel of his fangs inside of you. Johnny was always sure to be gentle with you, and he would roll around in the sand, inside of you in more ways than one. Afterwards, he would watch the sun come up with you, his arms around you. “Did you know,” his voice was low and careful, “that anyone I turn can walk in the sun?” You looked up at him, and you could see the question he wasn’t asking behind his eyes. You answered it with a kiss. “I would walk with you anywhere, Johnny Tuturro...”

Rio: Rio made no secret of his being a vampire, if anything--he loved the notoriety. And so when you came to interview him, you weren’t surprised by the way he answered your questions, his ease with discussing the violent side of him as well as his more human side. You were, however, surprised at his charm. You’d met and interviewed plenty of vampires in your career, but none had ever effected you the way Rio did. You found yourself forgetting questions and stumbling over your words, his smile distracting you. He liked to be close to you, a hand on your waist here or his fingers brushing the hair off of your face there. He was a vampire, and yet his touch felt warm to you. Your interview with him lasted several months, and it seemed like every day you crossed a line with him. You started telling him personal things, started letting him into your home, allowed him to touch you, to be close to you. You weren’t sure, for a while, if he had glamoured you or not--a testament to his powers, because you weren’t easy to glamour--but he hadn’t. Your fascination with him and your allowance of him past your boundaries was all natural. The first time he kissed you, you were trembling. And the first time he drank from you, you cried in ecstasy. Rio liked to drink from your inner thigh and pelvis as much as he loved to drink from your neck, and soon you found yourself submitting to him, giving him total control. And Rio took it graciously, kissing you softly as he held you close. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said, his head buried in your neck, his tongue flicking your pulse point, “Do you, mama?” You felt the sharpness of his fangs and the hardness in his pants as he held you, and you shivered in his grasp. He smiled, lifting his head up to look down at you. “You’re mine.” And then his fangs stabbed into your neck, and you held onto him, eyes rolling in the back of your head...and you thanked him. 

*******************************************************************************************

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! I LOVE vampires! The Rio one got long, sorry. I didn’t realize how much I wanted vampire Rio until now...

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[elcinsultan]

Giacomo Colosimo , better known as Big Jim Colosimo, was an Italian-American mafia crime boss who built a criminal empire in Chicago based on prostitution, gambling, and racketeering. Immigrating from Italy in 1895, he gained power through petty crime and the heading of a chain of brothels. He would lead the Chicago mafia from about 1902 until his death in 1920. When prohibition went into effect in 1920, Johnny Torrio, an enforcer Colosimo imported in 1909 from New York, pushed for the gang to enter into bootlegging, but Colosimo refused. In May 1920, Colosimo left Chicago to marry his second wife, Dale Winter (he had deserted his first wife). After Colosimo returned to Chicago a week later, Torrio called him and let him know about a shipment arriving at his cafe. When Colosimo appeared at the cafe to wait for its delivery, he was shot and killed. The initial murder suspect was his new wife but no one was ever arrested for the murder. It was widely believed that Torrio ordered Colosimo's killing so that the gang could enter the lucrative bootlegging business. Torrio reportedly brought in New York colleague, Frankie Yale, to murder Colosimo. Al Capone has also been suspected as Colosimo's assassin. After his death, Colosimo's gang was controlled first by Johnny Torrio and then Al Capone. It became the infamous Chicago Outfit.

Three weeks after his marriage to the beautiful singer Dale Winter, James Colosimo remained giddy, and nervous. Known as “Big Jim” or “Diamond Jim” for his obsession with the gems, Colosimo reigned as boss of a whorehouse empire in Chicago’s Levee vice district. Celebrities, powerful pols and opera performers crowded his Colosimo’s restaurant, with a café-cabaret and separate late-night fine dining room.

On May 11, 1920, Colosimo and Winter set a date for dinner in the city’s fashionable and exclusive Loop area, along the shore of Lake Michigan. But Colosimo phoned Winter to tell her he’d be late, due to a sudden appointment. “Angel, just got a call,” he said to her. “Gotta meet a guy at the restaurant. It’s important.”

Colosimo had his chauffer drive him in his Pierce-Arrow to the restaurant that afternoon. Inside the still-closed restaurant, he asked a porter, Joe Gabrela, if he’d seen a man looking for him. Gabrela said no. Colosimo entered his office. Soon, Gabrela noticed a man in the dining room. “Mr. Colosimo’s in the office,” he told the man before leaving the room. Then the restaurant’s accountant noticed Colosimo exit the office. About a minute later, he heard a gunshot.

Colosimo had just peered out a windowed door to the large foyer of his café toward the street, when a gunman strode behind him and fired a .38-caliber revolver into the base of his brain, killing him instantly. The suspect fled, but Gabrela provided police with a detailed description. Chicago Police, acting on tips, shrewdly theorized that Brooklyn mobster-killer Frankie Yale did it. Gabrela did identify Yale in a photo lineup. But as things often wound up in gangdom in those days, his fear got the best of him. Taken to view a live police lineup in New York that included Yale, Gabrela declined to finger him. Practically everyone knew it was Yale, but lack of evidence meant no murder charges filed against anyone.

Johnny Torrio, Colosimo’s righthand man and Yale’s former saloon partner in Brooklyn, leapt into action. He organized an extravagant funeral for his dead boss that would serve as the template for future over-the-top, flowery send-offs for murdered mobsters of the 1920s. In a tribute to Colosimo’s political influence, mourners at the funeral inside his home included the all-powerful First Ward alderman and Cook County Democratic committee member Michael “Hinky Dink” Kenna, the second First Ward alderman “Bathhouse” John Coughlin, several other aldermen, a couple members of Congress, a state legislator and a few judges. About 5,000 people, some holding banners for the Democratic Party and street laborers union, trailed a hearse carrying Colosimo’s body in a $7,500 silver and mahogany casket to Oakwood Cemetery.

When people outside Colosimo’s brownstone watched Torrio enter Kenna’s waiting car, they realized who had moved in as Big Jim’s heir apparent in the First Ward. The Chicago Outfit was born.

Torrio most surely planned Colosimo’s assassination, enlisting Yale, his friend, former business partner and experienced hitman. His motivation to off his boss, acknowledged by history, came from his understanding that Prohibition, effective that January 17, clearly offered massive profits, based on his and Colosimo’s existing model of payoffs to police and local office holders to look the other way from Colosimo’s many prostitution houses in the area. Torrio read that the federal Prohibition enforcement agents would be political appointees, not subject to U.S. civil service rules. In other words, low-paid, low-skilled hacks, ripe for bribery and inattention to liquor smuggling.

But Colosimo, still in rapture with his new bride, disagreed with Torrio, fearing the prospect of federal law enforcement without the protection he was used to. Better to keep things the way they are locally, in the Levee and Loop, he thought. He nixed Torrio’s idea to make a major racket out of bootlegging.

However, it is rarely reported that Colosimo did in fact approve Torrio’s scheme to reopen closed breweries to make and sell illegal, real beer to underground merchants and barkeeps in Chicago. Earlier, before Prohibition, Colosimo invested $25,000 in a brewery operated by one of his saloon owners, Jake “Greasy Thumb” Guzik (one author claimed Guzik garnered his nickname for serving beer with his thumb in the stein). Still, this didn’t go far enough for Torrio. Just as he convinced Colosimo to expand the brothel business to the rising suburbs and towns bordering Chicago, he rightly predicted that unbridled bootlegging of beer and hard liquor would produce far more money — millions. Colosimo was dead set against going much beyond prostitution in Chicago and the suburbs, and his popular restaurant. For Torrio, to build this new domain, his shortsighted boss had to go.

Colosimo, born in 1878 in Palermo, Sicily, moved with his parents to the Windy City at age 1. He would not have reached his height as top pimp in Chicago – the nation’s brothel capital – without Hinky Dink Kenna’s well-paid protection. Hinky Dink and Bathhouse Coughlin represented the First Ward, when wards had two city alderman each, from the 1890s to the early 1920s. Two masters of influence and graft, Hinky Dink, thin, stoic and not quite five feet tall, and the floppish, flamboyant Coughlin, helped themselves to payments, not only from the vice businesses in the Levee, but on everything awarded by the city council in their ward – licenses, permits and utilities needed for hotels, banks, shops and clubs in the Loop as well as federal and state offices, the police, courts and jails. Colosimo, as Torrio after him, served at the pleasure of Kenna as his vice gang underlings and made sure he received his cut of the proceeds. Kenna let the illicit gambling operators and brothel madams run as long as they, as precinct captains, delivered him the votes to win elections.

Colosimo’s links to Hinky Dink started in the 1890s when Jim was an engaging young bootblack inside Kenna’s rowdy Workingman’s Exchange saloon. Kenna took a liking to the kid and later arranged for a city patronage job as a street cleaner. Colosimo ingratiated himself with Italian immigrants and got them to support Kenna. The boss in return promoted Colosimo to street cleaning supervisor. Colosimo organized his Italian men into a street cleaners union.

By the early 1900s, prosperous Chicago had been a bastion of illegal but tolerated prostitution for decades. Colosimo, with Kenna’s approval, made the move to the brothel business by marrying Victoria Moresco, a madam – six years older than Big Jim — of a pair of dollar-a-go whorehouses. Kenna elevated him to precinct captain to deliver the Italians to the polls. Colosimo was second only to Ike Bloom, the First Ward’s vice money bagman, in political power, under bosses Kenna and Coughlin.

In 1909, the dangers of Chicago vice life intruded on Colosimo’s rising stardom. Black Hand extortionists, by letter and then at gunpoint, demanded Colosimo pay them $50,000. He needed a bodyguard. Victoria knew someone who might be right for it – her cousin, Johnny Torrio (born in southern Italy in 1882), who co-owned a saloon called the Harvard Inn in Coney Island, Brooklyn, with Frankie Yale. They offered to pay Johnny’s expenses and put him up in their Chicago brownstone. Torrio, weary of years of gang wars in the New York area, decided to make the move, and sold his share in the Harvard to Yale.

Unsure of the calm, squat, chubby Torrio, Colosimo told him about his problem. Torrio, a veteran Black Hand-style extortionist himself in Brooklyn, assured Big Jim he had it covered. Driving a horse-drawn carriage with two Colosimo gunmen hiding inside, he lured the three extortionists one night with the promise of a payment. The gunmen stood up, shot and killed two of them and mortally wounded the third. Colosimo hired Torrio as his bodyguard. As time went by, Colosimo noticed Torrio’s talent for finances and leadership and delegated responsibility for managing prostitution houses to him as a “male madam.”

In the 1910s, Colosimo rose to vice boss and Kenna’s collector in the First Ward, thanks both to Hinky Dink’s sway with police, judges and prosecutors, and Torrio’s business acumen. With the Loop district’s thriving businesses and fancy residences, the First Ward developed into perhaps the richest area in the whole Midwest.

For Torrio’s headquarters, Colosimo bought a four-story building at 2222 S. Wabash Avenue. Torrio opened an office, a saloon – the Four Deuces – a gambling house and fourth-floor brothel. While there, his old friend Frankie Yale sent him a letter, asking if he could give a 19-year-old roustabout bar worker of his, Alphonse Capone, a job. The teen cut up a man in a fight and needed to leave New York. Torrio made Capone his front door bouncer and then, after seeing his violent side, his bodyguard.

By his death in 1920, Colosimo had unknowingly fathered the shell of an organization that Torrio, and Capone who succeeded Torrio in 1925, would transform into the Outfit, one of the most powerful crime syndicates in American history.

Big Jim Colosimo

(February 16, 1878 - May 11, 1920)

[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.

[lemonietrinket]

Save A Nation ||| Johnny x Reader

Summary: Johnny knows how hot he is. Oh he knows. He also knows that a certain someone has had a crush on him for a very long time. And he also knows you’re not confident enough to address it. But this is the catch for you, you see: because he is. Genre: Fluff? I don’t think it is... But it ain’t exactly hardcore smut, is it? If ya’ll wanna kiss John Seo then this is a fic that caters to that very purpose, kk Warning(s): Johnny.  Word Count: 2965 how is this longer than the min&joo one wHaT Theme Songs: Flower Shower - Hyuna; Who Is In Your Heart Now? - Studio Killers AN: December 13 prompt, mistletoe! (credit: @songi-writes) Also, can we have some more appreciation for Johnny’s lips pls. They are the definition of beautiful!  And also my man Johnny in general like come on guys he’s out here serving looks, personality and comedy on a diamond encrusted plate my dudes, give him some attention

Set in a university.

~~~

The party was loud. A butchered club-remixed christmas song hammered the speakers at the hands of a completely sozzled DJ, as the throng of people shimmering like hyper-flammable lycra ebbed and flowed with the beat like shoals of plastic fish beneath the cheap strobe lights. House parties were never that good, if you were honest. But this one. This one was spectacular.

You wished you could say the reason for you believing so was actually good, or anywhere close to rational. But alas, it was not, since your reason was literally a boy.

Not just any old boy, though, in your defence. No no, it was the one of those god-crafted creatures whose blessed features had been cropping up in your line of sight ever since the beginning of the year. At the cafe, at the mall... Even in your favourite hidden-gem vintage charity shop.

One of those boys.

It was if Fate wanted you to do something.

But you never would. Never. 

Because you knew who this boy was.

Johnny Seo.

God of charisma, king of basketball, comedy gold. He was on the front of the university monthly magazine for nearly every edition, he had his own radio show, he got extra-special discounts at several bars because he was just so...

He was in the choir for god’s sake, and he was the one person no one made fun of for it. 

There was no way you would risk ousting yourself out for ridicule like that. You may not be the smartest in the world, but you knew that asking him out for him to inevitably turn you down would make you the laughing stock for the rest of the year. And that was the best case scenario. 

It wasn’t like you thought poorly of yourself, not at all. You were intelligent, and talented, and certainly attractive enough.  It’s just you knew you lacked something. The thing that separated him from everyone else. The thing that made him destined for the stars whilst everyone else settled for the moon. The thing that no doubt made you feel head over heels for him when you’d barely even spoken to him. 

It wasn’t your way to do things at all, but here you were. Caught in a daze, admiring him as he spoke to someone else.

You were so out of it, you hadn’t even noticed that that someone was actually your best friend. She didn’t see what you saw in the guy, and merely laughed at you when she caught you like this, rolling her eyes every time you stuttered an flimsy explanation at her. 

This time you were purely snagged on his lips alone.

Soft, gentle, the gateway to all the secrets that he knew, and all the words he could inspire the world with. Hand-drawn by an artist and delicately positioned on his features, their ulterior motive to make those lips hurt you as you dreamt of running the pads of your fingertips across them, touching them with your own, seeking a sanctuary and your own hell in them. 

God, it wasn’t fair.

Whoever got to kiss them even only once must have saved a nation in a past life.

.

.

Caught in your daydream, you were hardly subtle.

You never were.

Johnny couldn’t help but glance over at you whenever he had the opportunity, and it didn’t change in this case either. Even if your best friend was watching. Maybe if she noticed she’d urge you to do something after all.

He cracked a smile, completely unrelated to what your best friend was saying, at the thought of how shy you were. You just didn’t want to cause anyone trouble, whether it be him, your best friend, or yourself. You wouldn’t want to even be a trouble to the people you no doubt had invented in your own head, purely as a reason to stop you from saying anything to him. No, you wouldn’t even want them to exert themselves in mocking you.  You were wiser than he ever was though because he just let himself flow into things head first and then talked his way out of the consequences, always relatively unscathed.

But the fact remained, you would never do something. So it was on him.

He hadn’t expected to see you around in the same places as much as he did. You’d had a lot more in common than he’d expected when he first saw you. He thought you’d have been into much... less ordinary things. 

He didn’t know really, maybe the sunlight had dazzled him then, but that day in the summer when he first saw you, your laugh rivalling the entire world’s music, your eyes rivalling the galaxies above, your lips...

He was entranced by them then, just as he was now, transfixed as they gradually parted to mouth the thoughts charging through your head.  He wondered what you were thinking, whether it was about him.

Oh who was he kidding, he knew it was about him. You were all he could think about too, after all. 

Suddenly, something knocked his arm.

He snapped his eyes away, lips curving into a charming smile familiar to you—the one that always appeared when he’d been caught doing doing he shouldn’t be doing. 

Sucked to be him though, because your best friend was extremely gay and hella proud of it, and so wasn’t having any of his antics. 

“Hey,” she shouted over the music, “she’s been pining after you for months on end, Mr I’m-Seo-Hot-And-I-Know-It. Put me out of my goddamn misery and kiss her already?”

He blinked at her, startled but relieved nonetheless.

He had the perfect idea, and this was the cue to enact it. 

.

.

You barely registered the fact he’d walked over before it was too late. Johnny’s drop-dead gorgeous face and unwavering stare was focused solely on you within a single blink. 

Your daze shattered as you were thrust into reality.

He then said something.

You panicked.

You hadn’t heard what he said. The music had stopped too at that very moment, parting the sound for you to hear his velvet smooth voice as well as Fate had garnered it so, and your dumb ass hadn’t even been listening. 

Too focused on the pools of onyx that made up his eyes.

You cursed to yourself in your head. Pull. Yourself. Together.

All he’d said was hi.

“Hey, I was talking to your friend. She said you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by the party and wanted to leave but since she was being selfish and didn’t want to, you’d been stuck here waiting for her?”

He waited diligently for you to respond. Eventually you nodded dumbly. Realising that was the best he was going to get, with a gentle smile, he continued, “Well, I was heading out, and will happily walk you back, if you’d like?”

That smile wasn’t one you recognised. 

You scolded yourself for feeling a spike of excitement at that thought. You haven’t seen him that much, you haven’t seen every smile that those lips of his have curved beautifully into.

You were just too eager to jump on the ‘he sees me differently from everyone else’ train.  Which was obviously a poor reaction, in your opinion.

Oh, how little you knew. 

You managed a word this time, however. Congrats. “Please.”

He flashed you his characteristic, bright, welcoming, dashing grin, offering out his hand for you to take.

He just wanted to help you out of your chair. A gentleman. The way your breath hitched at that much.

It wasn’t wise to take his hand though. Your hand would be clammy from the heat of the party, and your nerves from just being close to him. And he may suspect something.

Ha.

But it would be too smart to listen to your own mental advice, regardless. You took his hand instinctively, and got to your feet a little bit too fast for your own liking. 

And then he asked you another question. This time you didn’t hear because it was too loud. And you had no hope in hell in guessing what it was, because you’d ushered your eyes away from his own. His eyes were too good to look into for long periods of time. Unhealthy for you. They made you blush too hard.

Wait was he doing the long stare deliberately?

.

.

He presumed your coat, if you had one and he sure hoped you did because it was cold out and he didn’t want you sick, was by the door.

Leading you through the crowds, flashing that smile at a couple of people to get them to move, with his hand very very lightly brushing your shoulder to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowds. It was polite, but also protective. 

Maybe your past life had been pretty good. But had you saved a nation?

Probably not?

Reaching the porch, and seeing the mounds of coats, he sweat-dropped. Even if yours was in there, it would take forever to find it. 

“Hey, is your coat, like, not black?” he enquired, closing the door to block most of the sound from the other rooms.

You hesitated, forcing the cogs in your head to turn. Suddenly you hit a spark and remembered. “I didn’t have a coat with me. I forgot.”

He looked concerned to say the least, and you were confused as to why. Before you could think about it for even a second, he passed you a chic trench coat. It matched his outfit.

Oh no.

“I... no I—”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he insisted, catching onto your pause. He held it out, nodding his head and indicating for you to turn around. 

You obliged, and let him slip the coat over your arms, and up to your neck. Tying it up at the front by one button, it was huge on you. He’d forgotten how much taller he was than you.  Oh well, you looked absolutely adorable.

He could have kissed you right then. But he had to stick to the plan.

“Is it left or right to your apartment?” he asked, opening the front door to the cold outside.

.

.

Walking along the ice cold streets, at an awfully slow pace, you almost felt your heart return slightly back to normal. You felt bad for making him take such short steps, it being icy and yourself in nice but not exactly practical shoes for the weather. His legs were so long, you wondered what it was like to be tall. 

Actually, his legs were astoundingly proportioned, with those thighs—

“I know a shortcut, actually,” he announced, slightly out of the blue, especially for him.

Truth be told, he’d been trying to think of a way to get you to go with him to the tree. It wasn’t en-route at all, but he couldn’t think of a better excuse.

That being said, he couldn’t deny the impact taking in the sight of you had on his thought process.  It was a lot to handle, that was for sure.

“Oh, ok, sure.”

Turning the two of you into the park through the gate a few steps away, you quickly realised that there was no shortcut this way, having walked this way a couple of times before. But there was a real brightness in his eyes, and it wasn’t just the streetlights. He seemed excited. 

So you followed beside him, keeping up with his light conversation as best you could. Though you still couldn’t quite render what was going on. 

He’d asked you about your favourite bands, your favourite animals, what you liked to do on an evening. He moved onto deeper things, your opinions on the latest news events, whether you believed in ghosts, what you thought of conspiracy theories.

And though you were nervous, it didn’t feel wrong. Or worrying. Or unnatural. Eventually words began to flow from your lips like they normally did. Perhaps you were even more honest than you usually were. Johnny didn’t judge. In fact he just told more embarrassing stories about himself. Like where he’d got some of his scars from, some of the people he’d met, and what being in the choir was truly like.

“Honestly, I don’t know what those jocks are making fun of choir kids for,” he explained, “choir-ing is hard. Not only does everyone gossip over one another, but the teachers berate you too. There’s no loyalty in the choir, it’s a basket of snakes, all armed with not one knife, but two! Only the most wary and sly stay alive.”

“So how do you keep yourself alive then?” you asked, genuinely unable to see this man as ‘sly’.

“Good question, my secret, you see, is—” He glanced up, away from your face, to spot that he’d reached his destination. “—going to have to wait.”

Before you could protest, he utilised those long legs of his and took off quite far ahead, up the mound central to the park, crowned by a giant bare maple tree. You followed him, head and feet working separately as your eyes stared at him, where he waited.

You could still remember the folklore of the maple tree, told to you by your best friend when you met them under it. Fate made it so that if you kissed beneath it, your love would remain eternal. It was a bunch of crap really, because so many couples had kissed beneath its branches and broke up within weeks. You and your best friend had laughed about it numerous times before, hearing their sickly vows from where you sat in the summer a tree away, before making bets on how long they would—

Oh.

Your feet brought you to a standstill right in front of the man you’d admired from afar for so long.

“I’m sorry for dragging you a little further from your dorm,” he said, smiling sweetly and apologetically, “but I had an idea and I couldn’t let it go to waste.”

You noticed his hand, pointing upwards, above both him and you.

Your joints were heavy, out of shock and also the sheer will of wanting this to not be a dream.

There, above your head, was a sprig of mistletoe, tied to the branch and fluttering in the wind.

“I know we haven’t spoken much, but I’ve been so intrigued by you for the past year, and I know you have too,” he began, his words instantly bringing your focus back to him.

You pushed yourself to meet his stare. As much as it made you feel vulnerable, it felt so good to finally take them in at close proximity, to have them to yourself, to have him to yourself alone.

To you surprise, it was Johnny that looked away first, gaze looping to the grass, mottled with snow, as he continued, “And since I didn’t know how to move things forwards exactly, I decided that this would... well,” he looked back up, eyes glimmering with a smile at the corners, even if his lips did not follow, “it would at least be memorable, all cinematic, even if it didn’t...”

You stepped forwards, cold-blemished hands slowly edging up to his face.

Cupping his cheek, you flinched at how icy the skin you found there was, only to replace your hand with much more certainty after. His hand came up to hold yours, to press your palm into his skin.

It felt slightly rough, with some craft he no doubt could teach you. They were warm, strong, welcoming. You wanted to just, hold them. Between your fingers, against your cheek, to your heart.

You couldn’t manage to stare into his eyes any longer, the passion in his stare was too much to handle, and so you reverted to taking in the lines and shadows of his face.  You didn’t expect anyone this beautiful to even exist on earth and yet here a person was, with his soft skin and sculpted jaw and those inviting lips...

Shifting your hand out from his, you pulled it away, and instead to where you could feel his breath, cool and clouded upon your skin.

You pressed a single finger against the cushion of his bottom lip, running the pad across the etches, just as you’d dreamt of doing for so long. 

His hand came to meet yours once again, but instead held it still at his lips. And there he pressed a kiss into your fingerprint.

“May I kiss you properly?” 

You almost choked on your own heart at his words.

“Yes,” you whispered, standing as high as you could reach, your arms snaking around his neck to mirror his own actions, his hands dropping and holding you close by the waist. 

Your lips met and it was nothing like you’d imagined. It was so much more than that.

They were so much warmer, so much more sweet and delectable than you could have ever guessed. Ambrosian. You were in heaven by his touches alone, secure and protected from the cold and cruelty of the rest of the world, even if only for a moment. How could you have lived without this the whole of your life?

His hair was smooth to touch, as you wrung some tresses between your fingers, soaking up as much of him as you could.

He didn’t pull away until you did. And you only did so because you had lost all of your air.

You breathed heavily as you shivered in his arms, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Kiss me again?” you pleaded, voice barely anything more than the breeze.

He opened his eyes, fingers reaching up and stroking your hair away from your face. “Gladly.”

How many nations had you saved?

~~~

AN: Edited, and I honestly don’t understand how I expected you guys to understand some parts lol It’s legible now tho!

With some extra tidbits too yeee ....!

Hope you enjoyed!

Masterlist

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Edited: 16th December 2019

Re-edited: part way through 3rd February 2020

[halorocks1214]

the law of equivalent exchange

AO3 Link

Word Count: 4182

Just like all my other plot bunnies, this got three times longer than I estimated. Whoopsies. At least I’m fairly proud of this. Another title for this fic could be ‘something that I would love to see happen in the finale but know it won’t so I’ll just write it myself instead.’ I was probably going to write this fic regardless, but @gumnut-logic​‘s #FabFiveFeb just gave me one heck of a push to do so sooner than later. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings for The Hood being the creep he is and no-no words. There’s one F-bomb because I can’t seem to not have at least one.

“No! You can’t!”

Alan should probably be focusing on whatever the heck John was yelling at Scott for over the comms (let’s face it, Scooter, you haven’t been making the rashest decisions as of late), but he barely heard his older brother to begin with. With the blood rushing to his ears and his heart reverberating ten times faster than healthy throughout his entire body, all Alan could really focus on was trying not to pass out.

When his body decided to properly function, he tried reaching to turn his comms on as quickly as possible, but the figure he was praying to God to be a hallucination started talking, freezing Alan’s movements completely.

“Now then, Alan, let’s not be rash. I just want to talk. Is that so bad?”

Hand hovering over the button, Alan gulped down any fear he was wearing on his face to glare at The Hood directly in his eyes. If this was the stupid way he was going to go out, then he won’t be going out like a coward.

Against all of his training and judgment, Alan took his hand away from his comm and brought them calmly down to his sides. His whole stance was taut, and he at least hoped he looked more threatening than a lion cub play fighting with its siblings, “I don’t know, I would say it is considering who you are.”

The Hood chuckled, turning Alan’s stomach inside out. Alan just couldn’t understand this man. Ever. The way he slyly grinned as if he were some suave bachelor and not a creepy murderer. Alan tried desperately to cool the nausea in the pit of his gut as his family’s sworn enemy continued to speak, “As an honorable man even I have to admit defeat from time to time. You Tracys beat me fair and square, and the only way I caught up involved cheating. I was surprised I could sneak onto the ship as I did. Very well, Jeff Tracy is yours once again.”

Wait, what?

Alan blinked in shock before his brain caught up to him, making him bring back his glare, “There’s a catch here.”

The Hood raised his eyebrows at the way the boy spoke his words. It was not a question, no, the youngest Tracy stated them as if it were a matter of fact. The Hood’s smile grew wide, “You’re always quick on the uptake, Alan. Even if I lost this race, I did come out all this way. I can’t leave with nothing, not after all the time and effort I gave up. Surely, you understand that?”

Chills fled down Alan’s spine at the speed of the Zero-X. The gleam in The Hood’s eyes slowly morphed into hunger, like a starving lion about to make a move on an ill and weak zebra. Alan was pretty damn sure he wasn’t weak nor ill, and he didn’t feel like growing black and white stripes at the moment.

The Hood stood to his full height, “Have you ever heard of the saying “An Eye for an Eye”?”

Alan’s glare dropped off his face and went right back to the wide-eyed fear he had at the start, making him look a few years younger than he was. Screw looking fierce, he needed help. He needed his brothers.

Once again, he reached to get to his comms. Even if it were only one word, one second, one yelp of pain or fear, his brothers would realize something was wrong and come running. He hated it, occasionally, how he would always be seen as the baby, but if it meant getting home and away from this freak, then Alan was willing to be swaddled and rocked to sleep as much as his older brothers wanted.

However, that familiar cold voice spoke out once again, somehow stopping time itself in the process.

“Ah ah ah, Tracy, I thought I told you to be careful with that thing.”

Alan was breathing heavy, minute trembles beginning to show, “G-Give me one good reason I shouldn’t, you m-monster.”

The Hood’s grin turned playful as if what Alan wasn’t getting was supposed to be obvious, “Have you been listening to your brothers’ predicament at all?”

What did that mean?! Shaking his head, Alan, much to his displeasure, started to completely ignore The Hood so he could turn up his comms to listen. Crap, he forgot about why they were even out here! Why haven’t they finished the mission? Why haven’t they been able to find Dad? From the way The Hood was talking, Alan figured the older man was going to let the teenager writhe in agony as he listened to whatever he’d been missing.

Suddenly, a new, semi-unfamiliar voice boomed through Scott’s side of the comms.

“--head that way. If Johnny’s calculations are correct, it should be the path of least resistance.”

That was followed by a louder Scott responding with, “Yes, Father.”

Continued and ended with Virgil stating, “Lead the way, Dad.”

Alan blinked a few times again, the hand he was holding up over the comms suddenly very heavy and stuck in place. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t find it in himself to contact his brothers for help. That was-- it was--

The Hood gleamed with anticipation at the recognition in Alan’s eyes, “If I can’t leave with anything, no one is. I’m positive you don’t want to be the one to ruin this for the rest of your family, do you?”

Ask Alan and he could very easily explain to you that his life could be broken into two parts. The parts had very simple descriptors too: With Dad and Without.

The Zero-X went up in flames before Alan was even ten-years-old, leaving a broken family and a confused child. A child that reacted like any other kid to losing a parent so young. He was sad and scared and for a while he just wanted his Dad to come back, even though his little mind knew it wasn’t possible.

But as the years went on, Alan got used to growing up without his dad in his life. Of course, the blonde missed him, and of course, he would do anything to get him back, but the sad fact of life was that Alan didn’t grow up with Jeff.

He grew up with his four older brothers and his grandma and Kayo and Brains and even Penny and Parker--

You catch what he was saying?

They tried to fill in the gap of a missing father with their own stab at being mock parents for the youngest Tracy. Alan suspected later in life that they did it in an attempt to fill their own gaps and heartbreak.

He would later start to think they failed at that latter objective as well.

That’s where the second part of his life came in to view. His brothers had many, many more years with their dad that they had to realize they would never have again. Scott was trained by Jeff with tips and tricks that nobody else in the Air Force knew. Jeff personally recommended John to the best of the best at NASA. Jeff took Virgil to meet one of the best mechanics in the world at the age of 12. Jeff was at every single one of Gordon’s swim meets to cheer him on.

Alan remembered being tucked into bed and pictures being hung up on the fridge and gold stars for eating his vegetables, and he was going to love getting that back, but he remembered Scott giving him piggybacks even more. John proofreading his papers even more. Virgil letting him sit on the piano bench while the older brother practiced more. Gordon teaching him how to dive into the deep end even more.

He also remembered Scott hiding a bottle of “adult juice” from Alan’s wandering eyes more than once, too many grey hairs for someone in their mid-twenties. He remembered how John was gone more and more, flinching at more and more hugs, only to be swallowed whole by the endless void that is space and Thunderbird 5, barely even being planetside for more than a fourth of the year.

Alan remembered how Virgil got quieter and quieter. Alan remembered the tap shoes, the musical scripts: they were currently collecting dust in the back of a random closet, shoved behind weight lifting gear and medical textbooks instead. And Gordon, his immediate older brother, his partner in crime... Alan wasn’t stupid. He knew Gordon dropped out of college and even the Olympics (after getting a freaking gold medal too!) to join WASP where he was nearly put in a goddamn chair.

Alan has been slowly watching his family barely try to hold it together, and it all started with dark laughter and a ball of fire over the ocean.

His brothers needed their father back, and no doubt Jeff wanted his sons back. Alan would hope he would want all of them too, but...

... After everything his brothers (and even Kayo and Brains and Grandma) have given up, surely Alan could give back, even if it’s just this one thing? Besides, Alan would hate himself forever if he was the reason they couldn’t complete their mission. He tends to feel that way on a failed missions anyway.

Yeah, right, the mission objective: get Dad back. Think of the mission, think of the mission. If that mantra was the only thing that was going to keep him convinced he was doing the right thing, then only he and The Hood would know.

Alan’s voice was breathy. It felt like if he spoke too loud the blood in his ears would make one final rush to try and bring him to la-la land, “... Do you promise?”

The Hood blinked and raised one eyebrow in a motion that spoke, ‘What did you just say? I wasn’t listening that hard in the first place.’

Alan’s trembling was more than minute, yet he forced his voice to be firm and steady this time. His glare was back to being fierce, and the fire in his eyes was redder than his ‘Bird. He enunciated just about every other consonant in his words, “If I go with you, do you promise to never go after them again? Because I know there’s no point in going with you if you just keep chasing them.”

The Hood stared blankly for a moment before his typical, creepy demeanor came back. With a few chuckles that brought physical bile up Alan’s throat, The Hood threw his arms out to his sides to make his point more clear, “Dear Alan, if you come with me there’s no point in doing so. There’s nothing I could do that could be worse.”

Jeez, way to kick a guy while he’s down. Alan flinched but continued to hold his head high, “I want your word.”

The Hood thinned his lips in disappointment. He still complied with Alan in the end, “Once you agree to come with me, I’ll take away what’s disrupting your unique vessel, leave your family alone for the rest of their lives, and then we’ll ‘get the heck out of dodge’ as you all say.”

Ew, that one was bad. He bet The Hood made it bad on purpose, the prick. Alan inhaled before exhaling the longest breath of his life, “Fine. Then you have a deal.” Like a true gentleman (Penny would be proud, right?), Alan held his hand out, initiating a handshake to seal the deal.

Then, suddenly, his watch started ringing. On the hand he was holding out. Alan found himself hating that noise for the first time in his life. Panicking, Alan made sure the hologram that appeared was himself and himself only, “H-Hey, brother! Did you find Dad yet?”

A familiar mop of ginger hair floated in between him and The Hood. Raising an eyebrow, John playfully rolled his eyes at his younger brother’s antics. Yes, let Alan play a little bit. They did just do the impossible, after all, “Actually, Alan, we did. Scotty and Virg are almost back with him. I was calling to let you know.”

That smile... the way John was sarcastically bantering with him... the nicknames... it was all because they were getting Dad back, wasn’t it? Alan felt tears mist his eyes. Their family really would be better off...

“Uh, Allie, you good?” Gordon’s voice rang out a few feet away from John

Crap crap crap. Bring it back, Alan, bring it back! “Uh-- yeah! Don't worry, I’m as cool as a cucumber in the middle of July! Hah...”

John’s eyebrow raise was no longer playful. In fact, it was filled to the brim with concern, “Are you sure? If you’re having trouble finishing up, Gordon could easily come up to help you out.”

Alan registered the strawberry blonde’s mmhhm with growing dread.

Dangit, guys, stop being such moms for once in your lives! “No! Wait--” Alan coughed into his hand to clear his throat. He looked away while doing so and then looked back at John with one of his familiar sly grins, “John, Godrz, I swear I’m good. It just took a little bit more to stabilize this part of the rocket. Just give me a few minutes to finish up and then I will be right there to celebrate with you all, got it?"

John contemplated his brother’s words before conceding. Alan was a trained member of IR. His judgment could even be better than theirs sometimes, “Okay.” John leaned his head out of the hologram for a moment before leaning back in with a cheeky grin, “Hey, don’t let Scott know I told you this, but if you want to rush your diagnostics, go ahead. I won’t blame you.”

Alan felt himself snickering along with Gordon. Yeah, this was the right thing to do, “FAB, Johnny, my lips are sealed.”

With a wave, John cut his video feed, leaving Alan in utter silence. Letting out a sigh of relief, Alan let his arms fall to his sides. Everything was going to be okay. Dad was back and could pilot the Zero-X in his place, his brothers would get back a vital part of their childhoods, The Hood would leave his family alone (Kayo would thank him for that one if she could), and things would go back to what it once was.

... He felt really dirty. He abused John’s trust for a reason his older brothers were going to hate themselves for. Alan was allowed to feel regret, right? Because--

Suddenly, Alan felt an arm around his shoulders bringing his tiny body to be closer to someone else. Okay, Alan wants to take it back, this is awful! God, he might genuinely throw up-- John wait--

“Aw, don’t be like that,” The Hood stated coyly, “After all, it appears we will have plenty of time to get to know one another. Better sooner than later, right?” The laughter that rung out in the room sounded like it came from an 80s sitcom dad.

Sweating bullets, Alan grinned in a way even a literal brick wall would know it was forced. So this is what it's like to walk into the pits of hell, good to know.

---

Scott couldn’t really describe what he was feeling at the moment.

The best word he could come up with was elation because holy fuck:

Dad was finally back.

When he stepped into the cockpit with the rest of his family, the world turned upside down, and in a good way. The first to leap out of his seat was Gordon, of course, but also with tears streaming down his face as he flung himself into his father’s arms for the first time in nearly a decade. Scott couldn’t remember for the life of him the last time Gordon genuinely cried. And he meant genuine, I can’t believe this is happening tears, not Gordon, it’s a fictional movie-- But they’re still puppies, Scott! tears.

Slowly stepping back, Gordon moved out of the way for John, who finally initiated a hug himself with no need for bribery, no need for Scott to promise there’s no ulterior motive behind a goddamn hug. John started talking about what he could add to his room back on the island now that I’ll be down more often and Scott thought himself would burst into tears.

Then there was Virgil. Oh, Virgil, who had the best teddy bear hugs in the entire galaxy, was holding back when it came to his dad as if the middle Tracy squeezed too hard the image in front of him would shatter into itty bitty little pieces that he couldn’t put back together again.

And Scott? Scott felt like he could finally breathe again. His dad being back meant he didn’t have to shoulder, well, everything in their lives anymore. At least, not like before. No more needing to be at every Tracy Industries conference, no more needing to be the constant head of IR relations. Sure, Scott wasn’t going to just drop it all, he’s not an asshole, but one day it’ll be a co-piloted effort, in a sense.

It was also going to be nice to just have an extra head around the house, for more than one reason. Chores won’t be so abundant, Grandma might not cook as often, Scott also needed help getting Alan a geography tutor of some kind, and their dad was always incredible at--

Oh, shit. Wait, where was Alan?

Scott bounded toward his four family members who were currently laughing as if nothing were wrong anymore, “Guys, where’s Alan?”

Both Virgil and Jeff jumped, the beginnings of guilt filling their bodies. Shit, of course, that should’ve been the first thing they asked! Before the self-hate train could leave the station, John waved them off in an attempt to calm them down, “Alan’s down in room C6, remember? We sent him down there to keep the ship stable while you two went out to find Dad’s signal.”

Gordon was wiping away his remaining tears as he grinned his biggest grin ever. He started walking out of the room to where his younger brother was waiting, “Y-Yeah, considering he piloted the rocket, we figured he would be better staying inside to keep it in one piece for the flight home.”

Jeff blinked. Alan did?...

A grin spread across his face at the news, a sharp bark of laughter exiting his chest before he could stop it, “Man, I knew he would be just as you guys one day. I’m just surprised it came so soon!”

Scott blinked at his father before his shoulders relaxed, “Yeah, no kidding. I can’t wait for him to tell you all his stories. Some of them are really killer.”

Jeff directed his grin towards Scott, ruffling the brunette's hair like all those years ago, “Me neither! Lead the way, boys.”

They all mindlessly chatted as they made their way to the youngest’s location, unaware of what was about to befall the family. They got to the place Alan stated he would be at and gave each other one last look. Their expressions were giddy: it felt like they were about to jump out and say Surprise! like one of Alan’s birthday parties.

Scratch ‘like’, it pretty much was that.

The door shhed open to a dark room, sending shivers down the family’s spine and killing the mood instantaneously. “Uh, Allie?” Virgil yelled out into the chillier-than-normal room. Suddenly the lights came on, blinding them for just a second. When they reopened their eyes, everyone’s heart dropped to the floor. Gordon would swear he heard five different, distinct thunks in the future.

Because Alan was very much not in the room, which meant he wasn’t keeping everything 'stable' like he said he would. The older Tracys wouldn’t be freaking out so much (maybe Alan just went to get air somewhere else? Heh) if it weren’t for the fact that Alan’s IR sash was laid on top of the control panel. It would’ve been more reassuring if it wasn’t so neatly folded either, to be honest.

The four brothers didn’t even think as they sprinted over to the scene.

Gordon and Virgil mindlessly grabbed the sash and unfolded it, as if their youngest brother were somehow hiding inside the object that was five times smaller than he was. Scott and John rushed over to the control panel and ran a quick but effective diagnostics to figure out what the hell just happened. Meanwhile, Jeff blinked a few times before gaining a serious look (John would later call it the good old fashion Jeff Tracy rage) as he went to join his two eldest sons in their scramble to figure out the why.

With a few beeps signaling the end of the diagnostic, John flinched before shakily bringing his hand to his chin, “This has been stable for the past 20 minutes...”

Scott bristled in anger, not at John, never at his brothers, but at the implications of those words, “What the hell does that mean?!”

John sharply inhaled before looking his older brother dead in the eyes, an emotion between fear and anger stirring within, “It means, Scott, that Alan was a dirty liar.”

Before Scott could question even further, Gordon piped up from his search of the red sash. His tan seemed much paler all of a sudden, “We... we called Alan right before you guys brought Dad back. He said he had to stay here to make sure everything continued smoothly as he just got it stabilized.”

Jeff could feel the self-loathing rolling off of his sons in waves. He wasn’t sure how to comfort them, though, as he wasn’t exactly sure how to anymore. He was sure he could have, but that idea flew right out the window when Virgil mentioned John didn’t really like surprise hugs nowadays (apparently, he "barely liked hugs longer than 5 seconds in the first place"). His second-born loved nothing more than to be swept off his feet from behind back when, well...

Plus, he has always tried his best to never be a hypocrite. He couldn’t help but feel responsible, just a little bit, “Boys, I can’t help but apologize for everything that appears to be happening. I--”

Before Jeff could continue, or any of his sons could argue with his apparent apology, Virgil finally got sick of the tension and aggressively shook Alan’s sash once more, causing a tiny roll of paper to fall out of the pocket. The one Alan specifically requested Grandma to sew on for him when the senior Tracy got the time.

Every family member present jumped as they felt their stomach rip in half. They all looked around at each other with anxiety clear in their eyes... but Jeff noticed that none of his sons looked at him. Clearly, they weren’t used to him being there just yet. Well, he might as well make up for lost time.

He took a step forward and bent over so he could grab the slip. Before he could blink, Scott snapped out of his funk and grabbed it much faster. Jeff didn’t even have a second to reassure his eldest it was okay before Scott rolled open the slip of paper and read it to himself.

Chaos reigned when his only response was to fall to his knees and drop the horrifying message.

“Scott?!” Virgil cried out. Both he and Gordon ran to their oldest brother’s side to find some way to measly comfort him. Meanwhile, John felt something akin to a panic attack coming on. What could Scott have read that made him react like that? John couldn’t move, so Jeff bit the bullet and finally picked up the note himself.

John was abruptly brought out of his head when he heard his father whimper. Yes, whimper, as if he were a baby deer that just got hit by a speeding car. Moving on autopilot, John walked over to his father’s side as the older man covered his hand with his mouth.

Jeff registered movement at his side. Not looking up, he shoved the note to whoever wanted to read it. More guilt filled the back of his head. He shouldn’t be subjecting his sons to this, he should try and protect them, but he would be lying if he said that didn’t feel pointless.

No, not Alan, not their baby.

Shaking slightly, John gripped the note to the point of wrinkles without looking at it. Inhaling once more, John ripped the bandaid off and read what was tearing his family apart one by one.

John was suddenly thankful he didn’t eat his bagel that morning. The last thing he wanted to do was throw up over all of his remaining family.

Do you remember what the alchemists in the olden days based their theories off of, Jeff?

Don’t worry if you can’t remember, I can just tell you.

It was a little something called The Law of Equivalent Exchange.

I win, Tracy. I always do.

[mxrcayong]

masterlist.

previous | next 

chapter thirteen

No matter how bright the sun was outside or how stunning the island was – the thoughts of being on a break from the city officially has left their minds. The room they were in represented their frenzy state of mind. What once was a meeting room was a makeshift war room; an endless number of blueprints, photos, maps were thrown around the room. The files were only connected through different colored strings, seemingly tossed together in a coherent manner that probably only made sense to Sukiara and Johnny at this point. Generally speaking, the room looks like something that can be found in the museums dedicated to the 100-year-war.

Tari’s head started to feel heavy – a ringing echoing throughout her mind. All thoughts kept interrupting each other, as if they were fighting for attention in her own brain. Not only is her life in danger, but her family and her friends as well. They managed to put me on a suspect list, she thought, if they can’t find me – will they attack the ones I care about? Tari looked around the room. Her heart warmed, knowing those closest to her are here – away from the government. But then, she thought of the people who weren’t.

Will Hendery be safe? How about her bosses? Or Lucas? Is anyone she interacted with safe?

She risked all of their lives. She should’ve stayed in the island, stayed isolated for however long she had to before she died. Maybe they were right, Tari let her head fall onto the table as she thought of the White Lotus’s idea that the Avatar has to be separated from their family. How did they come up with that? Tari isn’t sure, especially as she has been the first Avatar under this rule. The one subject of information Tari is banned to learn about is the Order of the White Lotus itself.

I should’ve known to stay on the island. In hindsight, Tari realizes that for the government – especially nowadays with the population databases – can easily hunt down the Avatar. For one, when they found out that she was the Avatar, there was a news announcement of the Avatar being found in a Northern Water Tribe community. So, the government just had to filter their searches for people initially from the Northern Water Tribe. From there, they just had to filter birth year as well. The birthday of the Avatar is obvious – the same day Avatar Aang passed away, letting the Avatar spirit find its next host. Even her friends joked when they first met that Tari was ‘the Avatar’ because of her birthday, but stopped once they noticed how uncomfortable she was. Luckily for Tari’s safety, the population database she had to fill out to move in only required her birth year.

Tari practically slammed her head against the table. However, no one turned their head (at least not obviously) - everyone too busy trying to even comprehend the information being thrown at them. Johnny, of course, turned his head momentarily to look at Tari as soon as the sound of her head hitting the table resounded throughout the room. Yuta, on the other hand, placed his hand on her knee – an attempt to calm her down.

She regrets wishing for a normal life, she regrets going to Sooman. If she could go back in time, she’d do anything to protect her friends from her. Even if it meant never meeting them.

Lifting her head up, now opening up her view from just the mahogany table below her – she noticed each of them masqueraded their brave faces. Tari knew they were all tired – probably exhausted out of their own minds. If it weren’t for her, she could be sleeping or napping or just being happy. I brought them into this. If she never met them, if she never cursed them with her acquaintance or this information – they could be safe.

Her gaze particularly landed on Jisung, whose eyes were shut and his head resting on his hands. He’s too young for this, Tari scolded herself. In fact, Tari saw her younger self in him. Jisung was thrown into a world he could barely expect to be thrown into; he had no choice. Tari could’ve avoided bringing him into this – brought him back home to the city, but he insisted on coming. Jisung was only 18. He’d be a high school graduate soon. He should be studying for exams by now.

“To conclude, it seems that the event they’re hosting – a mandatory event for all benders, which they will ensure everyone is there through the population databases – will be an event to take away everyone’s bending abilities.” Sukiara summarized. “It seems like the order of events will be an attendance check, retrieving personalized bands where their attendance will be double checked, and then they will meet Amon in the back room.”

Yuta scoffed. “Are you seriously telling me they’re trying to remove every bender’s ability all in one night?” Incredulously, he continued to critique the plan as if he was talking to the creators himself.  

Sonan stood up, walking towards Sukiara who stood in front of the board – analyzing it for what felt like the millionth time. “I mean, this is just my assumption but, I think they’ll probably go off on the people who seem to be more high risk. So…this list.” She pointed to the snapshot of the ‘suspected Avatar’ list and “…and people with these marks by their name.” She gesticulated towards the list of benders or suspected benders and pointed at the exclamation marks next to some the names. “These are people who worked at the gyms, right? Or are seen as ‘masters’?” Sonan turned to Doyoung, reciting off the few names on the available snapshot with the exclamation point next to them. He nodded. “Well, then Doyoung is high risk too.”

Tari could hardly open her mouth. Her thoughts couldn’t be formed into words. She forgot what her voice sounded like. “But none of us are particularly safe, except for Johnny or Sonan I guess.” She sighed, her voice unfamiliar to her and croaking with anxiety. “But every bender is in danger. Look, they made that band-thing. It’s called ‘eleagero’. If I’m remembering correctly, agero is Latin for remove and ele could be element.”

Sonan furrowed her brows. “Is that even possible?” She was insanely doubtful, her eyes reflecting what Tari could believe was all the disbelief in the world. “Like, that’s surely not possible. Unless you’re the Avatar, right?”

“Avatar Aang has used energy bending to remove Fire Lord Ozai’s fire bending, yes.” Sukiara answered for Tari. Even in stressful situations, she still sounded poise and unfaltered. “But there is no information about the material in this. They may have found something that we aren’t aware of.”

“Aren’t the White Lotus aware of everything?” Ah, spiteful Kilari is back. Throughout the last few hours, Kilari has been remaining silent or in hushed tones with Johnny. Ever since Johnny’s arrival, she has refused to talk to anyone directly but him. The way she poke seemed to be as if she was spitting the words out, disgusted by the very idea of the society. Sukiara shook her head solemnly. “Then what’s the point of this stupid society? Lie to people? Betray people? Act superior?”

Johnny interrupted, trying to diffuse her flames. “Getting to keep your bending or not, no matter what - it’s likely Tari’s the least safe out of all of us.” Johnny jumped to his feet, pushing the chair he was sitting in behind him out of frustration. “They’ll probably go after the Avatar suspects first. We don’t know how many of them they already ‘nullified’.” As he said ‘nullifed’, it sounded like he had to gulp down something particularly bitter. “Tari will be one of the first targets, for sure.” Despite Johnny refusing to make eye contact with Tari or address her personally, his concern was evident – from his reddened face, his suddenly improved posture, his blown-out eyes. Tari felt some hope return to her – he still cares about her.

Kilari groaned at the mention of Tari’s name yet again. “Seriously, Johnny?” She yelled, following his lead and standing up out of frustration – her chair pushed so far back it crashed into the wall. “Tari’s the Avatar.” She mocked, her voice dripping with venom, removing any hope Tari had gained back about her relationship being intact. “She’s the most powerful out of all of them. Oh, but don’t forget – the Avatar can also bend the truth and lie to her friends.” Tari’s heart hurt; every word leaving her friend’s mouth felt like an attack, felt like arrows hitting her. It hurt more than her knowing she’ll be in danger.

And like that, Kilari stormed out the room.

Sonan was the first to speak up, evident that she was feeling sorry for Kilari’s behaviour. “I’ll go talk to her.” She made her way to the door.

Johnny shook his head insistently, stopping her right in front of the door. “I’ll do it.” He smiled softly – the first smile of his Tari has seen since he arrived, even if it was full of pity.

Tari jumped to her feet. “Johnny, wait, she’s angry.” She warned, “We all know she’s impulsive. She burnt me accidentally once for touching her baking materials. She may burn you-.”

“You mean you did to me?” Johnny snapped back. Tari quickly looked down; noticing the burn mark fading. Good. “Tari, I get it.” His voice wasn’t comforting or understanding like usual but felt like a cold, sharp edge. His voice wasn’t the blanket she could normally use to wrap herself in. His voice wasn’t home or the same voice that would help her sleep by talking in a soothing tone. It was like a cold metal slate found in morgues. “You’re all powerful. You’re the most powerful person among both worlds. But that’s exactly why I’m the most powerful now.” He approached her, his arm flying to the air as if he was about to slap her. Tari never felt more fear in her life. She flinched away.

Johnny’s heart dropped. She thought I was going to hit her? But he pushed it aside. “I can walk freely without worrying about my life. Not that, but I’m stronger than you think. I do not need bending to be strong.” He approached the door once more, his hand wrapping around the handle. Tari stood still; trying to process his tone. He turned around one more time. “I trusted you. And maybe I shouldn’t have as it’s clear you didn’t trust me. But please…” His eyes went wide, as if a deer stuck in headlights. “Trust me. This. Once.”

“Johnny,” Tari muttered as Johnny was halfway throughout the door. He paused momentarily. “I’m sorry.”

The door closed behind him.

It wasn’t hard to find Kilari. Johnny just had to follow the track of some burnt grass, some freaked out White Lotus members, and the distant sounds of angry grunts. “Woah there, dragon.” He almost neighed, seeing the environment around them filling with smoke as Kilari burnt yet another unsuspecting bush.

Once Kilari had calmed down, the only noise filling their ears were Kilari’s heavy pants and the crunch of leaves Johnny had walked on to approach her. Her distraught eyes met Johnny’s and as soon as they did, she fell onto her knees sobbing.

Johnny ran over to her, his arms wrapping around Kilari tightly. He lifted her up, carrying her bridal style with ease. “C’mon, let’s go somewhere cleaner.” She buried her face into his shoulder, continuing to cry.

He has only been on this island for a while. But he was lucky that he had a good memory, or else he wouldn’t have remembered the small tour Sukiara gave them within the first hour of arriving. Johnny transported Kilari out of the forest and to the viewing point in the village, walking past confused society members.

At the viewing point, Johnny placed Kilari on the bench that overlooked the strong waves. The breeze ruffled her hair and blew away her tears, although they kept coming. Johnny has never seen Kilari cry, and obviously – they weren’t the closest out the group. Despite that, Kilari always put upon this unbothered and uncaring persona. When Johnny first met her, he swore that Kilari was someone who wouldn’t care about anything. Getting to know her didn’t prove much otherwise. The only exception was Kilari cared a great deal about her friends and about making the most out of life.

“I trusted her.” Kilari choked out through heavy sobs. “She knew everything about me. And was I not a good enough friend? Did she not trust me?” Johnny didn’t know what to say. How could he? He’s feeling the same emotions. He rubbed his hand against her back, trying to comfort her as they stare off at the sea – seeing a faint outline of the Avatar Aang statue and the skyscrapers of Sooman City. Her sniffling became prominent. “Johnny?” She croaked, on the verge of breaking.

“Hm?” Johnny hummed, trying to repress his own emotions.

“Did we really know her?”

Johnny sighed. A silence settled between them as Johnny thought.

I knew her, for sure. He thought, I knew who she is in the present. I may not have known her past, but does the past define her as much as her present? Johnny knew Tari’s favorite coffee order, her favorite alcohol drink, and her favorite color. He knew what would make her flinch or make her feel safe. He knew how to comfort her when she’s sad and lonely. If he walks past a store and something catches his eye, he’s pretty sure he’ll know if Tari will like it. Johnny can list the things that make Tari’s eyes twinkle and what makes them go wide.

But Johnny doesn’t know about her past. He never heard much about her parents, who she had mentioned she didn’t grow up with. He never heard anything about Sukiara or her travels around the nations. She only heard the vaguest truths about her past. But could he still say he knows her?

“As much as I’m inclined to say no right now,” Johnny let out a shallow breath, “We do know her.”  He smiled softly. “I’m feeling really betrayed right now too. Tari was one of the few people I can go to constantly about anything… Honestly, I feel like I failed her.” He wiped the few stray tears away. “But her past isn’t who she is. Everyone changes, everyone will. I guess we know people as we grow with them.” He pushed back his head, trying to make sense of his own words. “Okay, I’m not sure what I’m saying but Tari being the Avatar? Tari’s past?” He prompted, trying to convince himself what he’s telling her. “That isn’t all there is to her.”

Kilari sighed. “But…would it be a big part of her? She can’t grow out of it.”

“You can’t grow out of your family being fire sages, can you?” He questioned, making Kilari shake her head. “But if someone knows everything about you now and don’t know about your relationship to the fire sages, would you consider them to know you?” Asking this theoretical question, he hopes to gain an insight.

Johnny – he had nothing he was ashamed of growing up. He had amazing parents who he loved with all his heart, especially his mom, and grew up like everyone else. Yes, he felt compelled to constantly improve himself and he had a short period where he was jealous of benders, but that’s like cringing at old photos of yourself. That Johnny helped make him the Johnny he is today. Without that period in his life, he wouldn’t be who he was today. He wasn’t ashamed of it.

However, Kilari grew up with something she was ashamed with. The only reason he knew about her being a ‘supposed to be’ Fire Sage was because Tari mentioned it to him the first time he met Kilari. But then again, Tari said Kilari only told them within the year of knowing her and it was only because she doesn’t actively talk about it.

She sighed. “I guess you’re right.” She pouted, the wind blowing off the last of her tears. “I guess I just feel so…mad and betrayed and…lost. I thought I knew everything about her.”

Johnny let out a low chuckle, “Me too. But hey, it’s nice to know our feelings are validated.” He teased, nudging her to try and lift their spirits.

Kilari sniffled and chuckled, “Yeah…Can we stay mad at her for a little longer? I don’t think I want to get up from here or see her yet.”

Johnny let out his first hearty laugh in the last few hours – days, even. “Only for today…because her life is pretty much in danger in a bit.”

At least now, Johnny and Kilari have let out their feelings. It wasn’t going to overflow within them. They’d only feel this anger and betrayal openly until the sun sets.

But then their priority goes to the safety of their best friend.  

request anything for future parts / penny for your thoughts here

[grimoireweavers]

          { closed starter for @ofcharredbones​ ;; Sebastian and Johnny }

♞—-» Sebastian’s world changed so rapidly over the course of several years. He fell in love with his partner, had to go through getting a new partner because he wanted to pursue a relationship with his original partner, got married, and had a daughter. All massive life changes, true, but ordinary things, right? Most 30-something year old men settled down and had a family, right? Perhaps not, but it seemed like the normal thing for an average person to go through.

And while balancing family life and a professional life with the KCPD was a stress all on its own, Sebastian was happy. He would have sworn that up and down for years.

At least, he had been until the accident. The fire that killed his daughter and ripped apart his entire life. He developed a drinking problem to cope. His wife became so obsessed with the idea that Lily’s death wasn’t an accident that she simply wouldn’t let the wound settle and heal. Then her obsession turned into a belief that Lily was alive, but she just sounded... insane. Sebastian tried to reason with her, tried to listen to her, but she was just making the healing process so much more difficult.

Myra disappeared. Everyone blamed him, saying he either drove her away with his drinking, or suspecting him of actually doing something to her himself. His world spiraled out of control, he’d hit rock bottom and he somehow managed to push through that hard rock and spiral even lower.

Then Mobius took him and inject him into STEM.

STEM was sort of a blessing disguised as a curse. For all the trauma he suffered within that devil contraption, he found a lot of blessings in it as well. A newfound strength and desire to not only survive but live again. Yes, he’d lost so much of himself in the last few years, but after coming so close to deaths too horrific to put to paper, he realized just how much he wanted to cling to life, how much he still wanted to be alive and thrive... It gave him a new respect for not throwing his life away, made him reevaluate a lot of his self-destructive decisions, and even gave him new purpose.

Perhaps, above all else, though, he found Johnny.

Their story wasn’t exactly the most romantic of stories. Johnny and Sebastian met in one of the worst places imaginable and ended up relying on one another when they had no one else to rely on or turn to. Desperation and spite brought and kept them together inside STEM, but what bloomed outside, in the real world, was beautiful. Not always easy, not by a long shot, especially when Seb still questioned what was real and what wasn’t, and had to come to some pretty terrifying realizations that monsters and demons were real and his boyfriend was one such monster hunting down even worse creatures. The types of things Sebastian would have believed nothing but stories or fantasies were now very real. Things he faced inside of STEM, nightmares that couldn’t possibly exist outside of someone’s head, were very much real.

But Sebastian processed this new information, and with Johnny’s help, he learned to cope and accept what could not be changed and adapt to survive in this new world that was still the same as it always was.

Turning, though...

Fuck, that’d been the hardest thing of all, hadn’t it? Learning of the existence of the supernatural was one thing, accepting it and living with it and even joining his boyfriend on hunts was another thing, but actually becoming part of it? In a way that he had no actual control over? In a way that tore out his humanity and left him with a memory of who and what he had been, but changed him into something so different... He’d never expected that to happen, never expected it to be possible, and sometimes, when looking in the mirror, it was hard to believe. As long as he was well-fed, he looked more or less the same, able to blend in with those around him just as he always had. Even his own mother couldn’t really tell the difference, though she did expect something was off about him.

Staying well-fed, though, was the tricky part. He could eat as much food as he wanted and never feel full. No sustenance or nutrition came from it. Eating souls took some getting used to and Sebastian had some really difficult times convincing himself to do so. There was a certain air of injustice or immorality that made such an act feel impossible, even when he purposefully went out of his way to find the worst people he really could, people he was probably doing a service to the rest of humanity for taking them out of the realm of existence.

Johnny spent a lot of time coaxing Sebastian into doing what he needed to in order to survive and not wither away under the influence of this transformation and Sebastian still didn’t like it, but at least he wasn’t starving himself.

With his insatiable hunger for the unimaginable, though, Sebastian did develop quite a few abilities that he couldn’t really control, didn’t entirely understand, and allowed him to do some pretty extraordinary things. While fearful of his newfound powers, he also found himself eager to learn and develop them. Look at all of the good he could do with what most would view as a curse! That’s how Sebastian had to look at it, anyway, to keep himself sane. Weaker men than him would have gone mad with power or crazy with the monstrosity they became.

The worst of it, though, was watching just how guilty Johnny was over Seb’s transformation. He blamed himself, it was very obvious. Every time Seb showed signs of struggling with adapting to this new life, Johnny’s guilt only amplified, and none of Sebastian’s reassurances seemed to have much impact on the Rider. Johnny knew he shouldn’t have pulled Sebastian into the lifestyle that he lived, that it was too dangerous for a common human, even one as determined, stubborn, and skilled as Sebastian.

Nothing Sebastian could say would ever alleviate Johnny’s guilt completely, but that just made Sebastian more determined to adjust to his new self, so he didn’t have to struggle in front of his fiancé anymore.

One such developing ability, however, left Sebastian feeling particularly unsettled. He first noticed it with Johnny and his mother, this... inherent ability to feel them even when they were not around him. It was like a personal tracker of sorts, allowing him to sense their general location, if they were in danger, and even, to a certain extent, what they were feeling at the time. It seemed to be the strongest with Johnny, which made sense since they lived together and spent the most time with one another, but as the weeks turned to months, more and more people started popping up on his radar.

Even people like Abraham, for the love of whatever higher power actually existed... Not that he’d tell Johnny about that, he was already salty for how often Abraham tried to steal Sebastian away and spend “quality time” with him.

Someone he never expected to feel eventually found her way to him, though. At first, he thought that it might have been Myra. Wherever she was, she was trapped, confused, and afraid. Sebastian couldn’t make out many details, in truth. Everything around her was dark, foggy, and as if she wasn’t entirely aware of her own surroundings. Why would he be thinking about Myra, though? There was no reason for Myra to hold any real place in his heart anymore, not after all the turmoil she’d put him through, not after finding a better partner in Johnny.

Then it dawned on him. Well, more like infected his dreams, really. Sitting bolt upright, Sebastian had broken out into a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Gwen moved from the end of the bed to crawl up into his lap and greet him, a tiny, concerned ‘mew’ leaving her as one paw came up to bat at his bare, damp chest.

Lily...

He dreamt about Lily, holed up somewhere dark, where she couldn’t see anything. Fuck, it felt like she wasn’t even processing what was going on around her at all, but she’d been right there, in front of him. He reached out for her, only to be stopped by some sort of invisible forcefield that existed between them, something that kept him from being able to touch her, to wrap his arms around her, and hug her like a father who never thought he’d see his baby again ought to.

Normally, he would have just written that off as a bad dream. He had plenty of them after losing Lily, after Myra abandoned him, and especially after STEM, but the feeling lingered, and for a moment, he swore he could picture her in real time, not just as a memory, but as someone who was alive and breathing and lost.

Nudging Gwen off of him, Sebastian pushed himself out of bed, as quietly as possible so as not to rustle the man beside him, though Johnny was likely already coming too from Seb violently sitting upright. Still, he made his way into the bathroom attached to their bedroom and closed the door behind him. Standing in the dark, he splashed a bit of cold water from the sink onto his face and gently patted a damp cloth across his neck and shoulders in an attempt to ground himself.

Could it be true, though? Could Lily be alive?

“That’s crazy,” Seb murmured to himself, staring at himself in the mirror. The lights were off, but his eyes easily adjusted to the dark, so he could see perfectly well. Making out every single detail of himself proved a simple task and he looked... Well, not nearly as tired as he should have been considering he hadn’t slept for very long and was woken in such a violent fashion.

After a few minutes to calm down and process what he’d been dealing with, Seb finally came back into the bedroom. Johnny was awake, sitting upright in his bed, a worried expression painting his features.

“Something odd’s happened,” Sebastian admitted before Johnny could even ask. “I can’t explain it, but I think...” Okay, he could explain it. Even though he had a hard time understanding these new and developing skills, he could talk to Johnny or Abraham or someone of a like mind who understood what it meant to be something other than human and they would likely understand what he meant, what he was talking about, what he was experiencing, and how to figure it out. “I think Lily might be alive, Johnny,” he murmured, and even as the words left him, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

     “I can feel her—"

[tearinglight]

Sharing a Connection

A/N: Don’t like, don’t read. Antis, don’t interact. You see the tags, you know what you’re reading. This is an AU to my previous works, Zim and Dib are both 19 in this (in Earth years). I do not own any of these characters, JV does and he probably doesn’t give a crap. So on with the show!:

She didn’t remember quite how or why she had ended up talking to him. Devi assumed it was because he looked very small sitting at the cafe table all alone but what did she know? He could’ve been waiting for someone.Yet when Tenna left, after an hour of chatting, he was still in the corner table alone and small and she had to go and talk to him. He looked like he needed a friend. (Even though that was how she met a certain raccoon rat of hers, but we know how well that turned out for the first time.)

Turns out, he was quite the animated thing once you started talking to him. He reminded her of Nny, all large eyes with smiles that seemed broken when they were faked but really tiny when they really smiled. Like, you would know when they liked you because their itty bitty smiles would be hidden under hair or a sleeve because they didn’t want you knowing that you had made them smile. Which was why it felt so great when you found out. Then their ringed eyes would widen with shock before one would hide while the other seemed to like to retreat toward denial.

The picture she looked at right now was a good indication of that type of smile, one that was pointing towards the camera held out for him. However, the boy pointed her attention to the one beside him in the picture. A tall, thin acne ridden teen who was staring not at the camera, but at the boy with relaxed brows, half-lidded eyes and a large, whacked with a hammer grin that she could place on another certain acne-ridden, thin dork made when he looked at her. 

(We have the same type), Devi mused to herself.

“Cute,” She cooed, clicking her tongue at the love-sick expression in the photo. “What did you say his name was?” “Dib…” Besides being abnormally loud, Zim was abnormally green, which probably should’ve concerned her had she not already met Pepito.

“So you’re waiting for him, huh?” 

Zim nodded, fiddling with his gloved hands. She felt instant sympathy for him, something that she suspected wouldn’t have happened had she not started taking care of Squee. He looked upset, his eyes betraying how hurt he was that he was here alone. Damn, his boyfriend better have had a good reason to leave him alone like this or else Devi might just decide to punch his lights out and blame it on divine intervention. Zim was annoying, she could tell that much, but he wasn’t trying to be. He still didn’t deserve to be left alone in a cafe where he was obviously uncomfortable. Just like someone else she kn-

Goddamn it, she needed to stop comparing the two.

“...are you mated?” She had a feeling that English was either not his first language or he was an alien. Either way, it was a better fate then a dinner date with a zombie. Coffee with an alien. Huh…

The artist assumed what he was asking about was the snake ring coiled around her finger. Johnny had actually gotten it for her (shocking, she knew) for Christmas, placing it on her pillow before disappearing. Or, at least, he’d tried to disappear but Tenna had caught him trying to leave and had pestered him back up the stairs. So she had a grinchy Nny in a stupid sweater and a Santa hat for Christmas which was better than a ring but she still wore it.

“Um...I...guess?” She didn’t really know how to label her relationship with the maniac, only that they had kissed (which took a lot) but they hadn’t ever said ‘girlfriend’ or ‘boyfriend’ in public (which would take more). Yet they had already faked being married on more than one occasion, so sure! Why not keep the ruse going? 

“Ah-ha! So it does mean being mated! Zim knew the Dib LIED!” The green boy tugged a ring out from his high collar, one that was secured by a golden chain around his neck. “Stupid, filthy, LYING Dib…”

Then there were grumbly mutters as he showed her his golden ring, which had tiny characters etched into it. A secret alien language, probably. Devi choked back the laugh when she thought of how that poor boy had to explain what he wanted on that ring. Surely though, someone who would’ve gone through all of that trouble wouldn’t just abandon his boyfriend in a cafe, right?

“It’s very pretty. Do you have any idea where your boyfriend might b-”

The door to the cafe swung open so hard it slammed into the wall with a bang. Devi and Zim’s heads shot up to see two very familiar dark figures looming in the doorway. Two black-loving, gothic boys, both tired-looking and pencil thin, stepped into the cafe soaking wet. They looked like they’d been in a fight, Nny leaning against the doorframe with his one hand covering a black eye. The other boy’s glasses were broken with one coat sleeve torn from his shoulder. Neither of them looked very happy.

“What the hell happened to you?!” Zim asked the other boy, who Devi assumed was Dib, at the exact same time Nny waved to her with a, “Hi, Devi! I fought the Jersey Devil today!”

Everyone else in the cafe either started toward the exit or stood in shocked silence at this display. Meanwhile, Dib ignored everyone if favor of briskly walking to Zim to flop bonelessly against him, a sobbing sound tearing from his throat.

“I try so hard…”

“Yes, yes, Zim knows you do,” The tiny alien patted his boyfriend on the head, which Devi might have left them to if a sudden weight against her side hadn’t stopped her from getting up. “Now have a cookie Dib-thing and meet Devi-human.”

“Can I have a cookie?”

Devi sighed, “Yes, Nny. Now let me see your eye and what exactly you did to it this time…”

[impudentmiscengenation]

The Day Magic Died - A Merlin Oneshot

DISCLAIMER:

I, Impudent Miscegenation, of Tumblr (dot net), do not own or have any affiliation with the creators of Merlin. All rights respectfully go to: Jake Michie, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy, Julian Jones, and BBC1 Entertainment. I don’t gain material profit from my works featured here, I write for my own amusement.

Full Summary: Merlin realized, too late, that the ephemeral nature of man leads to a blatant disregard of heritage. Further away from magic does humanity slip, and the world is made all the worse for it. (Modern Era)(Canon Compliant)

Author’s Notes: I’ve been thinking about the phrase “when Albion needs him most”, being when Arthur will return. This is the result of that line of thinking; I may continue but let’s just call it a one-shot for now. No beta, we die like men, even if I did try to edit it well myself. If anyone has ideas on how they would want to continue it, and adopt this plot bunny, feel more than free, just credit me and give me a link so I can read it! Also, if it’s in italics, it’s the character’s thoughts!

WARNINGS: Major Character Death, Mentions of Major Character Death, Illness, Petrification (turning to stone)

Story under the cut.

The Day Magic Died

If someone were to ask the warlock Merlin when magic went into decline, he’d probably say that it started with Uther Pendragon and his Great Purge of Magic. He would also likely mention that King Arthur was to have mitigated some of the atrocities committed against magic by his late father had his life not been cut short at Camlann.

The truth of the matter was that the fall of magic happened slowly over the course of a thousand years or so. The Purge was certainly a catalyst but the complete destruction of magic could not be done in just one human lifetime, or even two.

The dragons were the first to die out. They were followed swiftly by the griffins, wyverns, and hippogriffs. Then gone were fairies, dwarves, elves, gnomes and trolls. When creatures of magic became myth alone, the world’s shift from magical to mundane became much more dramatic in a short span of time (at least, short for the immortal Emrys).

Healers were known as doctors, pyromancers became pyrotechnicians, evocationists turned to theology, and history was rewritten by hands that didn’t trust in the magic of the natural world. The druids lost their way, disbanded, and joined the rest of magic as legend. Remnants of their clans scattered and the modern world dubbed the descendants of their gentle souls “hippies”. As the Old Religion grew older and was forgotten, Merlin realized that he may be the only true magic practitioner left in the world.

Humanity, callous and ever-marching forward, favored the development of their technologies, their industry, over the preservation of the natural world. Ambitious fires consumed lands of wonder for the sake of progress. The future was steel and concrete, after all, so who had the need for an enchanted forest, anyway?

Merlin realized, too late, that the ephemeral nature of man leads to a blatant disregard of heritage. Not that evolution as a whole was a bad thing, but did it have to come with such sacrifice? Try as he may to convince the strangers of tomorrow that magic exists, and has existed for all time, his labor yields no result. (“Your sleight of hand is amazing; do you give lessons? I’d love to be a stage magician!”)

Further from magic does humanity slip, and the world is made all the worse for it.

War and famine tear through continents, hate and lack of common ground inciting violence as the answer. Death and destruction rule over peace and prosperity but Merlin knows that he, alone, cannot bring magic back to this world.

He is magic given form, of course, and is well aware that magic is dying.

——————————————————————————————————

Merlin stares at his haggard reflection through a dirty, cracked mirror.

He feels weak, his body like lead and spirit slowly breaking. Despite this, his magic chooses to youthen his appearance. Such a thing has happened previously, in his many centuries, and gives him little pause anymore. The difference is that, this time, it drains him. Utilizing any kind of magic tended to do as such these days, so Merlin made a point to avoid using his gift as often as was feasible.

Before him is a man of thirty or forty-some years. Untamed black waves, flecked with silver towards his ears and wet from a recent shower, are slicked back and reaching the base of his neck. He'd recently shaved his face; the first time he’d done so in perhaps seventy years, mind, and he bore the cuts to substantiate that fact.

Despite being more clean and groomed than he had been for a while, Merlin still looked like death. His complexion was so white it had a nearly translucent quality, blue veins pronouncing themselves starkly where they were close to the surface of his skin. The dark, almost bruise-like color surrounding his eyes wouldn’t go away regardless of the fact that he’d been spending most of the past few weeks doing nothing but sleeping. The deep blue that had once reflected light and happiness had turned a stormy gray that sluggishly pleaded for an ear to listen, a mind to open, a heart passed childhood to believe in magic.

The warlock grimaced at the corpse-like figure reflected back at him. I have studied, I have counselled and been counselled in turn, I have searched realms beyond ours for answers… For all that I have done, what have I wrought?

Over a thousand years of waiting, trying to spare creatures of magic, even those he’d fought against in his youth, if only to prevent the inevitable downfall of his kin. Centuries of searching for hints or whispers, making friends with those who still believed, when there was the occasional kindred spirit. (Merlin had later discovered that many of these ‘kindred spirits’ were also very much addicted to taking LSD, but he liked to think of their discussions more than that fact.)

Merlin had not been idle while awaiting the return of his king, that was for sure. He had been appointed various titles, given different jobs, and even has made himself entirely unknown in the many years of his unending life. Recalling a few brought a smile to his face. He had been a counsellor, a poet, a bard, and a spymaster. He had also been an artist, an author, a bartender, and a professor. All that time, and yet nothing he did seemed to help, or matter really, in the end. Magic was still dying.

He was so tired of being tired all the time. Not for the first time, Merlin cursed his druid name and with it cursed his immortality. What he wouldn’t give for the slumber promised by death’s kiss.

Merlin decided that he needed a walk, a long walk to some heavily forested area. He always seemed to feel better among the towering oaks that could relate, at least somewhat, to the inequities of long life. Perhaps he could shake off his melancholia with some good, old-fashioned isolation. Leaving the dingy motel room he’d decided to call home whilst staying in Inverness, Merlin looked to the dreary, gray clouds looming overhead. There were still no whispers of magic.

Avalon’s lake is still yet again, Merlin thought, crestfallen, as he did so every day, Albion must not need you yet, Arthur… I wish you’d come back; I need you, I don’t want to do this alone anymore.

——————————————————————————————————

Merlin stopped in the Ness Islands, having stepped away from the trail and into the heavily wooded areas around it. A small stream of water cut through the earth at his left, winding carelessly through the trees and stretching beyond view. Merlin cupped fresh water in his hands and used it to clear the sweat and grime from his face, before taking a moment to ponder his reflection again.

He appeared even younger than when he'd left, an adolescent just approaching manhood stared at him from the clear water. He looked younger than his magic had ever made him appear before and Merlin wondered why that was so. He looked as he did when he arrived in Camelot for the first time.

The bone-deep exhaustion had only gotten worse as he walked, and Merlin suspected that this was due in part to his inadvertent age regression. Moving to lean against a large tree, the warlock drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Resting his chin atop his bony knees, Merlin sighed his weariness and his eyes, if not the rest of his face, betrayed his long years.

Merlin knew that he would wait however long he needed to for Arthur's return, would gladly do so, but his heart ached and his mind was now more than ever prone to wandering. Was destiny a lie? Was he doomed to wait an eternity for a day that will never come? He was always poised for the day that King Arthur would return to him, yet every day he would feel nothing from Avalon. The water remained irenic, despite his clever and colorful foul-mouthing of the few remaining Sidhe.

So he continued to wait, to move forward but never move on, and try to make the world a more magical place in the process. He'd failed, of course. Just as he'd failed Arthur, failed Camelot. He had failed everyone in his life, including himself. His most recent years were the most melancholic he had ever truly allowed himself to be, simply because… he was so tired.

He moved, his forehead on his knees, and was the perfect picture of grief.

Under a canopy of shimmering stars, Merlin wept for his years of loneliness, his truest friends long dead. He wept for the withering magic of this world, and for Arthur. He always wept for Arthur, the man who'd once told him never to cry over such loss. But, then, when had Merlin ever listened to Arthur anyway?

It was a while before the tears stopped but, even when they did, Merlin found that he didn't possess the strength to move from his position. He was only able to lift his head, watching the bright colors of the sunrise dance across the sky.

The world was still beautiful, the world still held wonder, and for those reasons alone, Merlin knew that there was some magic there, there just had to be. The warlock smiled to himself, half-delirious with the sudden wave of comfort that overtook him as the birds began to coo in the trees.

He leaned to the side, a leg tucked underneath him and propping his head up with his hand, elbow on his other, raised knee. In the palm that didn't support his head, he produced a small blue butterfly, its wings shimmering with gold as they flapped. Merlin hummed in contentment. Despite the fact that this measly butterfly had likely tapped his magical resources out for the next several hours, Merlin decided in the moment that it was worth it.

His fingers gently closed in on the magic butterfly and it fluttered in his loose fist. If the butterfly didn't dissipate by the time he woke up from a brief nap (thus returning the magic to his body), he would release it in hopes of the butterfly unleashing some magic into the world that so desperately needed it. Sapped of energy, Merlin closed his eyes and allowed himself to succumb to sleep.

The warlock never woke.

Starting with his lost, grieving heart, the immortal Emrys turned to stone.

Merlin’s true age caught up with the stone epitaph he left behind; hundreds of years worth of damage from the elements and plant growth spawned upon the almost unrecognizable statue.

The butterfly fluttered in its stone prison for a few moments more before settling, presumably to wait.

Hundreds of miles away, a lake whose surface had been placid for centuries began to ripple.