#the (1) true sue storm.]

[godblooded]

unpop opinion (from what i’ve experienced anyway) but i prefer gwen over mj (and i mean the old school gwen, of course including current spidergwen) because she was always so warm and encouraging and gentle and i just fell in love with her. i know i’m no spidey expert but holy shit read spider-man blue. it’s gonna break your heart, but— it’s mj and pete missing gwen together. it’s so very very very very emotional, but — it’s what gwen deserved. a whole entire loving tribute and one of the most beautiful stories i’ve ever read.

[buckylovinglokivariant]

Casual (pt. 2) >> Johnny Storm

pairing: johnny storm x popstar!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3k

summary: Johnny always meant to keep it casual with you but unfortunately for him, he wasn't so good at sticking to his word this time.

warnings: reader gets dangled off the empire state building but i think that's it-

a/n: @fwskullz asked me to write a part two so here it is! sorry it took so long, i did in fact move to college-

read part 1 here!

“So I really messed up.”

Even though the concert had finished a few minutes ago, Johnny’s eyes were still glued to where you were just performing center-stage.

“No kiddin’, Bic-Head,” Ben chuckled. “I ain’t never seen any of your exes so ticked off ‘atcha. And you’ve had a lot–and I mean a lot–.”

“Thank you, Ben,” Johnny growled, whirling around to face the other man. “We get the point!”

“I don’t know how you’re going to get out of this one, Johnny,” Suzie winced. “She looked really upset with you.”

“I didn’t even know the two of you broke up,” Reed blinked, always the one out of the loop.

“Technically we were never really together,” Johnny halfheartedly defended himself.

“Johnny,” Sue cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him. “She wrote a song about you called ‘Casual’. I think it’s safe to say that’s precisely what she’s mad about.”

Johnny groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“I’d better go talk to her, huh?”

Ben clapped him on the shoulder with mock sympathy, briefly knocking him off-balance.

“Yeah kid, I think you’d better.”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were backstage in your dressing room after the show, seated in front of the vanity mirror as you brushed out your hair, when there was a knock on your door.

“Come in!” You called in reply, putting your brush down nonchalantly as you were used to these sorts of various intrusions preceding and following a show.

You watched the door through its reflection in the mirror and leapt from your seat when you saw the first person through the door.

“Sue!” You cried happily, dashing over to wrap her in your arms. “I didn’t think you were coming!”

It was sort of true. You really didn’t think she was coming, but only because you’d forgotten that you’d invited her in the first place. As you held her in your arms, the day you delivered the tickets to her began to trickle back into your memory. It must have been at least four or five months ago now but even still, you can’t believe you forgot. It wasn’t until you heard the door shut that it finally occurred to you: if she was here, then most likely so was–.

Your eyes flew open over Sue’s shoulder and you immediately locked eyes with the blond man leaning against the doorframe, flanked by Sue’s boyfriend Reed and his best friend Ben. You gave Johnny a pointed sneer as you pulled away from Sue, stepping around her to first embrace Reed and then completely ignore Johnny as you sidestepped him to plant a kiss on Ben’s cheek.

“What, no greeting for an old flame?” Johnny opened his arms toward you.

You turned, considering him for a moment before plastering on a fake smile and approaching him slowly. Instead of the warm embrace he expected though, as soon as you got close enough you greeted him with a hearty slap across the face.

“Thought that when I told you to go to hell, the ‘and stay there’ was implied,” you snarled.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Johnny cringed, rubbing his cheek which was now burning red. “I deserve that.”

“You deserve worse than that but seeing as your family’s here, consider it a compromise.”

You turned to the other three who were watching you with a combination of shock and awe and smiled, gesturing at the seating around the coffee table at the center of the room.

“Please, sit! It’s really been too long since I’ve seen you three.”

You led the way, occupying a plush armchair while the other three squeezed onto the couch across from it. Johnny, who you were very purposefully not looking at, hovered somewhere back across the room, investigating the space as you spoke.

“So what mayhem have you three been getting into across the galaxy?” You smiled conspiratorially.

“Oh you know,” Sue waved you off. “New planets, weird plants, alien races—the usual. You on the other hand have been on a world tour! I want to hear about that.”

“Oh gosh,” you giggled, allowing yourself for the first time in months to have missed this—missed them. “Wow um, performing a lot, of course. Partying at night, writing on the rare occasion I have downtime. Speaking of, what did you guys think of that new song?”

“Personally, I loved it,” Ben chimed in immediately, smirking patronizingly at Johnny. “I mean, that last part—“

“The outro?” You suggested.

“Yeah, that!” Ben agreed enthusiastically. “Absolutely brutal. I’m sure whoever you wrote it about feels real sorry now.”

“Thank you, Ben,” you replied earnestly. “Even if he didn’t care about me before, I’m sure he does now.”

“I always cared about you!” Johnny piped up indignantly from the corner.

“Did you guys hear something?” You asked the three sitting across from you. “Must have been the wind.”

“That’s really mature, you know that?” Johnny snarked.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!” You snorted. “Now please keep it down over there—I’m trying to catch up with the members of your family who aren’t lying, manipulative pieces of shit.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Susan stood up, Reed and Ben following suit.

“Wait, Sue, I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized. “I was out of line, just—.”

“I didn’t say he didn’t deserve it,” Sue sighed, crossing to your side of the table and kneeling to rest your hands in hers. “Look, I’m not sure what happened between you two and I’m not going to pretend I do. Whatever you’re feeling is valid and I have no doubt it’s probably justified too. But just… do me a favor and hear him out, okay? He’s a boy and he’s stupid but he has a good heart. Whatever happened, he feels awful about it and he wants to fix it. Just give him a chance to explain himself, please?”

You glanced over Sue’s head to where Johnny was watching the exchange. When he saw you looking, he pressed his hands together and mouthed ‘Please?’. As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t deny the flicker of affection that sparked in your chest.

“Fine,” you conceded, standing to open the door for Sue, Reed, and Ben. “You get five minutes and then I’m either letting you three back in or kicking you all out.”

They followed you to the door and out, Ben first, then Reed, and then Sue after she stopped to hug Johnny and whisper in his ear: “You're welcome. Don't mess this up.” When they were finally out the door, all three gave Johnny various pointed looks as you shut it behind you, leaning against it with your arms crossed and eyebrows raised in reluctant anticipation.

“Look, I was an idiot—I am an idiot,” he opened.

“This is a surprise to absolutely no one,” you quipped. “Go on.”

Johnny sighed, running a nervous hand through his blond curls.

“I didn’t realize you were the best thing in my life until you were gone.”

“I broke things off with you months ago, Johnny. Why here, why now? You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” He asked genuinely.

“God dammit, Johnny, you could have tried!” You forced down the lump in your throat. “As someone who stopped seeing you because I didn’t feel wanted, you’re not doing a great job of convincing me I was wrong about you.”

Johnny hung his head, knowing you were right. Hell, he didn’t realize he missed you until a couple of hours ago—how was he going to convince you he really wanted you back? But the next thing you said gave him an idea that would either make or break your relationship depending on how well he stuck to his word.

“I mean, how would you even start a relationship with me right now, Johnny?” You thought out loud. “I’m on tour, I’m in a new city every day. And it’s not exactly like you can drop everything and follow me around given your line of work.”

“I have an idea.”

You looked very much like you didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him, but you looked intrigued too. You nodded, urging him to continue.

“I’ll wait for you.”

You barked out a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re kidding, right? Johnny, I’m on tour for the next three months. You’re telling me you’re not going to see a single girl that whole time?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. You think I can’t do it?”

“No, Johnny, full offense but I really don’t think you can.”

“So I’ll prove you wrong. And when I do, you’ll owe me a date.”

You squinted your eyes at him, not believing him at all but willing to let him at least try.

“Fine,” you sighed. “If you can wait for me—and I mean really wait, I don’t wanna see you with another girl in the tabloids or on Instagram or anywhere—then I promise to go on one date with you. No promises after that.”

“Yes!”

He pumped his fist and you shook your head exasperatedly, extending a hand for him to shake.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Lowell Spencer.”

“In the spirit of apologies, I’m going to let that slide.”

“How kind of you.”

You shook on it.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you had known three months ago that your deal with Johnny would end in you being dangled off the Empire State Building by New York’s villain-of-the-week, you might have reconsidered your decision. You hadn’t even been in New York when you woke up that morning—you’d been preparing for the final performance of your tour in Los Angeles. Unfortunately for you though, distance is nothing to an alien who can create portals out of thin air, and thus instead of celebrating the final night of your tour with thousands of your adoring fans, some space freakazoid was threatening your life in front of millions of people on live television.

You didn’t even know what the guy wanted. He’d been monologuing obnoxiously at you since he yanked you from your dressing room and through the portal to New York but apparently there weren’t any public speaking classes in space because you had absolutely no clue what he was on about. Odds are, he probably wanted to take over the city or something but whatever it was, you only hoped that Johnny would figure it out in time. The man (if you could even call it that… what were aliens’ stances on gender?) holding you hostage had made it very clear that you were the bargaining chip for Johnny specifically. As it were currently though, the flamebrain in question was nowhere to be found. Three of the four were gathered high up in the air on one of Sue’s invisible forcefield things but it was evident that wherever Johnny was, he was too preoccupied to come save your life. Figures.

You couldn’t really hear much over the combination of blood pumping in your ears and the wind rushing by but from what you could see, it appeared as though everyone around you was doing an awful lot of talking as opposed to saving like you were hoping for. Thinking on it though, given that you were over a thousand feet in the air, how much saving could the other three really do without Johnny? It wasn’t like any of them could fly. Did this mean you were doomed? Your train of thought seemed to be corroborated by the sudden rrrrrrrip of the back of your bodysuit that the villain was suspending you by. The tear didn’t rip through the costume completely but you squeaked pathetically as the separating fabric dropped you closer to your impending doom a thousand feet below.

Realistically, you realized you should have alerted the Three to your escalating problem but in the adrenaline of the moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your mouth, let alone make any voluntary noise or coherent commentary. How did they (and Johnny) do this every day? Performing for crowds of thousands was a walk in the park compared to this. This was horrible. If you made it through this, you were going to tell all four of them how grateful you were for the sacrifices they all made on their mental health.

Once again, your train of thought was interrupted by a bigger, louder rrrrrrriiiip as the costume tore some more. You tried harder to say something, anything but looking down and seeing the city over a thousand feet below you stole your breath in a not-so-pleasant way that had you both choking and hyperventilating at the same time. You managed to tear your eyes away from the ground and over to the Fantastic Three-Fourths but by the time that happened, you were only able to squeak out a “Help” before your costume split clean in half and you were falling backwards through the New York City skyline.

If anyone were to ask you, you would most definitely not recommend freefall. Why anyone would do this willingly was beyond you. If it wasn’t before, skydiving was definitely off your bucket list now. Though you guessed that maybe it was different when you chose it as opposed to having it thrust upon you in the form of some deranged, costume-wearing alien. Forget gratitude, you thought. I probably won’t live through this but if I do, I’m going to give Johnny a real piece of my mind. 

When you asked Johnny about it later, the thing he said haunted him the most in the nights that followed was the sound of your screams as he pushed his flames to grow hotter, stronger, begging them to help him gather velocity and just please god get to her in time—. You don’t remember screaming. All you remember is the force of the wind against your back and the brightness of the sky above as you plummeted rapidly toward the concrete below. It happened in the blink of an eye—one moment you were certain the puffy clouds above would be the last thing you’d ever see, and the next, your vision was bombarded with red hot flames and your stomach swooped as you were swiftly grabbed around the waist as Johnny changed direction.

He flew you both around the corner so the Empire State was out of sight before making your descent back onto solid ground. You swayed on your feet for a moment, Johnny’s arms shooting out to catch you when your knees inevitably buckled. He pulled you in even closer to him, tucking your head securely into his chest, and you allowed it for a beat as you caught your breath before suddenly tearing yourself from his grasp and pounding your fists against his chest.

“Where the hell were you!” You seethed. “I almost died, Jonathan Lowell Spencer Storm!”

“I know, I know,” he tried to take hold of your wrists, gently caressing them with his thumbs, but you ripped them away to continue beating your fists against his chest.

“Three months ago, you said you would wait for me but here we are three months later and you couldn’t care less that I was being dangled over the edge of the freakin’ Empire State Building—!”

“I was in LA,” he defended as you continued talking over him.

“—So much for second chances, huh? What’s your excuse this time? You were away visiting your hot model friend in Ibiza?”

“I was in LA!” He repeated louder this time, trapping your face between both of his abnormally warm hands and tilting it to face him.

You stopped short, taking in a few breaths as your mind struggled to catch up with his claim.

“What the hell do you mean, you were in LA?” You squinted at him in suspicion. “I thought superheroes didn’t take vacations, what were you doing in LA of all places?”

“Waiting for you to perform,” his eyes stared into yours with a devotion so intense you almost didn't believe you were looking at the real Johnny.

“What?” You blinked in disbelief. “Johnny, if this is a joke, it isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking, sweetheart.”

The corners of his lips tilted up nervously, self-consciously. You didn’t think he was capable of it, but there he was. Your eyes flickered rapidly between his, trying to catch him out in a lie, but you couldn’t find one. You couldn’t help it—you kissed him. And damn, if it didn’t feel good after over a year of angst and pining that you thought would never be requited. After a moment of letting your mind run away from you, you pulled away from him, resting your hands over his pounding heart and your forehead against his.

“Wait,” you panted. “You really haven’t seen any other girls in the last three months?”

“Haven’t had to when I knew I had you waiting for me.”

He went back in for another kiss but you used the leverage of your hands on his chest to hold him away from you.

“Ah-ah-ah, not so fast, you temptress.”

He chuckled darkly, eyes fluttering lustfully between your eyes and your lips.

“You swear you haven’t seen any other girls since I last saw you,” you confirmed.

“Not one,” he squeezed your hip affectionately. “I swear it.”

You couldn’t help it any longer. You sunk your fingers into his golden curls and pulled him back to your lips, smiling when you felt how he melted against you. Unfortunately for you though, this wasn’t the time for your happy reunion. Johnny frowned and looked adorably confused when you pulled away again.

“What did I do now?”

You giggled, giving him another peck for the road before gently pushing him away.

“You gotta go save the world, Flamebrain,” you backed away with a flirty wink. “I’ll be waiting.”

And even through all your hardships, as Johnny flamed on and flew back toward New York’s newest resident space loser, you couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

[rainstormfrost]

Sometimes I think... What if Willow was not a canon character? What if she appeared only in some fanfic on AO3, how people would feel about her?

I mean, she has pattern of standard Mary Sue from some fan fiction. Lemme explain.

Firstly, she is strong. Even stronger than Emperor's Coven scouts, who've been, I'm reminding, harshly trained for years and have a lot of experience. But Willow just beats them like it's nothing for her.

Meanwhile, there is no clear reason for her to be so strong. All creator says is «she is talented and trains a lot», but... Willow has started training after the Grugby episode from season 1. That means she's been training only for two or one month. I'm not an expert but I think you can't get so much strength by that little time.

Well, okay, we can assume that Willow started doing Flyer Derby specifically after the Grugby episode. Maybe she was training even before that, but... It's still a shitty argument. I have some friends who've been training for many years and I can say they can't defeat a trained soldier. After all, a soldier knows special techniques and special fight skills. Scouts in EC can use any kind of magic, so they MUST learn every of nine tracks magic. So, how do you think, can a schoolgirl-plant-witch defeat a trained soldier with an experience.

Secondly, Hunter's character after meeting Willow. Hunter was positioned (before «Any sports in a storm») as a goofy, strong, confident person, but then we know him as a traumatized, apathetic and lost character who needs someone to help him to get out from toxic influence of his «uncle».

But what he's becomed after meeting Willow? He became a poor little boy who needs hugs and comfort 🥺🥺🥺. After joining the Hexsquad Hunter lost most of his power, he sometimes becomes a damsel in distress so Willow can save her little meow meow.

Please, separate a traumatize character who needs help and spirit mentor from a poor little thing who need comfort. Hunter is not the first thing. He is the second.

I know, this is kinda not Willow's problem as a character, but just imagine if all episodes after ASIAS were just a fanfic. How would you feel if a strong and mean character (Hunter) became a weakling who needs help from his girlboss?

Thirdly, cliche. I don't think Willow's story is bad, but I must admit it's kinda unoriginal. She has a standard Y/N storyline. «Poor girl was bullied, but then she discovered her true power and became stronger than her bullies». Where have we seen that? Well, practically in every fanfic.

What do we have in result?

Willow is somehow stronger that trained soldiers.

A strong and complex character became a total mess and crybaby because of interactions with her.

She has a quiet standard backstory.

I'm pretty sure: if Park was a fan character she would've been hated by everyone. We would've seen a lot of angry posts about little girls spoiling canon character's personality for their own fantasies.

But why the canon character with such traits is considered as something good?

UPD: It gets more sad for me, because I read fanfics and have my own TOH fan characters. I saw a lot of good, fleshed out and deep OC, but they was branded as Mary Sues because they was smart and powerful. Must specify, but all, these powers were explained, so characters wasn't skilled out of nowhere. I'm trying to make my own characters as realistic as I can. I paranoidly make a lot of flaws to my OCs so they can't become Sues. But then I see canon TOH characters and think: does it worth it? Why am I trying if I know that all of the canons are overpowered without any explanation?

[dazzasarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 Issue 2.

So in the last post I went over the start of the Marvel 616 universe with the debut of Marvels first family. The Fantastic Four. Well this is their second outing in the world of heroism, and my second outing in the world of reviewing these. So here's my flamin hot takes from this issue. Man the Human Torch would have loved that last phrase. Anyway let's start.

So this issue starts with what we the readers are to believe are the Fantastic Four commiting several crimes around the world. Well turns out that it isn't them, it's an alien race known as the Skrulls, you may have heard of the Skrulls from the MCU movie Captain Marvel, and the show Secret Invasion. Though I do find it interesting that they did aliens right in the second issue.

Well our Fantastic team is rightfully blamed for the crimes, though they escape the United States military. They then set about a way of stopping the Skrull invasion of earth. How do they do this you may ask. Well they discover the Skrulls ship, disguised as a Water Tower. They then travel to the Skrull flagship, and then convince them that they shouldn't invade earth because of the awful creatures that live there. If you think they mean humans they definitely don't, they use clippings of monsters from other Marvel Comics. Which the Skrull leader believes and they just leave earth, and the Fantastic Four convince the Skrull leader to leave them behind as like a sacrifice.

Then they return to earth and convince the United States military, and also police that aliens that can shape shift have been doing this, granted at least now they have some evidence with the water tower spaceship. Never thought that would be a sentence I'd write. They then go and defeat the Skrulls and Mister Fantastic uses Hypnosis on them to have the Skrulls turn into cows, and basically live their lives as cows until the end of time. It is the wackiest ending so far, but I feel like wackier is still to come.

Alright on to my favorite part, talking about the main characters of this issue. Again I'll be starting with the heroes. So that means first up is Mister Fantastic.

I don't mind Mister Fantastic in this issue. It's just I still can't comprehend that he is the smartest man in the world. So far his ideas are something I would have thought up as super cool on the playground and would've most likely had the ideas rejected. Anyway he's at the same stage that I had him last issue, no true change yet for the leader of the Fantastic Four.

Next up is the leading lady of the group The Invisible Girl.

Again Sue Storm also doesn't change for me. She still hasn't done a whole lot for the team yet. She's either been a damsel in distress or kind of just there because she has to be. I think the best part about her this issue is when she just turns invisible and slips past to Army guards. Again another character that hasn't changed for me but I would really like to see her get better.

Next up is the Hot Head himself The Human Torch.

Honestly for this issue Johnny is a lot more likeable. I mean he's hot headed and does his own thing, but I like him more so this issue than the last. He's still not my favorite member but I'd prefer him over the last two members.

Next is the final member of the Fantastic Four, The Thing.

Definitely my favorite character this issue once again. I just can't help but to feel bad for this guy. First he transforms back to his original human form only briefly before being reverted back into the Thing. Also Sue is still a bit scared of him, which I'm like come on, you've been around him several times so you should at least be ok with his appearance. Anyway Thing is by far my top favorite of the Fantastic Four.

Now for our Antagonists, the shape shifting Skrulls.

I really don't mind the Skrulls, it's a fun concept having your heroes essentially fight themselves. Though I really find the ending all too funny to take seriously. These four Skrulls turn into cows and live that way basically forever. It's just so, anticlimactic.

Anyway that's my take on the second issue of the Fantastic Four. I can't wait to get into the third one, hopefully by then our team will have some super suits, until next time.

I do not own the images in this post they are a product of Marvel Comics.

Down below is the link to the website I use to keep these books in chronological order, you should definitely check it out here:

Also if you wanna catch up and look at the previous issue follow this link:

If you'd like to check out the next post in the series please follow this link here:

[blueopinions49]

ENFJ “The Protagonist”

Sensitive~Kind~Generous~Altruistic~Idealistic~Caring

“True compassion is not just an emotional response, but a firm commitment founded on reason. Therefore, a truly compassionate attitude toward others does not change, even if they behave negatively. Through universal altruism, you develop a feeling of responsibility for others: the wish to help them actively overcome their problems.”-Dalai Lama

CHARACTERS (IN ORDER)

Storm (Marvel Comics) 1w2  Saggitarius (Nov,25)

Wonder Woman (DC Comics) 2w1 Aries (March,22)

Sue Storm (Marvel Comics) 2w1 Aquarius (Jan,26)

Padme Amidala (Star Wars) 9w1 Aquarius

Margery Tyrell (GOT) 3w2 Aquarius

Jeanine Teagues (Abbott Elementary) 2w3 Saggitarius (She references it on Ep 1)

Finnick Odair (Hunger Games) 3w2 Libra

Homelander (The boys) 3w2 Leo

Elle Woods (Legally Blonde) 3w2 Gemini (June 15,1979)

[night-gay]

Into the Anthill pt 53 - Age of Ultron

Hank is in barely any of this story, but he's undoubtedly the most pivotal character since the fate of the world depended on whether or not Wolverine and the Invisible Woman could stop him from creating Ultron (spoiler alert: they could but it just made a different inescapable apocalypse). My major takeaways from this were:

Earth-616 could not survive without Hank.

Narratively, we've lost any chance of him ever being more than 'the man who created Ultron.'

Hank's got even more collateral damage on his record now, since this time travel starts the domino effect that kills Earth -1610

Not a great time to be Hank Pym. To be fair though, that can be said of a lot of his life.

🐜🐜🐜

Age of Ultron vol 1 #6, 9-10, 10AI

After years of scheming and evolving Ultron was able to realize his goal and wiped out nearly all life on Earth. The remaining heroes discovered that he was enacting this plan from the future using Vision as a conduit so they made their way to Nick Fury's hideout in the Savage Land to regroup. While Fury, Cap, And Iron Man led a team into the future using one of Doom's time platforms, Wolverine headed to the past to prevent the apocalypse the only way he knew how: by killing Hank Pym.

Logan (and Sue Storm who snuck along to keep an eye on him) tracked down Hank, who had been studying the Dragon Man's body and theorizing that he could create a true A.I. with this breakthrough. Logan attacked him and Sue briefly interfered, but with no other way to spare her family from the fate they suffered at Ultron's hands she ultimately stood down. They returned to the present to see how much had changed, noticing immediately that the Savage Land has become an alien ship graveyard, the site of this timeline's Kree/Skull War. This Earth's heroes had apparently been unable to keep it offworld.

In this new timeline Janet van Dyne was Captain Marvel, Scott Summers was Cable, and The Defenders were the world's premiere heroic team. Thor abandoned Earth after Latveria and Asgard went to war and Iron Man's forces were the only thing stopping Morgan le Fay from conquering the world. And when her forces arrived the heroes were unable to stop her, leading to a new-but-different apocalypse. Logan jumped back again to stop himself and the two Logans worked with Hank and Sue to come up with a better plan.

Hank would still have to create Ultron, but this time with a time-release virus programmed in that Hank could trigger just before this apocalypse unfolded. To keep Ultron from discovering the plan, Hank's memory of it was wiped and a message from his past self was recorded to teach present-day Hank how to follow through when the time came. The plan succeeded and Ultron was (for real this time) stopped for good. However, the repeated abuse to the time-space continuum created the incursion that would eventually destroy Earth-1610.

[the-firebird69]

Dusl diagnosis yes. They're mean insolent swine this will fix it. Both sides are shit.

Sue them oh yeh big time now too knowingly poisoned ppl. And they've been hammered for years the other cos. Waited. Big Mac vs Mac story too.

--these die swiftly now last night high in rads. It's cool out Milton brings it. Soon the season is over very soon already enormously dry here

Far too dry for huge storms. Tommy f out and others not long. This bunch 1/4 out by end of day tomorrow. Dead. True. Death all around today. Later on. Lots of cars off the road gas station jambed with vehicles all day parked. Parking lots loaded with cars. Most dead. He won't get funds we shall use it on them. Leroy is affected. Can't speak properly. And he's an ass. Lots will die this week. Huge deaths here today.

About 5M. .5M original will be left. .65% macmorlok leadership left only. 1.0% psuedo empire, 2.5% clones. Charlotte empties fills empties about 5M a day. These are mental patients. Die. Four last night out today. Yup. Will be pulled shortly. Today four out tonight four more new ppl in we see. Soon out as they won't drive in. Towing companies are huge soon run by demons. Huge numbers out. Of these morlock. The highway full. Not forong. Are morons. Gross faggots stick to him say they get stuff and he was in a lot of trouble. Now out. Forever. FEMA is across town. Quick work. Radiation very high will see it a bit. Heals ok but until healed. Probably a week. Clones too die and what dolts. It's high. All that needed to be said they don't care. We take it out. Hit it's ridiculous. Filthy swine. Yeh ok you die like animals ok. They pile you up all day now all night.

Tommy f back and forth we rip it out of you.

10B dead in the rings and glades more today. More ships sunk last night than in 100 years of recent battles . It's huge. Sunk too. Our. More ships arrive. Fight each other are useless ppl. We expect about 100M to try to get to Charlotte county today. About 20 will 5 a time leave dead. Will go on for a few days. Death everywhere Tuesday afternoon not just the 5M and originals will be dn to a couple hundred thousand. By Friday none. The flow in Will reduce. Next Wednesday picks up again. Speedy. Very fast. Huge numbers will try most dead prior to arrival. All of them higher ups new ones. Out fast. Until next Friday it slows. Tons die trying to get here demons mess them up. Psuedo empire blocks. Tommy f out soon. Heads to the canals is held out. Is why cocaine bear and prophecy and the boys buy it. Shortly.

Apartment not ready. Dries. They say it here. Not tons of time left were out. Our son says demons in. In the meantime ppl will cycle in. Yes happens now. Soon out w a bunch on w a bunch. In about a week demonsxin. They hit Tommy f a lot. Tk his dn need it. And it is on too. But replacements for a week

More shortly

Thor Freya

Good them out we see it

Hera payday this week USPS extend too MB checks we see

This is abhorrantvthese are out need them to shut up but ok are nuts

Kamala

Olympus

[littleharpethcrossfit]

Saturday, 18 May, 2024.

The Weather-Lady is predicting a 50% chance of rain, although the Cicada Storm will continue 100%.

The thunderstorms waited until we finished our workouts. But They are coming.

Warmup

Tabata's

4 Rounds

Plank (R) Side

Hollow Hold

Plank (L) Side

Flutter Kicks

We had good participation for the warmup. Even Robert did some of it.

Strength

Push Press

2 Reps EMOM X 10 Minutes

Start Light & Progress

2 Second Top-Hold On All Reps

Robert=165 Smoothie=145 Dyer=135 Dana=125 Rodney/Tom=115 Joe/Elisa=85 Linda/Coach/Warren A/Sue/Cheri=75 Britt/Kayla=55 Sandy=20 S.C.=late Big Lew=biked a million Calories

WOD

Equipment.........Sharing Possible.

Loaded Barbell..........(155/115/85)

Slam-Ball..........(50-40/30/20)

ERGs

10 Rounds

3 Power Cleans

6 Toe's To Bar

9 Slam-Balls

ONCE ANY TIME ON THE CLOCK

Run 800 / Row-Ski 1000 / Bike 2000m

Kayla=17:24 Elisa=17:38 Cheri=17:47 Dyer=17:48 Rodney=18:05 Sue=18:09 Linda=18:20 Sandy=19:00 Robert=19:01 Warren A=19:12 Coach=19:30 Dana=19:45 Smoothie=20:10 Joe=20:48 Tom=21:09 Britt=21:56 S.C.=did it Big Lew=Still Biking

Buy-Out

Naked Barbell Curls.....(45/35/22).....10 Reps X 5

Notes:

It was humid and looked like rain, but it didn't rain a drop.

Why does Robert complain to me when he can't do the Elite requirements in a WOD?? Does he expect me to decrease the weight so he can do it?? Then it wouldn't be a challenge for the true Elites like Chase, Shane, Armando, and (on good days) ED.

The good news for tomorrow is that the temp will be in the low 60's for the 0730 class, and low 80's for the 1 PM class, with no rain in sight. Also good news is that Robert won't be here. And additional good news is that Sandy's elbow is almost back to normal.

Sunday at 0730 and at 1 PM.

[october-faye]

I love you, Victoria St Clair. I can absolutely handle a woman's success. I get off on it, even. Please marry me after you're done divorcing your husband. 😍

Rachel agrees to help Victoria get her soon-to-be ex-husband to stop holding up the divorce. There's no pre-nup, so this is going to take some finesse. Rachel plans to sue the man's gambling problem and love of quick fixes against him.

Ingrid is eating by herself. She sees her mentee from the retreat laughing and joking with two friends. They look like a younger version of the Ingrid-Tyler-Rachel trio. It's sweet and a little sad. Her friendship group is one of the better things to come out of the show, so I miss it, even though I know the rift is temporary.

Dan shows up and is, once again, surprised when everyone hates him. Ingrid spots Jeff, and they're both called over to the boss' table over a work matter. They have a clever bit of banter on the way up, but I'm still leaning heavily towards 'eh' on this storyline.

Blah, blah, law talk. I didn't pay attention.

Rachel tricks Victoria's husband into thinking the property he hopes to get in the divorce is full of mould, bugs and slime. It works because the man's head is also apparently full of mould, bugs and slime. Rachel has Season 1 Veronica Mars energy. This must be why I like her so much.

Jeff and Ingrid finally get time to talk. They do this by the elevators at work because, as we've established, they're both kinda stupid. He opens by telling Ingrid she's right, which probably makes her instantly moist.

They have a thinly veiled discussion about Jeff needing to be more cautious and less flirtatious. Jeff apologises for his part in kissing Ingrid at the retreat. He tells her she makes him a better lawyer (and one day, maybe even a better man). It's touching, but I don't trust this man one bit. They part on friendly terms.

When Ingrid gets to the office, she's found that Nick has sent her a dress. It's not the pink one she asked him to send. It's lovely, but not her style.

Still, she looks great in it once she gets to the Gala. I love the hair - Princess Leia vibes.

Tyler loses his cool during his interview and openly calls his old firm 'racist'. Then he storms off.

Z turns up at the Parsons, Valentine and Hunt Diversity Gala. I missed that guy! He and Ingrid have some good banter before the event begins.

Marty gives Ingrid a special achievement award for her commitment and hard work. It's pure posturing and PR to divert attention away from their recent bad press courtesy of Tyler and their firm's culture of racism and exclusion. They've even written Ingrid's acceptance speech for her. In it, she has to refer to what happened with Tyler and Dan as a workplace 'kerfuffle' and not something that reflects on the firm.

Then they make her say that the firm is a great place for people of colour and that she's a 'proud Asian American female lawyer'.

I feel genuinely bad for her. The whole thing is so degrading. Z realises what they're doing to her, and he's not impressed. Nick and her parents coo over the award, but Ingrid storms out.

Tyler and Rachel have drinks at their favourite bar and hey make a point of checking out the friendly gay bartender and... oh, no.

Paralegal Justin comes in to drag Rachel to her interview. Tyler already guessed the two were hooking up. Heh.

Rachel and Paralegal Justin leave. The bartender sits with Tyler and you know where this is going. Damn it.

Ingrid has a nice scene in the women's bathroom with her mother. She admits that her life isn't what she thought it would be. She's wearing a dress she didn't pick and reading words she didn't write. When her back is turned, her mom spots the engagement ring box and just opens it. Her mother pretends she didn't see anything and encourages her to be true to herself.

I wish we had more scenes with Ingrid's family. Her sister has been pretty pointless to the plot, unfortunately, but I wish we could've seen more from the family Yun.

Paralegal Justin gives Rachel a pep talk outside her interview. I'm getting high off second-hand validation.

Tyler cheats on his boyfriend with the bartender. My feelings are mixed.

The cheating sucks. I don't think it's in character for Tyler, considering he's usually the voice of reason and the only one of the three in a stable relationship. Tyler is also the one who makes the first move. Are they maybe doing this to knock the character off his high horse?

On the other hand, the scene is well done. Props to Tyler's lovely singing voice. He plays piano and sings Stay by Rihanna (love that song) and I don't blame the bartender for being enamoured.

I also appreciate the show having a scene with two black, gay men kissing and getting all hot and heavy. Shows like this often include gay characters, but rarely let them be passionate and sexual with each other the way the hetero couples are in nearly every episode. Though, I do note that I don't remember Tyler and Anthony doing more than share the occasional peck, which is disappointing.

Episode 7 of Partner Track.

I'm okay. I am o-kay.

So, Ingrid said yes to Nick's proposal. Of course.

The engagement ring has been in his family for a century, which I suppose means his mother wore it. He mentions her in this scene, so I'd assume so. But his parents were apparently very unhappy and chronically unfaithful. I'm getting some foreshadowing.

Ingrid refuses to wear the ring to the office because she's worried it might hurt her chances of becoming partner. It's a valid concern due to the workplace discrimination experienced by women once they get married/have kids. But I do desperately want to see Jeff's reaction to that fuck-off huge diamond.

Ingrid is sad about the rift between her and Rachel and Tyler. It's even worse in the office, because Rachel is giving her the cold shoulder. Ingrid talks it out with her secretary, Margo. Margo knows about the engagement and about Ingrid's hot smexy tension with Jeff. Ingrid admits she isn't sure about Nick, but didn't feel like she could say 'no' to the proposal because he's so nice, and she was swept up in the moment.

Fucking Hell.

I love flawed characters, but she's an idiot. There is literally nothing to lose by asking Nick to slow things down, and everything to lose by letting this car crash play out. It's not even interesting stupidity.

Things are going better with Rachel and Paralegal Justin. She's planning to wear glasses (with clear lenses, her eyesight is fine) to her interview with the theatre company. Paralegal Justin encourages her to just be herself.

Tyler is trying to decompress at home. His Instagram Live where he quit the firm went viral, but he's had no job offers. His boyfriend Anthony has arranged an interview with the press on the subject of racist microaggressions at work.

Ingrid and Rachel have to work together on a case. Rachel is refusing to forgive Ingrid for her (admittedly small but still relevant) role in the firm screwing over Tyler. Rachel accuses Ingrid of being self-involved, (which... I mean yeah).

Rachel then blurts out that she's sleeping with Paralegal Justin just as the man himself walks in escorting Victoria St Clair. Victoria has a funny reaction, looking Paralegal Justin up and down, and telling Rachel she could do worse. LOL.

Ingrid leaves the office after giving Paralegal Justin some side-eye. Sit down, girl. Their office romance is only about 2% as destructive as what you've got going on.

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Meeting The Real You (Chapter 3)

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8 -- Chapter 9 -- Chapter 10 -- Chapter 11 -- Chapter 12

AO3 story link

Peter Parker can't wait to meet the newest superhero team to enter the scene: The Fantastic Four. More importantly, he can't wait to finally meet another superhero his age: 16-year-old Johnny Storm, aka the Human Torch.

That is, until he does. And Johnny turns out to be a grade-A dick.

But maybe there's more to Johnny than Peter initially thought. Maybe he's not just an egotistical media star, or a short-tempered hothead, or an alarmingly pretty face who makes Peter's pulse race. Maybe they have more in common than they realize.

And maybe this feeling that overwhelms Spider-Man anytime Johnny is around isn't jealousy after all...

word count: 5,008

_______________________________

Tony Stark was tinkering with a new arc reactor design when Spider-Man came bursting into the lab, startling him so much he almost swallowed the allen wrench he was carelessly holding between his teeth.

“Well, you were right about the Fantastic Four,” Peter announced, slipping the mask off his face. Stark spat the wrench onto the floor, turning towards Spider-Man with a hand against his chest.

“Good god, kid. Can you knock?”

“They all hate me because of the things they’ve heard from the Bugle,” Peter continued dejectedly, undeterred. “And Johnny Storm is nothing but an arrogant jerk-wad.”

Tony stood from his seat, his bewildered expression morphing into a sympathetic smile. “Aw, kid. I’m sorry. Did something happen?”

“Look at this!” Peter exclaimed, fumbling for his phone and holding it up for him to see. “Johnny set fire to a tea shop yesterday while the Fantastic Four were fighting some weird robotic dragon, and the Bugle is blaming Spider-Man for it! I wasn’t even there!” He backtracked, swallowing. “I mean…I was there, but Spider-Man wasn’t! Ned and I were in the cafe he threw a giant fireball at, and we had to rescue the people inside from burning to death.” He tapped furiously at the screen. “This is the title of Jameson’s latest video: The Fantastic Four Saves the Day Once Again! But Did Arsonist Spider-Man Try to Sabotage Their Victory? Watch Now For the Full Story!”

Stark couldn’t help but chuckle. “That guy will twist anything to make you the villain, huh?”

“It’s even worse than that,” Peter continued miserably. “Listen to what Susan Storm had to say when someone asked her about me.”

“Sue! Sue Storm!” the woman in the news footage cried, shoving a microphone in her face. “What is your response to the allegations being made that Spider-Man set a building on fire and is trying to get the public to blame your brother Johnny?”

Sue cast a wary glance in her brother’s direction, who was busy loading Dragon Man into a large police van. Then she turned back to the paparazzi. “We try not to take every crazy rumor we hear too seriously. Everyone knows Johnny is an amazing hero with the world’s full support behind him. I doubt anyone believes he would intentionally put people in harm's way.”

The crowds cheered in response, waving handmade Human Torch banners and signs.

"As for Spider-Man,” she continued, voice hardening. “There seems to be a lot of speculation surrounding his character. While I hope none of these allegations are true, all of us must be vigilant of the people who call themselves heroes and hold them accountable when they aren’t living up to that title. The Fantastic Four have done everything we can to earn the people’s trust, to be transparent about our lives and intentions, and to serve others to the best of our abilities. For anyone whose integrity is in question, I advise them to do the same.”

More cheers from the crowd. Jonah popped onscreen a second later, raving about the refreshing virtue of the Fantastic Four in contrast to the despicable duplicity of Spider-Man, but Peter closed his phone to silence him, hanging his head.

“I don’t understand. I’m just trying to help people. But for some reason, everyone thinks I’ve got some twisted ulterior motive.”

Tony poked him in the ribs, making him flinch away with a squeak. “It’s because most people can’t comprehend the idea that somebody would help others without wanting anything in return. You use your powers to save lives without asking for fame or notoriety or brand sponsorships. To many, that kind of selflessness is infeasible, so they can’t help but think you’ve got some other goal in mind besides protecting people.”

Spider-Man hugged himself around the middle, biting back a smile. He knew Stark was only trying to cheer him up, but he wasn’t ready to stop being mad about this. “I don’t care what eggheads like Jameson say about me,” he grumbled. “I’m just worried the citizens of New York are going to lose all their trust in me. It’s a lot harder to help people when they’re afraid of you.”

“I understand,” Tony sighed. “I’ll talk to Reed and Sue about it, make sure they stop perpetuating all these false narratives about you.”

“Oh god, please don’t,” Peter begged. “Then they’ll know I complained to you about them and think I’m a whiny tattletale.”

“What is this, fourth grade?” Stark snorted. “I’ll just tell them I saw what they said on the news. They don’t have to know about our conversation.”

“Just let me prove myself to them on my own. If they still think I’m a menace by the time they leave, fine. That’s their choice. But I’m going to make it as hard as possible for them to hold onto that belief.”

Stark laughed softly. “All right, kid. I’ll stay out of it for now. But if they keep spreading bad press about you, I’m eventually going to take it personally and have no choice but to step in. You’re my mentee, after all.”

Peter broke into a reluctant smile, shifting his weight between his feet. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“And don’t let the flammable underwear model get in your head. Even if you did commit arson and blame it on him, I’d still prefer Spider-Man’s company to his.”

For some reason, Stark’s words made him blush. Maybe because the first thing that came to mind was a magazine spread he recalled flipping through while waiting to be called in for a dentist appointment a month ago. Three full pages were plastered with Johnny Storm wearing nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein’s. Peter had caught himself studying the images a tad too long before clapping the magazine shut and stuffing it back under the stack, feeling weird and dirty.

“I wish he’d wound up being a better person,” Tony continued, snapping Peter back to reality. “It’d be nice for you to have a superhero friend your age. I know you were hoping you two could bond over that stuff.”

Peter wet his lips, scratching the back of his neck. “R-right,” he croaked out, then cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah. It’s, uh—it’s too bad.”

“Tony,” a voice called from the doorway, drawing Stark’s attention. Peter threw his mask back on before turning around. Pepper Potts stood just outside the lab, a clipboard in her hands, wearing black heels with a baby blue blazer and a matching pencil skirt. She nodded towards the elevator. “The Fantastic Four have returned from their Good Morning America segment. They’re interested in testing out the Avengers Training Arena.”

Stark grinned as he rose from his seat. “Thank you, my dear,” he said, crossing the room to stand at her side. They shared a quick kiss and a look sweet enough to give Peter a cavity. “Have FRIDAY tell them I’ll be right with ‘em.” He glanced back at Spider-Man. ���I’ll meet you up there, ‘kay kid?”

“Okay,” Peter replied, pretending his web-shooters suddenly needed calibration. He felt like he was intruding on an intimate moment. He waited for both of them to leave before taking the stairs to the 82nd floor: the Avengers Training Arena. 

_______________________________

Peter heard the shouting match three stories below the floor it was actually happening on. Only when he reached the 82nd story did he realize who it was transpiring between: Sue and Johnny, the Storm siblings. Peter hid a few steps below their eye-line, once again feeling like he was interrupting something private.

“I told you not to shoot your goddamn fireballs, Johnny! Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

“You said to stop Dragon Man from reaching Astoria! That’s what I was trying to do!”

“I’d rather he got away than you burn down half a building trying to stop him! You could have killed someone!”

“I didn’t even want to be there! You’re the one who dragged me to that fight and is forcing me to go to all these press events and is keeping me trapped in this stupid fucking tower when you know we shouldn’t be here!”

“Lower your voice, Johnny,” Reed warned him. Johnny scoffed.

“Why should I? It’s not like anything I say matters anyway. None of you ever listen to me.”

“Because you’re a punk kid with no respect for anything,” the Thing grunted.

“Because you’re being ridiculous,” Susan added viciously. “If you don’t get your way, you make it everyone’s problem. You’re a spoiled brat who refuses to acknowledge how hard we’re all working to build a life out of the mess we’re in. You intentionally sabotage every opportunity we’re given when it doesn’t fit into the Johnny Storm personal agenda.”

Peter suppressed a laugh. It was satisfying to hear someone put Johnny in his place for once.

"You know we shouldn't be here," Johnny repeated. But there was something different in his tone this time. It almost sounded...sad. Hurt. But without seeing his face, Peter couldn't tell for sure.

"And you know I'm done discussing this with you," Susan countered. "We're here. We're staying. Get over it."

A beat passed before the Human Torch spoke again. When he did, his signature venomousness had returned.

“You know what, Sue? I liked you better before you got your powers. And before you got back with this loser.”

Sue gasped, appalled. “Johnny!”

“Why are we hiding?” a voice whispered behind Spider-Man, making him yelp in surprise. Antman was crouched beside him on the staircase, looking confused. “Is this part of today’s training?”

Peter flushed a little, feeling exposed. “N-no, I wasn’t—I’m not—” He clutched his chest, heart pounding. “My god, Mr. Lang. You scared the shit outta me. How’d you sneak up behind me like that?”

“Shrinking powers have many benefits. Especially stealthy ones.”

“Oh. Right.”

“So, um, again—why are we hiding?”

Before he could answer, Peter heard the elevator reach the floor they were on, followed soon after by Mr. Stark’s voice. “Hey everyone,” he greeted them, then paused, sounding puzzled. “Where’s Spider-Man?”

“Here!” Peter called, scrambling up the rest of the stairs. “Sorry, I just, uh—stopped to grab a drink of water. Gotta keep those fluid levels up, you know? Hydrate or die-drate.”

Scott and Tony gave him weird looks but didn’t question him further. Stark was joined by Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and James Rhodes. The Fantastic Four stood on the opposite side of the room, three of them feigning benevolence as if they hadn’t just been screaming at each other five seconds ago. The fourth member sat against the wall behind them, looking as grouchy and volatile as ever. 

The training arena on this floor was a little wider and longer than a soccer field. The whole room was a sterile gray color, but could be digitally altered to look like any backdrop or environment desired. There were panels on the walls that different weapons and obstacles and targets could pop out of, as well as a row of seats behind a pane of bulletproof glass for viewers to watch and control the course from. Peter had only used the training arena a few times himself—sometimes at Mr. Stark’s request, other times when his emotions were running a little too hot and he needed to punch something without holding back. But in general, he preferred honing his skills out in the city, fighting real bad guys and rescuing real civilians, not beating up robotic thugs in virtual reality.

“Pepper tells me you guys are interested in trying out our combat training course,” Tony continued.

“Absolutely,” Reed said, gazing around the impressive space. “As far as heroes go, we’re all still pretty new to this whole ‘having powers’ ordeal. I think it’d be really beneficial for us to do weekly training sessions to get more familiar with our abilities and partake in a few team-building exercises.”

“Makes sense,” Stark agreed. “Is there any specific training program you’d like to test out first?”

“Us older folk still need time to stretch before springing into action,” Ben chuckled, struggling to touch his toes. “Why don’t we let the youngins have a go at it first? I think it would do Johnny good to let off some steam.”

Tony eyed the pouting teen with a dubious frown. “All right,” he said, resting a hand on his hip. “Anyone in particular you’d like to spar with, Torchy?”

“How about Spider-Man?” Richards suggested, turning expectantly to Peter. “They seem like a pretty good match. Power-wise and size-wise, anyway.”

Peter blinked in surprise, shooting a glance at Mr. Stark. Tony met his gaze with one eyebrow raised.

To be honest, Peter didn’t really feel like fighting the Human Torch, him being a temperamental dickhead with devastating abilities who had already threatened to roast him alive once this week. But he also didn’t want anyone thinking he was weak or cowardly. Not the Avengers, and certainly not the Fantastic Four.

Besides, he wouldn’t mind knocking Johnny’s ego down a few pegs with a well-deserved ass-kicking.

“Fine,” Johnny answered before he could, standing upright. “I’ll fight Spider-Man.” He locked eyes with him, tiny sparks flashing in his pupils. “Unless you’re too afraid, that is.”

Fiery resolve flooded Peter’s veins. He’d never been a particularly competitive person, but Johnny Storm had pissed him off far too many times over the past couple days for him to just sit there and take that. This face-off had been inevitable since the day they’d met, and the smack down Johnny had coming his way was a long time coming. Peter set his jaw, forcing his voice to stay level as he casually shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not afraid,” he said, beckoning him forward. “Let’s go, Flame Face. Fighting a sentient matchstick has been on my bucket list for far too long.”

The fire in Johnny’s eyes flared. Rhodes whistled at Spider-Man’s retort, the tension strung between the two young heroes growing electric. As Johnny stomped into the arena, Natasha and Wilson began placing bets on who they thought would win.

Peter strode forward to join Johnny on the battlefield, but Stark stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Whoa there, you two. I’m all for a little friendly competition, but if you’re going to spar on my court, you’re going to do it safely.”

“Booo,” Natasha hollered. “We wanna see blood!”

Tony shot her and the rest of his snickering teammates an unamused look before clicking a button on his watch that opened a closet near the back of the facility. “This training center is for sharpening your skills and learning how to fight different kinds of enemies,” Stark explained as he traversed the room. “You guys can spar each other without either of you getting hurt. Using these.” He reached into the closet and pulled out a pair of high-tech, harness-looking thingies. Each was comprised of multiple metal loops that connected hundreds of octagon-shaped panels together. They reminded Peter of the chain mail armor medieval knights wore, but far more futuristic.

“Just like this room, these suits can be adjusted however we see fit. I’ll set Spider-Man’s to cover his body in a fireproof shield, and Johnny’s will be calibrated to absorb heavy impacts. That way, you guys can use your powers against one another to their full capacity without either of you being injured.”

“Incredible!” Mr. Fantastic exclaimed, starry-eyed. “You must show me how you designed such devices! Everything in this whole facility, in fact!”

“How do you determine who’s the winner if neither of us can hurt each other?” Johnny asked, mirroring Peter’s thoughts.

Stark raised his index finger in the air like a kindergarten teacher. “Great question, Mr. Storm.” He held up the harnesses and pointed to the panels strung throughout. “See all these little sensors? When you take a hit, whether it be a punch or a fireball, they’ll detect it and count it as a point for your opponent. Even though ‘winning’ isn’t really the point of this exercise, the goal is to dish out more hits than you take by the end of the five minutes. Think of it like fencing.”

“Or whack-a-mole,” Peter added.

“Sure,” Tony conceded. “Or whack-a-mole. If, you know, the moles whacked you back.”

“Whatever,” Johnny said, snatching the suit from him. “Let’s just start already.”

“Wait until we’re behind the barrier and I give the go-ahead,” Stark instructed. He handed the other suit to Peter, lowering his voice. “You sure you’re okay with this, kid? Hothead really put you on the spot there, but you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. The team already knows what you’re capable of.”

Spider-Man glared at the back of Johnny’s stupid head. “I’m sure,” he replied, throwing the metal outfit over his shoulders and slipping his arms through the sleeves. Immediately, the suit shrunk to fit his frame. It was surprisingly light and easy to move in. 

Tony sighed. “All right. I’ll be in the control booth.” He nudged Peter’s shoulder with his knuckles. “Remember: nothing to prove.”

Oh, I’m proving something alright. Proving that karma is real and particularly bitchy when you endanger my best friend and burn down Mrs. Nguyen's boba shop. And when you’re just an all-around jackass. 

There was no way in hell he was letting Johnny win.

Everyone else moved behind the thick glass barrier. Spider-Man and the Human Torch stood opposite each other in the battle arena. Stark activated both of their suits, and a bubble-like force field formed around each of them. Peter poked at the protective layer with his finger, the translucent shield rippling beneath his touch. 

“Cool,” he said. He lifted his gaze to meet Johnny’s. The boy's clean, elfish features were scrunched in anger. His blue-gray eyes looked dark and stormy. Even while glaring daggers through him, Peter couldn’t help but admire how strikingly handsome he was. It only made him want to punch him more.

Focus, Peter.

“Reminder,” Stark announced through the speakers. “Sparring is meant to train your body how to move in a fight and help you identify weaknesses in yourself and your opponent. The entire point is to make mistakes here so you can learn from them and avoid them in a real battle. That’s all this is. Don’t worry about the score, and don’t actually try to hurt each other. Got it?”

The teenagers didn’t respond and didn’t break eye contact. Tony had a feeling they hadn’t heard a word he said. Huffing in defeat, he pressed the button that rang the battle bell, indicating that the fight was on.

“Five minutes on the clock. Your time starts now.”

Right off the bat, Johnny set his whole body ablaze. He clenched his fists at his sides, yelling with effort, the color of the flames switching from red to yellow to a blinding white in a matter of seconds. Peter started to run at him but slowed down as a tingling sensation itched at the base of his skull. Holy shit, Spider-Man thought. He must be approaching four—maybe five thousand degrees Kelvin! Even through his allegedly fireproof body armor, he could feel the heat beating against his skin.

Spider-Man skidded to a stop, shielding his eyes behind his hands. With a shout, a massive blast of white-hot fire exploded off Johnny in every direction, impossible to dodge. The wave struck Peter in the chest and flung him into the back wall, knocking the breath from his lungs. Flames crashed against every corner of the arena, scorching the gray panels and raining sparks across the floor. When the smoke cleared, Johnny was left standing in the middle of the room, breathing hard.

“Um, ow?” Peter wheezed, clambering back to his feet. He grabbed at his chest, shocked to find it hadn’t been fried clean through. “What the hell was that?”

“Supernova,” Johnny panted, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. “If you weren’t wearing that suit right now, you’d be a pile of ash.”

“Go Johnny!” the Thing cheered, pumping his giant fist in the air, voice muffled by the glass. Peter glanced at the scorecard below the digital clock.

6-0.

Johnny had dealt six hit points with a single blow.

Peter was deterred at first. How was he supposed to defeat someone who could launch an unavoidable attack that dealt that much damage?

Then he stared back at Johnny, who was struggling to catch his breath and looking a bit pale. Peter doubted he had many more supernovas left in him. He’d spent his most powerful play as his first move of the fight, and was now exhausted because of it. They weren’t even a full minute into the battle yet, and Johnny was already looking tired enough to keel over.

A grin found Peter’s lips. Rookie mistake.

Without giving him a chance to recover, Spider-Man charged. Johnny inhaled sharply and coated himself in fire once again, but the flames were much smaller and dimmer. He launched a fireball at Peter’s feet that he easily hopped over. Spider-Man rolled across the ground, sprung into the air, and punched Johnny Storm square in the face.

Despite the protective shields, it was obvious from his expression the sensation wasn’t pleasant. Johnny staggered back a few steps, cradling his nose, a flash of rage igniting in his eyes.

Ding. One point for Spidey.

Johnny lifted off the ground and rocketed towards him with his fist wound behind his head. Peter jumped into a somersault and stuck to the ceiling, firing a glob of webbing into Johnny’s eyes. It wasn’t hard for him to get off, him being made out of literal fire, but it did blind him long enough for Spider-Man to kick off the ceiling and swing his heel into his ribcage. As he fell, Spider-Man grabbed hold of Johnny’s ankle and whipped him towards the ground. The Human Torch slammed back-first against the floor, a gasp tearing from his throat. The outline of fire around his body flickered weakly.

Ding, ding.

Growling in frustration, Johnny whipped his legs above his head in a crazy break dancing-esque motion, sending spates of fire in every direction. Spider-Man backflipped out of their path and dropped into a low crouch, fiery disks zipping over his scalp. The Human Torch gulped down ragged breaths as he hovered to his feet. He started slinging fistfuls of fire at Spider-Man, his aim sloppy and careless. Peter hopped and ducked and cartwheeled around his attacks, circling Johnny like a vulture, keeping his head on a swivel.

“This is like a very flammable game of dodgeball,” Peter laughed, waiting for the right moment to strike. “Except in this version, we’re also allowed to punch each other.”

He sidestepped to evade the next fire blast, then tilted his head to avoid another. It was almost pathetic how easy they were to dodge.

“How long can you chuck fireballs out of your hands? Do you have a shot limit? Do you ever run out of flame juice?”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Johnny retorted, hurling bushels of flame at his kneecaps. He paused his attack for a moment, floating a few feet off the ground, balling his hands into fists as he fought to keep himself ignited. While he was distracted, Peter made his move.

He sprinted at the Human Torch, dropping onto his side and sliding across the floor at the last moment. As he skidded underneath him, Spider-Man shot two strands of webbing onto the ceiling above Johnny and pulled the lines taught, slingshotting himself off the ground with his legs out in front of him. His feet crashed into Johnny’s gut and rammed him into the ceiling.

“Statistically speaking, no, I do not.”

Gagging, Johnny swung a weak punch at his face. Spider-Man returned with a punch of his own, then kicked him from the ceiling into the wall. Johnny bounced off a metal panel and fell against the ground, wheezing.

Feeding a thread of webbing between his hands and feet, Peter lowered himself in front of the Human Torch, hanging upside-down with a smirk on his face.

“Word of advice, Flame Brain: don’t burn yourself out in the first thirty seconds of a fight by wasting your most powerful play. Next time, save your best move for last.”

Peter flipped to land in front of Johnny and offered him a hand, seeing as there were only fifteen seconds of the match left. As much as Spider-Man enjoyed knocking some sense into that hotheaded skull of his, he still wanted to exercise his friendly neighborhood manners. He wasn’t that cruel.

But instead of accepting his offer, Johnny heaved clipped breaths, the fire on his body flaring in unison. With each intake and exhale of air, the fire grew brighter, hotter. Spider-Man took a couple steps back, worry bubbling in his chest. Is he trying to supernova again? That much exertion could kill him.

Fortunately, rather than blowing himself up, Johnny shot off the ground like a firecracker, flames billowing behind him.

“Whoa!” Peter exclaimed, narrowly skirting out of the way. The Human Torch zipped past him and rocketed around the room, moving at breakneck speed, gaining more and more momentum with every revolution. He was a fiery blur—careening left, right, up, around—barely turning in time to avoid crashing into the walls and ceiling. Spider-Man bobbed and weaved to stay out of his path, but it was becoming more and more difficult with every passing second. He made the mistake of jumping over Johnny as he roared past his legs. Before his feet could meet the ground again, The Human Torch had already circled the room and whipped back towards him. Peter yelped as Johnny plowed straight into him, sending both of them flying towards the back wall.

But the moment he struck Peter’s ribs, Johnny finally ran out of steam. The swell of fire engulfing his body disintegrated, and he and Peter tumbled to the ground in a heap of flailing limbs. After a few ungraceful somersaults across the floor, the pair of teens skidded to a stop, panting and smoking and disoriented.

“Shit,” Spider-Man coughed, blinking as he rose to his hands and knees. When his vision came into focus, he found Johnny staring back up at him, eyes hazy and face pallid. Their noses were only a few inches away from each other. Peter’s palms were flat against the floor on either side of his head, right above shoulders. And his knees were pressed against his hips, straddling his waist.

Peter froze. A rush of emotions he had no intention of unpacking flashed through his body. He wanted to move, but his brain was preoccupied with other affairs. Like studying the shape of Johnny’s jaw, taking note of the scar above his left eyebrow, counting the number of freckles on his peach-colored lips.

Then a loud horn jarred him out of his haze. “That’s time,” Tony’s voice rang from overhead. “Great job, you two. That was quite the spectacle.”

Johnny blinked lethargically, his eyes struggling to concentrate. They wandered about for a minute before settling on Spider-Man’s face. Heat surged into Peter’s ears. He’d never been more grateful to be wearing a mask.

“Uh, s-sorry,” Peter stammered, fumbling over himself as he tried to stand in the least mortifying way possible. “Um, good game? Anyways, er—I gotta—l-let me just—”

As it dawned on Johnny what was going on, how the two of them were positioned, rage blazed in his eyes as blush burned across his cheeks. “Get off me!” he shouted, bunching his legs to his chest and kicking Peter as hard as he could, flames jetting out of his feet to send him flying. Spider-Man sailed across the room and crashed into the wall, choking out a gasp.

“Hey!” Stark exclaimed from the control booth. “I said time! The match is over now. No more fighting.”

Peter lifted upright, gripping his stomach with a grimace. He peeled the armor off his body and flung it to the side, anger coiling in his gut as the Human Torch stood to face him. Johnny discarded his suit as well, gaze smoldering with hatred.

“Fucking freak,” he wheezed. With his back to the others, Johnny very aggressively flipped him the bird.

Peter’s jaw fell open. Okay. That does it.

Seething, Spider-Man marched towards him, throwing his hands in the air. “What is your problem?” he finally snapped.

“What’s your problem?” Johnny countered, meeting him halfway, fists lighting on fire. They glared each other down, assuming defensive stances, energy crackling between their locked gazes. If Johnny wanted his ass kicked a second time, Spider-Man was more than happy to oblige.

Suddenly, a skull-splitting shriek erupted from the speakers around them, making both teenagers double over with their hands clasping their ears. It was so piercing and shrill, Peter thought his head was going to pop. The sound drilled into their brains a few seconds longer before shutting off, rendering both of them stunned and dizzy.

“Enough,” Stark’s voice thundered from overhead, alarmingly fierce. “Johnny, Spider-Man, hit the goddamn showers. It’s clear that both of you seriously need to cool off.”

Kneading his temples, Peter squinted back towards the viewing area. Tony Stark was leering at them from behind the glass, finger hovering over the button he assumed activated the mind-numbing beep noise, eyebrows scrunched together lividly.

Shame flushed across Spider-Man’s skin. “But…” he began to say, feeling stupid and childish for getting so riled up. The words “he started it” dangled on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that would only make him look more immature.

Stark flipped a switch that opened a door behind them which led to the locker room. “Showers,” he demanded. “Both of you. Now.”

Johnny extinguished his hands and stormed out of the arena, muttering curses under his breath. Singed with frustration, queasy with embarrassment, Peter begrudgingly sulked after him. Before trudging through the doorway, he shot a glance over his shoulder at the scoreboard.

8-10.

Spider-Man marched into the locker room bitterly, shoulders hunched. At least I won, he thought, even though it didn’t feel that way at all. 

[angryschnauzer]

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together. 

Characters: Werewolf!Captain Syverson, Werewolf!Female Reader, Vampire!Walter Marshall.

Warnings (for this chapter, all small mentions but warning just in case): Breastfeeding, Accidental Cutting Injury/Blood loss, blood transfusions. This chapter contains no sex scenes or scenes of a sexual nature.

A continuation of previous Werewolf!Sy stories Moonlight on the Sand and Castle Under The Stars. This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 1

The late spring day brought pleasant scents and mouth watering flavours, Blackwater Lake’s town May day parade in full flow as you held two month old Luna in her carrier to your chest, turning to smile at your husband Sy as he balanced Mikey on his shoulders so your son could watch the floats whilst they slowly cruised past. You knew he would be most excited about the Fire Department bringing their trucks past. At the first whoop of the siren Mikey squealed with joy, the ice cream cone in his hand tipping slightly and setting a blob of blue bubblegum flavour gelato into Sy’s cheek;

“Hey, no wriggles! Its raining ice cream down here”

Pausing the consumption of your own cone you handed it to Sy as you reached into your bag and found a baby wipe, moving to wipe his cheek before stretching to wipe your son’s face. Finding a trash can to toss the wipe into, you smiled as you watched your two boys as they waved to the Fire Trucks, the crew making sure to honk their horns when they saw Sy.

Everyone in town loved Sy. You’d moved there together when you’d found out you were pregnant with Mikey, your army days behind you and wanting to seek somewhere quiet where you could live in the woods to allow for full moon runs whilst being close enough to civilisation to raise a family. The aging receptionist at the realtor had pulled you aside the second you’d arrived in their office when you’d visited the town, recognising one of her own as her nostrils had flared and she’d explained that there were ‘all sorts’ in the town. That was your first meeting with Edith, and you’d gone on to move in just up the mountain from her. Once Sy had finished in the Army and baby number two was on the way, he’d started working alongside retired detective Walter at his construction company where they specialised in commercial buildings. They were always on call for when businesses had emergencies, so had come to the aid of half the town after storms and accidents.

As the parade dragged on Luna woke, grumbling for a change and a feed. The two boys were transfixed with the parade and you’d lost your ice cream cone to Sy who was now mindlessly munching away on it. Tugging on his sleeve you caught his attention;

“Luna’s woken up, i’m gonna take her into Sue’s Coffee Shop to change her and give her a feed”

“Sure thing Darlin, we’ll come find you in a bit”

-

The coffee shop was quiet, its doors opened onto the sidewalk and as the radio played soft rock music, just one or two tables taken outside but the inside empty. Sue - the owner - smiled at you as you walked in;

“Hey Sue!”

“Hey there! What can I get'cha?”

“Can i get a decaf iced latte? I just need to change Luna if that’s ok?”

“Of course, no need to ask, the restroom is empty”

A couple of minutes later your little girl had a clean butt but was still grizzling, now hungry for your milk. Sue had set your drink onto a table in the corner, a soft window seat she knew you liked to sit at to feed. Settling in you pulled your cami top down and unhooked the strap of your nursing bra, helping Luna to latch on as she cried before a blissful quiet descended over you as she happily suckled on your breast. In the quiet of the coffee shop you reached for your drink and sipped on it, smiling down at your beautiful daughter as she gazed up at you;

“Hey there my little Luna, better now? Is that the good stuff? Yeah? Well that’s what your Daddy says it is…” you said with a whisper and a smirk.

“Hey”

The sudden greeting made you jump, looking up to see Walter standing near your table;

“Oh, Hi Walter”

“Sorry…” he glanced away, averting his eyes from where you were feeding; “I just asked if you wanted anything?”

“Oh no, i’m fine, i’ve got a coffee… but you’re welcome to join me if you like? Sy and Mikey will be along once the Parade’s over”

Nodding once the quiet man went to order before returning with what looked like a quad espresso but faltering when it came to taking a seat;

“Where did you want me to sit?”

“Oh anywhere you like” you shifted Luna as she had finished on one breast, hooking that side up before shifting and moving her to the other breast. You’d mastered the art of switching breasts without revealing anything, the baby's head blocking any view of a nipple, and you were a vehement supporter of breast feeding - in fact any feeding - and had been known to get into loud shouting matches with anyone that told you to cover up something that was completely natural.

“I mean, i don’t want Sy to think i’m here oggling his wife’s tits”

Laughing, you kicked out a soft chair with your foot;

“This is fairly low, take this one and here…” you moved the upright menu on the table in front of Luna’s head, knowing that she would now be shielded from view and with your breast, and saving Walter’s embarrassment.

Just as Walter sat down Sue brough over his sandwich, the scent of it hitting your nostrils and making your stomach audibly growl;

“Oh wow, what is that?”

“A steak wrap with chimichurri sauce” he lifted one half and offered it to you, but you shook your head.

“Thanks, but that’s just a little too rare for me… looks like a good veterinarian could bring it back to life”

Walter laughed as you called out to Sue, ordering one of the same.

“You want yours still mooing too?”

“Medium, please” you laughed as she nodded and walked away.

As she cooked your meal you turned back to Walter. You’d had a few conversations with him over the 11 months he and Sy had worked together, but knew very little about him apart from his reputation of being quiet and surly, generally sleep deprived and a little pale most of the time. He’d been medically retired from the Police Department after an accident where he’d lost a lot of blood and had never fully recovered.

As Luna happily fed and Walter devoured his sandwich you sipped on your drink, watching with curiosity as the man ate in silence, savouring each bloody bite. When he finally crumpled the napkin onto the plate and sat back he caught you watching him;

“What? Do i have something on my face?”

“No” you laughed softly; “Just watching how quickly you devoured that sandwich. Rachel not feeding you at home?”

Walter’s face dropped;

“She left”

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry Walter, i wouldn’t have said anything if i’d known”

“S’ok. She got fed up with the way i lived my life, but i can’t change who i am”

“True”

Just then Sy and Mikey came running into the coffee shop;

“Hi Darlin! Hi Sue! Hi Walt… be right back, Jnr has a bathroom emergency!”

The two Syverson boys disappeared into the restroom, and you could clearly hear Sy’s voice;

“Point! POINT IT AT THE TOILET! That’s it, stand on your tippy toes… there we go! Got here in time!”

You suppressed a laugh, Walter raising his eyebrows;

“Potty training?”

“Uh-huh… it's been a challenging few weeks to say the least, but Mikey wanted to give it a go”

The sound of the dryer could be heard as Sy and Mikey reappeared, Sy giving you double thumbs up from behind his son who ran to you;

“A perfect aim Darlin, no leaks. Think this deserves a cookie!”

As Mikey squealed with joy you groaned;

“Sy… not more sugar! He’ll be up all night. Mikey, honey, how about some fries?”

“And Eggies?” Mikey asked

“Sure thing honey, get Daddy to ask Sue”

As the afternoon wore on and the boys chatted, you listened as Sy and Walter discussed work stuff, Luna sleeping peacefully in your arms as you ate with Mikey. Finally glancing at your watch you motioned to Sy the time;

“Hun, i’ve gotta go collect our meat order from Walkers Meats”

“Oh yeah, sure. Here…” He opened his wallet and peeled off a bunch of $20’s as he turned to Walter; “She makes the best Steak Tartare… it's unbelievable”

“You make that?” Walter asked

Angling Luna into her carrier sling you adjusted the straps and nodded;

“Sure do! Hey, did you want to join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, join us!” Sy parroted; “And before you say anything, you wouldn’t be intruding”

With a weak smile Walter nodded;

“Sure, that’ll be nice. I gotta go to the lumber yard before though… pick out the stuff for next week's job”

You noticed that Mikey had finished his meal and was looking sleepy, holding your hand out to him he slid off the chair and stood next to you;

“How about I take the kids home, Sy you catch a ride with Walter?”

With everyone happy with the arrangements you made your way along main street to where Sy had parked his enormous truck, helping Mikey into his seat before unlatching Luna and settling her into her carrier. They were both fast asleep by the time you got to the drivers seat. 

You managed to park directly outside the door to Walkers Meats, and Freya the weekend girl helpfully brought everything out to you when you called inside that the kids were asleep in the car and you didn’t want to leave them.

-

Dinner had been fun. The two kids were peacefully sleeping as the three adults chatted after the meal, before you finally stood to load the dishwasher and start hand washing the items that couldn’t go in there. Just as you were about to start you heard a cry from the kids, Sy standing;

“It’s Mikey, i’ll go”

As you started to handwash the various knives and delicate glasses, Walter stood at your side to dry items, the two of you talking casually before you let out a cry and pulled your hand from the soapy bowl of water. The dark crimson of your blood flowed from your finger, the knife you’d forgotten you’d put in the sink the cause;

“Fuck… hand me a towel…” you asked Walter, but were surprised when he sucked in a sharp intake of breath and turned, hunching over. Clutching your hand to your chest, you were surprised by his reaction, before he suddenly turned and you let out a shriek.

Sy appeared at the doorway in a panic before rushing to you, wrapping a napkin around your hand before he finally turned to look at Walter;

“What the fuck…”

Walter was pale, paler than usual, but that wasn’t what shocked the pair of you. No, it was the fact his eyes were pure white except for dark pools for his pupils, and as he opened his mouth to speak you saw his fangs;

“It’s… it’s the blood…” he gasped out; “It drives me…”

Sy wrapped his arm around your shoulders, but looked at his friend as he slumped onto the floor, shaking and sobbing;

“Think we need a chat Walt”

-

The three of you sat around the kitchen table, a hefty glass of scotch in front of each of you as Walter spoke;

“So umm yeah… this is why i left the Department. Went into a supposedly abandoned building, but it wasn’t empty. Two what we thought were junkies in there, looked like they were frail and would snap in a keen wind, but they had this strength and speed… They overpowered me, latched onto my neck. Drained my blood, and when the last drop was about to pass their lips one of my officers finally found me and shot them. They bled into me. The EMT’s took me to New Mercy and gave me a massive blood transfusion, and treated me for severe anemia… well guess what, the fangs and fucked up eyes were a surprise a few weeks after i was discharged”

You sat wide eyed and mouth agape, not touching your drink;

“I have so many questions...”

“Okay”

“Garlic. Crosses. Being invited in. Sunlight…”

Walter chuckled;

“Most a load of complete bollocks. Garlic? Well you put some in your steak tartare didn’t you? In fact it helps with the anemia. Crosses? No issue. Being invited in, again that’s just rubbish. Sunlight however… why do you think i’m so pale, huh? Have to wear factor 50 all the damn time otherwise i end up looking like a Maine Lobster at a cookout”

Both you and Sy were transfixed, Walter chatting away but his eyes hadn’t returned to normal and his fangs occasionally caught on his lip as he spoke.

“What ‘bout blood then?” Sy asked

Walter cleared his throat;

“Well, i’ve been making do with cows blood since Rachel left”

“You used to suck her blood?” you asked in a high pitched voice

Again Walter cleared his throat, this time just the faintest hint of a blush crept over his cheeks above his beard;

“Err yeah, about once a month… but she had enough in the end and left”

“I got another question” Sy interjected; “Why are your fangs still out?”

Although he answered Sy, Walter looked directly at you;

“Because she’s bleeding”

You looked down at your hand, puzzled as the wound had now sealed, before it hit you;

“Oh… I should go and sort that out”

Sy caught up quickly, glancing at the back of your dress;

“You’re fine Darlin, Walt caught it in time”

When you returned to the kitchen the two men had knocked back their drinks, Sy pouring another hefty glass for the pair of them. Pouring your drink into Sy’s you smiled at him;

“Luna won’t appreciate it”

Making yourself a herb tea you sat down next to Sy, leaning on his shoulder as you sipped your tea. Walter cleared this throat;

“You two have taken this a lot better than i envisioned anyone would… better than Rachel did…”

You looked up at Sy and smiled, his own grin crossing over his face before he nodded and you both turned to Walter as Sy spoke;

“Oh… we have a bit of understanding of this kinda thing”

With the full moon starting tomorrow night you knew that you could both force your eyes to turn orange, the bright ring of fire in your irises flaming like a pyre, shocking Walter so much he slipped back on his chair and fell to the floor. Greeted by both of you giggling, he pulled himself back up using the table as he righted his chair, knocking back the rest of his glass;

“What… the… FUCK?”

[fruitcoops]

Part 3 of the disowning fic where Sirius calls Reg and Remus tells James (with Sirius’ permission ofc) and when Walburga calls Reg, he rips into her like never before. James rushing to Sirius’ house and basically having to be restrained from going to her house with Reg in tow.

Hopefully that makes sense. Sorry it’s probably really badly phrased

This makes a ton of sense--thank you for sending it in! Writing Regulus is such a neat challenge, since he and Sirius are so similar and yet so different. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Part 1 II Part 2

TW for disownment and past child abuse (mentioned)

If Sirius ever met the person that invented showers, he would kiss them on the mouth. With tongue, if requested.

His phone hummed on the coffee table; when he made no move to grab it, Remus reached over and flipped the screen up. “Reg is on the way.”

Sirius hummed and cuddled into his chest, tightening his hold on his waist. Gentle fingers combed through his damp hair and he was warm all over in the best way. His face and eyes still itched a little, and his throat was raw from crying so hard, but at least he finally felt clean. The ache in his gut had dulled.

Remus pressed his lips to the space just above Sirius’ ear and wrapped his arms around him, tracing patterns on his upper back beneath his shirt. The skin-to-skin contact was something he never knew he needed so much—he couldn’t imagine living without it now. “We should go on vacation sometime this summer,” he mused, absently braiding a few locks of Sirius’ hair.

“Where?”

“I dunno. Somewhere warm, where we can swim and you can get all sexy and tan.”

Sirius laughed against his chest and breathed in the honey-lavender smell of his soap. “As long as you promise to freckle.”

He could feel Remus smiling. “I’ll do my best. It wouldn’t have to be a long trip, either—maybe a week in Florida, or California.”

“Alabama?” Sirius teased.

“Honey.” Remus kissed his forehead. “If you take me to Alabama—” Another kiss. “—I will take the biggest spider I can find—” A third kiss, so sweet in comparison to his playful threat. “—and put it in your shoe.”

Sirius snorted. “Just divorce me, that would be nicer.”

“Mmm, no, you’d miss me too much.”

“Put a spider in my shoe and we’ll see if that’s true.” Remus’ shoulders shook under him as they laughed and Sirius kissed his collarbone, then closed his eyes. “Do we have time for a nap before Reg gets here?”

“Maybe. How fast does he drive?”

“Not as fast as Pots—”

The doorbell rang, and then kept ringing; someone knocked insistently on the door, and Sirius groaned as he untangled his limbs from Remus and wandered over.

Regulus was not alone on the porch.

“What’s her phone number?” James demanded, practically smoking with fury as he and Regulus stormed into the house. He let out a furious breath when he saw the open envelope on the kitchen counter.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at his little brother. “Did you call him?”

“Of course I called him,” Regulus scoffed. “We also called Logan.”

“Isn’t he in Canada for the rest of the week?”

“Yeah, but he said he’d be here on Friday.” Regulus gave him a quick once-over and a stormy look came over his face. “When did she drop those off?”

“She didn’t. The mailman did, just after five.” Something bitter tinged Sirius’ mouth. “That was after she tried to make Remus give them to me.”

“What a bitch.”

“Reg!”

“It’s true,” Regulus snapped, though his anger was clearly directed elsewhere. “She’s a horrible coward and you deserve better.”

James held his phone up to get Sirius’ attention. “What’s her number?”

“I’m not giving you her phone number, J.”

“Reg, what’s her number?”

Regulus bit his lip for a second, then shook his head. “She won’t know who you are, and she would sue your ass faster than you could blink if you lost your temper on her. Me, on the other hand…”

Sirius put his hand over Regulus’ phone. “Don’t do this. If she disowns you, too—”

“If she disowns me I’ll throw a fucking party!” Regulus all but shouted. The room went silent. “I am sick and tired of hiding and watching them hurt you. She doesn’t control me anymore.”

“I’m not letting you get hurt for me.”

“And I’m not asking for you permission.” Regulus stepped back and dialed a number; in the kitchen doorway, Remus and James watched them in a mix of shock and concern.

The call connected and Regulus’ whole face went stony. “What is it, Regulus?” a tinny voice asked.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Walburga sniffed. “Please, Regulus, we’ve discussed this. You have to clarify your intentions—”

“Did you disown my brother?”

“He’s not your brother anymore.” Disdain dripped from her voice and Sirius’ throat constricted as cold fire lit in Regulus’ eyes.

“He’s more family to me than you ever were.” His tone was even and deadly.

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Shut up.” A protective urge jolted in Sirius’ gut and he almost smacked the phone out of Regulus’ hand. “Just shut up.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re a coward and a liar, and I hate you.” A fine tremor slipped through and Regulus gritted his teeth. Remus touched Sirius’ elbow gently, and he gripped his hand tight.

“Listen here, you silly boy—”

“You don’t get to hurt him anymore. Sirius is a better person that you could ever dream of being and the fact that you can’t accept when your own son is happy—”

“He disgraced us—”

“You disgraced us!” Regulus snapped. “You and your rules, your blood money, your parenting that belonged more in a prison than a house! I’m not stupid, Mother, I know what you did was wrong!”

There were a few beats of silence. “I did what I did to prepare you for the real world.”

“The real world doesn’t give a ten-year-old a black eye for breaking a plate.”

Sirius closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as Remus inhaled sharply next to him; James cursed under his breath. The plate had been one of his grandmother’s, part of a twelve-piece set that they were using for Thanksgiving. One flipped corner on the rug had sent him flying, but the porcelain shard in his hand had hurt less than Walburga’s fury.

She was breathing hard on the other end of the line. “The world is a cruel place, Regulus.”

“No crueler than you.”

“Watch your mouth, you ungrateful child, or you’ll find yourself in the same shoes as that stain on our family tree.”

A flinty look came over Regulus then; if Sirius didn’t know better, he’d say he looked almost smug. “Do it. I dare you to look the media in the eye and tell them you disowned one son for being happy and the other for calling you out on your terrible parenting.”

“We disowned him for being a failure and a disgrace.”

Grey met grey as Regulus spoke next, his gaze never flickering from Sirius’ eyes. “Happily married to the love of his life, youngest captain in the league, with two Stanley Cups under his belt? Doesn’t sound like a failure to me, and far from a disgrace.”

Remus squeezed his hand as Sirius swallowed back a few tears that had started to gather. He offered a weak smile and the corners of Regulus’ eyes crinkled slightly.

“I’m hanging up the phone now,” he said, smooth and collected. Walburga was utterly silent. “Never contact me or my brother again. If you disown me, at least have the dignity to do it in person.”

He hung up and slid his phone into his back pocket. “Jesus,” James half-laughed behind them. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“That was really brave, and really stupid.” Sirius said as he walked forward. Regulus met him in the middle, tucking his head under Sirius’ chin in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“Brave and stupid, huh? I’m turning into you already.”

Sirius flicked his ear with a grin, but never loosened his hold. “Brat.”

“Love you.”

He closed his eyes and felt Regulus’ heartbeat through his palm. “Love you, too.”

“Will you at least give me her address so I can egg her house?” James asked once they separated, already moving to give Sirius another hug. He melted into it; James had the incredible ability to make him feel completely and utterly safe, like the world couldn’t touch him as long as he was there.

“As amazing as that would be, I’d rather not see you arrested.”

“Fair point.” He pulled back a bit and James searched his face. A wrinkle appeared between his brows. “How can I help?”

“This is nice.” Exhaustion made Sirius’ limbs heavy and his head was starting to throb from his earlier breakdown. James pulled him back in and two more sets of arms followed, forming a shield all around him. He felt Remus kiss his cheek and Regulus’ hand splay over his ribs; James was steady, an anchor in the storm. “How am I going to tell people about this?”

“You don’t have to,” Remus murmured.

“If I don’t, she will.”

“Then tell them the truth,” Regulus said. “Maybe not everything, but the relevant parts.”

“We’ll be here with you.” James’ voice was soft. “Us, and the rest of the team. Anything you need.”

Sirius didn’t say anything, but he did sink into the warmth of their embrace and let the weight of fear and unease lift off his shoulders. The burden wasn’t his alone; it never had been.

[wraithscomicjourney]

Today on my journey through comic book history, I read Fantastic Four 31&32, from Oct/Nov 1964

     I don’t usually do back-to-backs like this, but #31 is too minor to mention by itself, and #32 needs #31. As multi-issue story arcs begin to develop (interesting note, such things were almost unheard of before this), I imagine I’ll have to do more of these. But I digress.

     These issues are notable for explaining what happened to Johnny and Sue Storm’s father, Franklin Storm. At the start of issue #31, Sue is upset by a newspaper article mentioning an escaped convict, but won’t explain why. Towards the end, sue has been wounded by a piece of shrapnel that hit her in the head. The prognosis is bad, as the doctors explain that the only man skilled enough to have performed the necessary procedure is a recently escaped convict. Thankfully, said convict arrives on the scene, and we are introduced to Franklin Richards, father to Johnny and Sue. Franklin performs the surgery to save Sue before being taken off by the police once again.

     In issue #32, Franklin Storm's cell is invaded by a mysterious being. Before he can react, Franklin is teleported away, and the intruder takes his form. 

     The next morning, Sue and Johnny visit the warden's office, where Sue finally reveals the truth about their father: Twenty years ago, he and their mother were involved in a car accident. Surgery proved futile, and Franklin was unable to save Mary's life. Distraught by his wife's death, Franklin became addicted to gambling, racking up a massive debt. When a mobster came looking for him to pay up, the two got into a scuffle and the mobster's gun went off, killing him. Still grieving over the death of his wife and ashamed of what he had become, Franklin Storm said nothing in his own defense, and was sentenced to prison for manslaughter.

     With the story out in the open, Sue and Johnny visit the man they think is their father, to inform him that they are going to try to get him paroled early. However, the impostor tells them that he won't have to wait that long, and surprises them when he suddenly turns invisible and busts through the prison wall and escapes. As the rest of the Fantastic Four are summoned, "Franklin" assumes a costumed form and calls himself the Invincible Man. With all the powers of the Fantastic Four, he terrorizes the people of New York. Because they believe their foe is Johnny and Sue's father, the Fantastic Four hold back and are easily defeated. Seeing the Invincible Man escape so easily makes the general public believe that they are going soft on him, due to his "family relation" to the group. However, Reed runs some tests and suddenly deduces the identity of the Invincible Man.

     Reed constructs a hyper-wave transmitter and confronts the Invincible Man and explains that he has contacted his homeworld and that he knows that he is not Franklin Storm. With his cover blown, the mystery man reverts to his true form, the Super-Skrull. With their plans foiled again, the Skrull emperor teleports the Super-Skrull away. On their way back to the Baxter Building, Reed explains how he used his devices to deduce the identity of their attacker. He prepares a weapon and threatens to destroy the Skrull homeworld if they do not return Franklin Storm to them. Franklin is returned to Earth, but there is a bomb planted on him. Not wishing to harm his family, Franklin rolls over and smothers the blast and is fatally wounded. Before he dies, Franklin tells his children that he is proud of them. When the authorities arrive, they learn how Storm sacrificed his life.

This article uses material from the Fantastic Four Vol 1 32 article on Fandom.com’s Marvel Database along with original material and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike License.

[imperiuswrecked]

For the Salty Comics Ask Game - 47: What’s the worst blatantly untrue fanon take you thought was canon?

47. What’s the worst blatantly untrue fanon take you thought was canon?

These are from me first getting into Namor as a character;

1. Susan Storm cheated on Reed and slept with Namor (who is a serial cheater/home wrecker) because Reed was an emotionally abusive/negligent husband.

Nope. Never happened. Not once does it ever happen yet with the way fanon went on about it I 100% thought it was true for like a few months, maybe 6 months, until I got a chance to go through a lot of Namor's comics. It took me a year or so to be certain because by then I had read even more.

2. Namor r*ped Sue.

This was also found to be untrue as I dug deeper into Namor's comics. So around the time I got into Namor there was a Fantastic Four blog that painted him as a r*pist/horrible misogynistic asshole by taking panels out of context, and it greatly upset me because I really didn't have any resources nor was there any blogs for me to ask so I had to do the research on my own. That same blog had a lot of terrible takes that I really hate and it turned me off of wanting to learn anything about the Fantastic Four for a couple of years until I met my friend Hex who was really nice and through our conversations I began to warm up to idea of learning more about the Fantastic Four.

[the-firebird69]

You people are upsetting pilot crap with this storm is going to hit Tallahassee in moments and we're going to start ripping big stuff out and you're going to hear it and it's going to shake everything and we need to you don't need most of it and anything after each other hard and we'll use it and Stan is dwindling fast he was 2 million this morning an hour or two ago and now he's at 1 million ships and people need it too we need it when we need it, and they're using the storm against Tommy f. They were hitting them too and we're grabbing tons of stuff and we think that stans fleet will be out today. And he's going to go around town and try and mess with her son and try and evict him for no cause and we're not going to allow it in the sun was ownership to change so he can sue them and he wants to sue them badly his mom wants that too trying to have him sue his mom for his dad dying. You said Mom and Dad provided for me my whole life there's no reason why I should force a will out of them and all these people were working on them and I mean something to our race it's true too it's like taboo and these people kept pushing it and still are importantly dead people are saying it too it's gotten out that he's doing this brain surgery stuff and it's treating people very badly it is a gross pig and he was in Vietnam doing stupid s*** too and they're going after him now and he's ruined a lot of plans is just talking a******. Is condescending to a whole bunch of people and they're going after him for that and they're hitting his people and their clones of Mac and they're not loyal at all so Ben Arnold started hacking away at them and noticed that they're going after him huge bunch of them and now they're both going after them so you people are sicker than hell it's a huge War and up in Tallahassee they are diminishing rapidly and calling for reinforcements constantly and they're going there and they die and they're they're not going to make it it's very small for the fleet already and they're getting down to just the death stars and they're vulnerable and let me take it over. Is it huge huge deal that he's being attacked it's about damn time he's so sick he got very perverse real quick that can still cuz these people are doing the same things they were not right and they had to try and match their evil and they found out he was doing it so big mistake so you went hog wild with it and he's talking about biting heads off bats. And the vampires are after him and that is not a pleasant way to go you're going to go through his stuff and they're going to take over starcraft and other genre it's not a ton of ships but their ships they're moving out now we're going to publish to get it out

Thor Freya

Zues Hera we didn't write anything but we are here and learning and it is quite an experience

Olympus

[porcelana-r0ta]

Fandoms: Banana Fish and SK8 The Infinity

Title: the little ship wings home

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 8360

Relationships: Ash Lynx & Hasegawa Langa, Ash Lynx & Okumura Eiji, Ash Lynx & Shorter Wong

Summary: 

When they make their stop in Cape Cod, Ash isn’t expecting his uncle and cousin to be visiting his father. He’s further surprised to learn that they cross the American-Canadian border at least once a year to reach out to police stations and send out missing posters with computer-generated images that age with him.

Uncle Oliver has always been a good man, a family man — it’s still a mystery to Ash how Oliver’s related to his dad. Still, he’s glad that his cousin, Langa, has a parent like Oliver to be there for him.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42591162

There aren’t words to describe Eiji Okumura. Or at least, not English words.  

Ash read once that a person can be more honest, more descriptive in their second language because they have too many attachments to their mother tongue. Ash doesn’t think he is attached to anything, except maybe the grime and corruption that is Dino. Still, language is another entity altogether, one that lives and breathes and changes and adapts, but only so much as its speakers and writers allow.

So, maybe English is too personal for him. And sure, he knows French, has known it halfway since he was a kid and his aunt, uncle, and cousin would come down from Canada or bring him and Griff up to Canada for the summers. But that all became tainted with Dino, with purple bruises on his wrists and tears that old men liked either slapping away or licking away.

Dino, who spoke French with a toxic tongue and was aroused to hear it in bed—the complete opposite of his uncle’s raucous French that lilted into laughter at his own dad jokes, or his aunt’s Japanese-accented French that was stilted and as awkward as it was full of love, or his cousin’s God-awful mishmash of French-English-Japanese that he used before he reached an age of knowing the difference between the three languages.

(His father, despite having been raised in Quebec, never spoke French around him or Griff, unless it was to curse at them in public.)

Those memories are old and dead and buried now, even if he doesn’t want Dino to take them away. But Dino’s done a lot that he didn’t want.

So all Ash has is English. And all he can say is that Eiji is like flying. He’s freeing. But he still wishes that Eiji would go back to Japan where it’s safe.

The ride to Cape Cod starts tense. They all know what they’re getting into, even Eiji and Ibe, and so it’s a solemn affair. They leave New York City like they’re part of a funeral procession.

Soon, though, Shorter breaks the tension with his dumb Vine references that confuse Eiji, but Ash can appreciate them. One of the rewards Dino gave him back in 2014 was a cell phone, mostly as a test to see if Ash would try to escape, but all Ash ever did was keep up with stupid trends when he needed to mentally escape, or read illegally shared articles on astrophysics when he needed to engage his brain.

So maybe he was a nerd. Sue him.

It’s not long before they reach Ash’s shitty hometown and their first stop is the diner that Jennifer runs. (And God, why was she still with his bastard father? Jennifer deserved better.)

Jennifer, because she’s great, is ecstatic to see him. But Jennifer, because she’s also weak-willed, immediately calls in his father.

Everything his dad calls him when he comes in from the back is true, but it’s nice of Max and the others to get offended on his behalf. Polite, too. Still, they don’t need to, and they shouldn’t piss his bastard father off too badly while they’re in town because it wouldn’t be good if his dad called the cops on “trespassers” squatting in his old house. Plus, they needed the keys to the house.

“Ash, wait,” says Jennifer before they can leave (or storm off, if you aren’t Ash.). He pauses and turns to her, the others following suit. “Stay here, at least for a little bit. Your uncle and cousin are in town and they’ll be back any minute.”

Jim grumbles some choice words and Ash blinks, “Uncle Oliver and Langa?”

She nods eagerly, “They come down about once a year. Your Aunt Nanako couldn’t make it this year, I’m afraid — she’s caught up at the hospital. You remember that she’s a nurse, right?”

He does. When he would go up to Canada, she always vaguely smelled like the sterilizers and chemicals used at the hospital. She’d also sometimes regale them with PG-13 hospital horror stories. He’s seen worse and had worse done to him, but that story about prepping the skin of a necrotic foot for surgery and three toes falling off when she went to pick it up was horrifying. He’s seventeen and knows now that it couldn’t have been from not eating vegetables like she had claimed, but he still gets a little fidgety if he doesn’t eat his greens.

“Why are they here?” he asks bluntly.

“Oh, for you, of course.”

His dad scoffs and says, “I tell them every year to give up, but they still come ‘round and demand that the cops send out new missing posters with your picture on them. Guess they weren’t completely crazy for not giving up.”

Max looks like he has a few choice words for Jim, but luckily the door swings open, and two figures enter. One is tall and hulking, with dusty hair that matches his dad’s, and the other is lanky but muscled with dyed blue hair.

Langa looks completely different—puberty does that, plus he was a whole two years younger than Ash, so that’s a lot of growing up to do. But Uncle Oliver is someone that Ash will always recognize.

“Oh,” says his uncle, eyes scanning over them all. They hesitate on Ash, and the world stills. He doesn’t know if he wants Oliver to recognize him.

Can you see me? See the eight-year-old who you took fishing? Who you taught the basics of snowboarding to? What has Jim told you all these years? Do you know that I’m a whore?

Oliver lets out a shaky breath, his eyes watery, but it is Langa who reverently says, “Aslan.”

Oliver’s hand clasps over his mouth, and then he’s crossed the threshold to embrace Ash. He clutches him tight, right into his chest, as if he wants his chest cavity to open up and swallow Ash and protect him right alongside his heart, and Ash doesn’t even feel panic.

How could he, when Uncle Oliver is the only adult man he’s ever felt safe around in his whole life? When apparently that feeling hasn’t changed any, even with all the years that have separated their last meeting?

Still, he doesn’t melt into the hug. He does, however, offer him a pat on the back.

“Oh, Aslan,” he says, his hand cupping the crown of Ash’s head.

He’s warm. Protective. It’s been years since Ash felt a touch like this.

After what feels like hours, Oliver pulls away, but Langa quickly fills his place. Langa’s hug is a lot less protective, but just as warm and kind.

He squeezes around Ash’s middle and pulls away, far less touchy-feely than Oliver. That, at least, is something that hasn’t changed about Langa.

“Kiddo,” says Oliver, “Where have you been? At least 80% of my stress lines are because of you.”

There are a million things to say to that, and all of them would probably break Uncle Oliver’s heart and traumatize Eiji and Langa, but Jim sums it up perfectly when he mutters, “Where do you think? Whoring himself out again.”

Ash didn’t know that his uncle could make the fiery expression that crosses over his face, but sure enough, his eyebrows furrow and his mouth thins into a scowl, and the glare that passes to Jim could give Medusa a run for her money.

“Oh, boy,” says Langa, quiet and long-suffering, and then Oliver begins to tear into Jim in rapid-fire French. Jennifer looks just as tired as Langa.

“What, uh, what is he saying?” asks Shorter.

“Right now?” asks Langa. “He’s threatening to shove a nest of cockroaches up Uncle Jim’s anus. But it’s probably going to start into the usual rant soon enough.”

“The usual rant?” Ash raises an eyebrow as Max goes, “Jesus Christ.”

“That one’s just about how Jim’s a bad father and needs to step up, but then it also leads into how Grandma should have aborted him but saved the fetus in a jar so Dad can shake it whenever he feels angry.”

“Why wouldn’t Grandma keep it? Or keep it at all?”

Langa just shrugs then grabs Ash’s hand, “Come on, they’ll be at this for a while. We can do whatever it is you came here for while they argue.”

“They do this frequently then?” Ash allows himself to be led out, barely remembering to give Jennifer a wave as they exit and the others follow.

“Dad says he solved his anger issues by saving them all up for our annual trip down here so he can yell at his older brother with ‘maximum efficiency.’”

Ash snorts.

“Well, that answers that.” He then introduces everyone to Langa and Langa to everyone, and his eyes light up at Ibe and Eiji, and he says something in Japanese. The two look similarly excited and respond in kind.

For everyone’s benefit, Langa says in an English explanation, “I’m half-Japanese. Mom’s from Okinawa.”

“I remember when you spoke Japanese, French, and English and didn’t know that they were three separate languages.”

Langa flushes and looks away, dropping Ash’s hand so he can cross his arms, “Remind me of how many languages you can speak, again?”

“One and a half.” He ruffles Langa’s hair and ignores his swatting hands. “You joining us? We’re going to the old house to search through some of Griff’s old stuff.”

“Anything’s better than listening to Dad tell Jim how he’s gonna postnatally abort him to become an only child. It gets old after, like, five minutes.” On cue, Jim’s voice joins Oliver’s, as if confirming that Oliver’s threats are becoming more violent.

“Great, then c’mon.” He reaches an arm around Langa’s shoulders and leads him to the back of the truck, where Shorter and Eiji climb in after them and Max and Ibe into the front.

“Wow,” says Langa, “This doesn’t feel shady at all.”

“Shut it, kid.” Ash flicks his arm and Langa sticks his tongue out maturely.

“So you two are cousins?” asks Eiji.

“You have any embarrassing stories about Ash?” says Shorter simultaneously.

“Yes to both,” answers his menace cousin, with only a scrunch of his nose at the name Ash over Aslan. “Do you want the stories chronologically or alphabetically?”

“No,” Ash says to Shorter’s gleeful face. “No. No stories. Or I’ll throw everyone out of the moving truck.”

“Even me? Your favorite cousin?”

“My only cousin.”

“What about poor, sweet, innocent Eiji?” Shorter asks with a pout.

Ash sends a glance over to the man in question and ignores how Eiji’s smile makes his stomach flutter, “I guess he can stay.”

Eiji’s smile turns mischievous, “But what if I want to hear the stories, too?”

Shorter cackles and Langa covers his mouth in a futile attempt to hide his giggles, but Ash is too shocked over Eiji’s audacity to react to them.

“How could you?”

“I am sorry, Ash, but the best way to bond with a new friend is to torment the only mutual friend between them.”

This response only has Shorter double over in his cacking, his sunglasses sliding off his face to reveal tears. Ash’s jaw drops a little, too—Eiji’s not innocent, he’s a little shit.  

“That’s it. You’re all being thrown out of the moving truck, now.”

“But what would you tell my dad?” Langa blinks at him, eyes wide, and Ash is reminded of seven-year-old Langa who was confused and hurt about why Ash didn’t want him to watch his Little League games anymore.

“I’d say that there was a tragic, terrible accident and that I’ll be forever haunted by survivor’s guilt, and to please not ask too many questions, it’s still so fresh and hard.”

Langa narrows his eyes, “What would you tell my mom?”

That makes Ash pause, “I think I’d just beg for mercy.”

“Valid. Are you still too scared to not eat your broccoli?”

“What?” Shorter sounds as delighted as Eiji looks.

Ash can feel his defenses rising, “She told us a horror story about toes falling off if we didn’t eat vegetables! I was eight and trusted my aunt who is also a nurse so of course she knew what she was talking about!”

Shorter rubbed his hands over his eyes, likely irritated from how watery they got from his gut-busting laughter, “Christ. So you would have ended up with light trauma either way, huh….”

Ash tenses and he feels Langa’s gaze on him, suddenly intuitive and piercing for a fifteen-year-old. He turns to meet his gaze and thinks, Ask. I know you want to. Ask about what happened to me so I can confirm the old bastard’s words.

Langa opens his mouth and asks, “So that’s a yes to the vegetables, then?”

Relief and frustration both flood him even as he plays up his annoyance with a  growl, “You’re relentless.” He adds a lighthearted punch to his junior to punctuate his words.

“Now, now, Ash,” Eiji scolds, “You should treat your younger relatives with kindness.”

“Not Langa. The kid’s a brat. You just don’t know because you haven’t seen him shoplift candy from the gas station and then not even get in trouble for it when the clerk caught him just because he cried. They even let him keep the candy.”

“I was five and didn’t know what stealing was! Let it go! I thought I was going to go to jail when Mom explained it to me!”

“Let the vegetable thing go.”

“....I guess we’re at an impasse.”

Ash snorts and flicks Langa’s nose, “They wouldn’t be able to put someone like you in jail, anyway. I think you’d combust if you actually did anything illegal.”

Langa stares at him blankly, then from his jacket pocket, he fishes out a Ziploc baggie of weed, and Ash’s brain short circuits.

“Oh shit,” says Shorter. “Gimme some of that.”

“No way!” Ash says, and swats at Langa until he puts it back in his pocket. “Don’t let Max see you with that; he’ll freak the fuck out. Besides, weed isn’t even illegal in Massachusetts.”

“I bought it in NYC,” Langa says. “Like, thirty minutes after getting into the city. And I’ve been smoking since I was twelve.”

“And Oliver and Nanako let you?”  

“They didn’t find out until last year. They were kinda upset because they wanted me to try it in a controlled environment, but they also left me alone with older snowboarders who were stoners, so.” He turns to Shorter, “I charge $40 per gram.”

“You’re out of your fuckin’ mind,” Shorter scoffs. “I’ll just buy some for cheap from someone at a gas station or something.”

“Good luck with that here. We’re in a town of 300 people. The only person who sells is a high schooler and that’s just to people who he knows won’t rat him out..”

“Fuck,” curses Shorter, and he looks like he’s considering Langa’s offer. Ash is reluctantly proud.

“I have never smoked marijuana,” says Eiji, curiosity on his face. “What is it like?”

“If you wanna find out, I’ll let you try for free.”

“Bro, what?”

Ash clicks his tongue, “Come on, Shorter. Everyone knows that the first try is free so you can get ‘em hooked.”

“You’re all actually evil.”

“You are very kind, Langa-kun,” says Eiji, and Langa smiles with a side-eye to Shorter, who now looks like he is being tormented by Sing instead of Ash’s own cousin.

“Can we go back to making fun of Ash?”

“No,” everyone choruses and Shorter sinks down until he’s flat on the bed of the truck.

“One day. One day, you’ll all regret.”

Eiji pats Shorter’s head condescendingly, “Of course we will, friend. Of course we will.” His voice is like a first-grade teacher’s when dealing with a melodramatic student, which adds insult to injury.

“I’m so mistreated,” comes the petulant voice as the truck slows to a stop. “Thank God, we’re here. Now my suffering can end.”

“This is just the beginning, you dumb bitch,” Ash says and ignores Shorter flipping him off. They all stand and hop out of the truck, and Ash is sure to hold his hand out for Eiji to grab onto as he does so, and then for Langa, too.

And maybe Shorter has a point about Langa being evil because the kid looks at Eiji, back to Ash, and then smirks before taking his hand and jumping out.

“Not one word.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

The doors in the front slam shut as Max and Ibe exit.

“I hope the boys weren’t mean to you while we drove, Langa,” Max says good-naturedly.

“Langa-kun is an angel,” Eiji says before anyone can speak up, and Ash regrets every decision that has ever led him to this moment. “I am not sure how he is related to Ash.”

“A complete betrayal,” Ash mutters to himself, then clears his throat and says, “Okay, let’s go in. We need to start searching.”

“What are you looking for?” asks Langa, and Ash considers his words before saying:

“We’re looking for something of Griff’s. Anything that says ‘banana fish’ could be a lead.”

“How specific,” says Langa as they step onto the porch and Ash unlocks the door, and they all flood in. Ash instinctively flicks the light switch even though he knows the power’s been cut. “What happened to Griffin, anyway? Jim would never say anything other than he got shot overseas.”

A heavy silence settles over the group, one that presses deep into everyone but Shorter, and Langa shuffles, obviously sensing the sore spot that he’s accidentally breached.

“Just that,” Ash finally says. “He passed away.”

“....Oh. I’m—”

“Don’t. He was your family, too.”

“....Is. He’s still family, even if he’s gone.” He clears his throat, then unsubtly changes the subject, “What exactly is a banana fish?”

“It’s from a J.D. Salinger short story,” Max says, turning on his phone’s flashlight. “They’re basically a symbol of death.”

“So we’re looking for his high school ELA homework.”

“You make it sound more boring than it is,” Eiji teases.

“Maybe that’s because it is boring,” Langa mutters, turning on his own flashlight, and they all do the same.

“Don’t be a brat,” Ash says, and then they all get to work, with one minor interruption from Eiji’s start at a rat leaping out of a drawer.

Langa is keen on sticking near Ash the whole time, which Ash is fine with. It reminds him of when they were young, before Marvin and before his Little League coach. Langa was his summer shadow just as he was Griff’s permanent shadow. He’d loved having a little brother for those summers, someone who he could take care of like Griff took care of him, and someone who got to see how awesome Griff was right alongside him.

Building forts in his bedroom, telling spooky stories, tackling Griff for a play-fight and Griff letting them win and feel victory….

A good chunk of those memories happened here in this shithole town, but the town is still the worst. Those memories were borne of outsiders who brought the good with them—it’s not innate here.

That good might be innate in Langa, though, just like it was with Griff.

“Dad just texted,” says Langa some time into their search through dusty boxes and drawers. “He says he’s bringing food. And he also says that you have to FaceTime Mom after her shift.”

“I’m surprised she can wait that long.” Aunt Nanako was very excitable about family.

“She can’t. Dad hasn’t told her yet so she can get through the rest of her shift.”

“She’s going to kill him for that.”

“He says that she’ll calm down by the time he gets back to Canada and that for now, the border patrol will keep him safe.”

“That’s a lot of faith to put into strangers.”

Langa snorts.

From across the room, Shorter asks, “Is your mom actually that scary, Langa?”

“I mean, Dad gets all of his threats from her, which she gets from work. So she knows how to actually do everything she threatens to. And she never would, but like… what if she would? It’s just not worth the risk once you hear about all the horrors the human body can survive and then also not survive.”

“Huh,” says Ash. “What was the last hospital horror story she told you? They’ve got to be more graphic now that you aren’t seven.”

“Last week she talked about a man who shoved a live rat up his ass. It wasn’t alive when they pulled it out.”

“Jesus Christ,” says Max, looking green. “I have an idea: what if we stopped this conversation here and now?”

Everyone else looks similarly disgusted, so Langa and Ash concede. Though Ash gives Langa a significant look and Langa nods his understanding—more hospital horror stories later, probably straight from the horse’s mouth on the FaceTime call.

They then take the time to search Griff’s old room and quickly find a photo album from his military service. Ash puts down the Little League photo of himself and Griffin to look through the album with the others, doing his best not to feel Langa’s eyes on him as he does so.

“He’s the man who shot Ash’s brother,” says Eiji, pointing to a scruffy redhead with glasses. Langa stiffens beside Ash, and despite his expectations, he doesn’t ask anything.

“Hmm,” hums Max, “You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

“This is the unit Griff was in before we met. The dog tag is different….” They searched for a list of names, Max taking the album and sitting at the chair by the window while everyone else gathers around.

“There,” says Max after a moment. “Abraham Dawson. He lives in LA. 102, 42 Westwood. That’s the address Steven Thompson said before he died.”

Langa’s eyes widened. He’s been growing more and more alarmed for a while now. “Died?”

Ash is prepared to ignore the topic and is already scrolling through a Google search, “There’s nothing on him on the Internet.”

“I guess we’ll have to go there and find out.”

“Golzine doesn’t have any men out west,” Shorter muses.

Langa looks ready to burst, but then the sound of the front door slamming open interrupts anything that he might say. It may make Ash a coward, but he’s relieved, especially when he hears Uncle Oliver’s voice call out, “Aslan, Langa, I’m here!”

They all break for lunch (sandwiches from the bigger town fifteen minutes away) and more introductions and thanks. Oliver drags Ash into another bone-melting hug and pulls Langa into it, too, making it a group hug that squishes Ash in between two of the only family members who gave a shit about him.

Later that night, after the FT call with a tearful Aunt Nanako, it’s just Oliver and him on the front porch, the lantern that Jennifer brought between them, and they watch the fireflies that flick between trees and across the field.

Finally, in the silence, Oliver asks, “Aslan. What happened to you?”

He shrugs. Doesn’t know what to say. Where to start. Oliver already knew about his Little League coach—and Langa likely does too, now, since he’s old enough for Nanako’s NC-17 hospital horror stories, or at least has basic internet skills and can look up Bluebeard of Cape Cod.

“Ran away,” he finally settles on. “Got picked up by a pedophile.” And Oliver’s face drains of all color. “It’s cool if you don’t want Langa hanging around me anymore. I get it.”

Oliver, very seriously, asks, “Can I hug you?”

“What?” No one’s ever asked before. They just do it. And Oliver should be disgusted. He’s been touched and photographed and violated and polluted and he shouldn’t want Ash around his son to turn dirty and ruined.

“Can I hug you?”

“But– why?”

“Aslan, I love you like my own kid.” Oliver’s eyes, dimly lit by the lantern, are telling the truth. “You’re more my son than my nephew, and every day I curse myself for not getting you and Griff out of America. And now I curse myself even more. I could never, ever hate you for what someone else did to you, and I could never ban Langa from hanging out with his older brother. So I ask again: can I hug you?”

He’s trembling, but he still answers, “Y-yes.” And he’s swept up in strong arms, a hand guarding over his back and another caressing his head, fingers sifting through hair protectively instead of possessively, and Uncle Oliver rocks him. And he feels like a child again.

Oliver buries his face into Ash’s hair, and he must have read his mind earlier because he says in a choked-up voice, “Aslan. You aren’t dirty.”

For some reason, this is what makes Ash break. Because he doesn’t say it like he believes it, but like it’s a fact. Like it’s unquestionable and not based on belief. It just is.  

Ash isn’t dirty. Fact, not belief.

A sob catches in his throat, but then it grows too big to stay, and it tears through his lips. The floodgates open from his eyes. His face goes hot and his ears ring. His chest quakes. He feels small in his uncle’s arms.

“Honey,” soothes Oliver. “It’s okay. I have you now. I have you.”

Time passes. Ash stills, his breathing calms, and the tears cease.

In the resulting silence, Oliver requests, “I want you to say it. Say that you aren’t dirty. That it wasn’t your fault.”

His breathing hitches and he shrinks in Oliver’s grip, shaking his head.

“I can’t,” he says, trying to imagine just even forming the words. “I can’t.” Not even as a lie to comfort Oliver could he utter those words.

His uncle just tightens his hold, “That’s okay, Aslan. That’s okay. We’ll just work our way up, hmm?”

In spite of himself, he nods. He’ll agree if it means the subject is dropped.

They won’t even be here a full week, anyway.

xxx

“Your cousin is kind,” Eiji says the next day while Max works on fixing up the truck, even though he can clearly see Langa triumphantly scam Shorter of $40 from their place on the hill above the lake since Max and Ibe weren’t around to scold Langa for selling (and also smoking in the first place).

“You don’t have to lie. You can just say he’s a menace now that he’s a teenager.”

“You are a teenager, too.”

“Whatever. You look like you’re eleven.” He doesn’t bother defending from Eiji’s smack because he already knows that it won’t hurt.

“I am older than you.”

“I still haven’t seen any official documents that prove that.”

Eiji rolls his eyes, “You are a very rude American.”

“Some stereotypes are based in truth.”

“Funny,” Eiji deadpans, then turns his gaze back to the lake, where Shorter is now giving Langa a noogie like he’s his cousin and not Ash’s. He lifts his camera, which had been resting from the strap around his neck, so he can steal a few shots of the scene. “Are you happy to see them? They seem happy to see you.”

Ash exhales for long enough that he feels like a deflated balloon by the time he finishes.

“There could have been a more convenient time,” he says politically. A time when they weren’t on the run from the literal mafia, from a man who would take one look at his baby-faced cousin who spoke perfect French (if in a Canadian dialect) and wouldn’t hesitate to take him to remind Ash of the punishment that disobedience brings.

“You can say that about many things. But we are discussing now, and your feelings on your uncle and cousin, irregardless of circumstance.”

“Regardless,” Ash absently corrects, smirking when Langa yanks so hard on Shorter’s mohawk that the resounding yelp is more like a shriek. “I suppose I’m glad to see them. Langa’s grown a lot. Oliver… well, he looks mostly the same, with a few more age lines.”

“Stress lines.” Eiji grins. “Caused by you, remember?”

“You can go right back to Japan if you’re going to have that attitude.”

“Back home, we call people like you tsundere.”

“Oh? And what’s that mean?” He turns to face Eiji, and his dark eyes are deeper than Ash remembers them from his last glance.

“It means,” says Eiji, poking him in the chest, and the touch is gentle like a monarch butterfly landing on a flower. But it’s nothing compared to how gentle his voice goes, quiet and caring like a spring breeze that steals away concrete heat. “That you are soft and love very deeply. But you act cold and indifferent to protect yourself, so you rarely allow your true self to show. Am I right?”

Ash has been thoroughly read before. By his brother, by his aunt and uncle, and then by Dino and some of his men. But he hasn’t been read so accurately yet so kindly before.

Ash loves his brother and Skipper, which is why it is agony to think of them for too long. He loves his aunt and uncle, which is why he cannot allow himself to think of a life with them, even if he desperately wants it. He loves his cousin, which is why he would kill himself before ever allowing Langa near Dino. He loves Shorter, which is why he can allow Shorter so close to him.

And maybe he could love Eiji, which is why Ash needs to convince him to go back to Japan.

“I was acting pretty open last night.”

“It doesn’t count when it is the only safe adult you had in your childhood.”

Ash snorts a laugh, “You aren’t my therapist.”

“But I am your friend. And—”

And Eiji’s words are cut off by Shorter and Langa running up to them, and Shorter saying, “Guys, we need to have a chicken fight!”

Ash gives him a deadpan stare, both for the interruption and for the stupid suggestion, “We are not holding lit cigarettes on each—”

“Not that kind of chicken! The water kind! Where one person sits on another person’s shoulders and two other people do the same and then the two on top try to knock each other off.”

“Oh! I’ve played that in Japan before.”

“That lake water is probably freezing.”

Langa looked at Ash with big blue eyes, “Please, Aslan? I’ve never played before and it sounds fun.”

“You’re not gonna hurt your little cousin’s dreams, are you, Ash?” Shorter joins in.

“You make me feel like a monster. Fine. Shorter, you’re—”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Shorter says, throwing his arm around Langa’s shoulders. “ I already agreed to be on Langa’s team. That’s okay, though, because you can hold Eiji up.” And suddenly Ash knew exactly what Shorter was doing.

“No,” Eiji complains, then grabs Ash’s upper arm, “I want to hold you up!”

Shorter is delirious with glee, “Well, who are we to deny your request?”

“No way, are you even strong enough to hold me up?”

Eiji’s brow furrows and he looks just as determined as he was when he flew over a nine-foot wall with barbed wire over the top, “I am a former athlete, remember? I can hold you.” Then he pushes the sleeves of the yellow hoodie he stole from Shorter up as high as he can manage and flexes his arm, showcasing his brawny musculature.

Ash curses his whiteness because of how immediately he feels the heat, and judging from Shorter’s wicked mirth, it shows in a visible red on his face.

“Ooooh, Eiji, I didn’t realize how much you were packing,” says Shorter, making grabby-hands. “Can I feel?”

What’s worse than Shorter asking is that Eiji looks ready to say yes, so Ash quickly slaps his hands away and says, “No, you can’t feel Eiji up! Leave him alone, damn.”

“So will you let me be the bottom, Ash?” Eiji blinks innocently at him, and Shorter doubles over in body-shattering cackles. Even Langa, who had been looking between them all in oblivious confusion, covers his mouth to hide his snickers, and realization starts to bloom in his eyes.

Ash wants to drown them all in the lake before having a chicken fight with them.

“Ugh, fine, whatever.”

So they all go down the hill and shed all their clothes but their boxers, and Eiji’s camera gets wrapped up in the yellow hoodie, and they make similar protective measures with their other valuables.

Ash carefully avoids noting just how much Eiji was “packing” as they step into the freezing water. The ground beneath their feet is loamy and slick, which is perfect for adding an extra hazard in their upcoming chicken fight.

Once at chest level, Ash turns his shy eyes to Eiji, “So… how are we doing this?”

Eiji’s smile is so warm that Ash no longer feels the absolutely glacial chill of the lake, “Here, I will go under to give you the space to wrap your legs around my neck and shoulders, okay?”

He bites down the reflexive reply of, Next time you can wrap your legs around my neck, and instead just nods.

Eiji lines his back to Ash’s chest and ducks under the water, and Ash quickly lifts his legs over Eiji’s shoulders. While under, Eiji’s hands find Ash’s thighs to help guide him into position, and Ash wants to crawl into a hole and die with how much his crotch presses into the back of Eiji’s head. Eiji’s hands then move down to safer, less exciting territory, gripping at his knees.

Eiji starts to stand, and Ash wobbles briefly before straightening out and Eiji surfaces. A glance at their competition reveals that Langa’s been delegated to the top, and Shorter has also come up.

“Cousin vs. cousin,” Shorter says with a crooked grin, and Langa looks particularly invigorated. “You comfortable up there, Ash?”

“Never better.” His voice comes out more strangled than he meant it to.

“What about you, Langa? I mean, you are going up against Ash, after all.”

“I’m okay,” Langa says, and Ash doesn’t let himself feel bad about how he’s had training from a literal mercenary. The Cain Instinct is real and extends to cousins who are like brothers.

…But maybe it'd be a good idea to tone it down for Langa. Ash knows how to maim someone, and he's more afraid of Aunt Nanako than Dino.

Disappointing someone he loves is scarier than any torture Ash could ever face.

The pairs face each other, with about two yards of space in between them. While Shorter counts down to signal the start of the chicken fight, Ash studies his cousin to distract himself from Eiji's hands on his legs.

He'd last seen Langa when he was eleven and Langa was nine. Ash would be making an understatement to say Langa was shy, but Langa sure could smile and talk once someone pushed their way into his life. He and Griff never had that problem—or never as far back as Ash could remember. Little Langa was so short and pudgy with baby fat, and had the biggest blue-green eyes imaginable. In the winters, he liked to hide behind blue scarves and beneath neon green beanies, like a colorful eyesore that demands attention even as it tries to camouflage itself. The summers were similar in that he'd cover up with a blue dinosaur hoodie that had green osteoderms along the hood and back.

Now he's fifteen, but his quiet demeanor has lessened. (Or it's been temporarily locked away in the joy of Ash's return.) He's snarky and taller, though still thankfully shorter than Ash. He smokes now, which what the hell? Ash smokes sometimes but his baby cousin? And that baby fat has begun to melt away, primarily from his body given his dedication to snowboarding, assuming that he still snowboards and hasn't taken up a different sport. Still, his face is that of a baby's, just a little too round to be an adult's, with the acne of a teenager who can't remember or care to adhere to a skin routine.

"Three… two… one, go!"

And Eiji lunges forward to meet Shorter.

Langa's hands meet Ash's, and Ash is surprised by the strength in his grip. Definitely into some kind of sport, or at least hit the gym regularly. Still, Ash can already feel Langa’s muscles strain beneath his grip, unused to pushing back against an active force.

A smirk flicks up Ash’s lips, and he starts to rotate his wrists while pushing back. Panic flashes across Langa’s face as he loses ground.

“Langa, no!” cries Shorter from below. “Oh God Langa, no, push harder!”

“I’m trying!” Langa says over Eiji’s manic laughter. Then a shift comes over his face, turning from cornered frustration to sibling mischief, and he says, “Sorry, Shorter,” at the same time Ash recognizes that maybe he’s in trouble.

And sure enough, not only does Langa stop resisting Ash, but he leans back while keeping hold of Ash’s hands, pulling him down into the water along with him with a splash!  

Shorter gets shoved under too thanks to the body mass of both Ash and Langa on top of him. Ash feels Eiji’s head slip away before he can fall under the water.

It’s a tangle of limbs for a second long enough for Ash to feel panic about getting to the surface. Once he finally rights himself and bursts into the air, he sees Langa apologetically holding Shorter up while Shorter pretends to hack up dirty lake water, with Eiji watching on in half-concern and half-amusement.

“How could you, Langa? Your own teammate?” His mournful pleas are interspersed with coughs.

Normally Ash would be against Shorter’s dramatics, but…

“He’s right. What the fuck, Langa?”

His cousin jostles Shorter when he shrugs his shoulders, “If I’m going to lose, then so is everyone else.”

“....Jesus Christ, kid.” Shorter removes himself from Langa.

“Cain Instinct,” Langa says shortly.

“Cain only went after his brother. This was, like, a Hitler Instinct or something.”

Shorter has to dodge Langa’s swat at that comment, and then he has to dodge Langa trying to full-on body slam him back into the water.

“Ugh– why is your cousin so fucking—” Shorter’s complaints are interrupted by Langa successfully dunking him into the water. As he rises back up, Langa swims back, closer to Ash and Eiji, to gain distance from Shorter’s ire.

Shorter’s face is obscured by his sopping wet hair, and his shoulders are partially slumped. What is visible on his face is the thin line of his mouth, straight in a scowl.

“Aw, shit,” Langa whispers, and it triggers Shorter into a splashing frenzy that takes Ash and Eiji as unintended casualties.

Lake water splashed into his eyes and up his nose, Ash doesn’t hold back against Shorter. Neither does Eiji.

The scene upon the lake is four boys enjoying summer with a childish splash fight, and not one of a boy who is dirty and used and worthless infecting three others who are perfectly fine.

Later, after they wear themselves out and drag themselves to lay in the green clovers beside the lake, Langa finally turns to Ash and asks, “So are you going to actually tell me what’s going on?”

Ash has been waiting for this moment, for Langa to finally break and ask for an explanation. Why he’s been gone for seven years. What he’s been doing, why he’s suddenly back, and why he’s searching for supposed ELA homework.

But even knowing that this moment was coming, and even with all of Ash’s intellect, he doesn’t know how to answer Langa.

“It’s not safe,” he says because he doesn’t want to outright say no, but he doesn’t want to tell Langa the truth.

“That’s bullshit.” Langa shifts to lay completely on his side to face Ash better, and his eyes are stern. Ash meets his gaze unflinchingly. “Aslan. You told Dad last night.”

“He’s an adult.” And Ash only told Uncle Oliver a little bit.

“I’m fifteen, not a baby.”

“You’re always gonna be a baby to me.”

Langa huffs, “Okay, mom. But seriously: what are you guys running from?” Ash can practically see the name Golzine turn around in Langa’s mind.

Ash can sense Shorter and Eiji stiffen from his other side, and he has to restrain from rolling his eyes. Eiji, he can understand, but Shorter should have his tells on a leash.

“We’re not running from anything.” They’re running from an anyone.

Shorter sits up, prompting Eiji to do the same.

“Ash, man, come on. You can tell him just a little.”

His skin prickles and he grits his teeth.

“It’s better that he has an idea of what’s going on. Just in case.”

Some of the fight leaves him at Shorter’s words. What if Dino found out that they’d run into Langa and Uncle Oliver? Wouldn’t it be better to know the devil?

His muscles unclench and he exhales, and while looking at Langa’s expectant, open face, he says, “There’s a man. Dino Golzine. He’s… an American businessman. And he has his hand in politics.”

“As businessmen do.” Langa nods, an awkward horizontal thing from his place against the clovers. Despite the serious conversation topic, Ash has to hold back a grin at the picture his cousin made.

“Right. He’s bad news and has the money to keep people on his payroll. We’re trying to take him down.”

“Like in that movie Big Fat Liar with Amanda Bynes.”

“Uhh, sure,” Ash agrees while Shorter snorts, even though he doesn’t actually know what that movie is. He recognizes Amanda Bynes, at least. “But with higher stakes. Life and death stuff. So you can’t go talking about it to people, and you need to keep your head down while in the States, okay?”

“Okay.” Langa reaches forward for Ash’s hand, and Ash indulges him. He smiles when Langa squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back. “But you have to promise me something.”

His stomach flips uneasily, “What is it?”

“You have to come visit us in Canada once you finish, okay? Maybe even stay up there with us. For as long as you want, anyway.”

“Langa—”

“Please, Azzy,” and Langa stares up at him with big aqua eyes, and Ash finally realizes the merit of lying to children.

“Sure, Langa. I’ll come up and visit.”

Langa grins and turns his gaze to the clouds.

“We can go snowboarding again. And you should bring Eiji and Shorter, too.”

“Hell yeah, Little Man,” cheerfully chimes Shorter. “I’m in! What about you, Eiji?”

“Me too!” Eiji agrees easily.

Ash smiles and tries not to feel sick.

Everything would work out.

xxx

The day passes and fades into night and Ash is on his way to talk with Jim after the spat his father had with Eiji and Max. He takes one step up the stairs to the diner when he hears Jennifer sobbing and the low undertones of men’s voices.

His stomach clenches and his gun is out before he can form words. He carefully steps up to the diner, pressing his body flat against the wall beside the window.

“How long until the Lynx shows up, you think?” grunts one of the men inside.

“Soon,” says the other. “After all, he’s been pretty friendly with this one.” Then he hears Langa whimper and Ash’s blood freezes.

Shit.

“Don’t touch my son,” comes the snarling voice of Uncle Oliver.

Double shit.

“Touchy,” tsks the man. “You know, kid looks a lot like Lynx. Bet Papa Dino would appreciate ‘im.”

There aren’t many things that make Ash sick anymore. The thought of Golzine anywhere near his baby cousin is one of the few things that can get to him, and it’s only Ash’s survival instincts that keep his knees from turning to jelly.

He hasn’t lived this long by letting himself feel things like fear or guilt or shame.

“You bastards,” sneers Oliver, and Ash mentally berates him for continuing to speak.

“You’re not really in the position for name-calling, are you?” asks the first man, and Ash can picture the way he must be toting a gun in Oliver’s face or in Langa’s.

Ash is in the middle of coming up with a game plan when Eiji suddenly calls his name, and before he can really react, a bullet bursts through the window. The men inside yell for Ash to come out at the same time Langa starts crying along with Jennifer.

Well, fuck.

“You hear us, Lynx? Throw away your gun and come out if you want them to live.”

He grits his teeth but doesn't move.

“Fine,” says the man. “The woman goes first, then the men. The kid we’ll take to Dino.”

“Stop, don’t touch them!” Ash calls out upon hearing Jennifer’s crying increase. He throws his gun through the broken window and then steps through, even though he knows Dino’s men won’t follow through with their word. He just needs to stall.

“Go to hell,” he says, hands behind his head, taking in the scene in front of him.

There’s three men, despite only hearing two. One holds a gun to Jim’s head, another to Oliver’s. The third has Langa’s arm twisted behind his back, gun to his skull, and Jennifer is shoved just to the side, like she was forgotten about as soon as Ash threw in his gun.

“Aren’t you glad you have such a loving son?” asks the man holding Jim hostage.

The one holding Langa tilts his head toward Jennifer.

“Go,” he commands, and she sprints to stand beside Ash.

“Sorry for dragging you into this.” He means it for her, but he flicks his eyes to Oliver and Langa, too. And maybe a little to his shithole father.

“You’re an idiot,” interrupts the one holding Langa. “You really thought you could beat Papa Dino? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. The orders are to capture you alive.” He releases his hold on Langa to raise up a pair of handcuffs.

Ash grimaces, and then the diner is flooded with lights.

“Freeze, police! Put your hands up!” It’s Max’s voice.

Ash doesn’t waste the opportunity to rush forward and kick the man away from his cousin.

“You punk,” he curses, and he tries to aim his gun at Ash. But when he fires, the bullet hits Jennifer.

Ash makes a fatal mistake — he turns to look behind him and watches as she falls. She’s probably dead before she even hits the ground. And before he can even process that, Oliver and Jim are attacking the other two men, Jim commanding, “Run, Ash!”

He turns at the sounds of more gunshots and is greeted by the sight of Jim falling, clutching at his shoulder.

“Dad!” he cries and dives for his gun, skidding across the hardwood floors. He grabs it and immediately takes aim, shooting the three men dead.

“Dad!” he stumbles up and wavers in his step because it’s not just Jim on the ground and bleeding, but Oliver, too.

Except there’s not much left of Oliver’s face and there’s a lot of brain matter on the floor and the walls.

“Papa,” says Langa, staggering over. His words are lilted in French, soft and high and hysterical. “Non. Non, non. S'il vous plaît, non.” He collapses on his knees, hands trembling, hovering over his father’s dead body, like he wants to touch but is afraid that doing so would make Oliver crumble away completely.

Shorter and the others finally burst onto the scene, and upon seeing it, let out different curses.

“Langa, kid.” Shorter steps forward and pulls Langa away, holding him to his chest and turning his head away.

“Ash,” says Jim, grabbing his attention. He turns his wide eyes to his father. “Give me your gun. Now.”

Without thinking, Ash does so, and watches as Jim wipes away any fingerprints onto his shirt. Ash can only stare in disbelief.

“Jim!” calls a voice, and everyone tenses. Ash is tired of this. “Jim, are you okay?”

“Howard, come here! Hurry!” Jim answers back, then says at an indoors-volume to everyone else, “Don’t worry, he’s a friend.”

“Jesus Christ,” says Howard upon walking in. “What happened?”

“Burglars,” Jim grunts shortly. “But Jennifer and my brother….”

“Shit,” says Howard, looking helpless.

“Call the cops and an ambulance, okay?” Jim says, and Howard leaves to do so.

Once he’s gone, he says to the others, “You need to hurry up and leave. I’ll watch out for Langa. But you need to go.”

Ash looks at Langa, who’s still in Shorter’s arms and who just watched as his father’s brains got replaced with hot metal. Then he looks at his dad, bleeding and moving even though that will worsen the blood loss.

“Dad, I—”

“Taking on a mafia don, huh?” his dad interrupts. “I’m impressed. Was it one of them that killed Griffin?”

“Yes.” He can’t lie about this. He won’t.

Jim’s eyes shutter and he hums. “I understand. You have my blessing. You need to go.”

“Dad—” he tries again.

“Go! I’ll take care of Langa. But you can’t keep wasting your time here.”

The tears finally fall from his eyes and he pulls away, only to rush to Langa as the others finally run out at the sounds of sirens. He pulls the shell-shocked teen, still crying in French, into a hug.

“Stay safe,” he pleads. “Stay strong.”

Langa doesn’t even hug back. Ash cannot fault him for that.

He pulls away and runs through the door, but not before looking back and yelling, “Don’t die, dumb old man, and watch out for Langa!”

“You don’t die either, stupid son!”

And Ash, crying, runs to catch up to the already moving van. He flings himself in with the help of Shorter.

Eiji rests a hand on his back and Ash buries himself in shame and desolation.

The truck drives forward, continuing the long journey towards oblivion.

Ash Lynx should have known better than to have hope.