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scribeofred · 3 years ago

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Thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the tag!

1. What fandoms have you written for?

This is embarrassing but I actually had to look at both FFnet and AO3 because I couldn’t remember all of them. TRON: Legacy, Assassin’s Creed, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit, Sherlock, Final Fantasy VII and XV and Kingsglaive, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Merlin, Skyrim, and, of course, Thunderbirds. I have a couple other fandoms that crop up in various wips, including a Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover that I really should finish.

2. How many works do you have on AO3 &/or FFNet?

FFnet has 45, and AO3 has 41. There’s also a couple stories lurking on tumblr, notably a final chapter for Reflection.

3. What are your top 3 fics by kudos on A03 &/or Favs on FFNet?

AO3 dominates in this area, if I can use a word like “dominates” for stories that have less than 125 kudos each haha. Oh well, the numbers don’t matter!

1. 118 kudos on tell the shades apart (my world is black and white)

2. 94 kudos on Reflection

3. 91 kudos on The 43rd Hour

4. Which 3 fics have the least kudos & Favs?

Again on AO3:

1 kudos on I Am You (And You Are Me)

5 kudos on The Dragonborn Chronicles

6 kudos on cynosure

5. Which Fic has the most comments and which has the least?

Reflection has the most at 29 threads, and I Am You (And You Are Me) has the least at zero.

6. Which complete fic do you wish had gotten more attention?

Lodestar, definitely. Sure, it’s for something of a rarepair, but they aren’t that rare, and I just really really like the way the story came together. On the other hand, of course my unfinished Merlin fic has gotten probably the most attention, because that’s just the way it goes, eh?

7. Have you written any crossovers?

None that I’ve published! I have various crossovers lurking in mostly unfinished states, including the aforementioned Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover, and an Assassin’s Creed/Thundeerbirds crossover that is very good and I should also finish. There’s an Expanse/Thunderbirds fic lurking in my brain that I may or may not ever commit to paper, who knows. I’ve also very vaguely toyed with a Batman/Thunderbirds crossover, in the sense that “nebulous” is too strong a word for the kind of toying I’ve been doing.

8. What is the craziest fic you’ve written?

I don’t really write crazy or crack or humor in general, so probably the closest thing to “crazy” is On the Lam, which was the result of wanting to throw Scott and Penelope toward an Egyptian stud farm. It ended up being the host for a bad joke about that, courtesy of one @thebaconsandwichofregret, who consistently gives some of the best dialogue advice I’ve ever encountered.

Actually, the true answer is probably a chapter in Glimpses into a Supernova, maybe the one about blood? It seems bonkers when I think back on it now, but I admittedly haven’t read it in many years. Possibly I am misremembering. Glimpses has some weird ones, though.

9. What’s the fic you’ve written with the saddest ending?

It’s a tossup between The Painting and a place where the water touches the sky. The former deals with a prior off-screen death; the latter is (maybe??) an on-screen death. People seemed upset by it, at any rate. I said it was ambiguous!

10. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

“Happy” is probably a matter of perspective? Depends on the overall reading experience and the ending within that context. Either septet or Three Towels and a Tracy, they’re both pretty fluffy overall.

11. What is your smuttiest fic?

protoinstincts, which I completely forgot I wrote and then rediscovered like a year later and realized “hey, this is actually pretty good” and you know what, despite it not being overly spicy, it is pretty good.

12. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, per se, but someone left a review on Less Than Nothing saying they “didn’t like” that I “wrote the story as a series of drabbles.” Cool, I didn’t write the story for you, random guest reader, and the back button exists, friend 😂 It didn’t bother me on a personal level because I wrote the fic for an audience of one (incidentally, not myself and rather the recipient of a secret santa event), but I was mad because the reviewer had no way of knowing where I was at as a writer, and I know from longtime observation how that kind of comment can crush less experienced or confident writers.

Don’t leave flames, kids, you don’t understand the power your words have. Don’t like, don’t read.

13. What is the nicest comment you’ve received?

The nicest? Goodness. Hmm. I’d have to go hunting to find the nicest, but in recent memory, @ayzrules sent me a couple passages from Spanish texts she’s been studying that reminded her of my writing, and I was honestly so touched by the fact that she even thought to make such comparisons, much less mention them to me. Taking the time to familiarize yourself with someone’s style until you can make comparisons between it and someone else’s work is so much more meaningful to me personally than a basic “Nice story!” or “Loved this!” type of comment ever could be. <3 Ayz <3

14. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of, but I’ve never gone looking on any sort of copycat site or whatever either.

15. How many fics do you have marked as incomplete?

Two. First is The Dragonborn Chronicles, which is a retelling of Skyrim from Lydia’s perspective via her journal, to complement the in-game journal. It’s a slog of a style to write, though, even for someone who loves writing first person and doesn’t really want to write a lot of dialogue, and the outline is huge, and the story will be many times more huge, and just. Some day. Some day.

Second is tell the shades apart (my world is black and white), which has always been unfinished because the outline itself is over seven thousand words and the fully written story would undoubtedly land between 100,000 and 200,000 words, and there’s no way I’m writing that. I’ve always meant to upload the outline, but I got kind of self-conscious about the way I formatted it, and ugh I just haven’t bothered. One day, one day, right?

Moral of the story is I’m intensely a short story writer, and I’ve really found myself settling into that role over the last couple years. Better a clipped, punchy short story than a bloated slog of an epic.

16. Which of the WIPS will most likely be finished first?

Literally no one knows that. I wrote 95% of the observable entropy of a closed system over five years ago, and then I proceeded to pull it out roughly once a year and write and rewrite various endings until last month, which was when I finally figured out how I wanted to end the story. septet, too, languished for about five years before I finally remembered it existed and managed to wrangle an ending. Endings are hard, man. So are those third plot points. Terrible creatures, those, bog me down every time.

17. Which WIP are you looking forward to finishing?

Uh... mm. See. If I were looking forward to finishing any of them, I’d be actively working on them. At this moment, writing fic isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities, but I am also coming off a four-day idle game bender, so I still feel like I haven’t quite reengaged with myself as a living person. Give me another few days and I might have an answer.

(I am always most looking forward to finishing this ridiculous Ignis-drives-the-Audi-R8 fic that’s been languishing in my wips for literal years. As mentioned above, third plot points. Killer, man.)

(oh and also the working-titled the art of murder. Scott and Penny attend a private art auction. Things don’t go to plan. It, too, is stuck at the third plot point. I know, I know I have a problem, shush.)

18. Is there a WIP that you’re considering abandoning?

Any wip has the potential to be revived—this year and the old wips I’ve unearthed, dusted off, finished, and posted have been proof of that. I don’t intentionally permanently abandon anything for that reason, some stories just probably will remain dusty old wips forever because I didn’t actually need or want to write the full story for one reason or another.

19. Which complete fic would you consider rewriting?

Now that’s an interesting question. Hmm! Honestly? None of them. Once I finish a story, I’m not inclined toward rereading it again any time soon, to the point of years in some cases, and I feel like I’ve moved on from the stories I wrote one, two, five, eight years ago in the actual writing sense. They’re finished stories, and on top of that are relics of their time, which doesn’t mean the stories don’t have any ongoing significance on a reading level—I just don’t have any interest in rewriting those particular stories. I’ve gotten them out of my head, to the point of not remembering at least a third of them on demand anymore, and I don’t have any desire to “retell” those exact stories. I do tend to tighten the wording and fix perceived errors/weaknesses whenever I do end up rereading an old story, and I usually silently update the AO3 version if I make any significant changes because AO3 makes it a breeze to update a posted fic. I might do FFnet too if I’m feeling up to it or have the time.

20. Which complete fic is your favourite?

Once upon a time I would’ve said Holding On, but I honestly find it kind of unbearably melodramatic now. the observable entropy of a closed system is equally melodramatic, as it was written in the same era, but at least it has the excuse of being told in second person and via a style that is a half step away from being poetry. Possibly I will reread it in a few years and find it equally obnoxious and overly dramatic, but it received some shockingly positive comments, which I wasn’t expecting at ALL, and I’ve been honestly blown away by the amount of praise it’s received. <3 to everyone who’s said anything about it!

21. What’s your total published word count?

141,000 on AO3, 160,000 on FFnet, but technically the light of my life SS wrote fifty thousand words of each. It’s too late for math.

I tag @velkynkarma, @lurkinglurkerwholurks, @writtenbyrain, @thebaconsandwichofregret, and anyone else who wants to play!

#tag games

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ellewritesathing · 5 years ago

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So Close - S.S. XXXV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 35

Word-count: 2.9k+

A/N: so it’s a little short but we’re building to some important stuff!! hope you like it

Stiles Stilinski inherited many things from his father, one of which being his love of a good surface to map out his thoughts and clues. Stiles used the clear dry-erase board in his room; Noah used the cork board in his office at the police station. It currently sported a few pages from police reports and photos of Tracy and Lucas.

“Chimeras,” Noah said.

“Two dead chimeras,” Stiles said. “Plus eight new ones. So, ten in all.”

“I’m thinking maybe eleven,” Noah said, pinning a new photo to his current array. A photo of Donovan.

Stiles' heart rate spiked and you gripped his hand a little tighter.

“Our station tech guys confirmed something for me,” Noah went on as he turned around to face you. “They said both the holding cell lock and cameras could have malfunctioned because of something electromagnetic.” He picked up the book Malia and Kira found in Tracy’s room. “You said that, uh, that’s how these guys got into Eichen?”

“So you think that makes Donovan one of their chimeras?” you asked. You walked towards Noah and the board to take any attention off Stiles. “But no one’s seen him since that night-” You picked up his red marker that he used to cross out Tracy’s photo “-so they probably killed him just like they killed Tracy.”

Noah caught your hand before you could cross out Donovan’s photo. “We don’t cross him out until I’ve seen a body,” he said.

“Your board,” you said with a smile. You wanted to fix this but you weren’t sure how, so you settled for trying to get Stiles out of the precinct before he combusted. “Listen, we should probably get going if we’re going to make it to school before the first bell.”

“Of course,” Noah said with a smile. He turned and looked over at Stiles a few feet away; he was looking out the window, biting his nails, and with tense shoulders. “Hey, Stiles, you’re uncharacteristically quiet. What do you think about all this?”

“Well, these are all teenagers, right?” Stiles said. He turned away from the window and let go of his hands. “So shouldn’t we be trying to figure out why these teenagers? If the Dread Doctors- if they went through all that … burying them, killing them, breaking one of them out of jail … They couldn’t have been chosen at random.”

“So they had to have something in common that made them right for this experiment,” Noah said.

“Something that made them special,” Stiles said. He caught your eye and took a breath.

“Well, uh, I’ve kept you kids long enough,” Noah said. “You should get going if you’re gonna make it to school on time.”

“School,” you repeated, running a hand through your hair. “What a concept.”

The school day dragged on once you and Stiles split up to go to your classes. The most exciting part of the day was when you tried to print a paper at the library and it was out of ink, and when you looked up you saw Kira slipping out with about a million copies in her arms.

Those copies came in handy when all your friends gathered in your living room to read Valeck’s book about the Dread Doctors.

“My mom’s book club usually has more wine,” Lydia said.

“Well, they also probably didn’t read books that cause violent hallucinations,” Stiles said.

“I’m guessing that’s what the wine’s for,” you said, leaning down to pick up one of the copies.

“Maybe I should have my mother read it,” Lydia said. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages. “She might remember a girl with a tail leaping off the ceiling and attacking everyone.”

“Yeah, if it works,” Stiles said.

Lydia’s voice was much smaller when she spoke again. “It has to.”

“What do you mean, Lyd?” you asked, touching her arm lightly.

She straightened back up and spoke clearly again. “I mean I think I saw them during my surgery. And when I look at the cover of the book … it’s almost like …”

“A memory trying to surface,” Theo said.

You still didn’t like having him around but Scott was insistent you trust him, at least for now, so he was here for book club. Even if no one wanted him here.

“Isn’t that what Valeck wanted when he wrote the book?” Kira asked.

“If they did anything to me,” Lydia said. “I want to know what it is.”

Lydia stormed off, book in hand, to find a place to read while everyone else grabbed a copy off the coffee table. You touched Stiles’ lower back lightly to get his attention as he squinted at the title page and nodded at one of the nearby armchairs.

The two of you settled in, your head resting on Stiles’ upper bicep and your legs tangled up over the coffee table. Every now and then, Stiles would reach up and run a hand through your hair in an attempt to keep himself focused. Your efforts, on the other hand, weren’t so valiant and you fell asleep somewhere around chapter ten.

When you woke up again, Stiles coaxed you into helping him make coffee for everyone. You sat on the kitchen island as he worked, making each cup the way each friend preferred - it was sweet. The lack of words made things feel familiar and secret.

And Theo strolled in.

“Need any help with that?” he asked.

“No, we’re, uh- we’re all good, man,” Stiles said, nodding at him over his shoulder.

Theo nodded and reached his hand out. He said something about understanding and then patted the top of Stiles’ shoulder twice, a bit roughly, before you had the chance to intervene. “Woah, you okay, dude?” he asked when Stiles tensed and muffled a groan.

“Yeah, I just pulled a muscle,” Stiles lied easily. His heart didn’t falter for a second. “You know how it is with the back-to-school rush.”

“Right,” Theo said, drawing out the word. It was clear he didn’t believe him but he dropped it, opting to talk to you instead. He turned to you with an attempt at a friendly smile. “So what do you think of the book?”

“I think if it helps me find the people hurting my friends, then it’s worth it,” you said, sliding off the island and not breaking eye contact. “Because if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t let anyone hurt my friends.”

Theo’s smile changed in a way that unsettled you. He dropped his eyes for a second before looking back up at you with a low laugh. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m trying so hard to be one of your friends.”

“Right,” you said.

“Coffee’s up,” Stiles said, breaking through the tension. “Hey, Theo, if you wanna help, you can go get everyone.”

“Yeah, sure,” Theo said, looking over to give Stiles a smile before heading out of the kitchen.

Stiles turned to you and mouthed the words ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing’ and you gave him a noncommittal shrug that said you’d do better next time. He rolled his eyes and handed you a mug. “Just drink your coffee and don’t punch anyone,” he said. “Alright? Please.”

“No promises,” you hummed over the rim of your mug. You took a sip of the coffee and relaxed slightly. “Okay, let’s finish that book.”

---

School felt more like a dream the next day than anything else, especially with Stiles and Lydia going to the hospital to investigate her repressed memory. You were just going through the motions until someone rushed into your English class asking if anyone had an inhaler. The shock of it grounded you in the real world and you dug through your bag to get Scott’s old inhaler before running for it.

“Scott?” You pushed through the crowd of students that formed around the door to the biology class. “Scott!” He was leaned up against the desk and wheezing but Scott turned his head to look at you. You dropped to your knees and pressed the inhaler into his hands and up to his lips. “Scotty, you gotta breathe, okay? On three I need you to take a big breath, you understand?”

Scott nodded and you counted down. When he breathed in, you pressed down on the inhaler and hoped for the best.

“There we go,” you said gently, pushing back some of the hair on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living. Well, you know what I mean.”

“Where did you get an inhaler?” Scott asked, deep frown lines still on his forehead. “Wait, is this ... my inhaler?”

“Someone had to keep it around when you started leaving it at home,” you said, sliding your hand up to his face while the other held onto his neck. It was an asthma attack, not the flu so you weren’t sure why you were checking for a fever but it made you feel better.

“But I haven’t had an asthma attack in like two years,” Scott said.

“Yeah, and today you did.”

“Are you two okay here?” Ms. Finch asked. You looked over at her and forced a smile, hoping that it conveyed your desire to be left alone. “Okay, the rest of you, clear out!”

Even though Scott insisted he was fine, you didn’t want to leave him alone, and when the lights went out later in the day you rushed over to find him. You found him with Theo, both of them coming out of the stairwell that led to the basement.

Scott explained how Theo came to check on him when the lights went out and they went down to the generator to investigate - the wires were ripped out by another chimera - and now they were trying to get a hold of Malia and Kira.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked when you saw Malia coming down the stairs.

“Yeah, we both are. Kira’s still at the library,” she said, nodding over at Theo and Scott. “Where’s the others?”

“Stiles and Lydia are still at the hospital trying to figure out what happened during her surgery,” you said, running your hand through your hair. You’d feel a lot better if they were with you.

“How long are they gonna be there?” Malia asked.

“They said they’re just waiting for the power to come back on,” Scott said.

“Which is why we’re heading there now,” you finished as Theo pushed open the doors to the parking lot. You mumbled a thank you and pushed ahead to the car,

Turns out that wouldn’t be the last interaction you and Theo had; Scott’s plan was for him to find your mom, Malia to find Lydia, and you and Theo to find Stiles. He ignored your protests about splitting up but Theo grabbed your arm and started pulling you towards the elevator.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, yanking your hand back to your body.

“Can’t you smell that?” Theo asked. He took a breath when you stared at him. “Chemo-signals. Stiles’ chemo-signals, specifically. He was here and he was anxious.”

“He’s always anxious,” you said quietly as Theo punched the button on the elevator. It bothered you that you hadn’t noticed it before.

You got off at the same floor that Stiles did and followed the smell of his anxiety all the way to the roof. The last time you were up here was when the alpha pack was still terrorizing your friends - you never thought you’d miss that experience. But in that instant you couldn’t miss anything, you were too overwhelmed by the sight of one of the kids in your homeroom class trying to rip off Stiles’ face.

“Josh?”

Either Theo didn’t go through the same shock that you did or he just recovered faster. He rushed forward, pulled Josh off of Stiles, and then threw him across the roof. They started fighting amidst all the sparks from the ripped up generator but you didn’t pay any attention as you rushed to check on Stiles.

“Hey, hey, you okay?” You held his face in yours but he was still staring at Theo and Josh. How many times were you going to find him delirious and covered in blood? “Stiles, can you hear me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I-” Stiles blinked over your shoulder and looked back over at you. He lifted his hand to your face for a second before pointing over your shoulder. “I think you should go help him.”

Sparks flew and you lunged over to cover Stiles. They burned your back but you’d heal. By the time it was over and you were back on your feet, Theo was holding onto Josh by the neck. He tore out his throat before you got a chance to stop him. Josh fell to the ground and choked on his blood.

“Stiles …” Theo took a step forward and you pulled Stiles behind you. Theo looked hurt by the action. “You guys can’t say anything. Please- please, don’t say anything.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked, doing your best to maintain eye contact and not look at the body of your dying classmate.

“Because I never said anything about Donovan,” Theo said.

You let go of Stiles’ hand and marched closer, wrapping your other hand around Theo’s neck and pushing him back against the generator. Another mini-explosion of sparks went off as his body collided with the fence, but your hold on his neck didn’t falter. Stiles was right behind you, ducking slightly when the sparks flew but right behind you a second later.

“What did you just say?” you asked.

Stiles called out your name and started to say something but he got cut off. He put a hand on your lower back, but he was still focused on Theo.

“I know what happened to Donovan,” Theo said. “I know everything.”

“You don’t know anything,” Stiles told him.

Theo started struggling under your hand but you gripped tighter, claws coming out to keep him in place. After a shallow laugh he looked over at Stiles. “I was there- at the library.” Stiles nodded at you and you loosened your grip ever so slightly. “Malia found the book. She was texting us to see where you guys were because she said she left the two of you at the library and she hadn’t heard from you since then. I told her I was close by. When I got there, I heard the scaffolding come down.”

Your blood ran cold. That was why she tried to call the other night. If you answered your phone, would you still be in this position now? Would Stiles?

“You saw him?” Stiles asked.

“Just the body,” Theo said. Stiles rubbed your lower back, a signal to let go, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Theo looked down at your hands for a second before continuing, “I watched you come out. I was gonna say something but then I saw the cop car.” He paused and looked down at where Stiles was holding onto you. “And then the body was gone.” Theo’s eyes drifted back to meet Stiles’. “I don’t know who took him. I only saw what you saw, and I didn’t say anything because you didn’t.”

You looked over to see what Stiles was thinking but then you heard the sirens. The very familiar sirens of cruisers that belonged to the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department.

“That’s not an ambulance, is it?” Theo asked.

Stiles shook his head and started walking away. He needed the movement to think clearly.

“We need to get out of here,” Theo said, moving against your grip. You pushed him back again and he held out his hands in surrender.

“I’m not leaving Josh,” you said.

“Fine, then let’s take him,” Theo said. Stiles spun around to face him. “Someone’s stealing the bodies anyway, right? Here’s our chance to find out who.”

“Stiles, I-” you shifted uncomfortably. “He’s got a point.”

“He killed him,” Stiles said, looking between you and Josh’s body.

“In self-defense,” Theo said. He looked close to crying. But his heartbeat was steady under your hand. “He was going to kill you and he was going to kill me.”

“You didn’t even wait for me-”

“If we stay-” Theo talked over you “-We’re either going to have to tell the truth or we’re going to need a pretty convincing story. It’s your choice.” He looked down at the floor for a second. “I’m not going to ask you to lie to your dad.”

You tried to get Stiles’ attention without saying anything. It was time to come clean. He looked at you for a second but you could see he’d already made up his plan.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said. “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Stiles-”

He walked over to Josh and was already pulling him up by his jacket. It was jarring to see your boyfriend picking up the dead body of the goofy kid in the back of the class. The blood that ran down his cheeks made you feel sick.

“If you wanna leave-” Stiles was quieter when he spoke to you but he was still very clearly on edge “-I’m not gonna judge you.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Theo so that you could walk over and pick up Josh’s other side. You caught Stiles’ eye before saying, “I’m not going to leave you.” You hooked Josh’s arm around your shoulders and held him up by his waist.

Theo took hold of Josh’s other side from Stiles.

Whether you trusted him or not, you were in this together now.

Part 36

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #mccall!reader #so close #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite

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sleepymccoy · 5 years ago

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year in fic

i saw a couple of these around and i love the idea! so yeah im taking part too <3

Heresy

Rated: General

Word Count: 2,524

Posted: 15/6/19

3000 years on from the apocalypse have been pretty chill for Crowley and Aziraphale. Gabriel and Beelzebub took their posts after they quit their jobs as reps on Earth and now are trying to get in touch to discuss personal matters. This is basically a short fic that’s jut a hella awkward conversation with some possessiveness, it’;s sweet. Side note, this was my first fic and I wrote it up before we knew Beelzebub uses they/them pronouns so I used the actresses pronouns for it. I mean to fix it up but haven’t got to it yet, so, apologies

Needed a break, gone to France x

Rated: General

Word Count: 8,808

Posted: 28/6/19

About a week after the apocalypse and Aziraphale leaves Crowley a note on his door explaining his absence. Crowley goes into a tailspin trying to decode it for like two months. Light miscommunication fic, but it’s made up for with some nice fondness and some letters at the end that are pretty cute tbh

Try On Some Pride For A Day

Rated: Mature

Word Count: 20,614

Posted: 4/8/19

One night, two months after the apocalypse, Aziraphale challenges Crowley to a competition. Will Aziraphale get Crowley to inhabit the seven heavenly virtues, or will Crowley get Aziraphale to enjoy the seven deadly sins? It’s all very cheerful with much sexual tension and a couple of squabbles. This is a friends to lovers sort of fic. It’s also asexual Aziraphale, pretty outright, so while it gets steamy there’s no sex in the fic

Summoned

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 12,635

Posted: 21/8/19

Heaven and Hell decided that as they have their Worst Employee of the Forever sorted, they could shimmy the worse parts of the gig off to them. And being summoned sucks. Crowley finds he keeps getting summoned by different people, more often than ever before. This fic is the roughly year and a half period after that failed apocalypse, told only through scenes where Crowley (and one time Aziraphale) have been unwillingly summoned by someone. I will say the real joy of this is that Crowley is pissed off most of the time and Aziraphale is appropriately protective. The last chapter is full blown sex. This is another friends to lovers fic

Is It Worth It Yet

Rated: Teen

Word Count: 10,935

Posted: 22/9/19

Around abouts the 1000AD mark, in what would become Turkey a few hundred years later, Crowley sat down, took a breath, and told Aziraphale how he felt in a total trainwreck of a conversation. Chapter 1, that conversation. It’s pretty angsty but I fix it all, don’t worry Of course, Aziraphale would then expect Crowley to bring it all up again after the apocalypse, and when he doesn't he decides to take matters into his own hands and broach the topic himself. It doesn't go as well as he'd hoped. Good ending tho, don't worry guys.

Soft.

Rated: Mature

Word Count: 9,178

Posted: 10/10/19

Crowley has had one thought going about his mind for a while now, and that is that he really likes Aziraphale's body (highlighted by how he comparatively didn't enjoy seeing Aziraphale in Madame Tracy). But how does one tell their friend of 6000 years that he's got a hot bod? Awkwardly and with great difficulty, is the answer. He accidentally dredges up a Gabriel-related issue Aziraphale has been holding on to. This is a very consent heavy fic, there’s a lot of “are you sure?” and “what do you want?”

the kind of thing one says easily

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 15,496

Posted: 15/10/19

Kind of my take on an au where Crowley just straight up told Aziraphale pretty early on that he loves him, so it was a fact of their dynamic for centuries before the apocalypse. I call it the "if they actually communicated" au. Fits in with tv canon, I've done a prelude or a run on from one or two major scenes in the show, you'll almost certainly catch it. But yeah, snapshots of them talking about feelings, sometimes very serious (mostly pretty serious actually) but sometimes quite light and lovely. Classic lads. Still don't get together until post apocalypse cos, ya know, it be like that. Runs from like 2000bc to 2020ad with 12 segments of story, although three of those are 2019 cos like that's when shit really went down

Not Quite Human

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 10,398

Posted: 26/10/19

Crowley and Aziraphale had both quit their jobs for each other and returned home after the apocalypse, tumbling rather helplessly towards a relief-filled romance. But old habits die hard and with nothing left to keep the pair from expressing their feelings, they created their own barriers to hold themselves back. And so years passed with pointless desire, self inflicted wallowing, and miserable restraint. Luckily for both of them, the angel was fed up. He’d been stewing too long and had decided to give it a go. This is kinda an exploration into a different writing style for me, it's not a dedicated pov and it's full of little flashback style (sort of, not like serious flashback, more like mulling over the past for context) vignettes with ideas i wanted to include.

Still Waking Up

Rated: Teen

Words: 31,153

Posted: 5/11/19

Aziraphale has noticed Crowley's odd behavior. Since the Apocalypse he has spotted Crowley outside the shop, just watching, like a watchdog that watches and doesn't come in and explain himself. This fic follows a roughly two year period after the apocalypse in which Crowley admits to nightmares about the bookshop and Aziraphale burning and struggles to come terms with it and ask for help. Aziraphale grows increasingly lonely and purposeless and some of his damage from Heaven rears up. They slowly navigate supporting each other as best they can. Main points of interest are probs bed sharing, much mutual pining, kissing, and softly handled trauma recovery.

(omg guys that’s a cumulative word count of 121,741 in six months! that’s a whole lot more than i’d imagined. what a year)

#year in fic #good omens #sleepy speaks

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tinylorando · 6 years ago

Text

Translation of “Team Brian III”

-- from section 9 & 10 in chapter 4, talking about the conversation in Brian's first meet with Yuzu (at apartment lobby) after 2017 NHK, and how Yuzu made training plans for himself before being back to the ice (x)

Yuzuru appearing with being on the crutches

How serious Yuzuru's injury was, no one knew the truth. After being injured in NHK Cup, Yuzuru went to the hospital in Japan to do MRI, but then he immediately returned to Toronto. The entire treatment was received in Toronto.

After realizing the injury was quite serious, the first thing Yuzuru did was changing his plan. "Recover first", "listen to doctors' advice and patiently receive treatment". He put these two things in the first place of priority, temporarily removing the stuff like training and competition from his mind.

Yuzuru reanalyzed current condition, thinking about what he could do to control the situation at hand. In other words, instead of "the problem occurred, and what should I do", it was an image like "I meet some difficulties that need to overcome, and I face some challenges that need to exert my abilities". I'm the same about this point. When dealing with something, I’d like to use the word "challenge" rather than "problem" because it makes you feel positive and be able to do one thing in a bullish mood.

Normally, I always say to everyone, "Team Brian's friends don't have PROBLEM". What we have is CHALLENGE. Yuzuru's challenge is recovery, paying all effort to cure his feet. Because he understood this subject, rather than remaining in Japan and taking a rest, he returned to Toronto first, thinking of doing as much as possible for the Olympics.

According to Yuzuru's report, the situation was "It will take about six weeks to return to practice. Only the ankle is partially injured, and there is no problem with the knee. To not increase further burden on my feet, now I'm using a STICK while walking". For this reason, first I decided to discuss the schedule with Yuzuru again, so I visited the apartment where he lived. In my office, there were lots of mail items sent from Yuzuru's fans. The fans who worried about his injuries sent many letters and gifts to him. The floor of my office was full of them, so I visited him as a way to give him these items.

When I was waiting for him at apartment's lobby, Yuzuru appeared by turning from the corner of the elevator. I was extremely shocked at that time. I never thought what he used was CRUTCH. Because what he wrote in the e-mail was "stick", so I thought it was only a degree of needing some necessary support. At that time, Yuzuru's ankle was fixed, and he could not walk on his own strength, so he came with being on the crutches.

Seeing his appearance, I couldn't help saying "OMG, what's going on! Isn't it a serious injury?" Yuzuru sat in the chair in the lobby and looked calmer than I expected, then talking about the next thing. He talked about how bad his ankle condition is, until what time he was not able to practice on the ice. He also said he would try his best to do some preparation like image training and muscle exercise.

However, I noticed this Yuzuru wasn't same as the Yuzuru who had always been strong. It seemed like he was being afraid of something or felt uneasy. Carrying the mission of winning at the Olympics, at the same time he had to change all his plans due to the injury. Even for people like Yuzuru, it was commonplace to become more sensitive/neurotic than usual.

Therefore, I said the following to him.

"You practiced a lot this summer and did open practice on media day in August. At that time, Yuzuru was already prepared for the Olympics, wasn't it? You had been accumulating practices from July to early August, and you were ready by only using six weeks, right? Because you completed your preparation so early, we were all a little worried about it. In other words, with only six weeks, Yuzuru can complete all the preparations. Performing with music and accomplishing all quads, you just need six weeks to reach this state.”

Actually, during the open practice in August, I saw the situation and took some notes in my mind. "It's quite early to reach this condition. Yuzuru is able to arouse the state to this level in just six weeks. Conversely, because of the ability to reach the peak in only six weeks, if you did high-intensity practice for two months before the Olympics, there would be a possibility of missing your peak state in official competitions. Therefore, facing the Olympics, starting the final adjustment in January will be enough."

Hence, I continued saying to Yuzuru.

"Participate in the show during spring, take a break, then rework programs, and move forward at full speed in the next six weeks. It was your original plan, right? In that open practice (media day), your performance was terrific. So, it's still in November now, and there're three months away from the Olympics. Even if step on the ice in January, there're still six weeks left. Judging from Yuzuru's physical condition, after returning to the rink and training on the ice, it will take about five to six weeks or perhaps five weeks at most to complete the preparation. So you will be in time for the Olympics.”

Yuzuru listened to me quietly. It seemed the word "six weeks" was engraved on his mind. So I continued.

"It's really nice you have done lots of hard training this summer because those practices are all deposited in the bank now. You have already completed all necessary training and immediately packaged and deposited them into the bank.”

At that time, I felt Yuzuru seemed to smile a little. So I asked Yuzuru again, "What is your goal?" Then he responded immediately, "Win at the Olympics". I said: "Got it. If it's your dream, the possibility of achieving it is very high." I added: "I don't know if you will break the record, and I don't know if it will become the highest score in the world, but you can win."

Yuzuru looked at me with serious eyes. I also seriously looked at him and said those words.

"So let's focus only on winning and find out what we have to do in order to win. If so, we may not need 4Lutz. No, there will be no 4Lutz. Depending on the recovery of your feet, perhaps you are able to jump it, but you can win even if no 4Lutz included. You have skating technique accumulated over the past six years, as well as outstanding jumps and choreography. So you can win. Don't need 4Lutz if your pride permitted. In this way, you can aim at your goal."

Then Yuzuru said, "I successfully jumped once." So I said, "Aw, indeed you made it once. You have succeeded. OK. Checkmark. Let's delete 4Lutz from your To Do List!"

Yuzuru looked relatively relieved a lot. I'm not sure whether this feeling came from the confidence of "Perhaps I can win", or the sense of relief from “It's still possible to win”. I guess his actual mood should be very complicated, but I told him the two keywords "six weeks to be in time" and "No 4Lutz". That was all I could do at that time, or it was enough for me to do these two things.

Visualize images of jumps and spins in mind

Two weeks after the conversation, I visited Yuzuru's apartment with Tracy. To our surprise, Yuzuru has already begun to do as much as possible toward the Olympic Games. He also became back to that confident and motivated Yuzuru as usual.

In Yuzuru's words, it was "visualization". In other words, he did a lot of practice like doing image training while watching the videos. Watch past videos many times and put those images in the body. Yuzuru has done lots of this training for a long time, and it was a very effective practice that in order not to forget the feeling of jumps. While receiving treatment, he also developed some land training plans for the part outside the injury and completed them.

One thing I must tell everyone here is that the treatment, rehabilitation, and strategic plans for the Olympics were all made by Yuzuru himself rather than us. Yuzuru developed these plans independently based on the advice of doctors and physiotherapists. He was able to overcome the difficulties and walked through that extremely hard road to the Olympics. It was not our credit. After the injury, Yuzuru tried his best to set foot on the Olympics stage. He independently made various plans and actually implemented them. By constant conversations with himself, Yuzuru became stronger both mentally and physically.

Looking at Yuzuru being strong again, we also became optimistic and discussed plans for the Olympics. Yuzuru said that no matter how fast, the day of returning to practice on the ice should be in December. Until then, he would not appear in the cricket club and wanted to concentrate on the care and training that was decided by himself. Because the treatment had been left to doctors and physiotherapists, certainly I said "OK" for Yuzuru's plan.

When asked about the injury degree, he said it was all concentrated on the right ankle area. It was the salvation that at least there was no pain in his knee. If knees were injured, he could not make it in time for the Olympics.

November and December passed without Yuzuru appearing in the club. However, he kept in touch with me during that period. What's the condition of the foot injury, what kind of training is he doing, and what did doctors say. Without the time for his favorite games, without having a leisure time for daze and relaxing, he truly did the 24-hour image training. From bystander's view, it seemed he was only standing or sitting there, but Yuzuru was constantly visualizing images of jumps and spins in his mind. He had been doing image training to make his body not forget those feelings.

Yuzuru spent the two months in a very intelligent way. I felt very reliable to see his growing and becoming a mature young man. Every time I opened the email sent from Yuzuru, I felt like seeing the light of hope for the Olympics.

#ori #yuzuru hanyu #brian orser #book #team brian: a new journey #translation

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extrasteps · 5 years ago

Photo

Stacked Chapter 7

See previous photoset here.

Theo woke up with dread burning in his stomach. He just knew that taking that one amazing, perfect day with Liam was going to blow up in his face in a big way. He wasn’t allowed to be this happy - the universe wouldn’t allow it.

He got ready for the day with extreme reluctance, and Liam picked up on his mood immediately, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed.

It wouldn’t, but he appreciated that Liam was trying.

They were meant to meet Scott and the others at Scott’s place in an hour, and Theo told him he’d meet him there. He wanted to slip into his house and steal some more clothes. Liam meant well, letting Theo borrow some of his, but Theo was wider in the shoulders than Liam, and his shirts were uncomfortably tight. He gathered that that was the point though, with the way Liam’s eyes often drifted to his shoulders, gaze turning dark with lust.

Theo somehow managed to leave Liam behind as he drove to his house, pausing in front of his door and taking a deep breath before opening it.

It was like he’d known this was going to happen.

He stepped through the front door, head tilted to the side, listening.

There was no one home, no heartbeats. His fake parents had probably bailed after he hadn’t come home again, figuring it was safe to do so. It was. He had no intention of hunting them down. His cover was well and truly blown now.

Just as he’d managed to fill a bag full of clothes, he felt it. The hum of electricity. They were coming. There was no point in running. There was nowhere he could go that they wouldn’t find him.

Closing his bedroom door behind him, he made his way into the lounge room where they were waiting.

“What do you want?” He demanded.

On the coffee table there were three dossiers and he moved forward, swaggering with a confidence he didn’t feel as he scooped them up, flipping through them.

Three teenagers. Three new chimeras. Three new graves.

“Find them,” they intoned. “Train them.”

And then with a crackle they were gone.

“Just a brief visit then,” he muttered, plucking out the three photos and examining them with a sigh. He wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. Was he under suspicion? Were they testing him?

He picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Looked like he had a few stops to make before he made it to Scott’s house.

***

Liam paced in Scott’s kitchen, wearing a track into the floor.

“Liam,” Mason said, sounding concerned.

“He’s coming,” Liam snapped, eyes fixed on the clock. Theo was almost half an hour late now. Stiles was already making snarky comments about how Theo had skipped town and the urge to throttle him was growing stronger by the second.

But it wasn’t because he was angry. It was because he was afraid.

What if it was true?

What if Theo really had left him?

He’d like to think that after the day they’d spent together yesterday that Theo could never do that, but how well did he know him really? Was their bond stronger than Theo’s fear? Liam wasn’t sure.

By the time an hour had passed, he was sitting on the couch between Mason and Scott, ignoring the conversation going on around him, staring down at his hands.

Before Theo had left earlier he’d used those same hands to cup his cheeks and kiss him, telling him he’d see him again soon. Surely that hadn’t been their last kiss. Surely fate wasn’t that cruel.

“Theo doing a bunk doesn’t change the facts,” Stiles was arguing, “these doctor guys are a serious threat. We have to do something.”

He’d come today despite his suspicion of Theo, which Liam appreciated, but he was also getting on his nerves, and he didn’t have many nerves to begin with. His IED was simmering in his chest, getting close to boiling point.

He looked at Mason. “I think I need to go,” he said quietly. “Mase-”

“Punching bag, got it,” Mason said, jumping to his feet. “Go out back. Me and Corey will bring it out.”

Ever since his diagnosis, Mason had been more than supportive. He had his boot filled with a large punching bag and gloves, kept it in there every single day despite the inconvenience, just so Liam would have something to hit that wasn’t a wall, or someone else’s face.

Liam stalked outside, ignoring the others calling after him. If he went back, he would do or say something he would regret.

Corey set up the bag on the nearest tree, and they left him to it, grunting as he took out his aggression on the bag, blood rushing in his ears, seeing red.

He punched the bag again and again and again, taking out all of his fear and frustration on it until his arms and shoulders were aching and he was panting for breath, his anger spent.

When he turned toward the house, exhausted and covered with sweat, his eyes fell upon Theo, sitting on the back step.

Theo looked concerned as he slowly rose to his feet.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Liam shivered. “You didn’t leave,” he said, voice flat. He didn’t have any emotion left in his body. He was wrung out.

“I had to make a few pit stops,” Theo said with a sigh, walking towards him. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you.”

Liam considered him. There was nothing about the way Theo was looking at him that suggested he was lying, and Liam didn’t know what to think.

“I’m used to being on my own,” Theo continued when it was clear that Liam wasn’t going to say anything. “Mason chewed me out when I got here, told me off for worrying you. And he was right. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry, Liam.”

Slowly, Liam nodded. “Okay,” he said.

He walked past Theo into the house, stripping off his gloves. His knuckles were red and sore. He hadn’t had time to strap them before the need to hit something had overwhelmed him. But they would heal.

Liam came to a stop at the kitchen door, looking at the three strangers with suspicion.

“Theo’s extra pit stops, I assume,” he said to Scott, continuing inside.

“Yeah,” Scott sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “The Dread Doctors are making more chimeras.”

Theo came to stand next to Liam, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Liam, meet my new chimera pack. Corey, Josh and Tracy.”

He looked between the three of them, a twinge of fear breaking through the numbness. The Dread Doctors were making more chimeras. What did that mean for Theo?

***

Theo felt like a complete asshole. Liam had had an attack, and it was all his fault. How had he not even considered sending him a text? In his own defence, he hadn’t realised that it would take so long to convince the three new chimeras to come with him, and they’d all demanded explanations from him about what was happening to them, but now he had them more or less on board, accepting him, somewhat reluctantly, as their leader.

It wasn’t that he was any more thrilled than them by this state of affairs. Not even two weeks ago he would have been ecstatic to have his own pack, but now it meant nothing to him. The only thing that mattered was Liam, and hopefully somehow being able to gain his freedom.

Liam walked away to go and clean up a bit in Scott’s bathroom, leaving Theo standing in the lounge room with Scott’s pack and his three new pack members all staring at him.

“What now?” Theo asked, looking at Scott.

“I think we need help,” Scott said. “We need more information about the Dread Doctors.”

Theo sighed. “You need the author.”

“McCammon?” Scott asked, looking at him intently.

“That’s not his real name,” he said. “It’s Valack.”

“He’s the one who it’s dedicated to,” Stiles pointed out, holding out a copy of the book, showing the relevant page.

Theo nodded. “He wrote it under a pseudonym. The book makes you remember them. The Dread Doctors. That’s why he wrote it.”

“If you know so much,” Stiles said, a sneer on his face as he stalked closer, “then why don’t you tell us everything there is to know about them.”

“He already has,” Scott said, voice terse. “He told me everything he knew.”

Stiles scoffed. “Sure he did.”

“I trust him,” Scott said, finality in his tone. “Liam trusts him.”

Stiles glowered but didn’t respond. Theo couldn’t even blame him. He’d come here with the intention of infiltrating their pack and destroying it, making it anew with him as the alpha. That wasn’t his goal anymore, but Stiles had been right not to trust him, then at least.

Now, it’d be nice if he would give Theo the benefit of the doubt.

“Okay,” Scott said, turning and looking around. “We have questions, let’s figure out exactly what we need to know before we decide who is going where.”

“Alright,” Stiles said, speaking up again now, glaring at Theo. “First question, what do the Dread Doctors want?”

“They want to resurrect the Beast,” Theo told him. “For that, they need a genetic chimera.”

“Why didn’t they just use you?” Stiles asked, moving closer. “This all seems pretty convenient.”

“It didn’t work with me,” he said with a sigh. “Believe me, they tried.” For years, they’d experimented on him in every possible way while he was strapped to their gurney. He’d been pathetically grateful when the pain had finally stopped and they’d started using him in other ways instead. It had made sense to him. Hurt others so that they didn’t hurt him.

He knew better now.

“So they made more,” Scott hummed. “Why these three? What’s special about them?”

“It’s like Finch said the other day in class,” Theo explained. “Chimeras have more than one kind of DNA. Maybe it’s a transplant, a blood transfusion, whatever. I stole medical records for them a few months ago. They want young people, children and teenagers. They survive longer in their experiments, generally.”

“How old were you?” Liam asked quietly. He was standing at the door, rubbing a thumb over his red knuckles.

“When?” Theo turned towards him.

“The first time they experimented on you.”

His hand flew to his chest automatically, rubbing over the non-existent scar. “Eight,” he admitted.

“Next question,” Stiles interrupted, drawing Theo’s gaze. “What exactly is this beast?”

Theo shrugged. “Ask an Argent,” he said. “It’s something from their lore.”

Scott’s gaze dropped, his jaw clenching. Theo studied him, feeling a twinge of guilt. Of course Scott couldn’t ask Allison, she was gone.

But there was still her father. Although Theo wanted to stay far away from him. He had a feeling that the hunter was far more dangerous than any of Scott’s pack realised.

“Stiles and I will go to Eichen,” Lydia said, walking up to grasp Scott’s shoulder, squeezing it. “You should speak to Argent.”

“And Theo?” Stiles asked.

“He has his hands a bit full right now, don’t you think?” She asked gently, head tilting towards the new chimeras. Theo grimaced, following her gaze to where Corey, Tracy and Josh were all sitting on the couch, Mason hovering near them, looking uncertain.

Yeah, he had enough to deal with.

“I’ll stay with Theo and Mason and the others,” Liam said to Scott. “You guys go.”

Kira walked up and took Scott’s hand, leading him away, and Theo watched them go, feeling frustrated. Divide and conquer was a classic tactic. These idiots would have fallen right into his trap without so much as a blink. Why were they all so naive?

“Hey,” Liam said, nudging his shoulder. “Earth to Theo.”

He shook his head, pushing his frustration aside. They were paired up at least, and with Kira going with Scott to see Argent instead of to Eichen, the Dread Doctors wouldn’t be able to get to Valack.

“Don’t give him what he wants,” he said quietly to Lydia as she started to move past them.

She startled, looking at him. “What?”

“Valack. He’s dangerous. He’ll try to bargain with you, he’ll want something for his information. Don't give it to him.”

The intelligence shone in her eyes as she searched his face. “Why?”

“It’s in your best interest,” he said simply. “Valack’s known your family for a really long time. He used to work at Eichen.”

Her gaze sharpened further. “My grandmother,” she said, lips pressed tightly together.

Theo nodded. “Your grandmother. He’s a sick son of a bitch, and that’s coming from me. Don’t trust him. Don’t let your guard down.”

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said, his voice cold. “We won’t”

The implied message was clear. And we won’t trust you either.

But Lydia nodded, letting Stiles guide her out of the kitchen.

Liam stirred beside him. “The things you’ve done,” he asked, voice low. “How bad are we talking here?” He sounded nervous.

Theo looked at him, guilt making his borrowed heart twist in his chest. “It was them or me,” he said, voice level. “I chose me.”

“And now?” Liam asked.

“Freedom or death. It’s the same thing really,” Theo muttered, pushing past him and taking one of the free seats. Either he’d be free or he’d be dead. And he had to do everything in his power to ensure that he stayed alive.

The only thing he wouldn’t sacrifice was Liam.

He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

***

Liam’s heart was troubled as he watched Theo.

Theo had opened up to him so much over the past week, but he was starting to realise that Theo didn’t really think he’d survive the Dread Doctors. There was a resignation to his gaze as he looked between the three chimeras and Mason. He didn’t have many answers for them, looking as lost as they were.

He wanted to help, he did, but he didn’t have much of an idea of what to do either. Most of the supernatural world still baffled him. Before Theo had come on the scene, he hadn’t even known that werewolves could be created on an operating table.

Let alone whatever these three were. According to the files Theo had shown him, Corey was a chameleon who could turn invisible, Josh was a raiju who could absorb and manipulate lightning, and Tracy was a kanima, a creepy lizard that could paralyse. All very powerful, and very scared.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Corey asked, looking at Theo after browsing through his own file. “They said to train us? For what?”

“Test your powers, see how strong you are,” Theo explained wearily. “They want to see if you’ll survive being the host.”

Josh scoffed, leaning back against the couch. “So what? We just wait around for them to find us? Fuck that.”

“No,” Liam agreed, stepping forward to stand in front of them. “Sticking your head in the sand won’t achieve anything. You need to fight.”

Corey visibly blanched. “I don’t know how to fight. I mean, look at me.”

“You’re stronger than you realise,” Liam assured him. “And I don’t mean that you need to run in all guns blazing. I just mean that you can’t give up. If we work together, we can defeat them.”

Tracy finally spoke up, looking at Liam with wide eyes. “How?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question.

“We’ll figure it out. Together. Scott is a true alpha and our pack has faced down alpha packs, berserkers, hunters. We can beat a couple of scientists.”

The three of them look reassured, but Theo looked at him. His eyes said clearly that he wanted to believe Liam, but that he knew better.

“We’ve got this,” Mason said, speaking mostly to Corey, if Liam wasn’t mistaken. “Liam’s right. I know you’re all scared, but we’ll stick together and we’ll get through this.”

Corey smiled at Mason, and Liam looked away, biting back a smirk. He met Theo’s gaze, who waggled his eyebrows at him.

Liam felt relieved. The pack that they were building now was strong. They could do this.

They had to.

#thiam #liam dunbar #theo raeken #stacked

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ao3feed-thiam · 5 years ago

Text

It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2GwL1JR

by Sweetest_Thiam

The first "i miss you" text comes through, and it's enough to send eight months of sadness tumbling down.

Or: Theo is heartbroken because of his own screw-up and he knows he can't fix it.

Words: 10565, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Theo Raeken, Liam Dunbar, Tracy Stewart, Jordan Parrish, Brett Talbot, Hayden Romero, Minor Characters

Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Hayden Romero/Tracy Stewart, Theo Raeken & Tracy Stewart

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, College, Post-Break Up, Getting Back Together, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Angst, it's a lot of angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, There's probably like 90 percent angst in this, sorry - Freeform, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Drinking to Cope, Healing, Heartbreak, Theo Raeken-centric, Minor Liam Dunbar/Brett Talbot, but not really, Implied Sexual Content

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2GwL1JR

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Teen wolf #thiam #Theo Raeken #Liam Dunbar

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simptasia · 6 years ago

Note

🔥 torchwood, lost & detroit become human??

torchwood: i don’t think its that bad. the way the bi rep was handled is kinda wonky because… 2006 but like, overall its a good show. series 2 especially

also i love gwen. i dunno how much gwen hate still exists now but yeah

lost:

the finale was great, fantastic, beautiful, A+++

the characters matter more than the ~mysteries~

i like/love jack, kate, ana lucia, michael, charlotte, shannon (heck, insert any female character name here because they’ve all gotten ragged on)

jacob is a bad person

i don’t think kate & sawyer work as romantic partners, i just like them as friends. i approve of several ships in the love square but thats one i’m ehhh about, and i know its very popular

i like sayid/shannon. nay, i love sayid/shannon

but overall im happy the modern lost fandom is fulla queer feminists because from what i’ve seen, the old lost fandom (2004 to 2010) was… not as pleasant

detroit become human

oh gosh this is gonna be bad (i have friends who hate this game)

i wanna make it clear ahead of time that i absolutely am aware of the flaws in this game and i’ve even spent a lot of time discussing them with my friends.nobody can diss dbh better than a dbh fan, believe me. i can be aware of something’s flaws and still like something (anybody whose followed me for lost knows i’ve dissed the flaws in lost loads of times. i still love it!)

also the dude who wrote/directed this game is an asshole, an idiot, a sexist and a bunch of other bad things. thats not an unpopular opinion, i just wanted you guys to know that i know this. when i praise dbh, i’m not praising him

long story short, i like the creation not the creator

i went on a bit so its under here

despite who made it: it’s a good game, brent

i think despite its flaws, there’s more good things than bad things

allegory isn’t inherently racist. note my emphasis

“heavy handed”, “on the nose” and “not subtle” aren’t bad things? i see it get used as insults a lot but to me i got no bother. not subtle doesn’t mean bad. bear in mind that i’ve grown up a star trek and x-men fan so yeah

i don’t wanna say the word overrated because i don’t believe in that. i just find it interesting how certain characters are getting a lot of attention (e.g gavin, nines) whilst other characters are ignored or reviled. thats not me saying the characters whom are popular in fandom should be ignored, thats me saying i’d like more focus on other characters i like too e.g markus, kara, kamski, the jerries, north, josh, rose & adam and a bunch more. i just really like all the androids and some humans okay

like, its pretty obvious why simon (white man) is being adored whilst josh (black) and north (woman) are being ignored and despised respectively, right? and thats not me hating on simon or saying less simon. i like simon! (or like, what can be done with him bcuz canon simon has no depth)

i just happen to like josh and north! which deserves its own bullet point

not only do i like north, i love north and she’s one of my fave characters!

i do not agree with the often used phrase “hank and connor are the only worthwhile part of this game”, in fact, i hate it. sure, the best part of the game, go ahead. but the only worthwhile part? fuck you, because

i like markus and kara and their stories! whilst most my problems with this game are in markus’ story (just trust me on that), overall i still like it. and kara? heck theres not a single kara chapter i don’t like. and on that note:

i don’t consider kara’s story to be useless. yeah she’s not part the revolution plot but thats not bad. i think it provides a balance. think of it like this: markus represents The Leader, the liberator, the messiah. he is fighting for his people. and he comes from a privileged background. connor is representing The Man, The System, depending on how you play him he is rebelling against The System or is a part of it. now what does kara represent? The People. her and the other androids she encounters represent the average android in this world. markus and connor can’t do that so i feel its important we see her. we’re seeing what markus (and maybe connor) are fighting for. and i think thats really important

and besides all that, i just plain like it okay

i like markus/north, i think they make a good couple (moreso in my head than in the game but i still think they’re sweet in the game)

the concept that pacifist markus and north don’t “make sense together” is stupid because ur assuming north is bloodthirsty and has no room for growth. and that all couples need to agree with each other. also north for violent markus and simon for pacifist markus also makes no sense to me becuz 1. people aren’t rewards, 2. ur confusing simon with josh. again. and 3. violent!markus and north would just be enabling each other. if north is to be with any markus, it should be pacifist markus because they’d be good for each other. also all three of them being options woulda been nice but that’s not an unpopular opinion anyways so moving on

the awkwardness felt about markus/north coulda totally been fixed by literally just one change. take the “lover” indicator and move it until after their first kiss. that way the timing is far less jarring and because the player can choose the kiss or not, the “lover” thing feels more like “yay i made their relationship grow” and less “oh whoa that was sudden”. if that was moved and nothing else changed, markus/north would’ve been way more loved. but alas, markus’ relationship scanner is just damn awkward

markus, my markus, is a verse and a kind, socially inept boy (i like how with the jericho four, north is a rowdy girl whilst the other three are various kinds of soft boys in their own way. i think thats cute and neat)

connor is not an innocent niave dumb bimbo (save that for the bedroom) and i wanna remind ppl that he’s an expert on psychology

the humans killed by daniel, ralph, echo (blue traci), shaolin (HK400) and north all deserved it

north, josh and simon would not all hate each other, fuck you. these people are meant to be friends, remember? (also jericho OT4, y’all!!!)

the facial expression on simon’s face after markus and north kiss at the end is gentle approval. he looks happy, some ppl are just projecting

i don’t mind that alice is an android

the way some markus/simon shippers talk about north is downright sexist and i think most north hate is caused by sexism & rape apologism

(i’m a live and let live kinda person about ships and also i’ve very into multishipping so some y’alls behaviour is perplexing to me)

there is nothing inherently morally wrong with shipping hank/connor. connor is capable of consent and age differences aren’t inherently bad. and the only reason this ship is controversial is because hank looks old and he’s not conventionally attractive. nobody would care otherwise

kamski isn’t evil, he’s morally ambiguous / chaotic neutral

i, uh, like kamski/chloe. its interesting (i’ve embraced that it’s fucked up) and i like the idea that chloe actually does love him. its kinda tragic?

a bunch of that was more about the fandom than the game but whatever. and as usual when i make a list, theres probs more but like, thats what comes to mind

yeah there was room for improvement on this game but overall i think its great and i like the characters, more than that i like what can be done with the characters. like, its a nice place to build from. and like, the people who are all like “if ur a fan of detroit become human, ur a bad person” can just fuck off

thats not how… anything… works

and besides its a piece of android media, done in a story based game, that has android babes and is fulla allegory and it’s something i can analyse to death (and as a bonus, the graphics/rendering/mocap/texturing are PHENOMENAL)

of course this is something i would like and i won’t apologise for that

#i went into dbh more because i haven't done so a lot on tumblr #partly because liking this game is considered controversial #but whatever idc #(if ur under the impression that liking this game somehow inherently makes me a bad person i want you to know that ur ridiculous)#most of my dbh talking happens on discord #a lot of times with my mouth words #anyways long story as short as possible: dbh flawed but i like it #its just that those words can extend into full flown essays #or several 8 hour rants with my friends on discord (im not kidding)#or way or another #i wouldn't care so much if i wasn't a fan #like y'all see me putting energy into things i dislike/hate?#fuck no that'd be absurd #agardenintheshire

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loserholland · 7 years ago

Text

The Princess and The Frat Boy

Theo Raeken AU

Song

College AU which Theo falls in love with the reader who’s in a relationship but later gets cheated on.

Warning- Cussing and fluff? (I think) kinda rushed so it might suck I’m sorry

Word Count- 2,268

Strobe lights lit the dim room of ‘Zeta Zeta Beta’ house Theo stood with the rest of the boys upstairs leaning over the railing as he watched students enter the room ignoring the college students getting drunk till he notice a beautiful girl walk in.

You walked into the room and now my heart has been stolen

Her tight red dress hugged her curves as she stood at the door way pulling at sides that were ridding up, her hair was straighten. The deep red dress showed off her tan legs as she shifted in her place looking around the room as her gaze moved upstairs meeting Theo’s ocean blue eyes. “Who’s that?” Theo questioned Stiles as the mysterious girl looked away “Dude, it’s (Y/N)” Stiles shrugged as he took a swing of whiskey which he quickly spit-take the drink making a weird face as Theo looked back to see (Y/N) had wandered off somewhere “(Y/N) (Y/L/N) goody two shoes friends with Lydia.. smart girl 4.4 GPA?” he questioned Stiles again “Nooo, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) not goody two shoes not friends with Lydia.. dumb girl who has a 2.4 GPA.. Duh! She’s the only (Y/N) (Y/L/N) I know!” Stiles answered with sarcasm as Theo punched his arm playfully.

You took me back in time to when I was unbroken Now you're all I want

Theo Raeken, (Y/N) knew who he was. A fuckboy, player, fratboy, arrogant person. Yet she never knew why, people say he use to be a sweet guy a gentleman but something happened that changed him.

Tracy Stewart happened, she broke Theo’s heart which changed him to go from sweet, caring ,kind hearted Theo to bitter, careless, coldhearted Theo. She broke his heart.. he was so in love with her as she simply cheated on him. The truth is Theo is just broken and awaiting to be fixed yet he built up a wall that won’t allow anyone to hurt him, he changed his attitude which he regret yet continues with it because he doesn’t want anyone to hold his heart only to crush it at the end.

Yet he when he saw (Y/N) walk into the room looking like a damn angel those walls slowly came crashing down.

And I knew it from the very first moment 'Cause a light came on when I heard that song and I want you to sing it again

It’s as if that one look, the eye contact they had changed everything. They had a few classes together so Theo decided to sit next to her in psychology class “Um.. excuse me but I’m sitting there.” a boy said sheepishly as he referred to Theo sitting in his seat that was next to (Y/N) “I’m sitting here now, scram.” Theo said coldly as the boy nodded avoiding eye contact with him as (Y/N) scoffed opening her notebook ready to write.

“Hey princess.” Theo commented as he draped his right arm over the back of her chair (Y/N) glanced at him then looked back at her notebook “Don’t call me that fratboy.” she mumbled taking out a highlighter and a few pens and a pencil.

“Why not?” Theo questioned as (Y/N) ignored him opening up her laptop opening a new document for notes “Princess.” Theo repeated as (Y/N) glared at him “Theodore Raeken will you shut your mouth? Stop calling me princess because you don’t even know my name!” (Y/N) finally answered.

Theo smiled like the cheshire cat as (Y/N) cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)... did you really think I don’t know your name? I’ve seen you around and let me tell you.. that dress you wore to my frat party damn.. you looked so sexy.” (Y/N) starred at Theo with wide eyes causing him to chuckle “C’mon princess pay attention don’t want you failing this class.” Theo said playfully as he leaned back his attention on the white board watching what their professor was writing.

I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me Like it was a private show, but I know you never saw me When the lights come on and I'm on my own Will you be there to sing it again?

It was as if (Y/N) didn’t know Theo or acknowledge his presence when they’re in the same room. It killed him that she didn’t even notice him nor try to talk to him.

“Hey princess.” Theo commented as (Y/N) continued to ignore him causing Theo to frown “Nice day out huh? Still no response as Theo sighed looking at the board “Please turn to chapter- Mr.Raeken!” Theo had stormed out of class as (Y/N) looked up to see he had left his seat leaving class. He didn’t want to sit there for the next hour not talking to (Y/N).

Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories Can I be him?

I heard there was somone but I know he don't deserve you

“He’s so sweet!” (Y/N) giggled as she talked about her boyfriend Gabriel Cruz knowing Theo was sitting near by, Gabe was not sweet he was a damn douche bag using (Y/N) to do his work and just for ‘cred’ dating one of the smarted popular girls. Lydia and the rest of the girls went along with (Y/N) knowing damn straight Gabe was none of these things. Theo got up from the couch in the student lounge and stormed out.

“He likes you (Y/N)” Lydia said in a sing-song voice taking a sip of her coffee as (Y/N) placed her book into her bag “No, he doesn’t Lyd’s.” Allison shrugged as she took a bite of her apple “You can see it, the way he acts now.. kinda like the old Theo... I think he’s willing to change for you.” (Y/N) leaned back into the couch and sighed “Oh Theodore.” she thought.

(Y/N) attended another frat party that wasn’t ‘Zeta Zeta Beta’ but her boyfriend’s party. She wandered around asking where Gabe had been “Outside.” one said “In the kitchen.” another said “On the porch.” finally someone told the truth “In his bedroom.” (Y/N) made her way up the stairs staying as close to the wall so she wouldn’t brush against these drunk teens.

“Gabe I have been looking every-” There he was with another girl in bed... in bed with Tracy Stewart “(Y/N) this isn’t what it looks like.” she then grabbed the necklace that was around her neck ripping it off then threw it on the floor “We’re THROUGH! I’m breaking up with you douchebag.” (Y/N) rushed down the stairs her head hung low causing Theo to look at her with concern as she rushed out the doors “(Y/N)!” Gabe called after as Theo walked up to him punching him square in the face “You hurt her didn’t you?” he questioned as Gabe didn’t answer causing Theo to clench his jaw as he punched him one more time “Next time if I ask you a question you answer.” Theo stood up rushing out to get into his truck to find (Y/N).

It was a chilly night as (Y/N) hugged herself rubbing her hands up and down her arm trying to warm herself blinking away the tears as light sobs left her lips thinking about how she could be talking to Lydia about this or better yet Theo whom may actually like her “Princess?” (Y/N) looked to see Theo in his truck with the window down “Theo.” she mumbled as he rushed out of the car to bring her into his embrace warming her up a little “Princess you’re freezing!” Theo exclaimed as he took off his bomber to placing it on her shoulders “C’mon I’ll drive you home.” he opened the car door allowing her to get in and get warm.

If you were mine I'd never let anyone hurt you, no, no I wanna dry those tears, kiss those lips It's all that I've been thinking about 'Cause a light came on when I heard that song and I want you to sing it again

“Are you okay?” Theo questioned as he was constantly glancing at her every five seconds “Yes Theo for the tenth time.. pay attention to the road.” (Y/N) mumbled resting her head against the window. “I kinda punched your ex.. twice.” Theo said trying to lighten her mood “Good.. he deserves it.” (Y/N) mumbled as Theo glanced at her and smiled.

They came to a red light as Theo looked over at her, his hand cupping her cheek using the pad of his thumb to brush away the tear (Y/N) looked up into his beautiful blue irises then to his pink plump kissable lips she slowly leaned up till she heard a car horn beep causing Theo to turn his attention back on the wheel stepping on the gas.

I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me Like it was a private show, but I know you never saw me When the lights come on and I'm on my own Will you be there to sing it again Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories?

“Thanks for driving me back.” (Y/N) mumbled as Theo shifted from one foot to another as they stood in front of her dorm room “No problem princess.” (Y/N) was about to hand back him bomber till Theo shook his head ‘no’ “Keep it, looks good on you.” causing (Y/N) to blush she turned around to open her door till Theo tugged at her wrist causing her to turn around as he hugged her again taking her by surprise slowly she wrapped her arms around his waist. Theo pulled back to place a kiss on her forehead.

“Goodnight princess.”

Can I be the one Can I be the one Can I be the one Oh, can I, can I be him?

(Y/N) wore his bomber the next day of class as she sat in psychology she placed her bag next to the seat awaiting for Theo to arrive. He entered the class as (Y/N) gave him a small wave as he rushed over to sit next to her.

“You look beautiful in that bomber.” he commented as she gave him a smirk “Thanks.. so I was told to keep it from this handsome guy.” Theo starred at her blankly “What?” (Y/N) questioned “You called me handsome!” Theo grinned from ear to ear as (Y/N) rolled her eyes “You weren’t suppose to hear that.” she mumbled as Theo smiled “Well I think you look stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, I can go on and on about your beauty.” Theo whispered.

Won't you sing it again? Oh, when you sing it again Can I be him? Oh, sing it again, yeah Oh, when you sing it again Can I be him?I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me Like it was a private show, but I know you never saw me When the lights come on and I'm on my own Will you be there, will you be there? Can I be the one you talk about in all your stories Can I be him? Can I be him? Can I be him? Can I be him?

After weeks of flirting Theo and countless dates he was ready to ask her to be his girlfriend.

(Y/N) and Theo stood under the stars “Wow.” (Y/N) mumbled looking up at the stars that filled the navy blue sky. Theo got down on one knee pulling out a velvet box “(Y/N) don’t freak out okay? Just listen to me.” (Y/N) stood there shocked at Theo position.

“From the first day I met you I thought, wow this girl is beautiful. I’ve always wanted to ask you out yet I felt so.. scared and intimidated because of your beauty and how smart you were. I ended up dating someone who hurt me and broke me causing me to change. Yet that night when you walked into the frat house looking stunning as ever, trust me you always look stunning but that night confirmed that damn I am in love with girl. We never talked yet I’ve seen you around campus and the way you are around people caring, kind person. When I sat next to you in psychology I thought ‘She’s going to hate me because of what she’s heard about me.’ but those things aren’t true.. I did that because I didn’t want anyone else to hurt me and I knew you wouldn’t hurt me so I let my walls down for you.. I know you will hold my heart and won’t crush it. Yes we may have fights our ups and downs but I know you’ll always be there so (Y/N), will you be my princess? My girlfriend?”

Theo opened the velvet box revealing a rose gold tiara ring (Y/N) nodded as tears slipped down her cheeks without her even noticing “Yes!” Theo placed the tiara ring on her ring finger kissing (Y/N) passionately for the first time. “I’ve been waiting to do that.” Theo said breathlessly as (Y/N) chuckled “You should’ve done it sooner.” she joked kissing him again.

“This is a promise ring yunno.” Theo said as she laced his fingers with her’s kissing the back of her hand as (Y/N) nodded “You scared me when you got on one knee I was about to faint.” she said as Theo chuckled placing a kiss on her forehead “I love you my princess.” (Y/N) leaned in to place a chaste sweet kiss on his plump lips “I love you my frat boy.”

#theo raeken au #theo raeken #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken smut #theo raeken x reader #cody christian #cody christian imagine #cody christian au #cody christian x reader

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gold-from-straw · 7 years ago

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February writing round-up

I do this thing every month, even if no-one reads it (shit, I’ve been writing private diaries that no-one reads since I was 6 years old, why would a blog be any different lol!?) I like to keep a track of what I’ve managed to get done because I think I can be quite harsh on myself, assuming I’ve achieved nothing when actually I’m kinda doing OK. So please ignore if you think I’m coming across as smug - this is my self care, and I fully recommend it!

Wicked Boys - I uploaded the first 4 chapters of my huge Gradence - Harry Potter crossover onto AO3 and it’s plodding, but because I’m kind of nervous about it, I’m maybe a little relieved it’s not getting too much attention? I like it, and I’m proud of it, but I’m also pretty sure people will look at the outline and judge it negatively, so maybe flying under the radar is a good thing ;) It’s not all transcribed onto the computer, the first few chapters were massively expanded into something like 8 or 9 so hopefully from now on it’ll be a bit smoother.

Ripples - This was an original short story I originally wrote for a competition when I was in a REALLY bad place and I never finished it, leaving the 2 main characters with a very uncertain outcome. It actually upset me a lot to read through it... until I realised that what it needed was the fanfic treatment! It’s too dark for my May Fantastic Beasts Calendar fic but I’m so happy that I’ve found a way to make these two sad people happier that I’ve opened it up and plan to add on a whole fix-it style ending in a couple of months

Our Bright Future - this IS going to be my fantastic beasts calendar fic! I’ve been obsessively listening to Tracy Chapman’s album of the same name, and every single song makes me think of a FB scene, with different characters. So I’m planning to do little ficlet chapters for each song!

The Nature of Trust - Actually started uploading this Merlin fic onto AO3 this month, but I’d only got up to chapter 7 of 8 last month. This was my first fandom trumps hate fic and I’m slightly overwhelmed with the positive response it’s had!

Consent Fest fic - all done and sent off ^_^

Lily’s Eyes - I did another 4 chapters of this Drarry epic, but it’s stalled mostly due to the fandom trumps hate fics and...

The Golden Prince and the Black Knight - oh dear. I saw a Gradence aesthetic. And fell in love. And fell down a rabbit hole. And someone whose writing I really respect asked if I’d fancy doing a collab so that happened!

Not Broken - OK so I haven’t done anything new on this original novel, but I’ve decided to dedicate NaNoWriMo to finishing it (I’m about half way through, maybe, possibly?). I’ve got a pretty detailed plan, but things happen lol! Anyway, it’ll be my first time writing a NaNo on paper. Yes. I AM planning my NaNo story in February, thanks.

Reassembled - oh man it’s been so long! This poor FrostIron fic! I’ve decided I REALLY need to write the 3 chapters that a couple of commenters prompted me to ages ago. This is one of those fics that’ll never end because I’m planning to open it up to prompts. There’s no definite story arc, just little scenes all in the same universe, so it’s quite relaxed. But it really has been too long!

#my writing #writing roundup

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hard-satin · 7 years ago

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Required Reading (5.06)

Masterlist

I stood between Stiles and Malia as Sheriff Stilinski drew a red X through Tracy Stewart's picture. Stiles reeked of anxiety even more than usual. I rested my shoulder gently against him allowing him to lean on me for comfort.

“Chimera’s.” Noah said testing out the word.

“Two dead chimera’s.” Stiles specified.

“And eight new one’s.” Malia added.

“So ten in all.” I summed up.

“I’m thinking maybe eleven.” Noah told us as he hung Donovan's picture next to the others. I heard Stiles heart rate jump.

“Our station tech guys confirmed something for me. They said the holding cell lock and cameras could have malfunctioned because of something electromagnetic. You said that these guys…” Noah explained.

“Dread Doctors.” Malia informed him.

“Are we really calling them that?” Noah asked.

“So they broke Donovan out.” Malia summarized.

“That’s how they got into Eichen, wasn’t it?” Noah asked. Malia nodded walking up beside him.

“Donovan’s a chimera.” She said staring at the picture. Stiles was beginning to shake as he closely studied the ground. I took his hand in mine. Tracing small circles on the back of it with my thumb to calm him down. It wasn’t much but it was the best I could do for him.

“Yes, but is he a failure like Lucas and Tracey?” Noah asked.

“If he is, he’s probably dead.” Malia told him picking up the red sharpie to mark through Donovan's face. Noah stopped her.

“Not until I’ve seen a body.” Noah told her. Stiles pulled away from me turning to face the back of the room. Noah turned to look at us.

“You two are uncharacteristically quiet.” Noah observed as Stiles turned back around to face his father.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to think about it.” Stiles tried to cover himself.

“These were all teenagers right?” I asked Noah trying to take the attention off Stiles.

“Shouldn’t we be trying to figure out why these teenagers?” Stiles asked picking up on my train of thought and coming out of his fog.

“If the Dread Doctors went through all that, burying them, killing them, breaking one of them out of jail.” I lead Stiles on.

“They couldn’t have been chosen at random.” Stiles almost smiled at the realization.

“They had to have something in common.” Malia added.

“Something that made them right. Right for this experiment.” Noah narrowed down.

“Something that made them special.” Stiles agreed.

I stood next to Scott surveying the school yard as he talked to Theo. I had called him last night to report our conclusions from the station.

“So basically we’re looking for abnormal behavior.” Theo summed up as Scott tried to explain the plan to him.

“Anyone acting a little off or a little weird.” Scott confirmed.

“Isn’t everyone a little weird in high school?” Theo pointed out. I laughed turning away from the courtyard and leaning against the railing. The watch and wait game was my least favorite and I was already tired of it.

“Yeah, good point.” Scott told him. I sighed and walked away from our futile attempt to find the new chimera’s. Scott followed behind me. His copy of the book twisted anxiously in his hands. Theo chased after us.

“You remember Tracy went on a killing spree after reading that.” Theo reminded us.

“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” Scott asked. I looked up at my alpha in confusion. He was eagerly looking towards Theo seeking his advice. Something was wrong. Stiles and I were Scott’s first and most trusted advisors even if we didn’t always offer good or even serious advice Scott always looked to us. Something must have happened between him and Theo for him to look for his advice.

“I think Malia almost getting run down by a car could have been bad. That’s why you guys haven’t finished it right?” Theo asked.

“We’re going to.” I defended my pack. I decided to question Scott about his curious relationship with Theo later. Hell I thought the boy was sexy as fuck but that didn’t mean I was ready to trust him completely, and I doubted Theo’s looks were what had Scott so enamored with him.

“Scott, I came here to find a pack. I wasn’t planning on watching one fall apart.” Theo told him.

“The book’s all we got.” Scott defended.

“Then I’ll read it too.” Theo told him.

“I’ll make you a copy from mine. I have a free period anyway.” I told the boys.

“Hold up.” Theo called after me. I turned to watch as he nodded a goodbye to Scott and ran over to me.

“I have a free period too. I’ll come with.” He told me. I smiled at him as I lead the way to the library.

The library was almost entirely empty as we stood over the copy machine. The hum of the machine punctuating the silence that hung between us. I pretended not to notice Theo was staring at me.

“You don’t trust me do you?” He asked suddenly. I shrugged.

“Stiles doesn’t trust you.” I told him not answering his question.

“And you trust Stiles.” Theo said still studying me.

“With my life.” I told him finally turning to look at him. He was a lot closer than I thought but I didn’t move away.

“Stiles hates me.” Theo said as we studied each other.

“He’s definitely not your biggest fan.” I told him.

“But you don’t hate me. You like me.” Theo pointed out.

“Well aren’t we presumptuous.” I smirked at him.

“Are you forgetting I can smell you? Are you forgetting about that night in the woods?” He asked.

“I think I have.” I told him turning away, overcome by the intensity of his gaze. I didn’t want to fall under his spell but it was hard not to.

“Then maybe I should remind you.” I heard him whisper in my ear. His hand slid across my face to cup my jaw. Warm and soft as he turned my face to his. His lips were pressed softly against my own. My eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. His arm snaked around my waist and pulled me close to him. I groaned as our bodies collided. It had been so long since I was last with someone I didn’t realise how much I had missed it. The copier beeped beside us and we pulled apart both of us panting.

“You do like me.” He noted a triumphant smirk on his face. I pulled away from him taking my copy of the book from the printer.

“I’m not sure yet, you’re going to have to work a little harder to convince me.” I smirked right back t him. I turned on my heel and walked from the library leaving an extra sway in my step, knowing Theo’s eyes were on me. This might not be right, and it would never be real, but it could be fun.

“My mom’s book club usually has more wine.” Lydia comments as the pack plus Theo stood around the coffee table where the copies of the book lay.

“Well your mom’s book club probably didn’t read books that caused violent hallucinations.” Stiles pointed out.

“That’s why Malia’s here.” Scott told us. Malia had finished the book in one sitting and she was fin. So I held out hope that reading this book wouldn’t kill us.

“So none of us go running into traffic.” Kira said.

“Or worse.” I added realising I was not helping as Scott fixed me with a disappointed stare.

“Like what happened to Judy.” Malia commented. We all looked at her in confusion.

“Chapter fourteen.” She informed us.

“Spoilers.” I jokingly chastised her.

Lydia was the first one to pick up a book. She held it in her hands and studied the cover.

“Maybe I should get my mother to read it. She might remember a girl with a tail leaping off the ceiling and attacking everyone.” Lydia joked dryly.

“Right, if it works.” Stiles told her.

“It has to.” She told us.

“That sounded ominous.” I observed looking at Lydia with curiosity.

“What does that mean?” Scott asked her.

“I think I saw them. During my surgery. When I look at the cover of the book, it’s almost like…” Lydia trailed off not knowing how to describe the feeling.

“A memory trying to surface.” Theo finished for her.

“Yeah.” Lydia agreed.

“Isn’t that what Valack wanted when he wrote it?” I asked. Kira nodded at me.

“If they did something to me, I want to know what it is.” Lydia informed us before taking her book and sitting down on the couch to read.

We each took a copy and sat down on the furniture in the living room. Scott sat next to Kira on the couch. That left three chairs and four people. Lydia and Stiles were quick to sit in two leaving one for Theo and I to fight over. Only he didn’t try to take it. Like a gentleman he stepped back and offered the chair to me. I smiled at him gladly taking it.

“Do you mind if I lean against it?” He asked as I got settled. I shook my head and he took up residence on the floor between my legs.

The pack sat for over an hour reading. The only noise the occasional turning of a page. My head was resting in my hand as I tried to focus on the words on the page. Theo’s head was resting against the inside of my knee and I was focusing really hard on keeping my heart rate steady. So hard that I had read the same passage from my book five times over. Finally Scott broke the silence.

“Does anyone feel anything?” He asked looking at us all.

“Thirsty.” Stiles reported getting up to get some coffee from Malia in the kitchen.

“Tired.” Kira told him.

“Hungry.” Lydia added.

“Bored.” I told him. Theo tilted his head back to look up at me.

“I think he meant the book.” He told me a cheeky grin adorning his face.

I smiled at him and we all went back to reading. I was quickly distracted by the voices of Stiles and Malia coming from the kitchen. I didn’t want to eavesdrop but I heard her mention his shoulder.

“What did you do to your shoulder?” She asked him.

“What are you talking about?” He asked her stalling for time.

“I can smell the blood. What happened?” She asked him.

“Jeep died on me again, went to check the engine and the hood fell on it.” Stiles told her. It was a good lie, the only problem I could hear his heartbeat. I knew he was lying and if I could then Malia could too. I waited for the accusations she would raise against him but they never came.

“Hey, so how much do you remember anyway? I mean the accident, did it play like a movie in your head or was it like being completely in it again?” Stiles asked her after a tense moment had passed between them.

“In it.” Malia told him.

“Was it just the crash? Nothing else?” Stiles asked her. I heard her heartbeat jump.

“Nothing.” She told him. He might not be a supernatural but I was and I could hear her lying her ass off. I would have to ask her what else she remembered when we had a minute alone.

The sound of a heavy sigh brought me back to the circle of friends on the couches. Kira had apparently thrown in the towel because she was tilting her head back and closing her eyes.

“You’re not giving up are you?” Scott asked her noticing her state.

“I’m just resting my eyes.” She assured him.

Her eye closing soon turned into snoring. Scott moved her from the couch to his bed. When he came back we tried to focus. Stiles and I moved to the ground lying on our bellied like we did when we studied. Malia took up residence next to Scott on the couch. I don’t remember who was the next to fall asleep but soon the room was filled with snores. It wasn’t long after that I was following the rest of the pack into blissful unconsciousness.

“What if we need some kind of trigger?” Scott asked us the next day as we walked down the school hallway.

“Wasn’t Malia driving when she remembered the crash?” I asked thinking there might be something to Scott’s trigger theory.

“Yeah, but how are we supposed to trigger a memory that we don’t remember?” Stiles asked.

“Maybe it’s a delayed thing. Maybe we have to wait a couple of hours to see what happens.” Scott said hopefully.

“Aww Scottie forever the optimist.” I told him doubting that any freaky hidden memories were going to surface for me after reading that book.

We all stopped in our tracks as the lights above us began to flicker. Scott, Stiles, and I turned slowly to look at Kira. She looked between our curious stares and quickly defended herself.

“That wasn’t me. I swear.” She told us.

“We keep an eye out for each other today.” Scott decided.

“Yes, and keep an eye out for eight other potentially deadly chimera’s.” Stiles added.

“And keep an eye out for the Dread Doctor's.” Kira added. Scott lead her away while Stiles and I walked to class.

“I’m starting to see the appeal of a third eye.” He called after them as we headed in the opposite direction.

I was leaning against the locker, working on the homework I’d been neglecting when I heard it. It came from one hallway over. The beginning of a scream that got lost in someone’s throat. I threw my books in my bag and ran after the sound. Cut off or not, I knew it was Lydia.

I ran into the classroom just before Scott and Theo showed up. Lydia was sitting against the wall reeling in horror. It was like she was somewhere else.

“Lydia?” I called to her. Her eyes started to drift as she came back to reality.

“Lydia, are you okay?” Scott asked as her eyes focused on the three of us.

“I’m okay.” She assured us.

“You remembered something.” Theo guessed.

“Not about the Dread Doctors. Nothing about them or the surgery.” She told us.

“What was it?” Scott asked as we each took an arm to help her up. She stood but immediately collapsed into a nearby chair.

“My grandmother, at Eichen house.” Lydia told us.

“Lydia! Lydia.” Lydia’s mom ran into the room.

“Oh my god, what happened? Are you alright?” Natalie asked kneeling to check on Lydia.

“Mom I’m fine. It was nothing.” Lydia assured her.

“Was it a blackout? Did you faint?” Natalie asked her.

“Yeah, I fainted. Mom, I’m fine. I promise.” Lydia assured her taking the lie that Natalie herself had supplied.

I left Lydia to the arms of her mother. Something she probably wasn’t to happy about but Kira had texted me that she was in the library having trouble with the book. I still had some time left in my free period so I went to see what I could do to help.

She was sitting on the floor against the shelf of books when I found her looking worn out and defeated.

“Is Lydia okay?” She asked as I sat beside her.

“More or less. She remembered walking in on the scene of her grandmother's suicide, but nothing about the Dread Doctors. It gives me a bad feeling.” I told her.

“What do you mean?” Kira asked me, turning her attention completely away from the book.

“She had visions of the Dread Doctors standing over her in a surgery. What if it wasn’t hers.” I told Kira.

“You mean you think she’s having a banshee premonition?” Kira asked.

“I’m not sure. You need to finish that book. I’m just here for moral support.” I told her making her focus as I sunk back into my thoughts.

Not five minutes later and she was slamming the pages closed in frustration. I didn’t get a chance to scold her.

“Not into sy-fy? That’s the book isn’t it. I thought you guys were supposed to finish reading it last night?” Mason was leaning against the rack. I smiled at him as he walked over to us.

“Yeah, I kind of haven’t yet. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I mean I can barely read it.” She told us.

“Okay.” Mason said sitting down across from us. He had a book in his hands.

“This is going to sound weird but do you speak japanese?” Mason asked her.

“No. I’m also half Korean and I can’t speak Korean. And I’m pushing a C average in english.” Kira told him.

“Okay, well I’ve been doing some reading on kitsune’s.” Mason told her.

“How come?” She asked him confused.

“Well because I know one.” He told her.

“Do you know why people in Japan answer the phone moshi moshi?” Mason asked her.

“Moshi means hello.” She told him.

“Right but there’s a reason that you have to say it twice on the phone. According to japanese folklore, fox spirits have difficulty with language. The way that you prove that you’re not a fox when you answer the phone, you say moshi twice. The important part is moshi moshi confuses kitsune’s because it’s a language trick. So is the book. It’s just one long language trick.” Mason explained.

“That’s why I can’t read it.” Kira realised.

“It’s affecting the fox part of you.” I told her.

The lights flickered around us. Before I could even look at Kira she was defending herself.

“I swear that wasn’t me.” She told us.

“I believe you.” I assured her.

“Jamie I’m going to watch Liam practice, wanna come with. He could use some emotional support.” Mason told me.

“Why?” I asked Mason.

“His old nemesis Hayden is practicing on the field too.” He told me.

“Aren’t you going for the emotional support?” I asked him.

“No, I’m going to talk with Brett.” Mason told me with a grin.

“Kira are you going to be okay finishing the book. I’ll stay.” I told her.

“I’ll be fine. I only texted you in the first place because misery loves company I guess.” She told me with a sad smile. I smiled back at her then took Mason’s outstretched hand to stand up and follow him onto the field.

Mason and I sat on the benches watching as Liam took his shots on goal. Hayden didn’t seem to be so much a problem as a distraction. Brett joined us a couple minutes later.

“Have you seen anything a Devenford. Anyone acting out of the ordinary or weird?” Mason asked him after we all shared hello’s.

“I don’t know dude. Everyone at Devenford is pretty normal to me.” Brett told us.

“What else is there to look for. There’s heightened strength, smell, hearing, spead.” Mason started listing.

“Able to see in the dark.” Brett added.

“Glowing eyes.” Mason added.

“Eye’s that reflect the light.” I threw in.

“Visible scorpion stingers protruding out of limbs.” Mason added. The boys continued on but I had picked up on a smell. Liam’s aggressive chemosignals hit me like a truck. I was always more in tune with the packs emotions but this was almost overwhelming. I excused myself from Mason and Brett’s flirt fest to make my way down to the side of the field.

Liam appeared to have entered into a competition with Hayden to see who could make the most shots in a row. Liam lost his cool and pelted the goalie with a shot knocking him back into the net.

“Damn it Liam.” I growled marching onto the field. Liam had helped the goalie up but that didn’t excuse his lack of control. I pulled him by the shirt away from everyone else.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“She started it.” Liam excused himself nodding to where Hayden was standing in the field studying us. I smacked that back of his head.

“When you’re a werewolf that’s not an excuse. Your chemosignals were spiking like crazy. I thought you had everything under control?” I asked him.

“I do it’s just I let her get into my head. I’m sorry.” He told me. I looked past him to Hayden again. It dawned on me. He liked her. I was just about to tell him when a boy came running onto the field.

“Does anybody have an inhaler?” He called. Liam looked at me. Somehow we both knew.

“Scott.” We said together. Liam and I took off towards the boys locker rooms. Liam lead the way to Scott’s locker. There were one or two boys walking around.

“Hey, you can’t be in here.” One of them called at me. I grabbed him by the throat and shoved him against the wall.

“How about now?” I growled at him. I looked around at the few other boys.

“Everybody out.” I ordered them. The scampered away. I found Liam desperately spinning the combination lock on Scott’s locker.

“It just won’t open.” He growled in frustration. I pushed him aside and tore the lock off the frame. The door peeled slightly off the hinges and Liam reached inside to grab Scott’s inhaler out of his bag. We took off running again. I lead the way to Scott’s biology classroom.

“Move!” I shouted at the people who had gathered around to watch Scott. They cleared a path and Liam and I raced to Scott’s side. Liam put the inhaler in his hand. Scott was barely breathing.

“Come on Scott.” I begged. Scott was struggling to take in any air at all.

“Scott, come on.” Liam shook our alpha’s shoulder. He didn’t respond. I looked to Liam letting my eyes glow. He let his do the same. We turned back to Scott both of us saying his name with a growl using our connection as wolves to shock him out of his weird state. He seemed to come back into himself as he brought the inhaler to his lips taking in a deep puff. He was able to breath again.

“Thanks.” He told us as he breathed deeply. I let out a breath and collapsed into Liam’s side. I didn’t realise how scared I had been for Scott until the danger had already passed. I held Scott’s hand as his strength returned to him Liam’s arm wrapped around me and we just took a minute to be grateful that we were still here with each other. When Scott was finally better Liam and I headed back to the field. I picked up his lacrosse gear while she showered and changed. We walked back through campus together. As we were walking he turned around I turned to. He was looking at Hayden and her sister who worked for the sheriff. I smiled as he watched her.

“What?” She asked him noticing his gaze.

“Nothing.” He defended. I chuckled and took his arm pulling him away.

“Was that Liam Dunbar? He got cute.” Hayden’s sister told her. I could tell by the smirk on Liam’s face he had heard her too. I shoved his shoulder with mine.

“Cool it Romeo.” I warned him before dumping his lacrosse equipment in his hands.

“Where are you going?” He asked me.

“Find Scott. Make sure he’s okay.” I told Liam before heading out. I had the deep seated compulsin to check in on everyone today as often as I could. There was this feeling nagging at me like something was coming for us. For the pack, and it was worse then the Dread Doctors.

I was tracking Scott’s scent when Theo found me. He was looking for Scott to. He had heard about the incident. We tracked him together. We found him sitting in the boys locker room looking at his inhaler.

“You okay?” Theo asked him.

“Yeah, I think it was just the memory hitting me. Psychosomatic thing.” Scott explained. I sat down beside Scott on the bench.

“Did you want to talk about something?” Scott asked Theo who looked like there was more on his mind.

“No it can wait.” Theo assured him.

“It’s okay. What’s up?” Scott asked him.

“Last night everyone fell asleep. I went upstairs to check on Kira. She was sleeping but…” Theo tried to explain.

“You heard her speaking japanese.” Scott guessed.

“I didn’t just hear it.” Theo told us. He held out his phone and played a recording of Kira’s voice. Words I couldn’t understand.

“That’s what she said at the club.” Scott told him.

“Do you know what it means?” I asked Theo.

“Not me, but I found a website that could translate it. It means roughly I am the messenger of death.” Theo told us. Scott looked down.

“Does it get worse?” Theo asked him.

“Something’s happening to her.” I told Theo.

“She’s got this aura around her, it’s hard to explain but it’s supposed to be part of her but now it looks different. Almost like it’s taking over. I don’t know something’s happening and to be honest… I don’t know if I can trust her anymore.” Scott told us. I looked at him in stunned silence. It wasn’t like Scott to give up on anybody. I was distracted as the lights overhead flickered. We all rose to our feet. There was a sound coming from the basement. I dipped my head to focus better.

“I hear it too.” Theo told me.

“It’s coming from the basement.” Scott observed.

The three of us headed down to the basement. There was a loose wire hanging from the ceiling. It looked like it had been chewed on.

“This definitely isn’t Kira.” Scott observed.

“It’s a chimera.” Theo filled in.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked down to see a text from Melissa. Stiles and Lydia were at the hospital. She had gone to find a way to turn on the lights when she lost Stiles. If there was power trouble at the hospital now then there was a more than likely chance that the chimera had moved on.

“Guy’s we need to get to the hospital. I think the chimera’s there.” I told them. We all turned and raced back outside. I texted for Malia to join us and all four of us headed to the library.

We took Theo’s truck and hauled ass to the hospital. As soon as we arrived I had Stiles scent and ran off to find him. Theo ran with me as Malia and Scott ran in the other direction. I burst onto the roof to see the chimera on top of Stiles. I was transformed instantly as I ran to my friends side.

Theo was right behind me. He grabbed the Chimera’s arm before it could descend on Stiles and slice him to ribbons. I punched the chimera as hard as I could sending him flying back. Theo ran after him as I checked over Stiles. He had been hit a few times but nothing major. I looked over to see the chimera stomp on Theo’s wrist. I heard the bone shatter. I ran to Theo’s aid.

I knocked the chimera off Theo but it pulled me back with him. We both fell to the ground. The chimera rolled on top of me it’s claws digging into my side. They sliced through my flesh and under my ribs. The chimera started to pull. I could feel my ribs starting to move. I screamed in pain. Then Theo was up, one of his wrist was still healing but he wrapped his other hand around the chimera’s neck and ripped his throat out. The pain in my chest died as the chimera did. I pushed him off me. I panted as I felt myself start to heal. Theo quickly knelt beside me. One of his hands covered in blood the other came to my face as I winced against the pain of my healing. My breathing evened out as the pain subsided. Theo helped me to my feet. I looked up at Stiles who had come from the corner to look at the dead body.

“Stiles you can’t tell Scott. You can’t say anything. Please don’t say anything.” Theo begged. I knew why. If Scott knew about what Theo had done, even if it was to save my life there would be no way Theo was allowed in the pack.

“Why not?” Stiles asked even though Theo had just saved his life too he was still suspicious.

“Because I never said anything about Donovan.” Theo told him.

#theo raeken #stiles stilinski #Scott McCall #kira yukimura #lydia martin #malia tate #malia hale #Melissa McCall #Sheriff Stilinski #jordan parrish #mason hewitt #Brett Talbot #the dread doctors #teen wolf #teen wolf season 5

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thelastswallow · 8 years ago

Text

What Tears Us Apart, Ties Us Together

Chapter 9

John - Legwork

In which there is home made spaghetti - Alan Tracy learns the origin of a nickname - Lieutenant Cooper Waverly pines after an imaginary woman - Virgil Tracy has an assignation with a real one - a young man crosses the border into Turkey and it is a long way to Illinois

There’s something about deserts that has always appealed to John.

Something about the horizon. The towers of empty space and the flat, lunar surface. It makes him feel calm and clean.

Like a moth to a bug zapper, Grandma used to say, as she attacked him with the tube of sunscreen when he was a kid, or painted the tip of his nose with aloe Vera when he came home pink and peeling. He’s not built for the desert. Only Gordon’s sallow skinned and quick to tan, buy of the five of them John burns the quickest, roasts the colour of poached salmon in the time it takes to boil an egg; some unfortunate throwback to the Scotch-Irish roots of the Tracy clan. But Man wasn’t made for space either, yet his Dad stood on the face of Mars. So maybe it’s natural that John wants to explore the places he doesn’t belong.

When he was 11, the six of them had spent one February Fourth in a specially built capsule in the Mojave Desert that mimicked the lunar simulation modules the SETI Institute had used in the early 2000s, when NASA had been prepping to go back to the moon. John doesn’t remember a time when he’d been happier than he was staring out the porthole of that cramped little module, imagining himself among the company of the great men and women who had walked on the moon.

Sometimes, when he needs to gather himself, John imagines himself curled up in the porthole window, watching the lunar landscape of the Mojave.

Yet But when he imagines the desert, this isn’t what he pictures. It looks all wrong as it hurtles past the window, in blocks of olive and grey under a forget-me-not sky. This desert doesn’t make him feel calm, just sweaty and anxious and itchy all at once. It looks yellow and scrubby and full of rattlesnakes; scar tissue on the landscape. It hurtles past and he wishes he were somewhere else.

A good first test.

There’s a chime above his head that signals the magnet train is slowing down and he breaks his fixed gaze on the winding landscape. His tablet has gone unattended for long enough that it’s gone dark. He’s too easily distracted all of a sudden.

He gathers his bag and tablet and rises. A few people make note of his movement, but nobody else in the carriage makes a move to disembark.

The magtrain glides to a halt and there’s a whoosh of hot, dry air as the door unseals itself. He steps out onto the raised platform. Along the train’s length passengers, most in uniform, diffuse in and out of the train. No one pays him any attention as they hurry towards the stairs and the exit, swiping their passes through the scanner. He follows.

There are convoy trucks waiting to pick up officers in the parking lot, and a dusty town taxi idling out in front of the red brick building, looking for business. He ignores it and makes the short walk into town.

By the time he gets there, there are dark patches of sweat beneath his armpits. He wipes his brow and stops at a dispenser to by a soda.

Avalon is a small, neat little place that mainly serves to support Rainshadow Airbase. There’s a county hospital and a couple of mom and pop stores, though most of the business has drained out of the centre of town. School kids wander around in packs. An elderly woman walking a tiny poodle smiles at him as he sips his pop. He finds McGruck’s, a sports’ bar, in a big lot off the main street.

The bartender is quick to ID him, but only shows real interest in his birthdate and not the person attached and after he’s been satisfied, leaves him nursing his beer and his tablet at the bar. Off duty airmen come in in dribs and drabs, and he earns a couple of curious looks, but nobody bothers him.

A little before seven there’s a tap on his shoulder, “Tracy?”

A rangy man in captain’s stripes has come up behind him. There’s a stir from the peanut gallery. This is not, John guesses, habitually a bar where officers come to drink. “John Tracy, right? I’m Skip Guerra.”

They’ve met before, though Skip probably doesn’t remember and John doesn’t remind him. Skip and Scott had been at school together and though Skip had been some years older, they had made friends running varsity track together. Scott had dragged John round to the dressing room to meet Skip the night he led the school football team to state. He had been gracious as he accepted John’s congratulations, though obviously wired to the moon and unlikely to remember. Skip had left for the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs the same year Scott had gone off to Yale. Now they serve in the same unit.

Skip is big in every dimension, has inches even on Scott. A small moustache makes him look older than his 26 years, and he is, John can tell, despite his bluff handshake, nervous.

“Thanks for coming.”

A tight nod. “I’ve got a car outside.”

They drive out of town, talking around the subject in question. Skip talks about the weather, their old school, Williams’ Prep and the differences between the GDF and the space programme. They reach Skip’s house, which is off base, where Skip’s wife Lisa and home-cooked spaghetti are waiting to ambush them.

John’s impatient to get on with the task at hand, but it’s rude to say no, particularly when he’s asking such a big favour, so he accepts as graciously as he can manage.

Skp and Lisa have got an 18-month-old son, Jake, and from the size of Lisa’s belly, another one on the way. Jake is fascinated by John’s red hair, and John – for whom babies have always been a separate country he is not planning on visiting – puts up with his interest. Lisa asks interested if routine questions about WWSA and Skip tells anecdotes about air force life. If it’s all designed to make John feel guilty, he thinks, as he passes around the basket of garlic bread, it’s working.

But when dinner is over and the plates are cleared Skip rises. “Time for John to be going,” he says. “I’ll be back later.” He kisses Lisa’s cheek.

As John closes the car door he says, “You don’t have to do this.”

“Sure, I do.” Skip starts the engine and puts the car into gear.

They drive. Within minutes they’re approaching Rainshadow Base and John feels his throat constrict.

Dad is Dad so of course he heard through channels first.

Scott is AWOL.

Or, to be precise, he is only guilty of Failure to Repair; but at 0900 hours yesterday Lieutenant Scott Tracy did not report to base after leave, and by 1700 hours he still has not reported to his commanding officer.

He’s not the only officer ever to fail to report in after leave. Maybe he missed his flight. Maybe he got the dates wrong. Maybe his mates, in high spirits, duct taped him to a pole and have forgotten where they left him. This sort of thing happens all the time.

Just not to Scott.

From the expression on Skip’s face he thinks so too.

Dad had called just as John was out for his morning run, having spent most of the night bailing Gordon out of a premature court marshalling at the WASP gala. “I’m telling you this,” Dad had said once he had broken the news, “Only because there’s a reasonable chance where you’re working that you might hear through other channels.”

John had never thought of himself as someone to be gossiped about or at. Maybe it was different with Scott. There was enough cross-over between the WWSA and the GDF that there was a possibility he would hear from some other source.

“You haven’t told the others?” he had asked.

“I don’t think there will be a need to.”

“When was the last time you heard from him?”

“The morning he left the island he called me a selfish, conceited son of a bitch. So at least we know he wasn’t acting out of character.” The attempt at a joke had fallen flat.

“He’s been missing a week?” He had been bundled up against the arctic cold. Suddenly his brain had felt as numb and clumsy as his hands.

“Absent. Not missing. Your brother’s always been good at letting me know he’s upset. Torching his career is certainly a potent signal fire.”

“Dad…”

“Kyrano’s already on his trail. And we’ll find him. I want you to stay where you are. Attend to your studies. If he contacts you, of course, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll update you periodically.”

“Dad, can I…”

“This is a good first test for you.”

A good first test. A test that he’s failing.

John Tracy is hacker like no other. John Tracy writes code the way Paul McCartney wrote pop hits. John Tracy has never met a digital door he did not want to open.

John Tracy cannot find his stupid, ignorant luddite of an older brother.

It should have been easy. Scott’s financial records, his flight history, his passage in and out of the security net that encircles the globe, it should have led John to him like a luminous contrail.

But Scott had landed in Algeria, withdrawn 2,000 dollars’ cash at the airport foreign exchange, disappeared into the city and…

Nothing.

No Scott. No trail. Nothing but white noise. Not even a starting point.

John spent half his time in MIT thinking and writing about search heuristics; for search and rescue; for stars; for prime numbers. Even the most basic search needs a node to start from.

And so now, here, with Skip, smiling politely in the passenger seat as they were waved through gate at Rainshadow Airbase, looking for somewhere to begin.

Scott had been the one to ruin their trip to the Mojave, hadn’t he? For three days all six of them had lived in close quarters, in the lunar simulation module, mimicking the lives of the first settlers on the moon, and how Dad had lived with Captains Taylor and Tsang when they had been building Shadow Alpha One. But on the morning of the fourth day, Scott had stumbled out of bed, and out the airlock, to relieve himself against the side of the capsule, decompressing the pod and killing his father and four brothers in the process.

Scott had been apologetic but unconcerned. Said it was an accident and that he had forgotten where they were. He had been nearly 14, unhappy about Dad’s decision to leapfrog him two years ahead into ninth grade, and ready for a little kickback. John, on the other hand, had been distraught, not ready for the adventure to end. He had begged Dad that they be allowed a do over, but Dad had said no. There were no second chances in space.

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about that now.

Scott lives in unaccompanied officers’ quarters. Skip pulls up to the squat block of condos and parks. “This is it.”

“Thank you, Skip.”

Skip shrugs, nods. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”

Not really. Some clue or hint. Some trace of where Scott’s going or where he might be going, or what he might be thinking. An impression. A scent. “I’ll know it when I see it,” he says.

“John, I hope you find what you’re looking for, but you should know, I don’t think you’re going to find your brother in there.”

What a strange thing to say.

“You and Scott fly together, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re friends?” He’s got a sudden overwhelming feeling that this was a bad idea.

But Skip gives him a cryptic smile. “I’m not doing this because you asked politely. He does talk about you.”

“He does?”

“And I get the distinct impression that if anyone can find that squirrelly motherfucker and get him back where he belongs then it’s you. Yeah, we’re friends, John.”

A good first test.

“Okay.”

They get out of the car. Skip’s swipe key gets them into the building and up the stairs to Scott’s condo.

The first thing he notices is how clean it is. It’s at odds with the Scott he knows, who leaves dirty dishes in the sink and a breadcrumb trail of his clothes from the bathroom to his bed every night when getting undressed. Any habit can be learned, he supposes and somewhere along the way, someone has beaten neatness into Scott.

The kitchen-living room is sparse, impersonal. He rifles through the kitchen, but the cupboards are bare of anything more exciting than protein powder and cereal. The fridge holds nothing but ketchup and mustard.

He tries the bedroom. Skip follows.

In here too is neat and orderly, the corners of the bed are squared off. There’s a Light Type interface built into the desk that would have connected to Scott’s personal drive. When Skip isn’t looking, John takes a HUB from his pocket and sets it down, activating pre-set commands to clone everything that the interface has processed over the last two months.

He doesn’t linger by the desk and crosses to the other side of the room. The closet contains only neatly pressed uniforms, a couple of casual shirts in blue and cream, and rows of folded white t-shirts. There’s a small safe in the bottom of the closet, but it hangs open and any valuables have been cleared out.

There’s a digital picture frame on the windowsill that clicks to life when it detects motion, but the photos it cycles through are curiously blank of personality. A group picture of Scott’s squadron, a formal photograph of him smiling starkly at the camera at the receipt of his bronze star and a family portrait, the same one that goes out to the press when they’re looking to write about “Billionaire industrialist Jeff Tracy and his five fine boys”.

John feels a creep up his spine, like razor scraping bone. None of this feels genuine. It’s like he’s walked into an exhibition showcasing the life of one, ‘Lieutenant Scott Tracy’ rather into a place where anyone actually lives.

Angry again suddenly, he yanks open the drawer of the nightstand.

Inside the drawer are a flotsam of personal effects; a string of condoms; a blue inhaler, 11 months out of date, because Scott always forgets to resupply his prescription unless he’s having one of his infrequent asthma attacks; a Rubik’s cube, half-solved and then forgotten; a slim book.

He takes the book out of the drawer, turns it over, recognising it. It’s a copy of Slaughterhouse Five. The red and yellow dust jacket and leaves are real precious paper and the publisher’s seal says the volume was published in 1972. John had sourced it himself, from a small antique book dealer in San Francisco. It had been a rather pointed Christmas gift to Dad and he remembers noting now, how it hadn’t been on Dad’s book shelf the last time he was in his office.

It looks well-thumbed. There are greasy finger marks along its spine and its pages are dog-eared, like it’s been read and read again. He doesn’t remember it ever being a favourite of Scott’s

He’s about to open his mouth to ask Skip if he knows anything about it when Skip puts a finger to his lips. Outside there comes the murmur of soft voices and the bleepclick of the latch unhooking.

John puts the book back and slides the drawer closed. Skip quickly crosses the room and switches off the light. He motions for both of them to step into the bathroom. There are footsteps in the outer room, the jangle of keys and then nothing.

Through the crack in bathroom the door John peers out into the bedroom. The light in the outer room comes on, throwing a slim rectangle of white light against the bedroom wall.

He glances at his watch. It’s 9:45. There’s no reason for anyone else to be here.

“Are they looking for us?”

Skip gives the slightest shake of his head.

If I’m caught, he thinks, I’ll just step out. No one needs to know Skip was here. His pulse is hammering in his ears.

A rhomboid of white light slides across the floor as the door swings open. Whoever is outside, they are coming in.

“This is it. Be quick, okay?” says a woman’s voice in a whisper. “I’m deep in the shit if they find you here.”

“Okay.”

John’s still trying to figure out what’s going on when Skip surges forward. “Goddamn it to hell, Stubbs, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The electric light comes on and the light box vanishes from the floor. He hears the woman falter at the sudden appearance of Skip. “Captain!”

“Airman, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Sneaking civilians onto the base? Breaking and entering. Do you know how many charges you’re risking?”

“Please, it wasn’t her fault. I asked her to,” says a voice, a familiar voice, a very familiar voice.

“Virgil?”

“John?”

He steps out of the shelter of the bathroom and sees Virgil standing in the doorway. His younger brother practically looms over the young Airwoman with dark hair standing in front of him. Skip looms over them both, but flinches when John sticks his head around the door.

“What are you doing here?” Virgil gapes at him.

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

“I…uh…”

“Well, isn’t this a clusterfuck?” says Skip, placing his hands on his hips. “Stubbs, I oughta write you up.”

The airwoman fidgets. She’s tiny, with black hair looped in a tight braid and anxious sloe black eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, Cap. Really I am. But they’ve been talking shit about… There’s been inappropriate talk about Lieutenant Tracy in the mess, Captain and why he hasn’t reported to duty. And he,” She taps Virgil on the shoulder “Was so determined to find him. I wanted to help him, you know?” She gives John the side eye and the flash of a smile. “I guess you do know. Which one do you got?”

“The astronaut. Who’s that?” Skip glares at Virgil. “The Olympian?”

“The artist. Except he says he’s a pilot now.”

He says he’s a what?

But Skip just rolls his eyes. “Go figure.”

“We have names, you know,” says Virgil, peevishly. “We’re not a collectable set of breakfast cereal toys.”

“Of course not, kid,” says Skip, placating but patronising. “What’s your youngest brother again? The congressman?”

“He’s in middle school!” both John and Virgil snap, simultaneously.

Joh scowls and Virgil digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“What are you doing here, Virgil?” John asks.

“Same as you. Looking for Scott.”

“You’re supposed to be at school.”

“Yeah, well. You’ve got better places to be too, right?” Virgil raises his chin so he’s looking at John and not the floor. There’s a stubborn jut to it, at once familiar and out of place on Virgil. Something seems different about him and for a moment John can’t place just what it is. Then he realises. Virgil’s always run to stocky, ungenerously even to chubby. At thirteen it had made him self-conscious enough to start to camouflage his weight with layers of shirts and t-shirts. Somewhere in the last week he’s shed those extraneous layers. In just a pair of faded jeans and a v-neck grey t-shirt it’s immediately clear what should have been obvious last week. The puppy fat is gone. Virgil’s tanned and fit and for the first time in his life, probably in better shape than John.

He’s still got that stupid moustache though.

“Hey, Stubbs,” Skip says, a little louder than is necessary. “Come out here for a sec, I got something real important to show you in the kitchen.”

“Yes, Captain.” Stubbs winks at Virgil and they both step out of the room, pull the door shut behind her.

John eases himself away from the bathroom door and Virgil pushes off from the wall. They shuffle a little closer to each other.

“I didn’t think you knew he was missing.” John says. “Did Dad tell you?”

“Sort of.” Virgil’s fingers brush the tucked in corner of the bed. “I was with him when he got the news.”

“He came to see you in Chicago?”

“Something like that,” Virgil murmurs. “I’m surprised he told you.”

“There’s a lot of air force personnel with the space agency. I suppose he was afraid the news would get to me anyway.”

“And did it?”

“No. Why would it?”

“I dunno. It seems like Stubbs was saying there’s a lot of talk about him.”

“Maybe I just don’t’ pay attention to that sort of stuff.”

Virgil looks around. “Does he really live here?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Did you find anything?”

“No.”

Virgil jostles past him, as if he doesn’t trust John to look, or as if maybe Scott’s hiding in the bathroom too. He looks inside, brushes the shower curtain back, and then pulls the wardrobe door open. His fingers grope right to the back of the empty safe.

John lets him at it, goes to retrieve his hard-drive where a one-two-three blink tells him it has finished its work. He pockets it and picks up the digital photo-frame. It cycles to the family portrait, the five of them smiling blandly on the balcony of the New York penthouse. Teeth immaculately white, hair immaculately brushed, each of them arranged so that John’s red hair won’t clash with Alan’s blonde and Scott’s height wouldn’t look comical among his smaller brothers. Dad’s wearing a black bomber jacket, like he’s just leapt off the gantry of Artemis 5. Heroic astronaut and family man. They look perfect.

The reality was that they had been miserable. None of them had wanted to give the first day of school holidays over to the dreary photoshoot. Virgil had crashed through arpeggios on the baby grand piano between set ups and Alan, who had been only seven, had thrown a DEFCON One tantrum because he was jet-lagged and out of sync with the time zone and it was way past his bedtime. Every time John found a quiet place to read he was disturbed by a stylist trying to stick yet more safety pins into his hated grey and green sweater vest.

Scott had turned up at quarter to six, fresh from his first year at college and with Miss Rhode Island in tow. He’d showered, thrown on the white shirt and slate grey trousers selected for him, thoroughly charmed the stylists and posed for the photos without ever alerting anyone from the press that he and Dad weren’t even speaking to each other.

That had been the same article in which Dad had said, “the future of space exploration is the property of the capitalist” John remembers, with a wince.

He wonders what it is about that photo that makes Scott want to keep it around, want to display it here people can see it. Why he wants this reminder of their wax figure selves, so artificial that if you tapped them hard enough they might shatter. John can never believe just how dreamy and dim he himself looks in those photos, or how Gordon looks butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth angelic.

And the louche Scott in the picture looks nothing like the immaculate model soldier who fades up as the balcony photo fades out. The buttons on his uniform and the medal pinned to his chest sparkle. He gleams.

Virgil is peering over his shoulder now, his brows knotted together. “Hey, Scott,” he says to the photograph and then to John, “There’s nothing here,” Virgil says.

“No.”

“I thought there’d be something.” He sounds disappointed.

“What are you doing here, Virgil? Were you expecting to find him hiding out in the bathtub?” It comes out more harshly than he mean.

But Virgil just seems amused. “You’re going to give me grief about being here? What are you doing here? Guilty conscience?”

“Of course not. Why would I have a guilty conscience?”

Virgil gives him a look. “Gee, I don’t know, Johnny. Maybe something to do with the shouting match you had just outside my door last week.”

“You heard that.”

“Grandpa Grant heard that.” Virgil pulls one of Scott’s hoodies over his head and puts his hands into the pockets. “And I’m here because I thought this would be as good a place as any to start. Figure out where he’s been, so I know where he’s going. Talk to his friends. I’m going to find Scott,” he says, almost as an afterthought. “Drag him home kicking and screaming if I have to. You can help. Since you’re here.”

“Gosh. Thanks.” But suddenly he does feel guilty. Not about Scott, but for Virgil. Poor Virgil. Of course, he wants to help. Of course, he wants to be seen to be doing something useful for once. It seems petty to point out if Kyrano can’t find Scott, if not a single digital rock John’s turned over has offered up one lead there’s precious little Virgil’s going to be able to do in the situation.

“It’s not like he just disappeared. People don’t just van – ” Virgil breaks off, colours suddenly. “I didn’t mean. Sorry, John.”

“What? Oh. That.”

When he was nine years old John had been kidnapped. He had been walking home from school one day when Scott had stayed late for basketball practice. An arm had gone around his waist and another over his nose and he had been picked up and tossed into the back of a van. One of his kidnappers had brandished a knife at him in the van, told him that good little boys were well treated but bad little boys had their fingers cut off one by one.

After that they had been civil to him, fed him cold spaghetti hoops and given him a gamegle to play with.

He wishes he could say he had been brave or plucky or clever, that he had outwitted his captors and escaped on his own, but the reality is that he had spent a long weekend playing Tetris Masters in a cramped duplex in downtown Portland. At the end of the third day there had been terrifying sounds outside and he had buried his head beneath his blanket. But when the door creaked open it had been Kyrano who had been outside, ready to scoop him up and take him home.

When he looks back on it now it seems like something that happened to someone else. The worst part had been when, firmly held in Dad’s arms, he had had to wade through the sea of flashing cameras and shouting reporters from the steps of the hospital to the car.

In the aftermath, Dad had insisted on subcutaneous GPS transmitters for each of them. Before leaving Algiers, Scott had cut his out and flushed it. John’s seen the records It had transmitted for three days from the bottom of a reservoir outside Algeria before blinking out.

John feels a sudden creep along his spine. Had it been flushed? Had Dad sent divers to retrieve it? Had they checked the rest of Scott wasn’t down there with it? And why hadn’t that occurred to John before now? He’d just assumed that Scott had taken himself off to sulk, to lick his wounds in private, to throw his disapproval in Dad’s face by torpedoing his career. Before now he’d never considered other possibilities. He had thought Scott understandable, quantifiable, a problem he had already solved.

But who is this Scott who can make himself vanish without leaving a digital trace? And who is this person living a carefully studied half-life in place of his dreams?

John’s legs give out from under him and he sits down on the bed.

“John.” Virgil’s hand grips his shoulder. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I’m fine.”

A good first test.

But Dad hadn’t meant that finding Scott was his first test. He had meant:

When you’re 200,000 miles above the Earth’s surface, dropping everything and coming home is not going to be an option available to you.

He had meant: You’re going to have to learn what it costs to be able to do nothing when people you care about are in trouble.

He had meant: I need someone cool, collected, dispassionate. Someone who can be rational even when people they care about are in danger; especially when people they care about are in danger.

So, John’s already failed this test, because he’s here, chasing his tail in the desert, imagining worst case scenarios and achieving nothing as the possibility of finding Scott gets more and more remote.

Fuck you, Scott.

Because even in his absence Scott’s deconstructing him, making him doubt himself, pointing out he’s not the man he thought he was.

“Come on, John.” Virgil takes him by the arm. “We should go. He’s not here, okay.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He’s quiet as Virgil says goodbye to Stubbs and as Skip drives them back off the base. They pull in in the parking lot of a 7eleven. Beneath a no loitering sign a beat-up jalopy stands parked. “This is me,” says Virgil.

The car looks like it runs on rust and prayer. Skip raises an eyebrow as he pulls in. “Is this what the Tracy boys are driving nowadays?”

Virgil scratches his head, embarrassed. “It belongs to Dave, my neighbour. He loaned it to me in exchange for a painting and my bike. I don’t think he ever thought I could get it to run.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“Wait a second.” John allows this to sink in for a moment. “Your neighbour? In Chicago?! You didn’t drive clean across the country in that?”

Virgil nods, shrugs. “Had to. Dad grounded me.”

“Virgil, you’re nearly nineteen. He can’t ground you.”

Virgil shrugs. “Froze my assets then. Revoked my clearance to my bank accounts, even the ones he wasn’t supposed to know about.” John doesn’t miss the way Skip’s eyebrows go up. “Gave me sixty dollars a day to live on and five days to clear out my apartment and hand my notice in at my job.”

“Why?”

Virgil shrugs, sanguine. “Maybe he was afraid I’d take off to New Mexico to look for Scott.” He opens the door of Skip’s car to let himself out. “Thank you very much, Captain Guerra.”

“Nice to meet you, Virgil. And nice moustache.”

John jumps out of the car after him. “You’re not going to drive back in that death trap?”

“Sure. Wanna ride? Where you going?”

“I’ve got a 7am flight,” he says stiffly. To LAX with no connecting flight. It had seemed a good international hub to start from. He had figured by then he would know where he was going. “I’m booked into an airport hotel in Albuquerque.”

“Yeah. That’s on my way. I can take you.” He reads John’s expression. “Or I can drop you back to town and you can get the train.”

“Come back with me.” John rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay for your flight.”

“I don’t need your money, John.”

“No, you need a miracle to keep that thing running.”

“Anyway, I promised Dave I’d have the car back.”

Dave, John decides at once, is clearly a frustrated serial killer.

“Virgil, I… I’m pulling rank. I can’t let you drive that thing across the country.”

This is the part where Virgil folds. It’s where he always folds. If it were Gordon or Alan it might be different, but Virgil can be relied upon to be sensible and obedient. Except this Virgil is grinning a most un-Virgil like grin, and folding his arms on the roof of the car. “Then I guess you have until Albuquerque to convince me not to.”

There was a time, when gasoline was cheaper and more readily available, that freeways were the arteries of America, but that was before economies of scale in fusion tech made public transport the faster, cheaper option. Nowadays, automobiles are mainly used for short distances. Driving is a dying art. The freeways are half-empty and poorly maintained, populated mainly by the huge 26 and 48-wheeler transport wagons, itinerant nu-gypsies and the occasional motoring hobbyist.

They speed along in silence that stops just short of companionable. The night is squid ink black and full of stars. The head beams of the transport wagons dazzle him as they harrumph out of the darkness and rattle past. There’s music playing softly over the speakers. It’s neither unpleasant nor identifiable. Virgil’s always been an early adopter when it comes to new music.

The jalopy doesn’t even have an autodrive function so Virgil has to steer, but they’re making good time. John can’t shake the sensation that he should be saying something, but he’s just not sure as to what it is. Every time he tries it gets turned into a clearing of his throat or a groan.

But a sign tells him that Albuqueque is only a hundred miles away so he clears his throat once more and asks, “Did you know about any of this? Did he confide in you?”

Virgil keeps his eyes on the road as he says, “Johnny, Scott doesn’t really talk to me at all, except to say, ‘Uh, how’s the art thing going, Virg?’ like I’m seven.”

“Oh… uh, how is the art thing going?”

“I quit.” Virgil’s expression doesn’t change. “I’m going to Stanford in the fall, on Dad’s dime. Engineering.”

“Oh.”

He wants to ask more but something in Virgil’s manner strongly discourages it and a minute later he pulls into one of the roadside gas stations and stops. “I’m starving. Getcha anything?”

John shrugs. “Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

“I’ll get two of everything then.”

A second later John remembers the danger. “No granola bars, Virgil.” He calls at his brother’s retreating back. “And I don’t want a kale smoothie!” John’s got an astronaut’s general outlook on health but a computer programmer’s compulsive need for E numbers.

“Sure thing, John. Just caffeine, cocaine and gin.” He waves a hand and keeps walking.

He gets out of the car to stretch his legs and goes for a short prowl around the tiny outdoor seating area. Just as he’s stretching out his quads, his phone rings.

“Hey there, polar bear.”

Rest, and a day of forced routine attending lectures, have obviously done Gordon some good. He’s evened out a little, lost that manic gleam. Last night – or rather in the early hours of this morning – it had been all John had been able to do to coninvce him to get some sleep. He had spent most of the evening stuck between gears, trapped between being furious at this Lady Penelope and being utterly besotted. One minute John had been talking him down from turning her and himself in to the Admiralty, and the next he seemed about ready to start carving “GCT hearts PCW” into bulkhead walls. He had paced back and forth, bouncing up onto his hammock and back down again, peeling off one item of clothing at a time until he was down to his t-shirt and boxer-briefs, repeating things that had been said to him or about him, collapsing with a sigh in his chair and then leaping up to say, “And another thing!”

This evening at least he seems calmer, though the first words out of his mouth are still, “I’ve been thinking about that Lady Penelope chick.”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yeah, really,” says Gordon, who is maybe not as oblivious to sarcasm on the subject as John had thought. He’s tipped back precariously on his chair, slurping kelp noodles with a pair of ceramic chop sticks. “Do you think you could track her down?”

In fact, there’s already a burgeoning file about the Lady Penelope Creighton Ward in John’s personal vault, locked behind every digital protection John can come up with, but he’s not going to tell Gordon that. “I’m not sure.”

“Oh, come on, Johnnycakes. You can find anybody.”

John winces. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel tonight’s session. Something’s come up.”

“No prob. Everything okay? John?” Gordon’s looking hard at him now and the edges of his smile are starting to droop. He looks unsettled.

“Everything’s fine,” John says and to change the subject he says, “What would you say if I told you Virgil wanted to go to Stanford to study engineering.”

Gordon nods. “Makes sense. Good school.”

“It is a good school. Don’t you think it might be too good a school? Virgil’s always been more focused on the arts then academics.”

“That’s… true.”

“Some of the guys I work with studied engineering at Stanford. They said that was excellent but intense. Might it not be too much for Virgil? He barely scraped through high school math.”

Suddenly Gordon cracks a broad smile. “Oh no. Are we about to have the birds and the bees talk? We are! Oh, no. Johnny!” He throws back his head and laughs.

“Gor… Cooper!”

“Sorry. Sorry. So. When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much and the mommy and the daddy both have IQs pushing 160…”

“Cooper, be serious.”

Gordon slurps a kelp noodle back into his skull. “What I mean is… John, you know Virgil’s good at math, right?”

“Of course, he’s fine, sure. But there are standards–”

“John, you know that Virgil is smart, right?”

“Of course, but multiple intelligences are -”

“No. Not multiple intelligences. Not everyone is special in their own special way. Not everyone get out your crayons and form a circlejerk because we are all about to be blowtorched by the fiery intellect by John Glenn Tracy… I’m losing the run of this metaphor. To rephrase: You know Virgil is smart, like smart smart. Like, you smart.”

There is a moment’s silence, then Gordon groans. “Oh man, you didn’t. Oh, no. I was counting on you to tell Scott. Does this mean I’m going to have to tell Scott? I’m not telling Scott. Why do you think his ‘math tutor’ was an emeritus professor of mathematics instead of the usual broke post-grad?”

“I thought… I thought that was just Dad being Dad.”

“Well, yeah, sure, little bit. Also, no! C’mon, Dude, he got 1007 on his SAT scores the year the mean score was 1006. He nearly failed basic trig yet somehow managed to get by in all those AP calc courses. John, he actually read your dissertation.”

For just a moment John goggles. “Oh, shit.”

Gordon’s noodles nearly come back down his nose. “Johnny, you said a bad word!”

“I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t forget to keep up with your reading.”

“Yes, teach. Say hi to Virgil for me.”

By the time Virgil returns with supplies John’s already got their route to Chicago planned out along with appropriate rest stops and gas stations for re-supplies. “It’s a 26.2-hour drive to Chicago traveling at 60 miles per hour. We’ll each take two six hour shifts, with fifteen minute breaks every two hours. Why don’t you take first shift, while I work out our rest stops.”

“Okay, Johnny.”

Virgil takes the first six hours and John the second. By the time he finishes his shift he’s been awake for 39 hours, so while Virgil drives he dozes in the back seat.

When he wakes up, they’re already in Kansas.

#bbt #john tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds are go

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