#also thinking about a post detailing all of my fics but undecided on that

[verathena14]

I’m really interested in your Soriku Descendants AU, care to share some details?

Oh, ofc!

Riku is Mal's younger brother and Sora is Ben's younger brother, both by ~6 years (so Riku is 10 in D1, 12 in D3 and Sora is 9 in D1, 11 in D3)

My fic (even though it's changed nothing has to change) takes place about 5 years after the end of D3, so Riku is 17 and Sora is 16

Neither Sora nor Riku are very close with their siblings, because of the age difference and also because of all the Canon Movie Drama

Despite this, Mal still arranged to have Riku brought over to Auradon after the events of D1, mostly because she couldn't stand the thought of him being alone and basically orphaned on the Island. (yes Hades is still there but she does Not want to leave Riku with Hades lmao)

Riku and Sora are both transmasc, because I said so. Riku has a bit more angst about it though, since Maleficent always pressured him to be more like her.

This is also why in aforementioned fic, Riku's whole angsty moment is about wanting not to be like his sister; he wants to be his own person now that Maleficent isn't around.

At some point in the au, due to [undecided circumstances], Riku gains the ability to transform into a dragon :) he.... is not entirely pleased about this.

i think that's all for now, may add more stuff later :>

(all posts for this AU will be in #kh descendants au

[thestalwartheart]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for the tag, @aniron48 ❤️ This was such a nice way to wrap up this year, and to remember what I'd written!

Tagging @cicerfics @dixkens @dassandre-00qpidsarrow @boffin1710 @samanthahirr and whoever else wants to play along!

Answers under the cut!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 82! I feel like I blacked out and blinked and woke up with a horrifying number of fics!

2. What’s your total A03 word count? 385,997 😨

3. What fandoms do you write for? James Bond mostly. Also Glass Onion/Knives Out. I don't write for The Witcher anymore, but I have in the past. On my laptop is a lot of unfinished Star Trek fic - mainly Kirk/Spock - and a crack at some Arthur/Eames (from Inception).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

being with you (is the best of all)

date, interrupted

the places you leave in the dust

a rank above

by any other name

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do try to, and I mostly succeed. I like to thank people for investing their time with my work, and I also like getting to know people in fandom. There's still 100+ comments I need to get back to, and some of them are very old. I will get to them though!!! I promise!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Anything involving the MCD tag. There was also a short called garden that was very sad for other reasons.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Either being with you (is the best of all) or dispatches from the division.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really, though I've had a few rude comments and bookmark notes. One person let me know across three chapters that they hated my characterisation of Bond so much they were tempted to rewrite the ending! But most people are lovely. The Bond fandom is small and most of us have our heads screwed on the right way.

9. Do you write smut? Frequently and without shame. There are 29 E-rated fics in my backlog for your reading pleasure.

10. Do you write crossovers? I have a Knives Out/James Bond crossover series where Bond and Blanc are detectives competing for Q's attention.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes and I am endlessly grateful for people who are more talented with languages than I am ❤️

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Just a team poem for 007 Fest, though I have worked with beta readers.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? Kirk/Spock forever.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I had a multiverse fic I posted a chapter of that I don't think I have the energy for anymore. I was so undecided about the ending that I lost interest in writing it.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm good with characters and details. My writing has been called immersive by a few people, and I do really pride myself on building atmosphere. I think I can turn a good phrase occasionally too!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I need to get better at proofreading for typos. I'm quite lazy with plotting and planning as well. I definitely need to work on that for an original novel I'm writing!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I only do it if it's necessary, and I'm so glad AO3 now has a hover feature for immediate translation. One of my pet peeves at uni was how often scholars used random French and Latin words or phrases when they didn't need to!!!

19. First fandom you wrote for? HP, probably. Or Glee. Those fics have been purged from the internet now 😂

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written? Either dispatches from the division or the WIP I'm in the process of posting now, called the age of change.

Shout out to everyone who has made it to the end! As a reward, please enjoy this picture of my cat flopped over in her cat tree ❤️

[just-antithings]

(sorry if there's mistakes i have pulled an all-nighter and haven't gotten enough sleep. Also, I'm the guy who once made an ask that ranted about antis in my talking planet fandom)

Bro antis love to just look at posts/fanfics that have the most clear, no-nonsense summary/tags, and then puke when the tags/summary was honest, and claim to be "literally tramuatized i am crying i wanna die!!!"

On Wattpad and AO3 i posted a fic.

And in that fic, the character Neptune humps an Asteroid named Guillermo.

(Neptune is insane and due to his loneliness and delusions he drew faces on asteroids and believed they were real, and named one guillermo for some not-needed context)

On the AO3 ver, i used the tags "Neptune/Guillermo", "male masturbation", "humping", and "sex with an asteroid". Those are pretty clear tags, i think. Therefore, people would ignore the fic because these were some clear tags, and ao3 people know how to curate their fandom experience, right?

Apperently, i was wrong since one guy was like "I haven't finished reading this but i don't wanna finish it but I'm still reading it".

Like, if you don't wanna read it, don't!

And later that guy was like

"I read your fic and i wanna die. Not saying it was bad, it was good, but in a bad way,"

I responded with a really long ranty comment about how insensitive they were, how they were practically saying my work is bad, how using suicidal thoughts as a lighthearted thing for daily use is terrible, and how they could just stop reading it.

(I then felt kinda guilty for that response and deleted the whole thread.)

On the wattpad version, since tags mean nothing, i used the summary to explain the whole fic, being as clear as i could possibly be.

i wrote as the summmary "Neptune jacks himself off with an asteroid by humping. Dead dove, don't eat! Grapefruit." And that is pretty fucking clear, right?

Since the AO3 version had people not curate their fandom experience, perhaps the Wattpad version would be better? Knowing their reputation i doubt it, but there's a chance tha-

Oh, wait, nevermind. I was right at the beginning.

While i was reading another fanfic that wasn't mine, i saw someone comment something along the lines of

"Read it and i wanna cry and die!!! Maybe it's because i just read a disgusting neptune x guillermo sm-t fanfic and that traumatized me :(((( Especially since i know how s-x works"

Like, WHAT???

I tagged and made a very clear summary, and the fanfic wasn't even bad by itself! There was no illegal activity in it at all! It was just a planet deciding to hump an asteroid. I didn't even put much detail. I used the word "southermost points" as a replacement for using cock or pussy(TBH i was just undecided on what i wanted neotunes genitals to look like so i went vague)

and why does that guy think they think my fic is bad because they "know how sex works"??? Bro, bro, bro...

No, you don't, your experience in sex ed was by puritains! If you know so much about sex, then why treat it like a cursed swear nastybadewwgross? What's with the censoring of the word? Sex ain't a swear, almost everyone has done or thought of doing. Your mum and dad did it! Nothing nasty 'bout that!

And how does knowing about sex even- What??? I'm confused about that guy. What was his point? Huh?

And my fanfic did not tramautize you! Fanfiction cannot tramautise ANYTHING! It can disturb people, but that's not trauma! Fanfiction may trigger people, but that can be avoided by clicking away, ignoring the fic, and blocking the user! I made it very clear what that fanfic was about. If you wouldn't like it, why read it? Huh?

(Also, i saw that guy comment something "It's worse when you yourself drew worse... As an artist, it's scary..." And i feel kinda bad for them. Why would people be ashamed of their own art? Why would people shame others but indulge in the same stuff? Why must things be a GUILTY-pleasure? Why could you not just be happy for yourself and your art?)

I am not holding these people hostage, i am not chaining them, and shoving my fanfiction in their face shouting "Read it!" I am just a guy who writes fetish smut.

It is not hard to ignore something and block someone. You are only chained by your consious. You are not chained by me.

Anyways, these people could see a building with big letters "Gun shop!", tons of big and small drawings of guns, the word "gun shop" written in every dead and alive language on earth, go inside anyways, and complain about the guns and how they expected candy.

Is it so hard for antis to just curate their internet experience and mind their own beeswax?

[leonstamatis]

reasons to vote for jacob/moses/layna in the @blaseballshipbracket :

(listen. I can’t make you do anything. i almost didn’t submit them at all because they won’t make it all the way and it will lowkey devastate me when they lose. i’m not even offering rewards, because i want to save those for the more contentious battles later on. but, yknow, just for kicks, let’s make a case.)

my second-ever blaseball fic was about these three. it was the first ship that i thought of all on my own, and i was very nervous about putting them all out there.

since then, i’ve written 21k across four fics detailing their relationship through pretty much all of blaseball, up til gamma.

they quite literally have everything? i’m not even joking. moses was involved in the masoning before they came to the flowers. layna was on the beams when they fell into the hellmouth. jacob is a good enough player (or was before gamma rerolls) that he would almost certainly have been vaulted or at least gotten ego a couple times if not for the flowers’ insane lineup.

(moses and layna have sucked outrageously for most of their blaseball careers. that’s not related, it’s just infinitely funny to me.)

that’s not even all.

layna was sent over to the garages during an absolutely absurd three way swap in s12. later, while she was there, she also got alternated.

moses was a receiver, was temporary alternated, had an allergic reaction, watched quitter and wyatt mason vi die (while they were echoing elsewhere, actually! it pains me), and then, instead of staticking out, moses themself died! a regular incineration, at random!

jacob was mostly fine during all of this. he doesn’t experience much. that’s what makes him special. but he’s on the magic now! he fell to their shadows. i’ve given him a wizard hat, in my head.

layna was involved in the first major swap of the expansion era, and one of the biggest ones from discipline, too. moses was the first death on the flowers since cali. (it had been a little over ten seasons.) somehow, in picking three largely unconnected names off a roster to write about, i pulled some players who would have a lot of outside significance. (i did not know this at the time; it was season seven.)

there’s even a dramatic breakup at the end. i made a playlist about it. (there are annotations, too! password’s jacoblayna.)

and like look, i’m detailing all of this because I think the gameplay comes first in storytelling. i can talk about moses as a victim of the game and layna as a victim of the game and jacob as an extremely anxious, but largely untouched, guy, watching both of his loved ones experience tragedy over and over beyond any of their control.

but yknow, I think the fic actually explains their dynamic better than i can in a (relatively) brief post giving an overview. so i’m focusing on what happened to them canonically, and in the spirit of irm, allowing your brain to fill in the gaps of what that’s like for people who love each other.

point is, this may not be the layna you know or the moses you know, or even the jacob you know! but they’re good. and if you are undecided (or have perhaps been persuaded), you should vote for ‘em. because they’re good.

[judjira]

Can we know anything more about parenting au? Or really any of the aus you posted the other day. Every one of them sounds great.

Also, I love apartment au. Thank you for that Misamo fill!

u asked for this anon get ready for a dump (also i know u asked for parenting au details but i just wanted an excuse to ramble hehe)

also take note, these are just the aus that are in progress, not the idle ones that are still in my head and require more fleshing out

if u see one u like, feel free to ask for more details ! who knows, it might give me more inspiration to write it ! i am taking requests, but only if it's from this list below ! i dont mind writing short drabbles on some of these that further flesh out the details and story ! also probably that pressures me to write the full thing so HAHA

nada dul cielo (magical realism au)

dayeon

this one's pretty interesting, it's based on a filipino short story called "kite of stars". basically nayeon, a young rich noble, falls in love with mina, an astronomer who only looks at the stars. to get mina to fall in love with her, nayeon enlists the help of dahyun, a butcher's girl, to create a kite that can reach the stars. this one is mostly fantasy, coming of age, and angst ! i love angst so much

across the (gentrified) stars (space bakery au)

saida, side jeongtzu, mimo, jichaeng

this one is based off a request my friend gave me, literally just "i want a baker au" but i thought that was too boring ! in a hypercapitalist society, sana works as a baker in a mass-produced bakery on a distant moon. when a ship with a foreign model crash lands on the moon, sana meets dahyun, a traveler from a time long past. (loosely based off of outer worlds !)

the last wish (genie au)

dahmo

this one's a sad one. basically dahyun's a genie, and momo's the girl who found her. however, as soon as momo makes her last wish, dahyun will disappear forever. very angsty and very sad i believe.

mosaic (band au)

dahyun/3mix

literally "getting the band back together" the au. basically 3mix and dahyun are a band, but due to an argument they've broken up, and it tells the story of dahyun fixing everything and getting everyone back together. this one starts out angsty but ends fluffy :)

lost in translation (amnesiac au)

dahyun/3mix

this one is a confusing one, i'm not sure where to take it. basically dahyun has amnesia and 3mix try to win her favor as her admirers. now this could go one of many ways, either dramatic, or humorous, or fluffy, or angsty,,,i rly dont know how to go about this one

under revision (writer au)

mihyun, side jeongsa, namo, jitzu

this one's already on ao3 (the first chapter at least) kind of based off of inkheart, dahyun's a writer of a medieval fantasy novel, and writes the main character of her story into existence and promptly falls in love with her. mostly fluff with dashes of hurt and comfort !

office au

dahyo, side ships undecided

this one is rly just indulgent fluff, basically jihyo and dahyun are coworkers, and everyone around them thinks they're dating :)

cheating au

saidahmo, side ships undecided

yknow i gotta save my painful aus for saidahmo hue. i actually want to keep this one a lil secret but all u need to know is that sana and momo have a broken relationship and dahyun is momo's new neighbor :) i'll let u guys guess the rest

god au

dahyo, minayeon, jeongmo, chaetzu

this one is actually a set of oneshots! all of them are gods of specific domains, and all of the oneshots explore the different dynamics between the pairs (who mostly have opposite domains !)

break up au

dahminayeon

still unsure about this one, but basically dahyun comes back from a trip to find that her two best friends, mina and nayeon, have broken up. so she endeavors to parent trap them, while trying to ignore her feelings for both of them, mostly a humorous and fluffy fic despite the premise !

road trip au

mimohyun

this one's a ride (hehe) also ive elaborated on this already, but momo and mina are estranged childhood friends who search for dahyun, their missing best friend. this one explores mina and momo's relationship with each other, while going into their relationship with dahyun in flashbacks !

parenting au

dajeonghyo

already posted the prologue to this ! dahyun's been kicked out of the house for being pregnant, and jihyo and jeongyeon take her in. this one is mostly angst, hurt, and comfort, while exploring themes of religious homophobia so pretty intense !

online dating au

dahmichaeng

also talked abt this one before ! after a few months of a long distance relationship between dahyun, mina, and chaeyoung, they finally get the chance to meet in person ! just pure unadulterated fluff while exploring romance in the pandemic !

roommates au

jidatzu

low on money, dahyun moves into a three person apartment with cheap rent, alongside jihyo, who's just moved into the city, and tzuyu, who's lived in the apartment for as long as she can remember. together, they are all awkward lesbians who are attracted to each other.

revolutionary au

dayeon, side mimo, jeonghyo, sachaeng

this one's pretty cool ! a noble with a talent for painting, nayeon's perception of the world is rendered invalid when she meets dahyun, a member of the revolutionary army whose task is tagging graffiti.

magic school au

danatzu, mochaeng, jeongmisa

another big au with multiple oneshots planned ! ive already written a little bit abt this, but they're all just students in a magic school, exploring love :) mostly fluff, little bit of angst

other aus (not yet written):

hogwarts au, whiplash au, pacific rim au, idol au, nightlife au

[scattered-winter]

rules: post the barebones plot of your wips and let people send you an ask with the title that intrigues them the most and then post a snippet/tell them something about it! then, tag as many people as you have wips!

tysm for tagging me @salzundhonig <3

hope is a seed (will it wither or will it bloom?)

zombie apocalypse AU in which the Kent Farm is the only safe place left, and various members of the batfam, superfam, flashfam, and lanterns are fighting their way through hordes of zombies and groups of other survivors to make it there safely. each group has no idea if any of the others are still alive and each of them have no idea if they'll ever see their friends and loved ones again <3

let me be your freedom

jaykyle get stranded on an alternate world during the final crisis shit. kyle is blinded by an accident. they have to try and survive long enough to find donna and escape. they have to infiltrate a masquerade ball and there's also only one bed

like a drum, baby don't stop beating

young avengers fic where they're fighting a currently undecided magic baddie and billy uses magic to send them both into the astral plane to duke it out without harming civilians. ted and the others rush billy to a mask-friendly hospital because every injury billy gets in the astral plane manifests on his physical body so they can SEE the bruises and cuts and broken bones spreading like spilled paint. at some point billy flatlines (which is where the fic title came from because I think I'm fuckin hilarious)

his worthless savior

collab with a bestie (hiiiiiii per ❤) in which jason and kyle are both captured, but they're put in separate cells. jason has a headset in his that he can hear kyle with, but they can't see each other, and kyle can't hear jason at all. the bad guy stole jason's armor and is pretending to be him while torturing kyle (and in extent, torturing jason too because he can hear Everything)

were creature au (currently untitled)

in which the entire batfam are were-creatures <3 bruce is a wolf, dick is a phoenix, jason is a wolf, tim is a wyvern, cass is a panther, damian is a wolf/dragon, steph is a fox, and duke is a lion

knight/royalty/bodyguard AU (currently untitled)

collab with a bestie (hiiiiii mads ❤) in which the families of DC (waynes, drakes, kents, al ghuls, etc) are noble houses ruling over a collection of kingdoms. kyle is next in line for ruling his house, as is damian, jon, etc (we haven't worked out exact details yet this WIP is like 3 days old). each Next In Line person needs a knight to protect them from harm, so the other members of the house are sent to other kingdoms to become bodyguards. there's a special division of knights that use powerful magic to protect the kingdoms (green lanterns) and there's also giant cats that can be ridden like horses that warriors and knights bond with from the moment they're kittens. they eat together and train together, and fight in battle side by side as partners. I just really fucking want a cat so I have SO many thoughts about this <3

tagging my writer friends <3 @x-andro @a-sour-nectarine @wingedrobins @moonlightbuckleys @electronswrites

[irismono]

Aight, waffles are yet to materialize so I'm gonna get my project list outlined.

In order of priority/how ready I am to work on them:

The Redwall Retrospective

Basically I'm rereading the series at roughly 1 book a week, and vlogging it on my mostly-dormant YouTube channel. I'll do a Jenny Nicholson style multi-hour video at the end. Currently working on Mariel of Redwall. Will get a link up to the logs for the first three books.

Red Fraction

My take on the "Pyrrha Lives" (Stomp Stomp) style of fix-it-fic. Got some fun ideas for it. Basically got Pyrrha's consciousness split into pieces across several characters, with the ultimate goal being recombining them all. See the opening for Black Lagoon if you want a sneak peek at chapter titles.

RWBY Modern AU (No solid name as of yet)

Man I love AUs, AUs are cool. And I've got some fun ideas for this one. Ruby and Jaune married for tax reasons? Got it. Coco Adel, the wholesome Yuri manga addict? Check. Gauntlets and Greaves? Hell yes, I read some baller GnG fics last year and I've been hooked ever since. There's other stuff too, but I've had trouble figuring out a main plotline, which is why I have...

Old Masters

This is a side story (or perhaps pre-sequel?) for my Modern AU, and one that has a defined plot line. The last generation's megahit pop duo was "Young Masters", made up of Ozma "Ozzy" Calavera and (The Pseudonymous) "Salem". The two had a fairly consistent will-they, won't-they subplot in their music and stage performances, until it came out pretty publicly that "they did", and the act (and relationship) broke up in a rather messy fashion.

Now some (insert number) years later, Salem has a grown up daughter, Oz is still trying to get his solo career off the ground, and neither of them are really happy. They meet by chance, and eventually (though with much pain) reconcile. Don't know all the details yet, but leaning towards a secret romance between Oscar (Ozma's Nephew) and Salem's daughter (either Emerald or Ciel, undecided) being part of it.

To aru Isekai no Tabibito (A certain otherworldly traveller)

It struck me one day that Semblances are rather close to ESPer abilities when it gets down to it. Thus, a RWBY x Toaruverse crossover feels pretty natural, at least to me. My thought: RWBY (and probably JNPR) find themselves dropped into Academy City with minimal equipment and have to figure out their way around.

The Bard for Advanced Systems

Don't know how big Advanced (as in 1st edition) Dungeons and Dragons is on Tumblr, but I take a great deal of issue with 1e's handling of the Bard. I can expand on why in another post if anybody's interested. TBFAS would be an essay and class write up of my idealized Bard Class, probably looking most similar to the 1e Monk in design style. I've got some ideas, I just need to set them in motion.

RWBY x Pokemon Special

More "nifty idea" than anything else. Pokemon Adventures was my first Manga, and I'd like to cross it over with RWBY at some point, probably by dropping RWBY characters in as trainers/Dex Holders. Could even do a full swap, but I'm less sure on that point.

As you may have gathered from the above, I have a penchant for RWBY fanfiction. This is because it is a world I have grown comfortable in, and the fandom I first explored fanfiction within. I haven't actually seen Volume 8, and am not planning to watch volume 9, and really I think things have been going downhill somewhat since... Well actually the show was always a bit of a mess if I'm being honest.

That all said, the world is great, and the characters, as interpreted by FNDM, are also pretty great, and rife with opportunities for cool storytelling.

What's that? Surely I'm forgetting something? Are half a dozen projects I want to work on not enough?

Okay fine, I've got some original works as well, but waffles are just about ready so I'll share those in another post.

[charmandhex]

Okay, so this is sort of a post I’ve been considering writing for a while, both kind of an “in the back of my head” sort of way and a bit more directly in talking to @windywords123. Fundamentally, it’s an update on the status of my writing, which I realize sounds lot more ominous than it really is.

First off, still writing! Currently, it’s sort of an “every other day” schedule, because with my work schedule as it is, I’m basically just working and sleeping on work days. I’m likely to be less consistent with when I’m posting, even though I am still writing, and I’m working on being okay with that.

Second, update on specific projects:

Published WIPs:

Party of Four

My boy! My beautiful magic boy!

In progress, most definitely, but it’s much slower going. That’s a mix of both personal and other fic commitments. I realized I’m happier not pinning myself down to this fic and limiting what I’m writing to one fic.

It also keeps rapidly spiraling out longer than expected. Crystal Kingdom was not supposed to be quite that long. So I’m trying to gear up for that again with Eleventh Hour. I think once I can get solidly into Eleventh Hour, it’ll be smoother sailing. This one’s going until it’s done.

But, uh, distinct possibility it’ll be north of 300k when that happens. Surprise?

Catalytic

This one is honestly technically sort of challenging? The second half of this is remembering, and the technical side of this scene is running up against my desire to convey the level of emotion in the scene. I kind of built it up in my head, so it’s tricky. I think I just need to be in the right mood and possibly listen to Disrobed on loop (heh, Lup) to get it right. Eventually I might do a Lup-centric parallel fic.

The Bonds Between Us

Sort of an update on the spur of the moment kinda thing? There’s definitely some things floating around this blog that I should add to that. It’s not something I actively write for, more if I have a short fun idea to chase to say fuck you to writer’s block.

Dungeons, Dragons, and Degrees

Another update on the spur of the moment thing. I need a good Blupjeans idea for this.

Recollection

Another tricky one! I feel like this is a recurring theme. The problem here is that I feel like my writing style has so drastically improved over the course of the past year, that I might need to go back and rewrite and partially rewrite this one before I can go forward with it.

Press A to Start

It’s a fun idea, and I want to go back to it at some point, but I haven’t been able to pick up that same inspiration as when I started. Plus, it’s a little bit of a logistical nightmare.

Not-yet-published WIPs:

The currently untitled fic lovingly referred to as the Blender Fic:

This will no doubt be another long boi. Its nickname is as such because I’m taking canon and figuratively throwing it into a blender. Lovingly! This one is going to be a lot of stuff l haven’t done before, that I know will challenge me, but I’m looking forward to it. I’m trying to get something of backlog ready to go before I start posting.

As to what’s gonna happen? Well, I can tell you that Lup lives, and it only gets more buck the fuck wild from there.

Rough Draft

No, seriously, that’s the title of the fic. It’s another Lucretia centric fic set in the Stolen Century. It’s a mostly written oneshot. I need to write a final scene or two, rewrite another, and edit.

Lydia oneshot

Strangely I’ve started impulse writing a oneshot about Lydia and her finals moments in the Suffering Game. It’s a oneshot, and distinct possibility it’ll be up tomorrow.

Others

And of course I’m prone to impulse writing oneshots just in general, but those are a little less predictable. Possible topics include: Lup postcanon, Taako and Lucretia postcanon, Taako and Angus found family shenanigans, assorted Magnus fics.

So yeah. That is... more or less where I’m at fic-wise. And this is mostly a “for me” sort of update, to assess where I’m at. But if you have questions, well, I’m here.

[ziggyzagreus]

if you were to make a modern au, what would be included?

Oh my goodness I LOVE modern AU’s!!!!! 

I have mentioned thoroughly in THIS POST that once I get a break from school and finish up some other projects, I fully intend to write an Apartment AU which is basically “Oh my god, and they were ROOMMATES” trope multiplied by EVERYONE in Hadesgame. I detail that AU a WHOLE LOT in that post, so I recommend giving it a looksee!!

As far as other things, hmm.... One of my favorite things to do for characters is outfit/appearance design. And the extent of hair design and such would change whether or not this is a Human AU as well or not (still undecided for the Apartment AU, btw). 

I love what I’ve seen from artists doing a lot of Charon/Hermes modern designs, such as THIS art from @/Toydreamings on Twitter, one of my favorite Charmes artists there. There’s also a lovely modern AU Charmes fic called “Sugar” on AO3 by @/OhNoHello that I love as well....

Ah! Anyways though - back to what I would put in a modern AU!!

- If Human AU, Dionysus and Aphrodite dyeing each other’s hair and making a mess. That is - that is a MUST. 

- Any AU, honestly, sugar high Hermes. He always has snacks, and is always burning off those calories and just needs to eat a lot. 

- Boons are now transferred through Air Drop or through the group chat Hermes made for everyone. Dionysus accidentally sends nudes here more often than you’d think.

- Charon’s Membership Card is sometimes replaced with an Olive Garden coupon, if Zagreus has been particularly polite. As a treat.

HOLY SHIT I need time to think about this but I should make playlists for each character in Modern AU!!!! I already have a couple Hades-themed playlists on my Spotify, should I expose those to you guys?? Would you all want to see that?? That would be so fun!!! I’d probably keep it to like 10-20 songs per character just to keep myself from going crazy but.... yoooooo.

Thank you for this ask, it was so fun!!! I love offering fic/art recs too!

[loominggaia]

Anonymous asked:

Fan fic anon here, after doing work on Benfreit I’ve been having some mini bouts of inspiration for two divine characters as of late and I though I’d share them. Coming from two older fic’s and giving them characterization. I present Aldorf Hosfeild: Divine of Monsters, and Cian: Divine of Faith.

Hosfeild has always been a man of business, mainly dealing in the exotic animal trade. Having owned many pet store chains, breeding businesses and registries, maybe some endangered animal smuggling rings here and their? He even operated a high end poffle breeding operation, though according to reports these creatures where heavily inbred, to the point of coming in five colors and couldn’t stop peeing. I still undecided on how he died, but I’m thinking it had to do with assassination.

This made the dworf divine the perfect candidate for Mr. Husk “personal” project with the creation of the Nekos. Having made several calls and destroyed tons of records Hosfeild completely divorced his name and scrubbed all traces of his involvement in the cat girls creation and set his sights on more ambitious projects. He clung to the designer monster idea, a great use for his new found monster forging skills and a market nobody had yet to claim, all his for the taking.

Gathering lots of resources and greasing lots of palms he managed to get Zareen empire to life it’s ban on monster forging. Now allowing with special government permission the forging of monsters ppl level 0-1, just in time for Hosfeild to open his new business. Founding Krazy Kritters Inc, a pet store selling numerous unique, friendly monsters called “Krazy Kritters”. Each of these monsters is unique and only ppl level 0, marketed as safe, cool pets for families.

Their are several different lines of Krazy Kritter monsters, each having a lot of variation in appearance. But despite this they are all as marketed “pre-neutered, house broken and safe and fun for the whole family”. The business even offer their “create a kritter” deal where with enough money you can get a custom monster designed just for you. Despite alot of criticism and pushback this venture has found lots of success in Zareen.

One of the main criticisms is over his ethics in these monsters creation. How a lot of them have highly impractical designs that hinder their health, and that most don’t live very long. Questions have also been raised as to how Hosfeild produces all these monsters, “Officially” he states that each Krazy kritter is hand forged by himself. In truth it’s more disgusting, I’ll just say the first of these beings made where “brood mothers and breeders”, if you get what I’m saying.

He may or may not also be working on creating designer monsters as bio-weapons and other unsavory things behind the scenes. That concludes my ravings on Mr. Hosfeild and what I imagine he’s up to. Prophet Cian, lindist jesus himself will be up next once my brain irons out the details alittle more, alongside brainstorming an ending for New York and werewolf.

I’m happy to hear you’re inspired Anon! You always have such great ideas, and this is another one. Really fun stuff. Fits in seamlessly with the existing lore, this is totally something that would take off in Zareen Empire...playing God for the sake of profit, that’s right up their alley. Glad to see more of Hosfeild and his antics.

I can’t wait to read more of your fics! I’ve been wondering about those. You’re killing me with suspense!

Note: When you do submit fics, please don’t do so through the askbox. They’re just too long and they get jumbled up with other fics and questions in my inbox. Please post the new parts somewhere like Wattpad, Reddit, Deviantart, or somewhere where I can copy/paste them easily, and just send an ask with a link. Thanks!

[majorxmaggiexboy]

idk if i’m actually going to attempt to participate but i still want to make a little list of Tober/Tember prompts and ideas of what to do with them. also tagging @f-ro-g bc New Pack. Every time i do one of these i start forgetting every media i’ve ever consumed so we’re going to see if i can at least get more than like three different fandoms on here. Might or might not come back through and flesh these out with actual details later on.

Whumptober Ideas

1) All Trussed Up and Nowhere to Go/”You have to let go”/Barbed Wire/Bound - Hadestown, full stop. The whole prompt is Hadestown. It’s in the lyrics, even. It is this post that makes me finally notice the “Keep on walking and don’t look back” line in Wait For Me and i’m so angry right now

2) Talking is Overrated/Garotte/Choking/Gagged - I’m thinking a rewrite of my first Three Musketeers fic just because it was funny the first time around and also wouldn’t take much Effort. Next.

3) Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But.../Taunting/Insults/”Who did this to you?”

The Bradmadge Brawl of S2E1 but with passion and malice next question

4) Trust Fall/”Do you trust me?”/Taken Hostage/Pushed

Nothing springs immediately to mind but i’m leaning toward Psych or The New Pack

5) Red In My Ledger/Betrayal/Misunderstanding/Broken Nose

*slams hand on table* New Pack. Mordaunt. It writes itself.

6) Touch and Go/Bruises/Touch-Starved/Hunger

On-Drakon we’re going to give Arman and Mira some love even if only two people on this website even know them.

7) My Spidey-Sense is Tingling/Helplessness/Numbness/Blindness

TASM just for the sake of it? Undecided

8) Coughing Up a Lung/Pneumothorax/Exotic Illness/”Definitely Just a Cold”

Ben Tallmadge and the Delaware Dive next question

9) Rumors of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated/Presumed Dead/Blind Rage/Tears

Bucky it’s your turn babe

10) Oops, I Did It Again/Hospital/Flare-Up/Ice Chips

Ben you’re going back in the Delaware it’ll be so funny

11) Just Keep Swimming/Adrift/Drowning/Dehydration

Personally i think having a third Ben vs. Water fic would be the funniest possible move but Grimaud or Mordaunt could also work here

12) It’ll Be Fun, They Said/Torture/Made to Watch/Begging

Jean-Olivier comes to mind but hmmmmm there was also that one TURN S3 au that could work

13) That’s Gonna  Leave a Mark/This Is Gonna Suck/Burns/Cauterization

Hmmmmmm OH! OH! Raoul! The New Pack. Done.

14) Under Pressure/Crush Injuries/Beaten/Force

It says Force and Force is Star Wars so naturally this is Mando’s number.

15) Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever/Delirium/Fever Dream/Bees

Ben Tallmadge guess what....

16) On a Need-to-Know Basis/Recovery/Scars/Aftermath

I’m thinking the Psych Not-Ghost AU would work here but there are certainly other options.

17) Field-Care 101/”Please don’t move!”/Hemorrhage/Dread

Might go with something Leverage right here just because i just watched Leverage. Nothing’s jumping immediately to mind. Warm Bodies could also work though.

18) The Doctor is In/”Now smile for the camera!”/Doctor’s visit/CPR

I’m thinking Reid just because Dr. and i’ve never been able to write Doctor Who so. What other Doctor characters are there. McStuffins isn’t in the running here. Oh! We could do something MCU, Bruce is a Doctor isn’t he? God can you imagine Dr. Hulk trying to

19) Just a Scratch/Bitten/Bleeding/Stabbing

Didn’t ... d’Artagnan once utter the phrase “it’s just a scratch” in relation to someth.....first episode, i think? Great so we have a winner, good job everybody.

20) Lost & Found/Trunk/Trapped underwater/Solitary Confinement

Weirdly Mando is the first character to come to mind. Someone beat me to 80% of my other idea but there’s potential.

21) That’s Where the Blood’s Supposed to Be/Bleeding Through Bandages/Pressure/Blood-Matted Hair

Let’s be real the only two options for this one are Bucky or Eliot and they’re virtually the same character so where does that leave me

22) They Made Me Do It/Cursed/Demon/Obsession

*vague wave* Merlin ?

23) You Break It, You Buy It/Auction/Ransom/Pursuit

That one 3M au with Athos and the big mix-up and the Oops and all the...stuff, yeah. That works.

24) One Down, Two to Go/Self-Induced Injuries to Escape/Flashback/Revenge

Holy sh- i didn’t see this one initially. I mean? Jean? Ow.

25) Hide & Seek/Escape/Flight/Hiding

Psych? Orrrrr....TGM?

26) You Will Go Down With This Ship/Fallen/Waterfall/Trap Door

I’m trying to think of literally anything i’ve ever read or watched that’s got a ship in it ummmmmmm hey what if we interpret “ship” as yeaaaah let’s do another Mando one that’ll work

27) “I’m Fine, I Prom...”/Passing Out/Vertigo/Collapse

I mean..... .... ... is there a character this doesn’t work for though? Wait. No actually let’s do Childermass since he gets that what is it an allergic reaction to magic? I mean i know Segundus gets like that to so....ha let’s make it be Both of them.

28) It’s Not Just In Your Head/”Good, you’re finally awake”/Nightmares/Panic

First thought is New Pack but it might take some pondering.

29) All Work and No Play/”You’re still not dead?”/Too weak to move/overworked

it’s like Civil War but with Bucky and Jean-Olivier having an all-out brawl good lord it’s an either/or situation.

30) Digging Your Grave/Major Character Death/Left For Dead/Ghosts

*shot of choc milk* the exact TURN AU i was Just thinking about yesterday,,,

31) Hurt & Comfort/Disaster Zone/Trauma/Prisoner

I feel like i need to put Gwynplaine here just because he hasn’t had a turn yet

Alt. Prompts

1) Losing Control

Arman. Very obviously extramuch Arman definitely. Let’s have another one with the involuntary dragon himbo.

2) Threats

*chin hands* trying to think of a character who gets threatened a lot. will circle back. I’m actually thinking Psych again but idk.

3) Caning

Ro we’ve genuinely discussed about 16 different variations on this one i think it’s Time

4) Mercy

MORDAUNT MORDAUNT NEXT QUESTION

5) Forgotten

Is it time for Jack Frost of all people to make an appearance or is this just Bucky again

6) Head Injury

It would be real easy to just put the headbonk au here but i’m going to try to show some restraint and do a different headbonk story

7) Screaming

Going to assign Gwynplaine here just because he really has been neglected in this lineup and also it would probably be good for him to vent a little bit in this manner

8) Comfort

Someone’s going to get petted like a cat and i just haven’t decided whomst but when i do it’s over for everybody

9) Self-Sacrifice

What do i even say to that i Feels like another New Pack but it’s still up for grabs tbh

10) Trapped

Tempted to pour one out and just say Bucky but idk idk we’ll think of something this is very much a first draft stream of thought general idea planning session

11) Near Death Experience

It would be hilarious to just put something like Meet Joe Black for this one but WAIT NO NO GO BACK ACTUALLY WARM BODIES LET’S DO WARM BODIES

12) Regret

It’s gotta either be Psych or TURN

13) Tragedy

My first thought is to do a damn Hannibal fic without ever having actually watched the show just because i’m still angry about how i read it ended but considering that i only know the characters’ voices from tumblr chatposts i feel like that’s not the best venue to

heck we might just do New Pack

14) Battlefield

Either TURN or New Pack or....the song’s a little bit dramatic for a Bucky but actually....unless? no....but Maybe,

15) Anxiety

Every character i’ve ever cared about could potentially fit right here so :/ Arman could have 3rd ficlet but again, literally every character, i,,,,,they’ve all got anxiety X’D

[homeformyheart]

NSFW was my original intention but if you do both, it will make me very happy. Thank you!

can do (i totally understand going on anon for nsfw, but anytime you want to pop into my askbox or DMs to talk about adam or twc, please do!!)

i’m so excited to explore this for adam & regina since they are my most established twc pairing! this will be a long post, sorry (but also not, because i love them and this is definitely going to help inspire my canon relationship fic for them)!

based on this fluff list and this nsfw list (always accepting asks for any of my detectives/pairings!)

Fluff answers

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Ugh this hits me in the heart since I picture this a lot and have already written stuff for this that is definitely their canon story. Regina definitely pictures having a family with Adam, in part, because she wants (in some ways, a redo) a family of her own and be the mother she always wanted. It takes convincing for Adam to agree though because of how aware he is of her mortality and wanting to protect her - adding children to that would make it that much harder. Regina wants to rebuild Adam’s family line - in a way that makes sense for them both in the current era, as a way to help him also come to terms with what happened in his past.

I have not yet decided in their canon story if she turns or not and I think at the time she has kids, she is undecided, so another reason is to make sure that Adam has a piece of her through their family line after she’s gone (if she decides not to turn).

I’m getting emotional thinking about this - but I’ve written pieces of this in several prompt fills & full fics (including the scenario where she dies of old age). I think there are at least four prompt fills focused on post-marriage life, so happy to let you know which ones if you want.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon. I picked:  L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

I picked this one because I have a wip planned for this - don’t know yet if I’m going to give it a happy ending or angsty ending and whether it’ll be a one-shot or part of their canon story, BUT he begs her to say it first, basically.

I don’t want to spoil the fic but I am also really excited about it so... okay, basically something big happens and Adam truly realizes he doesn’t want to run from his feelings anymore (he almost loses Regina physically, then mentally, then emotionally in that order) and she asks him what he wants and he asks her to “say it, please” and it’s an incredibly vulnerable and terrifying moment for her because after Bobby and other relationships, she’s sworn never to say it first.

I have not yet decided if he says it back (hence whether it’s happy ending or angsty ending is TBD).

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

This one is an interesting one. I think Adam would be more cliche, but classic in romantic gestures - like hand-written letters, flowers (starts with red roses until he learns her favorite type, etc.), etc. and she would absolutely adore it, not ever having someone be that way with her before.

I think how they are with each other definitely evolves throughout their relationship - like Regina is very stubborn and hates being told what to do, especially when Adam insists its for her protection but after getting married and having kids, she definitely comes around and goes along with him. She knows it helps him worry less and be happier and she wants to put him at ease.

This would be such a lovely headcanon to explore in more established relationship fics (now I want to daydream about this).

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Oooh, interesting. The only secret(s) that come to mind for Regina is sort of the details of her relationship with Tane (I know I haven’t really written it yet but it is part of their canon relationship backstory) for 2 main reasons: 1) it’s not important at the end of the day - Adam is so much more important to her and their relationship is so much more meaningful in every single way, and 2) she doesn’t want him to feel inadequate, bad, competitive, etc. with anyone from her past, but especially Tane (given that relationship happened during a rough patch with Adam, and his whole issue with Unit Alpha, plus the relationship with Tane was mostly sexual).

I think over time Adam shares more of himself with her and trusts her fully. I think where he might always hold back a little are his deep-rooted fears and anxiety about losing her or not being able to protect her (she can tell and knows anyway, but I don’t think he’d admit it to her often).

(minors STOP here and do not interact)

* * * * *

NS*W/NSFT answers (hope these aren’t TMI 🙊)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I’m interpreting this in terms of turn ons in my answers. It won’t be a secret for long once they’re established, but Regina absolutely loves it when Adam takes control, and she’ll say or do anything that’ll turn on that side of him in bed (calling him “Commander,” roleplaying “disobeying orders,” etc.). It’s convenient that it is a very strong turn-on for him. She also loves it when he loses control - typically when she goes down on him.

An actual secret that Adam will be very surprised to learn deep in the relationship are the pair of numbing handcuffs she has buried from her time with Tane. By “numbing,” I mean they can subdue a supernatural’s strength a teensy bit (not dmb-level, and I made this up purely for the smut with Tane). I don’t know if she’d ever mention it (she might just forget about) because of reasons (answered in Honesty above as it relates to Tane). If Adam does discover it, the “numbing” spell or whatever it is (I made it up on the spot okay!) would have worn off by then, but I think he’d find it conflictingly concerning / intriguing & be a little jealous.

This may be partially inspired by a ns*w prompt ask that @crackerdumortain sent me that I’m working on, but I think Adam is incredibly turned on post-combat training Regina (assuming she hasn’t passed out in exhaustion) - in tight workout clothes, sweaty and energized, confident - I think he’s really proud of her tenacity and skill over time and there’s just something about how she exudes power and confidence after a workout that he is attracted to and doesn’t care that she is sweaty (even though she cares).

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) Picking the same letter as fluff for consistency: L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

For Adam, I think it’s her bedroom, and then later when they move into their own place, their bedroom. For the former, it’s that symbol of trust and being let into her private / personal space, especially after she was kidnapped from her own home, that would mean a lot to him (she was never with anyone else sexually in her own bed - not even Falk or Tane, so it makes their first time there even more special).

I think Regina is more willing to explore / experiment with other locations like the shower, against the wall, other areas of the warehouse as long as no one else is home, etc. (never in the library though, she would NOT want to disgust Nate like that).

Neither of them would be into public or semi-public sex just because they want to be able to fully focus on each other and not risk an unwanted audience.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

I think Regina might be open to experimenting, and if she wants to try something, she’d have to bring it up / initiate. I’d like to think they figure out how to talk about it before trying it (as awkward as it might be) because she wouldn’t want to spring it on him in the act. I think some things he might have to think about and let her know if he’s comfortable. I do think over time in deep romance, he’d pretty much be willing to try almost anything with her (minus the public locations per above and anything bordering on harmful/bdsm).

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I laughed at this because I know Mishka answered a couple asks on this and it upset a lot of people (I asked her a separate question about manscaping/shaving and it gave me a different impression so I choose to ignore her tumblr answers). Sorry if some of this is TMI 😅 (but I’ll start with yes, carpet matches the drapes).

I personally think Adam does not manscape until after he and Regina are well established (but not fully bare, let’s be real here) and I’m basing this off the fact that in canon he has a buzzcut and gives off that “soldier” vibe in Book 1, which to me, makes me think he doesn’t want to have to fuss or concern himself over his appearance / hair (whereas Nate absolutely spends time styling his hair imo).

Regina upkeeps her routine as much as she can - sort of a habit she built out of self-consciousnesss with Bobby (let’s say he was not very nice about it). I think with all the supernatural activity and being busy, there would have been a couple times she just didn’t bother and finally met someone that didn’t care (re: Falk - although not sure if this will be one-off or canon and Tane) and it made her more comfortable with not needing to be well-groomed all the time. Once they get together, Adam is the same way about it (but might groom himself a little bit down there out of concern for her comfort).

[ddaenggtan]

hearts on fire | jhs

Hoseok has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he’s beyond excited to see you married and glowing.

He just really wishes that he was the groom.

pairing | jhs x reader, knj x reader

word count | 6.5k | cross posted to ao3

genre | angst, light fluff

warnings | angst, mentions of blood, mentions of vomit, lots of choking, lots of angst, this is open ended so like.......potential (?) mcd??, like this is very very very open ended yall there is no happy ending and there is zero satisfaction at the end, like it’s truly just here to hurt you

a/n | part of Outro: Tear, The Angst Now Told, and you should really read all of those fics bc they hurt so good but they’re sO WORTH IT, and i’m shouting out to @personawife​ not only for betaing this, but also for putting the Outro Tear Angst Collab together, because it’s been so fun!!!!! and yet so painful!!!! in so many good ways!!!!!!! this was honestly really fun to write, mostly because it’s rare that i write angst - unhappy ending angst, at that - so it was nice to stretch my creative muscles. 

also go stream ego bc its wonderful and i love it

It starts, as most things do, with a kiss. 

It was innocent enough - just a soft peck on his cheek and a sunflower in his hand while he cried about another student kicking him in the shin. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that did it for him. Maybe it was the way the sunlight lit up the barrettes in your hair and made them glint like stars. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t hesitated to smooch him on the cheek and give him the flower you’d picked out of a vase just to cheer him up. Maybe it was the fact that it had worked when nothing else had. Maybe it was none of that, instead something bigger altogether and more complicated than he could ever understand. 

Or maybe it was all of it. A simple act that led to a simple reaction - him taking your hand and making you smile with some face he made - that led to this moment. 

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches you walk down the aisle in the off-white dress with the golden sash that perfectly matches the sunflowers in your hands, he doesn’t care. Because it all led to this moment. 

[then]

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late!” You call over your shoulder. Hoseok laughs, wrapping his hand around your wrist to slow you down from your sprint. 

“We are not going to be late,” He tells you firmly. Your lips form a pout that he wishes he could kiss away, but he resists the urge. Instead, he grins and pulls you into a warm hug. “It’s not like they’re going to start our graduation without us, Starshine. It would be a little conspicuous, don’t you think?”

“Ooh, conspicuous, big word! All that studying paid off, I see.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes; he doesn’t mention that he’s been studying his ass off ever since you started crushing on one of the bookworms in the school. He refuses to acknowledge to himself that he did it in the futile hope that it would make you notice him. 

“Hey, it was worth it! Got me into that fancy university, didn’t it?” He wags his brows and lets go of you, and he does his best not to let his arms linger around your waist for longer than they need to be there. 

“Yeah, that fancy university that’s a million miles away from here,” You complain. His smile falters a little, and he covers it with a dramatic gasp. 

“What’s this? Is my little starshine going to miss me?” He doesn’t tell you about the packet laying on his desk at home, about the scholarships he’s scoured the internet to find, about the decision he has yet to make, despite the looming deadline. He doesn’t mention the sunflower pressed between the pages of a book that sits beside his bed, so he can stare at it each night as he wonders whether it’s stupid to take the harder road just for love.

“You know I will, Hobi,” You tell him. You curl into his side, lacing your fingers with his. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. Who’s going to make me study when I don’t want to? Or convince me that getting pancakes at two in the morning is a proper breakfast?”

Hoseok shakes his head. He knows exactly what will happen when you head off to school in a few months. You’ll meet so many new people, make boatloads of friends, create new memories and new jokes and new references, and he’ll be standing off to the side, waiting to hear about all of it. 

He can’t wait to watch you flourish.

“Who’s going to help you stop stressing out about your choreography, or your routines?” You ask. Your voice dips into a whisper, and it’s the most scared he’s ever heard you. “Who’s going to be there when I need someone?” 

He knows what you mean; he knows all about the anxiety that wracks your body every so often, the way your brain spirals and panics and can’t seem to bring itself down out of red alert. He remembers - in vivid detail - all the nights he’s climbed through your window to help you breathe in that rhythm your school counselor taught you, or just talked at you through the phone about some new song or dancer he found until he eventually heard your soft laugh.

He remembers the nights you called and called and called and eventually just sought him out, not even bothering to knock as you barged into his room because his parents adore you and don’t care to let you in whenever. You’re like a second daughter to them, something his sister gives him no end of grief about. He’ll always remember the way your hands felt against his skin as you tugged him out of his room and into the kitchen to make some kind of monstrosity, just throwing anything and everything into a blender or skillet, only to wind up going out to the corner store to get noodles anyway. 

“I’ll be here,” He tells you. His voice is as soft and firm as his fingers as he brings your chin up to face him. He wants you to look at him, wants you to maybe see after all these years just how easy it would be for him to move the earth if you asked him to. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Your eyes search for something in his, and he wonders if you’ll finally realize. If he’s finally told you about every single pang of love that he’s ever felt without even needing words. 

You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and playfully shove at his shoulder. “Not when you’re off at your fancy university a million miles away from mine.”

He covers the heartbreak with a deep sigh and slings his arm around your shoulders as you head into the building where your graduation is being held. He wonders what you’ll think of the sunflowers sitting on your chair, waiting for you to find them. 

Something tickles his throat, a hint of a cough not ready to be cleared, and he swallows it back. 

“About that…”

[then]

Asthma is what he tells you, months and months later while you both sit in your dorm room, curled under blankets. 

You’re preparing for your philosophy paper, pages and sheets and everything else strewn about your bed while he sits at your desk. The lamp is focused and bright as it shines on the metal and stone in his hands, glinting as he twists the wire this way and that. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying for your dance eval?” You ask him. He shoots you that half-smile, a quick glance so that he can finish wrapping the quartz in his palm. He hasn’t told you that he switched majors, that he’s now ‘undecided’ simply because he can’t keep up with the others anymore.

“Aren’t you supposed to telling me who made it their mission to disprove Kant’s entire career?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to,” You pout. He smiles, satisfied, at the stone in his hand; it’s wrapped in wire shaped to look like a tree. He never thought he’d be the jewelry-making kind, but thanks to a randomly-selected elective, he’s discovered he’s got a knack for it. 

Besides, he enjoys seeing the collection on your windowsill grow with each new thing he can make you. 

He extends the quartz to you -  a polished golden one that complements the tarnished brass he’d used to wrap it, the same colors as the flowers you love so much - and the way you light up as you take it makes his heart clench painfully. 

Something tickles his throat, too familiar now, and he does what he can to swallow it down, but this one is stubborn. It forces its way up his windpipe, giving him no choice but to try to cough it up. 

You watch, worried, as he rushes to the sink in your room, bending as far over it as possible so that you won’t see as much. 

It’s small, when it falls. Small and unassuming and spit-slick, he can almost believe it just fell out of the vase of them nearby, and he hopes that’s what you’ll believe as well. 

“Hobi?” 

He hates how small your voice is, how worried you sound as you listen to the ragged pants of his breathing. So he wipes his mouth, checks in the mirror to make sure there’s no blood, and turns back to you with a wry smile. 

“I’m fine,” He says softly. His voice is still hoarse, and you don’t look convinced, but he continues before you can argue. “Just asthma.”

“Asthma? You don’t have asthma, Hoseok-”

“I do,” He says quickly. “Developed recently. Strained myself too hard, weakened my lungs, or something. I don’t remember what the doctor said exactly.”

“But...your dance, how can you-” You cut yourself off with a sharp breath, and he can’t bear to see the heartbreak in your eyes as the realization hits, so he stares down at the scuff in his sneakers instead. “That’s why you aren’t practicing right now. You had to drop out of the dance program?”

You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, so he plasters a smile on his face that’s more convincing than anything else he’s ever done. 

“It’s fine, Starshine. Not all dreams come true. Besides, there’s other things I can do.” 

“But your scholarship, Hobi, I-”

“Already figured out,” He says quickly. It isn’t, not nearly, because he can’t just call his parents to say ‘hey I lost my scholarship because I’m hopelessly in love but don’t have the guts to say anything about it’ and he hasn’t had time to go visit them, either. The corners of your mouth are turned down, and your lips are pressed together, and it’s obvious you’re upset, and it hurts more than the roots tangling in his lungs. 

He crosses the room and slides some of your papers to the side so that he can sit across from you. You’re still holding the quartz in your palm, fingers wrapped gently around it like you’re afraid it’ll break if you squeeze too tight, so he wraps his own hands around that one of yours. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You ask him. Your voice is small and hurt, and he hates that he made it that way, but he knows it’s better than what would come if he told you the truth. 

“Because I didn’t want you to worry,” He replies quietly. “You’ve got exams and studying and papers to worry about. I don’t need to add to that. Besides, you’d just try to help somehow, and you do that enough as it is.”

“How could I possibly be helping you with this, Hoseok?” The look you give him is familiar and humorless and fond and it makes his throat tickle so he looks away. Stares down at the feather-soft blanket in your lap instead. 

“Just by being here,” He tells you. “Distracting me from it. It’s not important, that’s all. I can do other things.”

“Like what? Dancing has always been your dream, and now-”

“Like,” Hoseok interrupts, sliding the quartz from your hand and placing it with the other things he’s made you on the windowsill, “Making things, like this. For you. For everyone.”

You’re quiet for a minute. Your eyes linger on the collection of stones he’s decorated for you, that he’s worked on so carefully to make them as beautiful as you deserve, and he wonders if you can tell. 

If you can see it in every careful twist of wire, in the way his hands are always so gentle against your own, in the way he can’t bear to look at you for longer than a few moments but can’t bear to be away from you in the same way. 

“Well,” You eventually say, blinking back what might be tears. “I suppose we’ll just have to find you a new dream, then, won’t we?”

Your smile is weak and watery and doesn’t reach your eyes, but it’s still a smile. So he returns it, and locks his pinky with yours, and vows to himself to make sure you never cry for him again. 

[then]

"What is that?"

Hoseok looks up from the book he's got propped against the table. He hasn't been paying much attention to the conversation, too engrossed in the metalworking book his glassblowing professor gave him while you studied for an upcoming test, so your words surprise him.

"What's what?" He asks, looking around the cafeteria as if he can magically spot whatever it is you're talking about.

" That ," you repeat, stabbing towards him with your pencil. It's reflex that brings his hand up to his chest, and it's realization that has him clutching the pendant tightly, praying you hadn't really seen it.

"Nothing," he says quickly, tucking it back under his shirt where it's supposed to be. "Just a practice thing."

"Why won't you show me?" You pout. "You always show me your practice work."

"Yeah, because you always take it," He quips back with a laugh. You don't even try to argue, because you both know it's true. The collection on your windowsill has grown immeasurably over the last two years, and it makes Hoseok's heart stutter every time he lets himself consider why you keep all of them. Especially when some are so terrible.

"Seriously, Hobi, can I see?"

He starts to say no, because if there's one piece he's ever made that could tell you about his feelings, it's this. He should say no, should insist this once that you can't see it, but before he can, his hands are pulling the chain over his head and setting the entire thing gently in your palm.

He watches your mouth fall open and your eyes grow wide and he wonders.

He wonders what you see among the curl of metal; if the fact that he would do anything for you is obvious in the way it twists and turns on itself, looping around and around. He wonders if you can see, hidden between letters, how just being near you gets him through every day and makes it all worth it. He wonders if you'll be able to tell, between the pressed yellow petals, just how his chest aches; if you've put the pieces together, after so long, now that you're holding his heart so openly in your palm.

"'Remedy,'" You read, and Hoseok's heart jumps into his throat, even when he knows you don't know about it. "And some tulip petals? It's so gorgeous, Hobi, but what does it mean?"

"They're sunflowers," He corrects, almost scandalized that you could confuse the two. The petals are shortened, of course, cut so that they'll fit into the pendant without obstructing the text in the back, but still. "And it doesn't mean anything. Just something I wrote once in high school."

Your eyes light up. "You mean that poem you never let me read?"

"It was a song, actually," He mutters, but your attention is back on the necklace, looking for any hints about the secrets he keeps. Something soft tickles the back of his throat when you glance up at him and smile, the light glinting just right along the stones and casting golden beams along your features.

You look more beautiful than he's ever seen, and his chest aches with more than just the flowers taking root there.

"This is really gorgeous, Hobi," You tell him as you watch the way the light reflects through the amber beads along the edge.

"Yeah," He whispers as he watches you, drinking in the way your eyes widen in awe and the soft smile on your lips. "It is, isn't it?"

He wishes that moment could last forever, that he could tuck it away into a pocket and pull it out whenever he needs it, but he can feel the flower starting to work its way up his throat and he doesn't know how to hide that from you.

The coughs start right as someone calls out your name and his, and he tucks his chin into his elbow in an effort to hide it. He doesn't bother to look yet, just waves a hand as someone sits beside you, and by the time he's got the handful of petals tucked safely away in his pocket, you're deep in conversation with Namjoon about one of the classes the two of you are taking.

[now]

Hoseok decides, looking at you now, that you are happier than ever. 

You've said your vows and you've cried several happy tears and you've kissed more times than he can count, but you're still radiant. It's the glow of contentment, the promise of more to come, all coalescing to shine like stars in your eyes. 

"May I, Starshine?" He asks, extending a hand and pulling you away from your current dance partner. Yoongi doesn't look too upset about it, just smiles knowingly at you both as your hand folds into Hoseok's. 

You move with him as if it's second nature, and Hoseok supposes that it is , at this point. As many times as he held you this way while teaching you the steps, as often as he led you through them before today, you should be able to move out of sheer muscle memory. 

"Have I told you yet that you're sparkling, Starshine?" He asks, smiling along with you when you laugh. 

"I think that you're confusing me and the ring again, Hobi." 

On cue, he looks down at it. He spent so long on it, years of dreaming of what it may look like and months of trial and error and practice runs before he got it right. It was worth it, though; the ring does sparkle, takes the glow of your skin and the joy in your smile and amplifies it. 

Crafted to look like a sunflower itself, the ring is easily the most expensive thing he's ever made. Each petal sparkles with the same yellow quartz of that stone he gave you so long ago, and set into the middle is one large chocolate diamond that he spent entirely too much money on because it was already cut exactly the way he needed it. He'll never forget the way you cried when you saw it the first time. 

Hoseok's eyes meet yours, and he frowns at the tears he sees there. 

"Hey, none of that, Starshine. It's a happy day, remember?" He stops moving in the middle of the dance floor, hands moving to wipe your tears before they can fall. 

"I just...I'm so happy Hobi." He grins at your words, resisting the urge to poke fun, because of course you're happy. You just got married. 

You look up at him again, eyes still watery and he pulls you into a tight hug. 

"I love you so much, Hobi," you mutter against his chest. His heart flutters in his chest as he resists the urge to press his lips to yours right where you stand. 

"Yeah," He whispers. "Yeah, I love you too, Starshine." 

Someone taps him on the shoulder and he releases you, relinquishing his grasp on you so you can dance with Namjoon. The pendant around your neck sits beautifully, shadowed on either side by the white of the cloth, and he thinks for just a moment, that maybe he made that pendant for you, after all. 

He's worn it for years, of course, but the smile on your face when he slid it around your neck was worth it. It was worth being asked if you could have it, not entirely joking, and it was worth every single time you would fiddle with it during movie marathons, and it was worth every single night he held it in his clutched palm as he sat over the sink and coughed up the yellow blooms that you've strung up all over the reception hall. 

very day that you bugged him about it, how you asked every day without fail if you could have it. He knew you were kidding - mostly - but the light in your eyes when he finally gave it to you before the wedding today is something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, no matter what the future holds for him. 

It ends, as most things do, with a conversation. 

It was innocent enough - just a phone ringing in its place on the worktable and his hands covered in clay while he struggled to hit the screen with his elbow. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that he missed, exactly. Maybe it was the way that you’d been calling him less and less in the middle of the night. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t noticed that he’d been spending too much time in the studio, pouring his soul into every shape he crafts and wire he twists while he chokes down petals. Maybe it was the classes the two of you shared and the projects you worked on together, that he assumed was friendly and not anything more. Maybe it was all of that, everything working in tandem in a way that he could never understand.

Or maybe it was none of it. Simple acts that led to simple reactions - being too busy for each other, not talking as often, coughing up sunflower petals - that all led to that moment. 

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches the heart-shaped vase spin aimlessly on its wheel while you cry tears of joy through the phone because he finally - finally - asked you out, he can’t care.

[then]

Asthma? is what Jimin asks him, years later when they’re both locked in Hoseok’s newly renovated store, basically a hole in the wall that he saved and saved for with his online sales. Hoseok is curled over the workbench in the back, doing everything he can to catch the petals before Jimin can see them. 

When they eventually subside, long enough for him to gulp down some water and shove the red-tinted petals off to the side in a pile that’s been steadily growing for weeks now, Hoseok shoots Jimin a self-deprecating smile. 

He doesn’t even get a chance to lie to him. 

“How long?” Jimin asks him. There’s no softness to his tone; it’s all hard edges and naked truths, and for once, the exhaustion overtakes Hoseok. He’s so sick of lying. He’s so sick of carrying an inhaler he doesn’t need, of shoving sunflower petals into every nook and cranny he can find so that no one sees them, and he just wants someone to know. 

“Forever,” Hoseok answers simply. “As long as I can remember.”

“And you never said anything? Ever?”

Hoseok sighs, throat scratchy and raw, and he stares down at the ring he’s been fiddling with. “Would you?” He eventually says. 

When he looks at Jimin, the other man has a petal of his own in between two fingers and rubs it absently, distractedly, like it’s habit. When he looks up, Hoseok understands, and an understanding passes between them. 

Jimin goes back to the laptop perched in front of him while Hoseok continues to work on other orders, things less important than the ring burning a hole in his mind’s eye, begging to be made. 

He isn’t ready, he tells himself. He isn’t skilled enough yet. Maybe one day. 

“I’m getting the surgery,” Jimin says after a few hours of silence. Hoseok fumbles with the pliers in his hands, twists the wire the wrong way, and it all clatters to the tabletop. He doesn’t bother to catch it, either; he’s too busy staring at his best friend in shock. 

“Seriously?” He breathes. Jimin nods, and the air rushes out of Hoseok in the span of a heartbeat. 

Everyone knows about the surgery, just like everyone knows about hanahaki disease. It took years to develop and it’s the only known treatment, but there are always side effect. Always. Sometimes they’re minor, just losing your feelings of love for the person you have feelings for, or like the guy that just became allergic to the peonies that he had removed. 

But then there are the others. 

The people who lose the capacity to love altogether. The ones who never find anyone else, who never learn how to love another person, not like they loved the one that caused the flowers. Or the ones who just lose their emotions completely, and become essentially lifeless. Unable to feel love at all, or sadness, or grief, or joy, or excitement, or remorse, or anything. They just exist. 

“But...the side effects-”

“Aren’t guaranteed,” Jimin interrupts. “Plenty of people get the procedure every day and walk away fine.”

“Yeah and some of them turn into lifeless machines!” Hoseok counters. Jimin’s expression hasn’t changed. He looks steadfast, decided, and he’s barely looking away from whatever work he’s doing on the laptop, and it infuriates Hoseok. “You’re gonna sign away any hope that you have, any chance that you have, because it...because it hurts?”

“No,” Jimin says as he closes the laptop and slides it to the side. “Because I’m tired, Hobi. I’m so tired, all the time. I’m tired of keeping it a secret, and I’m tired of puking my guts every time I think about-” Jimin cuts himself off and closes his eyes, tight, as he swallows. 

When he opens them, Hoseok can see every emotion he’s ever had in Jimin’s eyes, and it makes his heart ache. 

“Aren’t you tired, Hobi?” 

Jimin’s voice is small, and weak, but it lingers in the air between them. It curls past Hoseok’s throat and then down to wrap around his chest, growing tighter and tighter with every breath. Neither of them break eye contact, and Hoseok wonders what Jimin sees in his face. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok eventually says. With that, the spell is broken, and he can breathe again, and he drags his eyes away from Jimin to look at the piece he’d been working on instead. “But I can’t just...stop, y’know? I’ve loved her for basically my entire life. I can't...I don’t even know who I am without that.”

Jimin’s quiet for a long moment, and Hoseok thinks maybe he’s not going to say anything. Maybe he got through to Jimin, maybe he won’t get that surgery. 

“Don’t you think that you should find out?”

[now]

Hoseok watches from across the room as Jimin spins you in a circle, both of you laughing brightly. 

Jimin’s suit matches your dress wonderfully; Hoseok doesn’t think anyone else could quite pull off the pattern on it quite like Jimin does in such an effortless way. He looks happier than Hoseok has ever seen him, more content, more at home in his own skin. 

He isn’t coughing, and he isn’t struggling, and everything worked out well for him. No more flowers in his lungs, no more lies to his friends, no more unrequited love left heavy in his heart. Just happiness and laughter and joy. Hoseok wonders if he’d be the same. 

His thumb rubs absently across the business card in his pocket. It’s been there since Jimin handed it to him, what feels like forever ago now. It’s worn, and faded, and torn, and old, but the doctor is still practicing, just got recognized by the World Health Organization for his work. There’s an appointment reminder dinging in Hoseok’s phone, and a business card in his pocket, and he still doesn’t know if he’s even going to go, because you look so beautiful. 

You’re surrounded by your flowers, and you’re glowing like the North Star, and he can’t keep his eyes off of you. 

“She’s gorgeous, right?”

Hoseok turns and smiles at Namjoon. The man looks just as good, decked out in the best suit money can buy, with crinkles in the corner of his eyes and a dimple in his cheek as he grins.

“Yeah, she is,” He says. Emotions clog in his throat when he looks back at you only to find you looking his way. There’s love in your eyes and a soft, private smile on your lips, and it makes his chest tighten. “She looks really happy.”

“She does,” Namjoon agrees. 

Across the room, you wiggle a finger, and the ring glints in the light. Hoseok stifles a laugh, and shakes his head. 

“I can’t dance anymore, so this is all on you, big guy,” He tells Namjoon. The other man looks more than happy to take him up on the offer, grinning sheepishly as he sets his drink down to make his way to you. 

You take Namjoon’s hand and pull him close as the music transitions into a slow dance. Namjoon presses his forehead against yours, and both your eyes close, and suddenly, Hoseok feels like he shouldn’t be watching. This feels private, intimate, in a way that he’s never been privy to.

His throat clenches and he can feel it in his throat. 

He nearly drops his drink, but he gets to a table just in time to put the cup down with shaky hands. He knew, he knew what would happen. He clenches his jaw and heads through the side door of the event space, barely chancing a glance behind him. You don’t seem to have noticed, thankfully, but Hoseok makes eye contact with Jimin. The younger boy taps his wrist, and Hoseok just heads outside. 

He doesn’t need Jimin to remind him that time is up. 

[then]

“You need what?”

Namjoon’s smile turns shy at Hoseok’s tone. Of all the things that Hoseok could have anticipated Namjoon would ask him for, of all the potential items that he’s been commissioned by the taller man, this was never something he expected.

Though maybe he should have.

“-you know her better than anyone, y’know, and no one can craft like you, Hobi-”

The nickname sounds wrong, suddenly; like poison on Namjoon’s lips, but Hoseok just plasters on his smile again, the one he saves for truly difficult customers who try his patience, and he prays Namjoon doesn’t recognize it. 

“No, I get it, yeah.”

“I just...it needs to be perfect. And you’re the only one that I trust to make it perfect.” Hoseok’s heart twinges in his chest, and he can feel the roots moving in his lungs. “I’ll pay you whatever you want, too, cost isn’t a factor, it just needs to be-”

“Perfect,” Hoseok finishes. Namjoon smiles again, sheepish, and nods. “It’s fine, I’ll make it. No charge.”

“Hobi, I can’t ask you to do that, not for free-”

“You didn’t,” Hoseok insists. “I’m offering. Consider it a...gift.” Namjoon’s smile is blinding, and he really must trust Hoseok with this, because he’s heading out just a few minutes after, already on the phone with you because the two of you are meeting for lunch. 

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. It makes sense. It’s been years. Isn’t that the usual time people start to expect this kind of thing? 

A voice in the back of his head, bitter and cruel, tells him that he should have charged Namjoon. Should have made him pay an exorbitant amount, enough to keep the shop running through the months of the slow season, enough to help heal the wound in Hoseok’s heart, but he brushes it off. It wouldn’t have felt right, charging for this. 

Not when he’s had the design sitting in his head since he wrapped that first stone with wire, since he first learned how to make this jewelry. Not when he’s had pages upon pages of designs drawn out for years, since before he even owned his own shop. 

That was never his to design, though, he reminds himself as he heads into the workshop. He had no right to that design. 

Just like he has no right to you. 

[then]

Later, weeks and weeks later, In the darkness of his apartment, Hoseok cries. 

Hoseok cries for all the things he’s never said, all the things he’ll never do, all of the things that you don’t know. He cries for the late nights together and the impromptu adventures and the panicked phone calls. He’s been so blind, he’s refused to see it, he knows. It’s all been waning, all put on the backburner in favor of him. 

He’s the one you call when air can’t make it to your lungs. He’s the one you pull from work in the dead of night to make him sleep. He’s the one that gets to wraps his arms around you while you watch the newest episode of whatever show you’re obsessed with lately. It’s all him, and it will never be Hoseok, no matter how hard he wishes, because he’s too late. 

He spent so long obsessed with maybe. Maybe you’ll love him back, maybe it’ll ruin the friendship, maybe you’ll realize. For years and years, he said maybe, and now it’s too late, because you’re going to be saying yes to another man’s question, and Hoseok will be left in the darkness, no longer able to look at the stars in your eyes because you’ll be looking at him. 

For the first time in his life, Hoseok hates. He hates you for not realizing that he loves you; he hates Namjoon for taking the chance and asking you out; he hates the flowers growing in his chest that are just further proof that he’s alone in his feelings. Mostly, though…

Mostly, Hoseok hates himself, he realizes as he crumples against the wall of his living room. He hates himself for not taking the risk that Namjoon did, for not putting it all out there so that you could give him whatever kind of closure would come. 

And it’s there, sitting on his floor, surrounded by the remains of too many projects that he spent too long on that you’ll now never see, that he first begins to consider it. Everyone knows about the surgery, everyone knows that you can get the flowers removed, but that it comes with a cost. He stares, past his tears, past the colorful crystal remnants at his feet, and he considers. 

There’s already a numbness spreading through his body; it follows the same path as the roots of the flowers in his lungs, it runs parallel to the petals and seeds, and it only serves to highlight the painful ache that his feelings have caused. He’s already becoming numb to it, so why not? He may lose the ability to love forever, yes, but he can still be your friend. He can still watch you marry another man, this time without the itch in his throat and the flowers in his bile. So why shouldn’t he?

His phone rings, and he already knows it’s you. Not by the specialized ringtone - the only custom one in his entire contact list - and not by the blinking light that’s sure to wake him up in the middle of the night. No, he knows it’s you, because he knows that there’s no way Namjoon could have resisted the temptation to ask you tonight. He’s pictured what you’d look like a hundred thousand times, knows exactly how bright your smile would be as you said yes, how soft the tears would feel as he wiped them away, he knows. 

And now you’re calling him, to tell him the great news, or maybe scold him for not giving you a heads up about it in the first place since he’s the one that made the ring. Either way, you’re on the other end of that ringing, ready to tell him about the happiest night of your life, and Hoseok can’t…

He can’t resist it. It’s autopilot as he drags himself to where his phone is still ringing, and it’s only after a deep and shaky breath that he answers it. 

You don’t even give him time to speak for you’re launching into your squeals and happy giggles and how Namjoon did it, and Hoseok feels a reluctant smile cross his features. It only grows when you start to gush about the ring, complimenting his skill, and he can feel a bud trying to make its way up his throat, so he mutes his phone. He doesn’t want you to hear as he rushes to the kitchen sink, as he chokes and coughs and gags and eventually spits out a nearly whole sunflower. 

It’s not a big one, maybe an inch or so in diameter, and not fully bloomed, but it’s there, and Hoseok knows it’s more of a death sentence than anything. 

“Hobi? Are you there?” 

He wipes his mouth and clears his throat and leaves the flower in the sink with its red-stained petals so that he can unmute his phone. 

“Yeah, Starshine, I’m here.”

[now]

In the alley beside your wedding, Hoseok coughs. He coughs and he gags and he chokes, until the ground is littered with flower petals that aren’t from your bouquets, and blood drops and tears. He chokes until he can’t breathe anymore, until he has to reach in and pull the flower from his throat before he really does die, and it makes him shudder when he sees that it’s nearly fully formed, almost completely bloomed and everything.

He doesn’t think he’ll make it through the next one.

He stands up, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the red suit he chose for this exact reason, and he looks through the window, to the space where you should be dancing with Namjoon. 

You aren’t, though. You’re watching him, brows drawn together, confused, and you’re saying something that he can’t quite make out through the glass. 

Fear strikes his heart. Fear that you saw everything, that you know everything, but directly after it comes relief, because he knows now. He knows what he needs to do, because he doesn’t think he can bear to have you watch him die, but he doesn’t think he can bear not to love you anymore, either; no matter what, he’s lost you, and that knowledge solidifies his decision. He holds a hand over his chest, and you mirror him, your fingers closing around the pendant he made so, so long ago.

You turn, looking for someone - Namjoon, maybe, or Jimin, to ask what’s wrong with him, and he takes the opportunity. He heads out of the alley, as fast as his legs can carry him, because he knows. 

When you finally make it into the alley, you don’t understand. Your best friend, your best man, is nowhere to be found. In his wake are flower petals, drawn out by the wind. 

One catches your eye, and you pick it up. It’s soft against your fingertips, and you frown when you see the red on it. 

You don’t ever see Hoseok again.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Grounded pt4

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

7k words later and this thing that was supposed to be a short explanation for what I saw as a plot hole in Venom is finally at an end. Got rather out of hand but since when is that unusual with fics? This’ll be proof read, edited, and then posted on AO3/FFN soon; I’m still undecided if I should chapter split it or have it all as a oneshot but it won’t be exactly as it’s been split here because I’ve posted this as I wrote it.

Someone mentioned ‘what if the ep was really like this’ so I’ll reiterate some of my earlier notes: this fic is a reaction to the lack of TB1 or Scott doing any sort of piloting in the S3 Venom despite it being a rescue where speed was important.  All the events in part 2 fit around the events we see in the episode seamlessly (I literally watched it in 5 sec bursts as I was writing to make sure of that), so to them and everyone else who thought that: this fic is designed to be that episode, just viewed through a different lens.  And then I made it worse after the episode was over because why not.

The reaction to this has been fantastic so far, way beyond anything I expected!  Thanks for that, and I hope you enjoy this last installment as much as the rest of it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

There was a steady beeping, calm and methodical.  Beep… beep… beep… it went, more of a reassurance than an irritant to the dregs of his consciousness.  Scott recognised it, but couldn’t place it, and found himself more interested in the fresh air flowing around his mouth and nose.  That was more immediately familiar, a constant from his last bout of consciousness, and it didn’t take his stirring brain long to label it as a rebreather.

Was that really necessary? Frowning slightly, he lifted a hand to his face and tugged the machine away, fresh air replaced with warmer air that had just the faintest tang.  The air of the sea.  He’d been on Thunderbird Two, but Thunderbird Two’s air didn’t taste of warmth and salt, rather the recycled air of an enclosed plane in flight, crisp and just a little bit off.  If this wasn’t Thunderbird Two and he was tasting sea air, there was only one place he could possibly be.

He smiled, hand still holding the rebreather falling to his side limply.  He was home.

Opening his eyes was a little more of a challenge, eyelids still heavy and eyelashes catching on each other, but as he blinked his way into awareness, beads of moisture forming in the corners of his eyes but not falling, he realised that he was almost sitting upright, the bed raised to its full extent so he was facing the wall with its fake holographic window rather than the plain and boring ceiling.

Scott appreciated that, letting the rebreather fall from his fingers as he wiped the sleep and moisture from his eyes.  He’d spent far too many hours staring at the ceiling that never changed, and at least the hologram could change.  The actual reasoning behind his positioning was more likely his rib, which Scott would worry about later.  It wasn’t his rib that had tried to kill him, and he looked down at his left arm.

A neat band-aid – a childish one, decorated with bright red biplanes soaring across a blue background that he’d always fought for as a kid – stood out against his bare skin, just below the elbow, and he smiled, wondering which of his brothers was responsible for that one.  On that same forearm he also saw a cannula, attached to tubing with translucent liquid passing through, and grimaced.  He never liked being on a drip.

He was no longer in his uniform.  Part of him – the part that contained his pride – bristled at that, wondering who had stripped him while he was unconscious and why, but the clothes he was wearing were comfortable, well-worn, and unmistakable as his favourite pyjamas even without him looking at them.  His comfort-pyjamas, although he was fairly certain he’d never made the mistake of letting that slip to anyone.  The ones he turned to whenever things got particularly rough, a plain unassuming dark grey with worn patches from the times he’d needed all the support he could get.

It could just be a coincidence, although Scott was uncomfortably aware that if there was one person he couldn’t keep anything truly secret from it was John, but whatever the reason, he was glad of them now.  There was nothing like comfort clothes after a near-death experience.

Considering he’d just had a near-death experience, the lack of anyone in the room with him was somewhat unusual.  Virgil in particular he’d expected to see, his younger brother blaming himself for bringing him out on the mission even before he’d been bitten, let alone afterwards. Kayo hovering unassumedly in the corner, sharp eyes full of concern.  John flickering by his side, watching him for the slightest change. Grandma, retired from caring for strangers but never too old to stay up all night with her family.

Scott eyed the drip. If none of his family were with him, physically or virtually, then that meant something else was going on that trumped his condition.  In their family, there was very little that trumped an unconscious brother or grandson. And if they weren’t with him, he had no intentions of staying put.

He’d removed drips hundreds of times – his own and other peoples’.  By this point, he had it down to an art, even if his sneaky family had tried to make it harder on him by putting it in his dominant arm; there were benefits to being ambidextrous.  He reached across with his right hand, fingers gently probing the needle, and had just found the sweet spot when there was the unmistakable hsss of the door sliding open.

“What do you think you’re doing, young man?” Grandma demanded, striding in and gently but firmly forcing him to release his grip.  “That’s there for a reason.”

“Hey, Grandma,” he greeted, grinning at her and ignoring that she’d just caught him trying to escape. “How long was I asleep?”

“Your siblings brought you back four and a half hours ago,” she told him, picking up the discarded rebreather and placing it on the bedside table before perching on the bed.  Scott watched her carefully, accepting the hand cupping his cheek as a thumb swiped at what was presumably some sleep he’d missed.  “Trust you to wake up the one time I have to use the toilet.  This old bladder can’t hold it in like it used to.”

Scott grimaced good-naturedly at the tmi and she chuckled at him, patting his cheek lightly twice before letting her hand rest.

“You gave us all a scare there, Scott,” she said softly, eyes running over him once before meeting his own.  “You don’t have to try and beat Gordon on that score, you know.  It’s okay to let someone else have that crown.”

“I’d appreciate it if he never gave me another scare in my life,” Scott admitted, before glancing around the room again.  “Where are they, anyway?  Not to sound self-centred, but I don’t usually wake up here alone.”

“Alan and Kayo are dealing with a stalled freighter just outside of orbit and Gordon and Virgil are responding to a sinking cargo ship,” Grandma told him.  “They’ll all be back soon, and delighted to know you’ve decided to re-join the land of the living.”  She tangled her fingers with his, pressing them to her chest with a hand that was almost trembling.  “It was a close call, Scott.  Your brother almost didn’t make it in time.”

His brother? Virgil?  John?  John had had a plan, he remembered that much, although he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the details.  Wait…

“I heard Thunderbird One,” he said, recalling the roar that had soothed him to sleep like a purr.  It could have been a figment of his imagination, but he didn’t think so.  A smile spread across his grandmother’s face.

“Of course you did,” she laughed.  “You boys and your machines.  Well on your way to see your mother and you still recognised your ‘bird.”  The smile was bright for a moment before it dimmed again. “Alan flew all the way to a lab in China to collect a dose of the antivenom before rendezvousing with Thunderbird Two to deliver it.  I’ve never seen that ‘bird fly so fast without you in the hotseat.”

Alan.  Scott could well imagine his youngest brother, face screwed up in concentration and fear, sat in the pilot’s seat.  The idea tied a knot in his chest, but at the same time there was pride, and an unexpected thankfulness for the rib injury that had kept him grounded and subsequently given Alan more flight hours in his ‘bird. Without that…

Without that, he might well have died.  The realisation doused him like cold water, his eyes leaving his grandmother’s to stare blindly at his lap.  He’d known he was dying, remembered a desperate fight against whispered promises of the stars and seeing his Mom again, but sitting in the infirmary, home and safe, it carried a different weight.

“Oh, Scott,” Grandma whispered, releasing his hand and cheek only to draw him in to a careful hug around his shoulders.  “It’s okay. It’s over.”  After a moment his hands found the back of her always there purple onesie, fisting around the fabric as his head rested in the crook of her neck.  “It’s okay.”

There was the slightest of cracks in her voice, a reminder that no matter how much steel she was made of, she wasn’t immune to the idea of loss.  Her parents, long ago, before Scott’s memories began.  Her husband, daughter in law.  Her son, who might still be alive and waiting for them.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, as much for her benefit as his.  “I’m okay.”

Her hand found the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair softly as though he was a young boy woken from a nightmare again.  It was the sort of treatment she didn’t give him in front of his brothers, knowing that he preferred to keep up the illusion of strength in front of them, no matter what.

“I want you to take it easy,” she told him after a minute or so, releasing him and instead gripping his hands in hers.  One pair was trembling, but he didn’t know if it was his or hers.  “I know that’s not in your vocabulary, but I refuse to let you throw yourself back in harms’ way until you’re fully recovered after what happened today.”

“But-” Scott protested, complaints and reasons why he shouldn’t be bedbound queuing up one after the other on the tongue.  A single look from his grandmother quelled them all before he could vocalise any.

“If you can’t do it for the sake of your own recovery,” she said, something in her voice implying that she thought he should treat himself better – he treated himself fine! – “then do it for our peace of mind, Scott.  We were all terrified when we heard what happened. Virgil was stuck watching you slip away with no way of stopping it.  That fear doesn’t magically go away, Scott.  We all know that.”

He was saved from answering by the swish of the door opening again.  He glanced over, wondering who it could be when he hadn’t heard any Thunderbirds come in to land.  Brains and the Mechanic were the only others on the island, and while it wasn’t unusual for Brains to check up on the infirmary, Scott didn’t want the Mechanic near him in his current condition.

It wasn’t the Mechanic. It wasn’t Brains, either – or MAX, for that matter.

“h’Oh, you’re h’awake!” Parker said with a surprised but delighted grin as he fumbled his way into the room carrying a tray laden with food.  “h’I was just bringing food for Mrs Tracy…” he trailed off, but continued to approach the bed.

“Parker, you shouldn’t have,” Grandma smiled, releasing one of Scott’s hands to move the rebreather off of the bedside table.  The older man set the tray down before stepping up to Scott’s side.  He didn’t reach for him, keeping his hands loosely behind his back, but sharp blue eyes raked him up and down.

“’Ow are you feeling?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m fine,” Scott replied, ignoring the eye roll from his grandmother, who clearly didn’t agree with his assessment.  Aside from some token weariness, which he knew was normal after a spell of time unconscious, he really did feel perfectly fine.  Even his rib wasn’t bothering him.

“h’I suppose that’s because you’re h’on the good stuff,” Parker shrugged, making Scott pause.  He should have realised that, especially after all the trouble his ribs had given him on the mission.  The temptation was there to ask how badly his recovery had been set back, but that would have just given Grandma even more ammunition to stay in bed. Besides, he’d be told eventually. Of more immediate interest was Parker’s unexpected visit.

“What brings you to the island, Parker?” he asked, glancing around the room again.  “I don’t see Lady Penelope around?”

“M’Lady’s in the lounge,” Parker told him.  “We came ‘ere to drop off the Centurion-21 fuel for Brains, but ‘eard h’about you and M’Lady requested to stay h’a while.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Grandma reminded him, and Scott smiled in agreement.  “Is she making any progress?”

“h’I couldn’t say for sure,” Parker shrugged.  “But I know M’Lady and Master John won’t stop h’until they get their way.”

Scott frowned.  Combined, John and Lady Penelope were an almost unstoppable force, but he couldn’t think of any reason for that tag-team, not right now.

“What are they doing?” he asked, because anything that big, he needed to know about.  Especially if working on that was a higher priority for John than checking in on him – John, the brother who was too used to sitting out of the loop and firmly inserted himself virtually into any situation with a brother operating at less than one hundred percent.  Scott knew he wasn’t at one hundred percent, not even by his own standards.

“Making sure today’s events never happen again,” Grandma answered, curling her hand back around his again.

Today’s events. The rescue?  Him being bitten?  That was all bad luck, how could they possibly ensure it never happened again? Although, he supposed, if anyone could, it would be the duo currently working on it.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Parker took it upon himself to explain.  “h’It transpires that the reason the ‘ospital ran h’out of h’antivenom was a funding problem,” he said, sounding somewhat unimpressed.  Scott didn’t blame him – whenever money was the problem, he found himself wanting to strangle whoever had decided lining their pockets was more important than human lives. “M’Lady h’is setting up a charity to make sure all ‘ospitals can ‘ave all the h’antivenoms they need.”  Admirable and welcome, but that didn’t explain John’s involvement.  He certainly hadn’t been needed in any of her past charity ventures.

“So what’s John doing?” he asked, hoping his brother was not ruining whoever had decided money was more important than lives.  It wouldn’t be the first time, and while Scott agreed that they deserved it, sometimes John could go a little too far.

“Arranging for International Rescue to have our own stock of all known antivenoms,” Grandma told him, squeezing his hands gently.  “We might not be able to stop spiders sneaking into our Thunderbirds, or you boys throwing yourselves in front of each other, but there is no reason why you should have had to suffer for an hour because you didn’t have the right antivenom on hand.”

That made sense, and Scott nodded his approval.  International Rescue did have a stock of common antivenoms, as well as everything they needed to deal with the local fauna on Tracy Island, but if they could broaden that, at least to the most dangerous venoms, it would only be a good thing.

It was also a typical John reaction – finding out why something had gone wrong and immediately finding a way to stop it happening again.  That, at least, told Scott that John was okay.  If he’d found a solution to the problem then he would be satisfied. No doubt Scott would find himself under close holographic scrutiny in the near future so John could see for himself that he really was fine, but with a solution the what-ifs wouldn’t be playing on his mind.

His other siblings would be less easily pacified.  He had no idea what Gordon knew, having not seen his water-loving brother at all that day thanks to a fishing trawler in trouble, but Virgil and Kayo would be kicking themselves black and blue, and Alan would be stuck in the what if I’d been too late loop.  Scott knew that feeling very well indeed.

He hadn’t yet decided if the fact that it had launched rather than exploded made the fact that he’d reached the Zero-X too late better or worse.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever decide.

“Still, I think we’d better let them know you’ve woken up,” Grandma said, releasing his hands.  “I won’t be long, so don’t even think about getting out of that bed, young man.”  She shared a look with Parker.  “If you’re hungry, see if you can eat some of that food Parker’s brought in.”  A gentle hand touched his cheek lightly before she stood up and left the room.

One look at Parker told him he wasn’t going to be going anywhere, especially when the man perched on the section of bed Grandma had just vacated.  Parker was the one he’d learnt many of his escaping tricks from – if there was one person that would see through them all, it was the butler.

“h’I wouldn’t be in too much of a ‘urry to h’escape, Master Scott,” the older man said, and Scott found himself relaxing back against the bed.  Master Scott.  It was his favourite of Parker’s ways of referring to him, but also the rarest.  He’d graduated to ‘Mr Scott’ after the Zero-X, the man’s acknowledgement that he was now the head of the family without using the dreaded Mr Tracy.  Parker never called him that, not even in public when the rest of the world insisted. Sir was a substitute when society demanded, and Scott always appreciated that.

Master Scott only came out when Parker was being fussy, and never with an audience.  Just like Grandma, he knew and accepted there was a front to be held in front of younger siblings – even if neither of them approved.  If he was Master Scott, he wasn’t expected to make any decisions or take on any of his father’s responsibilities.

“Some food?” the butler asked, gesturing to the tray.  It was homemade, but not by Grandma, and Scott would have to be far worse off to even consider declining that.  In answer, he reached for the toast, only for Parker to lightly touch his wrist and stop him. “You’ll get crumbs h’everywhere if you h’eat like that,” the older man scolded lightly.  “Stay still, there’s a good lad.”

The tray was relocated to his lap, and Scott tore into the offering as soon as Parker retracted his hands, to an amused chuckle from his companion.

“h’It’s not going anywhere, Master Scott,” Parker reminded him.

“He’s just trying to finish it before the others get home and want to share,” John commented, and Scott’s head jerked up to see his brother’s hologram materialise alongside him. He looked tired, not that that was an unusual occurrence over the past few weeks.  “You’re looking better, Scott.”

“I can’t imagine that’s hard,” he managed through a mouthful of food.  The last time he’d been aware of John’s presence, he’d been deep in the clutches of deadly venom.  If he’d looked half as had as he’d felt, it would have been an awful sight.  “How’s the campaign going?”

John pulled a face.  “They’re asking for money, which by itself isn’t a problem because I expected that, but they’re trying to charge us triple what they charge hospitals, and as Lady P’s working to get those rates reduced because they’re extortionate, I’m not letting them use our lives to line their pockets.”

Scott grimaced along with him.  Money grabbers were the worst.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked, because there was no way John was letting that slide.

“Persuading them that it’s better in their interest long-term to not try and bankrupt us,” John offered, a bemused look on his face.  “We could afford it, but if they think that they’ll be driving the prices up with every new shipment.  More realistically, I’m talking to Colonel Casey to see if the GDF can’t pull some weight. As they’re military and not private, the companies couldn’t charge them as much.  It would leave us needing the GDF’s good will for access, but we already know the GDF don’t dare put us out of business.”

It was Scott’s turn to pull a face.  He hated getting the GDF involved in anything; for as long as Colonel Casey was a dominant figure in the organisation International Rescue wouldn’t have any issues, but in the longer term he was brutally aware that she was their father’s generation.  At some point, she would be forced to retire and then they’d – he’d – have to handle the full force of the GDF without inside help.

Still, he trusted John and Colonel Casey.  Anything they implemented would be beneficial to International Rescue.

“Let me know what you come up with,” he requested, and John nodded, turquoise eyes briefly scanning across him.

“Alan and Kayo will be returning home in five minutes,” he told him.  “Do you want me to tell them you’re awake or let them find out for themselves when they check in?”

“Tell them once they’ve landed,” Scott decided.  “Virgil and Gordon, too – what’s their ETA?”

“They’re racing Thunderbird Three home,” John shrugged.  “But Thunderbird Three will win.”  Scott chuckled.  Alan somehow always won their races home, no matter how much further away he’d been.

“What are they betting this time?” he asked, and John grinned.

“Loser gets to be your slave for the week,” he said.

“Mine?”

“Well you’re not doing much on your own any time soon,” John told him matter-of-factly.  “Has Grandma given you the rundown?”  Scott blinked, pausing mid-bite.

“I thought I was supposed to be walking around with the ribs,” he ventured tentatively.  “But no, I haven’t been told what the damage is yet. Care to fill me in?”

John glanced away at something Scott couldn’t see.

“Your rib re-broke,” he started bluntly.  “Which I’m sure you’ve realised.  So that’s another six weeks grounded, and this time no-one’s sneaking you onto a Thunderbird before that’s up.”

“Six weeks?” Scott groaned.  John raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Well what did you expect?” he asked.  “Kayo filled us in on the mission details once you were stable.  You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“But-” Scott protested. “What about the mission to find Dad?” John shook his head.

“The new Zero-X will take longer that to construct,” he told him.  “Brains and the Mechanic finished the T-Drive while you were out in Brazil and we’ve got the fuel, so they’re going to test fire it tomorrow to make sure it’s all working before they start on the craft itself.”

“Tomorrow?” Scott asked. “If it’s ready why not today?”

“Even engineers need breaks sometimes, Scott,” John scolded lightly.  “They’ve been working almost non-stop for the past five weeks, which I know you know.”  There was a slightly accusatory tone at the end of his sentence, and Scott realised John knew how closely he’d started watching the two engineers.  “Besides, Grandma and Virgil won’t let you out of that bed for at least twenty four hours, and we all know you won’t be happy unless you see it for yourself.”

Well, they weren’t wrong.

“You still haven’t told me why I’m getting a slave for a week over a broken rib,” Scott realised, and John once again raised an eyebrow at him.

“You haven’t tried to get out of bed yet?”

“Don’t h’encourage ‘im, Master John,” Parker groaned.  “Mrs Tracy ‘ad to stop ‘im h’earlier and ‘e ‘asn’t ‘ad h’a chance since.”

“It was an hour before the antivenom reached you, Scott.  The damage doesn’t get miraculously fixed just because the venom’s gone,” John continued.  “Your blood pressure is still low so I’d wager you’ll probably pass out if you try to stand right now, no matter how ‘fine’ you feel, and we don’t yet know for sure if it’s done any damage to your heart.”

“My heart?”  The soft background beeping caught Scott’s attention and he turned his head to the EKG.  It was on, signalling that it was receiving data from wireless transmitters.  He put a hand to his chest; underneath the pyjamas he felt the tell-tale patches, leaving him with no doubt that it was his own heartbeat it was recording.  “Oh.” That was low.  Not dramatically so, but lower than his normal resting rate.

“It’s recovered reasonably well, but Grandma and Virgil still aren’t happy with it,” John told him. From his tone, it wasn’t only the family medics unhappy.  “I know you don’t like staying in bed, but unless you want to fall over and make your ribs worse, I would suggest you stay put.”

Scott scowled.

“You’re also recovering from dehydration, so drink up and leave that drip in,” Grandma added, walking back in with a large cup, complete with straw.  “I see there’s nothing wrong with your appetite,” she observed. Parker obligingly removed the now-empty tray away from Scott’s lap and stood so that she could sit back on the side of the bed.  “Drink.”

Obediently, he took the cup with both hands and sipped at the liquid, which revealed itself to be simply water.  A dull rumbling even through the soundproofing of the infirmary told him Thunderbird Three was back.  John confirmed that before signing off to talk to their returning siblings.

Scott made a note of the time, wondering how long it would take before he had visitors.

Three minutes later and the door slammed open to find Kayo and Alan shoulder-to-shoulder, clearly racing each other.

“No running in the house!” Grandma barked, but neither of them looked the least apologetic.  They did at least walk the distance from the door to his bed, where Grandma had slipped off to let them get closer.  Both stopped short, Alan fidgeting from foot to foot at he stared at him with open relief, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Come here,” he told his youngest brother, spreading his arms in demand of a hug.  As always, Alan needed no further invitation, crashing into him and wrapping his arms around him tightly, although it didn’t miss Scott’s attention that it wasn’t Alan’s usual rib-squeezing hug.  He appreciated that, curling his own arms around his brother’s shoulders.

Alan was trembling.  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he mumbled into Scott’s neck.  “I thought-”

“I’m still here, kid,” he interrupted quietly.  “And I hear I have you to thank for that.”  The sniffle he got in response told him it was Alan, the baby brother, rather than Alan the emergency responder he was dealing with.  “You did good.”

“I thought I was too late,” Alan mumbled, and there were tears against Scott’s skin.  He tightened his grip on his brother.  “You looked d-dead.  I d-didn’t think you were breathing.”

“I’m here and breathing,” Scott reminded him, letting him sob on his shoulder as long as he needed, rubbing the neoprene – both siblings were still in uniform – underneath his hand reassuringly.  He remembered the same reaction after EOS had first made herself known to them, only that time it had been John Alan had clung to in tears, post-adrenaline rush. They needed to stop putting their lives in Alan’s hands like that.

But Alan would settle, barring the new nightmare fuel that never went away, once he’d let out the initial emotions.  It was either a blessing of youth, or a coping strategy he’d been forced to employ too young. Kayo, who was watching with unguarded relief across her face, was like John; pragmatic and level-headed.  A serious conversation would settle her, although when she met his eyes, he linked his hands together behind Alan’s back and made them flutter, shooting her a quick grin.

The resulting glower she sent him didn’t hide the softening in her eyes, or the way her shoulders slumped. Satisfied for the moment, he returned his attention to his youngest brother, who seemed content to stay where he was.  Scott let him, nodding at Parker when the older man gestured that he was going to leave the room.

No sooner was Parker gone than Gordon burst through the door, Virgil hot on his heels.

“Scott!”  Gordon skidded to a stop just behind Alan, reaching out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder where he could.  “Don’t do that again,” he demanded, amber eyes flicking to the EKG for a split second before he found some space to perch on the bed behind Alan.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Scott shot back.  Gordon grinned.

“I won’t if you don’t,” he said.  “Deal?”

“Deal.”

They couldn’t really promise that, not in their profession, but Scott saw something lift behind Gordon’s eyes, the banter regardless doing something to reassure him.  Gordon had always used humour to cope.

Four siblings down, or at least addressed, and one to go.  Somehow, Scott didn’t think a hug or joke would work quite so well on Virgil. Guilt was deep-set in brown eyes, but Virgil didn’t look at him directly, focusing on the EKG and drip as he bustled around.

“Virgil,” he said, pulling one hand away from Alan to catch his brother’s arm the moment Virgil got in reach. It was the arm with the needle in it, bright band aid stark against his skin.  Virgil’s eyes focussed on it and Scott sighed, tightening his grip on the neoprene beneath his fingers.  “Look at me.” He couldn’t do much, not while Alan was still clinging to him, but hell if he was going to let Virgil shut himself away and stew in a self-inflicted puddle of misplaced guilt.

Virgil stilled, but didn’t obey.  Scott closed his eyes and sighed again, squeezing Alan lightly.  The blond snuffled but didn’t otherwise move.

“Virgil.”  That was John’s voice, his final brother reappearing holographically at the foot of Scott’s bed.  The middle brother ignored him, too.

“Kid, your brother’s talking to you,” Grandma chipped in.  “At least have the manners to look at him.”  Despite the words, there was no scolding in her tone, just a quiet encouragement.  Virgil glanced up at her, and a look passed between them that Scott couldn’t see before Virgil slowly turned to face him.

“Thank you,” he said before Virgil could apologise, or say something else nonsensical.  Whatever his brother had been gearing up for, it clearly wasn’t that; he blinked, startled, before opening his mouth to probably-protest. “I know it was Alan that got the antivenom, but you’re the one that kept me alive long enough to get it.”

“I’m the reason you needed it in the first place!” Virgil snapped, looking away again.  “If I’d paid more attention… if I-”

“If nothing,” Scott interrupted, conscious that they had an audience but unable to ask anyone to leave.  He wanted his family there, with him, and knew they were all busy reassuring themselves that he was going to be fine.  “You’d have done the same thing if our positions were reversed, except I’m not as good as you with all the medical stuff.”

“You’d have done enough,” Virgil mumbled, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“And you did enough,” he returned.  “No what-ifs, Virgil.”  Hell knew he’d told himself that enough through the years, with varying levels of success.

Virgil at least met his eyes again, even though Scott could see it wasn’t enough to lift the guilt. That would take much longer, including him making a full recovery and a conversation without the rest of the family listening in, intentionally or not.

“You’re staying in that bed,” he said instead, and Scott made a grumbling noise of protest.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied.  “I can’t say I’m happy about it, but John made quite the compelling argument.”

“Does this mean you’ll listen to me for once?” John asked disbelievingly, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean, for once?” Scott asked.  “I listen to you!”

“When it suits you,” John rebuked.  “I have a list, if you’d care to hear it.”

Scott wouldn’t put it past John to actually have a list.  He turned his attention back to his other brothers without responding, to an amused noise from the space monitor, and gave Alan a grin as the youngest finally pulled back from his shoulder, eyeing him with teary blue eyes.

“I’ll sit on you if you try and get up,” the youngest told him firmly, look somewhat ruined by those eyes. Gordon laughed.

“Alan, you’re a twig.”

“Am not, fishboy!”

“Are, too!”

“Not!”

“Boys,” Kayo interrupted, taking a few steps closer to the cluster on the bed.  With one arm now free, Scott reached for her and got a light hug at his silent request.  It didn’t last long, but it was enough for the rest of the tension to leave her shoulders before she stepped back, out of his reach again.

“Hey, where’s my hug?” Gordon demanded, and Scott raised an eyebrow at him.

“You want a hug, you’ve got to come get it yourself,” he said.  “I’m not moving.”

Permission gained, Gordon shoved Alan out of the way, the younger falling off the bed with a squawk of indignation, and wrapped himself around Scott.  It was far looser than his usual hugs, but out of all his brothers, Gordon was best at gauging what an injured person could take.  Scott rested his chin on his shoulder, feeling the dampness of the neoprene that betrayed that Gordon had been in the water during his mission.

Tension drained out of his aquanaut brother’s powerful shoulders and Scott found himself relaxing as well.  He’d always found it easiest to relax and wind down when his brothers were okay, and with three out of four openly reassured, his own nerves were less on edge.

“I’m still sorry,” Virgil said after a moment.  Scott still had hold of his bicep, and glanced up at him as he spoke.  That pain and guilt was still there in brown eyes, but it was Gordon and Alan that Virgil was looking at.  A big brother himself, he too was being drawn into some sort of reassurance by the youngest two calming down.

There were many responses Scott could give, and maybe later once it was just the two of them he’d dive deeper in if Virgil hadn’t managed to settle himself and needed a stronger release, but in that moment, with his family around him and the knowledge that whatever happened next, they’d survived this hurdle, there was only one thing to say.

“I know.”

Surprised brown eyes met his, as though Virgil had expected another rebuke, another it’s not your fault, but Scott knew better.  He didn’t blame Virgil at all, but it wasn’t his forgiveness Virgil needed; his brother needed to forgive himself for his perceived transgressions, and that he couldn’t do as long as Scott stayed stubborn.  He tugged at the bicep in his grip, coaxing Virgil closer with an inviting smile.

Virgil hesitated, understanding but unsure.  Scott didn’t say anything else, didn’t push harder, but then Grandma put a hand on Virgil’s other arm and whatever remaining fight there was seeped away.

It was Gordon’s turn to squawk as he found himself nudged out of the way, but he went willingly, surrendering the space to Virgil as Scott’s dark-haired brother wrapped his arms around him cautiously.

“I’m okay,” Scott murmured into his brother’s ear, returning the hug as fiercely as he could.  Like Alan before him, Virgil shook ever so slightly under his touch, but unlike the youngest, no tears were shed.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Virgil mumbled.  “You stopped breathing for a minute just before Alan arrived and I thought that was it.”

“I heard you,” Scott admitted, just as quietly.  “I don’t think I’d have had the strength to keep fighting without you.  Alan might have got the antivenom, but you saved me, too.”

Virgil gave a shuddering breath and his arms tightened, just a little.

They stayed like that for several minutes, Scott managing to relax further now that was the fifth and final sibling’s immediate concerns addressed, but eventually Virgil pulled back, the ghost of a smile on his face.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, Gordon crashed into him.

“Group hug!” he declared, reaching out to snag Alan and pinning an unprotesting Virgil in place as Scott’s three youngest brothers gathered as close as they could for a tangle of arms and bodies on Scott’s bed.  Alan flailed in Kayo’s direction and the woman stepped closer, slipping an arm delicately around the back of Scott’s neck and more tightly around Alan.  Scott grinned at her before looking past the mass of brothers to lock eyes with the one he couldn’t reach.  John grinned back at him, and even though he wasn’t physically there, Scott didn’t need it to know his immediate brother was just as relieved.

The hug lasted until Grandma intervened, suggesting that they let him have a little bit of space. He didn’t need space, but they all heard the underlying reminder that he was in that bed for a reason.  After that, it was back to business as usual, his on-Earth siblings scattering to change on Grandma’s order and reconvening later in their civvies with various forms of entertainment while John went back to his latest project.

Lady Penelope poked her head in later, but he didn’t see Brains – or the Mechanic – until the next day.

“I-it’s time to t-test the T-Drive e-engine,” the engineer told him the next morning, after checking him over in his own desire for reassurance; there was some guilt there as well, for pushing him out on the rescue, but thankfully Brains was much easier to calm than his brothers – the fact that Brains hadn’t seen him almost dead helped.

“Give me five,” he said, reaching for the drip stuck in his arm.

“Make that ten, Brains,” Virgil rumbled, catching Scott’s hand.  “Scott’s not up to walking even if he thinks he is.”

Scott groaned, but Virgil raised an eyebrow at him.

“I thought John made a convincing argument for you to stay in bed?” he challenged, and Scott shrugged.

“That was yesterday.”

“And your heart rate still isn’t back to normal, so it’s the hoverchair or nothing,” Virgil rebuked, rolling his eyes.

Scott sighed but dutifully held out his arm for Virgil to remove the drip instead.

“No, that’s coming with you,” Virgil corrected, gently pushing it down to his side again.  “Just the EKG.”  The machine was turned off, but Virgil made no move to relieve him of the transmitters, telling Scott that it was being linked back up later. Wonderful.  “Now then, let’s get you out of this bed-”

Scott leaned forwards and swung his legs around, placing them on the floor and pushing himself to his feet.

“Woah!”  Virgil sprinted around the bed and caught him as his vision fuzzed.  “John’s compelling argument?”  Scott was vaguely aware of being shifted around as the world spun around him, but it was a surprise to find himself in the hoverchair by the time he was fully aware of his surroundings again.  Usually, Virgil would dump him straight back in bed.

“Okay, John’s compelling argument still holds,” he admitted, leaning against the back of the chair and closing his eyes briefly as the world tried to spin a little more.

“Let’s get going,” Virgil sighed.  “Hands off the controls; I’m steering.”  Scott grumbled, but had no doubt that the controls had actually been disabled.  “As soon as the test is over, you’re coming straight back.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” he asked, and Virgil chuckled.

“Not at all.”

They were last to the balcony; it didn’t escape Scott’s notice that the Mechanic was the other end to the rest of them, talking quietly to Brains but otherwise ignoring the Tracys. That suited Scott just fine; if the test worked, he was well aware he owed the man an apology for his accusations of sabotage.  Although maybe he’d keep that back until the Zero-X2 launched successfully and Dad was home. Just in case.

“You look pale,” Grandma commented.  “Did he try to stand up?” she asked Virgil.  Scott glowered as Virgil rolled his eyes in answer.

“What do you think?” he asked rhetorically.  “He didn’t pass out entirely, otherwise the test would be happening without him, whether he liked it or not, but it was close.”

“He is right here,” Scott grumbled.

“And he’s going to keep his mouth shut and drink this up,” Grandma informed him, pressing a cup of water, complete with straw, into his hands.  “You shouldn’t be out of bed at all, young man.”

“T-test is ready,” Brains announced before Scott could find a retort that wouldn’t get him taken straight back to the infirmary.  “I-igniting T-Drive in three, two, one.”

Without binoculars, it was difficult to see what was happening on the platform, but nothing exploded and after several moments all that could be seen or heard was the whining of an engine.  It was higher pitched than the engines Scott was used to, but there were none of the warning noises suggesting that something was wrong.

Beside him, Virgil sighed in relief while Gordon and Alan whooped.

“C-cutting engine,” Brains called, and it powered down easily.  Smooth as any of the best plane engines Scott had piloted – and he’d piloted many.

It had worked.  They had a T-Drive engine.

They could go find Dad.

“Scott?”  Virgil sounded worried, and he opened his eyes – when he had closed them? – to look up at his worried brother.  Alan and Gordon hovered nearby, and he looked at them all in turn, even John’s silent hologram – his ginger brother hadn’t been there when the test had started, hadn’t been expected after he pointed out their holotech’s range didn’t reach that far.  “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?  He had a broken rib, was recovering from a near-fatal spider bite and its side effects of dehydration, bradycardia and hypotension, and the man who had almost killed his brothers multiple times was standing the other end of the same balcony.

But they were one step, one significant step closer to Dad.

“Yeah,” he said, staring out past them, at the platform cradling the most important engine International Rescue had ever created.  For the first time since that horrid trash mine day five weeks earlier, he could honestly say, “I’m okay.”

Fin

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

So, new data Of Lilianne!

— I Think I Never mentioned What wand type She has, but I Think Without a Doubt The Second One Is Made Of Yew, so I Was reading Of The meaning and etc Of The Woods and The yew Is Made for funerals and iniation so seeing that She has Lost so Many People I Think Is fitting and The core Of This wand Is Hippogriff feather because I really think She Would give The wand The respect it Think It deserves

— Given The Many duels and Creatures She needs to Fight in the game She has Many scars around her body so She always have This bandages with her, Chiara and Pomfrey tried to dissapear Them with Magic but She doesn't really like the “Magic out” Of things so She refuses The help.

— Ah! This Is important, her relationship with Merula Is different because Of a Important Event, so it deviates Of The canon Of The Patronus Quest but Lilianne couldn't conjure her Patronus because She tried to use specifically a memory Of Jacob The problem Is Jacob not only gives her happiness but also triggers negative Emotions. But Merula could and She... surprisingly saved Lilianne from The dementors, Like Lilianne did The same for her in The Ice Vault but She Never expected Merula Of All People to save her. This caused that Lilianne for The First Time thinked “Hey, maybe She's not that bad” and as Someone who grew up with The Thought Of “Bad People stays as Bad people” She really had a conflict. But After that, she's a Little More forgiving Of Snyde, They still not Friends and still Hate how much They remind Them to their negative traits but They're no longer “enemies” but also Can't consider Them as friends, they just see The Other as “Respectable rival” and well, They both try to be less mean to eachother Little steps after All.

— I Think I Said The Lanusse are latinos but I never really Said Of where part of Latinoamérica are They, They're Ecuatorians

—When Lilianne is overwhelmed starts to speak in spanish because She Can't really find The Perfect Words in English, I Like to think Rowan Would learn spanish just for her and try comfort her speaking in her Language

— Her Father was an Artisan, he Would make her Different crafts for her Birthday and She really Likes seeing him Work, She started doing crafts with her own hands because She wants to remember him

— Like Liz, She doesn't Like eating meat, so She's More Of Vegetarian

— Ben reminds her Of Jacob, She's easily worried about him because She fears losing him like her brother

— Her animagus form Is a Crow, really, The simbology Of death Never leaves her alone. Is just Like Remus with His wolf imagery

— Her First Boggart still being Jacob, but now everything that happened now This Will transform in a Corpse Of Someone She cares about

— She's still a bit Of a jerk, but After The Death Of Rowan She learned that She has to be less “Full Of herself” and Grow Up, but Given The type Of person She was Before nobody in The circle really trust her to be The leader that's Why They already want to go on with their Lives and If Is possible, Forget They were part Of This “Lanusse mess” at All.

(Going under the cut to save our beloved scrollers the space) 

I seriously dig wands that have unique cores, even though I know the three “supreme” cores that Ollivander uses are supposed to be...well, supreme. The best ones. To that I say, nonsense! The Elder Wand has a thestral hair for it’s core, and hippogriffs are one of my favorite potterverse creatures, so I dig that! One of my head-canons for Aurelie is that her wand core is an Abraxan feather. As far as wand wood goes, Yew is incredibly cool. Gail has Aspen, and Luca has Rowan. (Oh yes, I really did that.) 

I can give some mad respect points to Lilianne for not wanting her scars to go away. It’s the same reason Zuko couldn’t lose his scar, the same reason Elphaba had to stay green. It’s a part of who she is. Harry couldn’t lose his lightning bolt either! (Oh god, am I agreeing with Dumbledore? Never tell anyone this happened...) 

I really dig what you added in for the Patronus Quest, holy heck. Because I basically had the inversion happen in my fic where Luca gave Merula a pep talk from her breakdown and she was able to create her shield patronus. Seriously, I think it’s honestly a good thing if characters sometimes don’t know how. They stress again and again in the books that the Patronus Charm is highly advanced and challenging magic. Especially for a Hogwarts student. Harry learning it at thirteen was remarkable. As for my twins, (it’s funny, I recently got tagged in a post about this, I need to answer that) their Patronuses (Patroni?) are still under consideration. I’m not altogether sure if both of them can cast a Patronus. In the interests of fairness and realism, I’m going to say that one of them is an Animagus, the other can cast a Patronus. Just don’t know which is which yet. 

That’s so cool! As for the Fawleys’ heritage, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. All I know is that they’re biracial, and one of their parents is white, the other being middle-eastern, though which exact country is still undecided. I also don’t know which parent is which, mostly because I have yet to decide, even now, what Nina Fawley’s maiden name is or what family she was a part of. Other details I know is that Luca is lactose intolerant, Gail is dyslexic, and the Fawley family is Jewish. Or perhaps the Khannas are. Or both. Basically. HPHM just needs to have at least one of its’ families be Jewish and have that come up in the next holiday quest. I am waiting, Jam City.

Luca and Gail are in so many ways, defined by their relationship to Jacob. Luca adores him and idealizes him. Gail cannot stand him. This shapes very much who the twins spend time with primarily. Then again, Gail was raised by Rakepick, so she’s got a bunch of other familial trauma to work through. Her relationship to Merula, like Luca’s, can reflect that of her relationship to Jacob. Also, can I just say that I really dig the Crow Animagus form? I’ve really been into the symbolism of crows lately, and trying to integrate that into my own work. They’re just a lot of fun!

Rowan’s death kind of changed us all, didn’t it? I feel so bad for Lilianne that she genuinely grows as a person after it happens but no one can forget what has come before, and they’re all probably pretty shaken too, so they don’t trust her. That’s devastating, I shan’t lie. Meanwhile, Luca was absolutely broken by Rowan’s death. (Between that, the Portrait Vault, and Y6CH45...my poor baby is spiraling.) and Gail was equally sent into shock, but not just by Rowan’s death specifically. But also because Rakepick tried to kill Ben. For so many reasons, that throws her. 

[sincerelyreidburke]

will you tell us more about kiersey? like how big it is, what campus is like, what sort of clubs and organizations are big?

Yes, I will, Jude, and thank you for asking!!!🤍🤍🤍🤍 For those seeing this ask and wondering what Kiersey is, it’s a fictional college of my very recent creation, and you can read about it here on this tag or on its page on my blog. Kiersey is home to my OC college students, who I formerly created in the Check, Please! fic universe, and then they got out of hand, so I decided they needed their own story/universe. :D

Under the cut... details about this school! Ask me anything about it, if you please!

Alright, so I went over a bit of this in this ask about founding date and such, but let me put it out here because I think it’s important and worth re-hashing.

Kiersey is in New Hampshire, around the location of the actual existent town of Epping (if you want to look it up on Google Maps or something). While the town of Kiersey, NH existed first, Kiersey College is what makes the town “relevant”, per se. It’s a nationally known school, with a student body size of liiiiike maybe 15,000. The academics are competitive, to the point where it’s considered a semi-big-deal if you get in, but it’s not in the Ivy League or anything. In the last post I likened it to a school like Boston University. The athletics are pretty much on par with BU as well, just in terms of, like, the extent to which they’re important in school culture.

But athletics aren’t the only extracurricular thing that’s important there— the school has a lot of clubs and organizations by definition because it’s so big. I’m sitting here wondering if I should create some kind of Deaf organization on campus for Quinn to be able to partake in. 

Update. I went to the websites of a bunch of colleges similar to the type of school I’m imagining Kiersey to be, and there are, like... ASL clubs, but not Deaf clubs? The club descriptions all state that they’re “geared toward students wanting to learn more about Deaf culture or learn ASL”. It’s sort of like having a club to learn Spanish but not a society for Latin American students. That’s kind of sad. I’d like it to be different at Kiersey but I also question how realistic it would be to have a decent population of Deaf students at a traditional college where things aren’t, like... as accessible as they should be.

Okay, so I’m undecided on that. We’ll see. In other clubs: they have a bunch of club sports, some arts societies including the very familiar drama club/theatre organization, service societies? I guess there’s also probably frat life and stuff like that. A bunch of miscellaneous clubs with small but dedicated memberships. A really fantastic LGBT+ society.

Something you must know that will become important later in several senses: Kiersey, for some reason, owns an apple orchard. Like, it’s on campus. And they have an annual apple festival in the fall. They’re known for their apples. It’s wild. It’s a school symbol. I think there are probably prohibitions against students going up to the orchard (it’s at the “top” of campus, in a hilly area behind all the sports fields) and randomly picking apples at their will, because if everybody did that, there would be no apples. But at the apple festival, the orchard is open for picking. And there’s just... autumnal shit everywhere. Again, this will become important. I told you Nando and Quinn’s meet-cute was going to change a little... and it may now involve an apple festival incident. Hit me up if you’re interested in knowing more about that.

Other things: they were founded in 1899, originally as an all women’s school and then going co-ed sometime before WWII... their mascot is a knight...... their colors are blue and gold (and by the way, a super fantastic person made some Kiersey logos which I will share soon)...... campus is big and full of brick buildings and greenery, that typical New England college aesthetic... it’s absolutely beautiful in the fall, even outside of the apple festival......... you can’t step on the seal at the middle of the dining hall quad or else you will either a.) not graduate or b.) get pregnant............ in their hockey rink, the Meelia Arena, there’s a little statue of a knight with a hockey stick........ the performing arts building is called the Beckett Center but cool kids AKA Reid Burke call it Beck.......... and so on.

Thank you for asking!!!