#full fic here we go

[extravagav]

Yk I never did truly recover from the sick fic chapter

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: a three color drawing (black, white, and teal) in the style of Seth’s illustrations from the Lemony Snicket series All The Wrong Questions. Five and Viktor (both about 13) are seated at the counter of a diner, talking. Luther (in his 20s), who is a patron seated next to them, looks concerned about what he is overhearing. Grace stands behind the counted holding a coffee pot and gazing into space. A missing poster for Ben is taped to the counter. In the mirror behind the counter, a reflection Diego and Patch (both 15) are visible in a booth. End ID]

i really should leave time between art posts for them to breathe and accumulate their fair share of notes, but also i need something to do while im waiting for my onions to caramelize.

In this installment: Five and Viktor meet over breakfast to discuss business, Luther is a Concerned Citizen, Diego and Patch also meet over breakfast to discuss business but in the background, and Grace is NOT a robot and this diner is NOT fully automated no sir. Also as usual Ben's face provides some ambiance, thank you Ben.

[self-spaghettification]

Aaravos’s Endless Cold

because of @sthormiiii’s headcanon— I was thinking about how Aaravos has to wear a cloak because he’s cold and. this spawned. Oops

Despite his mastery of both sun and sky, while the powerful archmage could do anything within reason, heating or cool the temperature of the room without a thought, he could not help finding himself freezing regardless. it was the sort of inner chill that soaked you to your bones. that left him shivering and hands trembling with no reason at all, despite the way the fire blazed right in front of him, dancing across his hands, within him. 

he found his body’s involuntary reactions to his solitary confinement an inelegant limitation of his form so he took to wearing a cloak so that as he checked his reflection in the ceaselessly watching mirror, he might not have to look upon the stars that glistened faintly on his skin like the sweat that coated it regardless of his ever constant slight adjustment to temperature. The stars that once shone brightly and winked at him warmly from his skin whispering sweetly of wonders now angrily hummed minor chords and squinted in disdain. It ached in a way more tangible somehow than the constant ache of the inky black tear in the fabric of his ethereal being. He had grown so very, very tired of the pain, and had more important things to attend to. He vaguely wondered what it was like to know temperature, to know love, but with no real commitment to the concept any further. Every time he stretched his mind out to touch the constellations and divine their alignment he was slapped back, his black heartache ate at him and took his stars.

Tears rolled down his face, of no real consequence. He gently touched the black mark making him a mocking example of monstrousness, which he grown used to nonetheless. The days still passed, regardless of the impossibility of knowing. Once, he would have let them take all of him in the darkness, given into the icy cold, the shivering and tears. But withering numb and purposeless into dry tinder,  it was fire he must utilize, dancing across the table, the pit, his hands, burning inside him, and after each bout of those desolate days of darkness—the sun must always rise, mustn’t it—he had grown used to setting fires and burning candles and wearing cloaks to mark his time and burn away his aches. It was enough to believe almost- almost—that the shivers had gone away. So be it, it made no difference if his stars sweat in cold fury or his core shivered in the terrifying icy hunger of a vacuum from the ever open wound. As much as possible, he would cover and neglect them just as the stars taught him—

excommunicated.

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

As someone who stalks the Avatar a03 page every day, I want my modern day high school au with Spider. Every modern day high school au is distinctly lacking him, where is my boy next door who is neglected by his foster parents being integrated slowly into the family he’s been friends with since he was little. Maybe they live in an area with fewer kids because it’s the only place with homes accessible for Jake so all the kids are super close and obsessed with Spider bc omg another kid to play with, only old people live here. And Jake and Neytiri always like pls stay for meals cause they aren’t sure anyone is feeding that kid, and he’s a stray cat they found and are trying to tempt back with food and pets.

Also, where is my role reversal metkayina travel to the omaticaya for sanctuary this time fic BUT FOR REAL. Like all of you writing those are ignoring the real comedy and drama in this. Humans destroyed their home and they’re running for safety from the gUYS WITH HUMANS?? Jake being like wait you want to stay here? With us? The human guys, human friends og? Like ur telling me RONAL isn’t gonna judge the shit out of all the humans just casually being around. Give me the comedy of Spider teaching them how to climb trees and shit and they’re like you’re human you can’t teach me anything and he fucking spidermans up there in record time like you were saying. Give me Ao’nung being pissed at Spider being their teacher and Lo’ak and Kiri are defensive but Spider is very understanding because he gets not fitting in and not being made for this. GIVE ME UR SILLY FICS BUT LET ME HAVE SPIDER IN THEM.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Day 8: Mountain/Chains

Prompt List

Pt. 6 of The Empire of Samadhi AU

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 (you are here) | Pt. 7 (coming sometime...)

(This is day 8 of the Monkie Destiny Challenge Prompt Month October 2023)

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Red Son is the son of an old empire, Mei is the daughter of a new one. Red Son, consumed by fire, was put into an induced stasis sleep to stop the world from burning until his family can find a way to safely remove the fire. They find a way but he never wakes up. Hundreds of years later he awakes to discover his power resides within another as she stares at him with wide eyes on fire.

Split.

They reached the mountain at daybreak. 

It wasn’t massive but it still counted as a mountain, albeit a small one. There were seals and spells lining the caverns on the inside of it, if nothing much had changed since Red Son had last visited the place. It was a little out of their way and put them a good half a day behind schedule to reach, but the mortals were insistent. Much to Red Son’s frustration. 

Why they were taking this detour was simple. 

Liú. 

That little puppet Mk had tucked into his sash comfortably that morning, with his little puppet arms and face free of the fabric. He’d spent a needlessly long amount of time making sure he was comfortable, not being crushed. No matter how many times Red Son told him he likely couldn’t feel it, Mk wasn’t taking any chances. 

“Just in case,” he had said that morning. “He might be conscious. It would be boring to look at the inside of a pocket all day.” 

No matter how much Red Son scoffed at it, Mei chimed in that she thought it was a good idea so that was the end of it, and he could do nothing to convince him otherwise. 

They were idiotic fools. 

They were weird. 

They chatted with the puppet all the way too, and on the way up the mountain, in-between complaints of sore feet and burning muscles from their upward decent. Red Son had to listen to their aggravating recap and their ‘Sifu Samadhi, he might look scary but he’s a softy,’ all the way up the mountain. 

Red Son was not a softy. 

He was going to kill them both the moment he had the fire just to prove that. 

“He can’t hear you,” Red Son tried to tell them for the thousandth time.  

“Maybe he can,” Mei said, sticking out her tongue like she did every time she replied. 

Truly they were idiotic. 

He had no doubt if Liú really was conscious as a little puppet, he would have rather been shoved into a pocket than listen to their whining. At least then the sounds would be muffled. 

“Are we there yet?” Mei groaned. “We've been walking for ages.” 

“Two hours,” Red Son said through gritted teeth, “is not ages.” 

“It's dark out,” Mk complained, “I want to sleep.” 

Red Son took a moment to breathe. If he pushed either of them off the mountain now he might never get his fire. “This little detour is costing us precious time. The sooner we reach the top the better. Unless you’d rather take a nap and watch the world burn from this vantage point?” 

That at least shut them up for a while. Then there was nothing but annoyed noises and huffing and puffing. 

Honestly they held up better than expected. Despite their complaining they were keeping up with Red Son’s, what would be considered, brutal pace for mortals. 

They reached the top before sunrise. 

Luckily the big open surface carved out remained which meant they wouldn’t need to clear anything. The last time Red Son had been here, there had been monuments and structures and even green life everywhere. He didn’t acknowledge the blackened empty state of it.

Red Son drew the circle in the ash and dirt himself, since he didn’t trust either of them to know what they were doing. It didn’t take very long, but it was long enough for Mei to complain again. Red Son ignored her. He scratched the letters into the dirt then snatched some of his fire from the rings and lit the spell. The fire filled the grooves quickly until every bit of lettering was illuminated. 

“Now,” he said, dusting his hands off and turning to Mei. “First things first. This is going to cause quite a commotion in the middle of nowhere. Without any life disguising my power, we might as well be sending an invitation to that thing to come find us. So.” He stepped over to one of the edges of the flat space, purposefully not too far away from the circle, but not close enough to mess with the spell. “This is our escape route. If he comes, stand here, and it will take us out of here in a more permanent teleportation than I can currently provide.” 

“Cool,” Mei said. “Where does it go?” 

“Let me worry about that,” Red Son said, crossing his arms. “Now the spell. Not that I care but keep in mind that if you lose control at any point during the ritual, he will undoubtedly die.” 

“What?” said Mk, shielding the puppet with his hand. 

“No pressure or anything,” Mei muttered. She frowned at the spell. 

“Hurry up, we don’t have all day,” Red Son snapped. 

“You can do this, Mei,” Mk said. “I know you can.” 

That made her crack a smile. They were both so strange. “Thanks Mk.” She seemed to brighten just a little bit. “Alright, let's do this.” She got into position and planted her feet. 

Mk hurried forward and placed the puppet in the middle of the circle, gently brushing ash from the spot so there was a clear spot to place it down. He then scurried out of the ring, cursing as the hem of his hanfu caught fire. He stamped it out, giving a big bright smile when Red Son glared at him. 

Mei took a breath, closing her eyes. She placed the palms of her hands together in a meditative movement, then her eyes snapped open and she stared with intense focus at the puppet on the ground. “Ready.”  

Red Son nodded. He lifted his hand, breathed and released the puppet from the seal. 

It was an awful twisting, crumpling moment, then there the puppet stood at its full size. Its one eye blinked. 

“Now!” Red Son yelled. 

Fire exploded over them. 

Red Son thought just in time to yank Mk behind him to shield him from it. Red Son planted his feet, nearly slipping from the force of it. 

“A bit of overkill,” he said through gritted teeth as he held the fire at bay. She likely didn’t hear him mutter it over the roar of the flames. That had been his intention. He wasn’t stupid enough to interrupt her focus on purpose. 

The puppet cowered, shielding its face, but its feet remained glued to the ground, trapped by the spell. The flames washed over it. It wailed. 

“Ignore it!” Red Son yelled to Mei before she could hesitate or ask. “Continue the ritual!” 

The fire burned through layers of the curse. 

“It's working!” Mk spoke like he could see it which was absurd. 

Chains flickered into view. They connected to the puppets wrists and ankles, long and icy and blue. Deep churning gray ones wrapped around the rest of him as though they were holding him together. Those chains were much thinner and weaker than the blue, but both could be handled just fine. One part possession, one part curse. The seals on the chains lit up with light, exposed by the fire. 

The fire flickered green. Red Son grit his teeth and said nothing. 

“You almost got him! Keep going!” Mk yelled. 

“I… am…” Mei grunted, straining and pushing the fire at the puppet, trying to keep it aimed at him. Some of it lashed out to the side, dangerously close to Mk. 

“Focus, Dragon Girl,” Red Son barked. 

“Both of you zip it!” Mei snapped back. “Stop yelling at me-” 

One of the chains cracked. 

“Keep going, you're doing it!” Mk cheered.  

“I asked for quiet please!” 

The puppets' eyes flickered from empty to wide and pained and human. The puppet-like designs on its skin seemed to start to burn off. Its screaming was muffled by the fire. 

“This is really hard!” Mei yelled. 

“Of course it is!” Red Son yelled back. “Keep going!” 

A chain snapped. 

“You’re doing it, Mei! You’re doing it!” 

“Yeah!” Mei cheered. Her power surged and pressed firmer against the curse. 

Red Son hadn’t sensed anything, perhaps due to the massive surge of power in front of him. But quite unexpectedly he exhaled and his breath was visible, even with the flames in front of him. 

He snapped his head up to look at the sky to find frosty clouds looming above them and closing in. The air behind where the fire was not was growing cold.

Red Son hadn’t felt him coming. 

They needed to leave. Now. 

“Dragon girl! Stop the fire! We need to go-!” 

He landed a short distance away at the edge of the space and the mountain shook with the impact. 

Red Son stumbled, on his feet, some of the fire escaping past him and over to Mk. 

The fire vanished. 

“Mk, grab Liú,” Mei barked. If Red Son wasn’t distracted he might have been proud of her authoritative voice, clearly reminiscent of his own. 

Mk jumped into action and ran forward, jumping over rocks. He scooped the puppet off the ground, and bolted back to Red Son. 

The figure that filled Red Son with such dread started forward. 

The fire blasted into existence again, all of it focused on the possessed creature. 

“Leave it! We need to go!” Red Son yelled. He and Mk were already standing in the escape route, they just needed Mei. 

Chains flickered. 

Red Son realized that his uncle was walking into the circle they’d made for the puppet. 

Chains, white freezing chains, thin and thick, wrapping around every limb, tight around every movement. There looked to be hundreds of them, some of them thicker than some tree trunks Red Son had seen, and only getting bigger, as they stretched out of sight. They wrapped around his wrists, his arms, his ankles, his legs, his tail, his throat, his torso, his head. 

Every single chain link from big to small had a seal on it. 

The horror that Red Son felt choked him for a moment. 

“Wait!” Mei yelled. “Do you see that? Maybe I can-” 

“YOU CAN’T!” Red Son roared. “LEAVE IT, MEI.”

He could see her hesitate. It was a split second of her really truly considering… Then she growled. With a frustrated yell, she hurled as much fire as she could at their pursuer before she abandoned the circle and sprinted towards where Red Son and Mk stood. 

“Hurry!” Mk held out his arm to her. “He’s right behind you!” 

Mei didn’t glance back, she just launched herself forward, leaping at them. 

Red Son slammed his hand onto the ground on top of the spell to activate it seeing her trajectory. He didn’t pray that he’d timed it right, he knew he had. 

That was the moment that everything went wrong. 

Mei was jerked backward, the Possessed catching the back of her hanfu. 

Mk lunged out of the circle and tackled him.

Mei was catapulted forward and bowled into Red Son, knocking him off his feet and partially out of the spell. 

The possessed moved forward, Mei lunged for Mk, the spell activated just as she touched him and the mountaintop exploded. 

The impact of Red Son hitting the ground face-first nearly knocked him out. It left him dizzy and disoriented for a moment. 

He pushed himself up and staggered to his feet. 

He looked for Mei first, expecting her to be a short distance away, buried by rubble or fighting his uncle, but very suddenly realized several things: 

He wasn’t atop the mountain any longer. He was beside a running river, surrounded by trees. It was damp, not as dry, there was no ash or flame to be found.

He couldn’t feel the warmth of his fire at all, which meant it was no longer in close proximity with him.

His uncle, Mei and Mk were nowhere to be found. 

His fire was gone. 

Red Son punched a tree, splitting a fist-shaped hole into the wood. 

Then he wordlessly screamed at the sky for more than a few reasons but mainly because that had really hurt. 

Imbeciles.

| beginning | next (coming...sometime...) |

[mangatxt]

title: executive privilege (8k words, 1/1 chapters, complete)

series: a call to (dis)order / omake for the parachute candidate

fandom: mob psycho 100

relationship: serirei (serizawa katsuya/reigen arataka)

details: rated m, established relationship - married couple, politics, elections, hijinks and shenanigans, humor, news & social media, roshuuto pov, heavy cringe, schrödinger's voyeurism, nothing explicit happens but the vibes are a little uh Bad

summary: It's not the he's intentionally eavesdropping on his rival's affairs; it's that the private bipartisan caucus in the office next door is far louder than Roshuuto would prefer.

[sesamestreep]

okay sorry one last one: 50, dealer's choice

50. rudely barging in on a white veil occasion (from this list) you say dealer’s choice, I say DREW CREW! 🔎✨ set several years in the future so all these characters can legally drink and technically not be child brides, basically 🥂💍

After breaking several traffic laws to get there in record time, Nick and Ace barge in to the fitting area of Delia’s Bridal Shop in Augusta to find burn marks on the plush beige carpet as well as the remnants of several broken champagne glasses scattered on the floor. Nancy is standing center stage, as it were, grasping George by the arms but they both turn in surprise when the boys enter.

“Nancy, don’t!” Nick calls, first to act as always.

“Whatever you’re feeling right now,” Ace tries to say while still catching his breath after the sprint from the parking lot, “it’s not you. It’s the—!”

“Earrings,” Nancy replies flatly. “The ones Ryan gave me to wear, from the Hudson estate.”

“Yeah,” Nick says, cautiously, throwing a baffled look in Ace’s direction. “It turns out they belonged to one of the Women in White, and she—”

“Went crazy at her own wedding and killed a bunch of the guests,” George finishes for him, with a grim smile. “So, now they’re infused with her rage.”

“Yeah,” Ace responds, feeling his heart rate hesitantly returning to normal, “and it looks like Temperance held onto them and they got passed down through the Hudsons because…”

“She’s a nightmare person from Hell,” Bess says, nodding from an overstuffed chaise nearby, somehow managing to look both exhausted and blasé at the same time.

“Wait,” Nick says, gesturing at Nancy and George, “if you’re not in the midst of some bridal meltdown, how did you know about the earrings? And what’s with this mess?”

George gives Nancy an arch look. “Someone decided it might be nice to let the salesgirl try on her spooky family heirloom jewelry because she’s just sooo friendly and accommodating.”

At Nick and Ace’s mutual confused looks, Bess gestures to the corner, where a disheveled salesgirl is tied up in dressing room curtains and snoring gently as she presumably sleeps off the side effects of the curse, then holds up what Ace recognizes as her kit of spell components that she keeps in her purse.

“Magical first aid kit,” she announces proudly before taking a swig out of the last intact champagne flute, “never leave home without it!”

“How was I supposed to know the earrings were cursed?” Nancy asks, helplessly.

“Well, they are from the Hudsons,” Nick offers, getting a universal murmur of agreement from everyone else.

“Yeah, no more gifts or relics from that side of the family, please,” Ace says, moving to put his arm around her shoulders soothingly.

“Nothing older than twenty years, I promise,” she replies, leaning into his side. “Though, Bess did break the curse on the earrings, so…”

“Nancy!” Bess yells.

“Absolutely not,” Nick puts in.

“Not happening,” Ace objects.

“Ryan is rich. He can buy you new earrings,” George says, shaking her head and going to stand with Nick.

“Fine,” Nancy grumbles. “I guess we don’t need the risk of any extra bad luck for our wedding anyway.”

“Extra bad luck?” Ace asks. “Without the earrings, what do we have to worry about?”

Nancy bites her lip and looks uncomfortably at George and Bess. “Well, I know it’s old-fashioned, but it is considered bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony and…you’re, well…”

When she gestures down at her body, Ace notices her dress for the first time. It’s…big, with a lot of layers of tulle and…a lot more rhinestones around the neckline than he could have anticipated. The minute he spots the enormous bows down the back, he catches up and slaps a hand over his eyes.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t even think! I was so worried about the cursed earrings that I…”

“Goddammit,” George says.

Ace looks over at her, in case something else has suddenly gone wrong, only to find Nick trying desperately not to laugh while she glares at Nancy.

“Pay up, baby!” Nancy says, with a triumphant grin.

“What,” Ace says, not even bothering to make it a question.

“George bet me 20 bucks that I wouldn’t put this dress on and be able to convince you I was going to buy it,” Nancy says, patting his chest with her palm. “I was just going to text you a photo but you made it a lot easier by showing up. You should’ve seen your face.”

“That’s so mean,” Ace says, even as relief floods through him.

“As if I’d ever choose this dress of all things.”

“I’m still coming down from a panicked adrenaline high and I feel that I should be graded on a curve as a result.”

“Does that mean I don’t have to give Nancy twenty dollars?” George asks, as she fishes a bill out of her bra.

“Hell no,” Nancy replies, snatching it out of her hands. “Weddings are expensive.”

Ace nods at the damage around them. “Yeah, and I have a feeling these guys aren’t going to give us a discount.”

“Maybe there’s a matching wedding dress in the Hudson House of Horrors you could borrow,” Nick suggests.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Nancy says, darkly, curling even further into Ace’s side.

[justoneofthoseghosts]

It's like time stands still. The Earth stops spinning. Everything fades away.

All Sylvie could see was Matt and the shiny diamond ring cradled the grey ring box. She was at a loss for words, rendered speechless by Matt's actions. Her ex-boyfriend proposing to her at the place where they first kissed was not on her 2023 bingo card, that was for sure.

She gazes at him, at his blue eyes so full of hope.

She's reminded of that cold, spring night years ago out on north apron of 51 - she told them then how they belonged together, how they were right for each other and how when you knew, you knew.

Third time's the charm, she thinks, and before she can overanalyze the situation, she lets out the only word she was capable of.

"Yes," she whispers hoarsely before nodding her head.

He grins widely at her, "yes?"

She nods once more.

Maybe it was crazy for them to go from in a relationship to a long distance one to broken up to suddenly engaged with three kids to boot. On paper, it was completely insane but maybe this was how it was all supposed to go.

She watches as he gets up, his eyes shining now for different reasons. She blinks back her own tears. She had cried about the end of their relationship in this very apartment but today, tears of joy were being shed.

He gestures for her hand. She holds it out and he smiles an almost beatific smile as he slips the ring onto her finger.

"Perfect fit," she comments, looking at the ring.

He clears his throat before a hand goes to massage the back of his neck, "I may have borrowed one of your rings to be sure."

Her head snaps up in surprise before it fully hits her that he bought the ring a year and a half ago.

"When you know, you know," he tells her, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards once more.

She launches herself at him. He catches her with ease as she gazes up at him.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi," he echoes.

She closes the distance between them, kissing him fully on the mouth. He pulls her closer, his hands tightening around her waist.

Before she can guide him to the bedroom, her phone rings and so does his. They break apart, both jostled by the sound. She fishes her phone from her pocket just as he does the same.

She looks down on her screen to find Violet's name flashing.

“Hello?”

She glances towards Matt, her face growing more worried with every second that Violet continues to talk. Their eyes meet and she can see the same worry etched across his face.

“Thanks Violet, we’ll be right there,” she tells her partner.

Matt walks over to her, enveloping her in his embrace. She takes a few breaths, not allowing herself to go there.

“He’s going to be fine,” she states quietly but firmly.

“Of course he is,” Matt replies confidently.

She slips on a pair of Birkenstocks not really caring that she was in overalls or her hair was in a messy bun. Matt waits by the door as she grabs a purse and her keys. He holds out his hand for her to take, keeping their fingers interlaced as she locks the door. He smiles reassuringly at her, helping calm her down. She loved Mouch and she knew Matt did too. The older firefighter had known Matt for a long time after all, since the Captain had been a candidate.

She had a million and one questions for Matt, like whatever happened to the lady he was seeing or whether Ben got into more colleges but she knew they could wait. Right now, their 51 family needed to be together. They'd have a lifetime to catch up on everything they missed out on in the past couple of years.

A lifetime they would fill with more wonderful memories together.

[theinfinitedivides]

'i think Jang Hyun orabeoni will wake up soon... because he has Ryang Eum by his side.' *turns to Ryang Eum* 'the day that Jang Hyun orabeoni went to do business at the border a while back, you got into a fight with a customer while playing at the kibang and were injured. do you know he came by that night? after hearing that you were hurt, he gave up on 7000 silver nyang to come back. he only came to check that you were okay, and then he left. an unnie i know asked him, when she was serving him, why he is always talking about Ryang Eum, and he supposedly said to her that his pleasure in life is in seeing Ryang Eum enjoy his life. so he would never leave Ryang Eum alone and die.'

[zarvasace]

Look, Vidow will always have my heart, but IM JUST SAYING in "closer-to-canon" post-manga AUs, there is absolutely a case to be made for Link/Shadow

[fullmetalscullyy]

don't need gold when we shine like this

summary: A quiet, summer evening with the family

rated: g | words: 2356 | tags: royai, family royai, royai kids, au, canon divergence, family fluff

an: this au has dragged me back in and i’m HERE for it. you don't need to have read the previous fics in the series to understand this one!! tldr royai have two kids. riza never joined the military bc of reasons, so they didn't work together, they got married before roy went to ishval, and... stuff happened. but now they get to be a happy family :)))))))))))

part of “the way it was” series

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

snippet:

“I’m glad this is our life Roy. Happy. Happier than I’ve ever been before.” She rolled over onto her side on the deck chair but ensured their hands remained together. “I always wanted something like this. I pictured it for us when we were young.”

He grinned. He looked so boyish in his joy that it softened her heart. “You did?”

“I had big plans for us, Mister Mustang,” she nodded solemnly.

“And they all came to fruition?”

He sounded hopeful. Slightly uncertain.

Silly, wonderful man.

“Of course they did.”

read the full fic on ao3 | ffnet

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I haven't been looking at the word count for the fic because I was originally certain it would be around 20k and have felt increasingly like that is Not Going to Happen, and I finally looked just now.

25k.

And counting.

If anyone hears the sound of money changing hands, those are my friends, they're bastards, ignore them.

[hailsatanacab]

I Like You, And I Love Him, We Could All Be The Best Kind Of Friends

(Here I am shamelessly asking for some everlasting trio content because this ship has a death grip on me. Yes this is from the In The Middle song by dodie what abaut it?)

I Like You, And I Love Him, We Could All Be The Best Kind Of Friends

Ahhhhh I've never really written nor read any everlasting trio before, so let's see how this goes 😅 I'm trying from Tucker's POV

-

Danny's confused.

Luckily, Tucker isn't.

Sam's a little in denial, but that's just because she's a goth and she's convinced herself that goths don't have mushy feelings like this. Sure, she likes them both, doesn't go a day without talking to them and she always goes quiet whenever they bring up colleges and the possibility of having to split up the group, but that's just normal! She doesn't need to look any closer at any of these feelings, because she's a goth and all she needs is darkness and misery and maybe like her combat boots or something.

Luckily, Tucker can see through Sam pretty well by now, too.

He's never really thought of himself as the emotional center of the group, that's always been Danny in his mind. Danny's more empathetic, more protective of others—which only increased ever since he became Phantom (which Tucker is not at all jealous about, not any more, no thank you)—but these days...

These days, Tucker is having some doubts about where the real emotional maturity lies.

For all that he loves him (and he really does love him), Danny can be dense.

We're talking Grandma's chocolate cake levels of dense where it's a struggle to swallow around it, but it's sweet and tastes so much of home and comfort that you can't help but crave it constantly.

It's all:

"Aw, thanks bro, yeah, I love you too!"

"Yeah, you’re right, we would make a good couple! Bromance for the ages!"

"Yes, Tucker, you're dead gorgeous, too, now throw me the thermos!"

It's enough to make Tucker despair.

And if anything, Sam's worse!

The second you try to bring up feelings with her at all, she's making a snarky comment with her arms crossed and her nose up in the air. If she's in a particularly bad mood, she'll steal his beret and run off which happens so much that Tucker's taken to carrying a spare with him. There's no way you're going to make him run.

With Sam, it's more:

"The only thing I'm going to crush is you, Tucker!"

"Like-like? Tucker, I barely like anyone, let alone like-like."

"No, Tuck, it didn't hurt when I fell from Heaven—but I did chip a fingernail when I crawled my way up from Hell just to kick your ass, come here!"

So, talks are going well.

Who would have thought, who could have ever fucking dreamed that it would be Dash "Dumb as a Bag of Rocks and Just as Mean" Baxter to actually get the ball rolling?

There they are, sitting at their lunch table, Tucker with his head in his hands after another failed attempt while Sam and Danny argue over the best MAY song (it's 'My Parents Reek', but he doesn't have the strength to even begin with how they're wrong), when Dash passes by with Kwan in tow.

"Trouble in paradise? Guess even freaks of a feather don't stay together! You should kiss and make up, no one else is ever going to do it—not with your ugly face, Fen-toenail!" They walk away without waiting for an answer, their laughter echoing through the hall, and honestly that's about the best it could have gone. No one got hurt and Tucker can work with this!

"What a jerk, as if we're the ones that are going to end up alone," Sam scowls at his back.

"That's what I've been trying to say!" Tucker exclaims, throwing his hands in the air because he's kind of losing it right now, there are only so many hints one man can drop! "I like you, and I like him. You like him and I'm pretty sure you like me. Danny—"

"I like you both!"

Tucker sighs and puts his head back in his hands. It was too much to hope for. Poor, sweet, chocolate-y Danny.

"Danny, I like-like you..." His voice is muffled by his hands but that's fine, it’s not like this is going to get through to him anyhow. "You know, romantic styles."

"Oh... uh, romantic styles? I mean, I, uh..." Danny's face is beet red and he's rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he's embarrassed. It would be cute if this wasn't the farthest Tucker's gotten in his confession for months. "Yeah, uh, tee moo. No, I mean, me too. Romantic styles, I mean... yeah. Both... of you. Too."

They both turn to look at Sam, who appears to have stopped working.

Her eyes are wide and the tofu wrap she's been eating slowly unravels and drips that gross tofu water down her arm.

Tucker knows it's love because he doesn't even mind that it's tofu. (Well, he does, but just a little bit, it's tofu! Have some integrity!)

The first thing that Sam whispers doesn’t fill him with confidence. "But you have such bad taste... You think 'Teachers Suck but the Government Sucks More' is the better MAY song, when it's obviously 'Screw Rent Screw Taxes (SEOBC)'."

Tucker wouldn't have put money on Danny being the first to fully understand his feelings, but he probably should have seen this coming.

"And you," she says, turning to Tucker, "eat meat and wear berets."

His gasp is as shocked and scandalised as those old ladies in the British costume shows his mom watches. "How dare you!Berets are classy and timeless and I will hear nothing against them. It's okay baby," he plucks the beret off his head to coo to it, "she didn't mean it, I promise."

"I can't believe I like you, too. Both of you." She sighs and fixes her wrap, licking up the tofu juice. "And your beret."

[adelha-mathilde]

A Deadly Form of Love (Obey Me!) dark fic

content: Asmodeus comes to the aide of Adelha. The Avatar of Lust ensuring the one that harmed his beloved dragon maiden never does so again. Established relationships, angst, blood, injury, death. This fic has Asmodeus kill his enemies and go full demon dark so plz be warned ahead of time.

The cellar was dripping with blood. From the chunks of flesh still sticking to the walls to the stains of red on the ceiling as the floor ran with rivers of the liquid. Several shredded body parts scattered about as the demon walked with confident strides to the captive held there. Adelha had been crucified to the wall for her eyes to be blindfolded. Her nose bruised and bleeding for her lip to have a deep cut that was also slowly dripping down her chin. Her arms and sides looking as if someone had been filing against her scales to strip them from her body to collect. Yet the one rescuing her was gentle to remove the nails in her feet first. The nails in her hands soon removed for her rescuer to ease her shivering form to their knees. A soft cloak soon placed around Adelha's shoulders for her to lean into that lithe frame. A huff for air coming from the Fae woman for her to say, "I wasn't expecting you to show up, Asmodeus..."

The Avatar of Lust shook both hands to remove the still dripping blood from his fingertips before cradling Adelha close. His words silken yet deep to warn that Asmodeus was still in a dark mindset and mannerism. "As if I would keep a good lady waiting. If I didn't know better, I would be insulted." Asmodeus took care to open a small vial of magic healing extract and gently tip it up for Adelha to drink. His words washing against her silver white hair. "The others are hunting down the rest of the captives. Lord Diavolo gave us full permission to kill first and ask questions never. So we've been... Very busy tonight. To think some foolish demon nobles would try and eradicate so many of the Fae that moved to the Devildom like this." Adelha drank the offered healing extract to then cough a few times. Her own words pointed yet accepting. "The Fae clans would have done the same crusade as this. So I cannot complain. The Fae are a vicious species and tend to enjoy showing their power when the opportunity comes up. So this slaughter of fools would have happened regardless."

Asmodeus placed a kiss to Adelha's forehead to give a deep rumble from deep in his chest. A heat there in his voice as he speaks. "Addy. Would you be mad at me for keeping that blindfold on you? My hair and makeup are a mess. I hate to let you see me so disheveled." Adelha gave a huff of a laugh to shake her head. "I take it things got extra messy. All right. Let's pretend I was still out and didn't wake up until you get me down the street from here." Asmodeus lifts Adelha up bridal style to turn and slowly walk out of the cellar. The pause just long enough for Asmodeus to recite a spell that ignites everything in the cellar. The hungry black flames roaring to hungry life to begin consuming all. So Asmodeus waltzed out of the cellar with his precious dragon maiden to leave only ashes. By the time Lucifer caught up with them, Asmodeus had gotten his bloodlust tamped down so he was smiling sweetly. Reporting to Lucifer with that usual bubbly air and warm demeanor, "I found our favorite Dragon Vampire Fae lady! She only just came to! So I gave her that little gift Solomon helped her make last week! Would you be a dear and untie that blindfold for her, Lucifer? I'd rather not put the lady down and my nails already are cracked."

[volivolition]

what's the theme you're fucking going for here voliiii!!! what are you fucking getting at!!! what are you trying to say, what's the point??

[tracybirds]

Where Parallel Lines Meet (7/?)

I hate to say it but this fic is just getting longer and longer >< I've never experienced the "spirals out of control" thing and it's quite unnerving!! Big thanks to @gumnut-logic who has the dubious pleasure of listening to my ravings while I try to figure out how exactly things are gonna go and for reading all the bits I threw at her :)

I hope you enjoy! There is a language warning for this one because well... you'll see. They just keeping fighting with each other!!

Title is adapted from a line in Sarah Howes’ poem ‘Relativity’ (scroll to the bottom of the article)

A fight between John and Alan is followed by an interstellar storm with unexpected consequences.

[Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5] | [Part 6] | [Part 7]

---

They found Scott in the hanger, talking quietly with Brains and frowning as he ran a hand through the holo in front of them.

His tan had faded without time to spend out of doors, running the island trails or enjoying the pool. There were dark smudges under his eyes, the skin paper thin and shiny, reflecting the blue glow of the holo as he squinted. Glancing up, he spotted the two teenagers walking towards them and closed the holo. He slid the device over to Brains who nodded at the two boys and abruptly left.

Alan’s eyes followed him for a moment, wondering what had come up on the rescue, but then he turned and met Scott’s gaze. Scott pursed his lips together tightly and gave a minute shake of his head, warning him off any questions about the holo.

“Did it go okay?” Alan asked instead.

“Fine,” said Scott shortly.

Alan raised an eyebrow, taken aback, and John crossed his arms with a scowl.

“Just because you’re exhausted doesn’t mean you have to take it out on him,” he snapped. “He’s just worried.”

Scott gave him a sharp look, his eyes wary and appraising. He sighed, letting his head fall into his hand. Alan suddenly had a vision, or possibly a memory, of their father, bent over and aged before his time in the same place where Scott stood now.

“You’re right,” Scott admitted and the image shattered. “I’m sorry, Alan. Virgil was right, I need a break.”

“You all do,” said Alan. “I could help, you know I–”

“No.”

Alan stopped abruptly.

Scott shook his head and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Alan reached out, pulling his brother instinctively into a hug. A wave of fatigue crashed over him, as though his brother’s exhaustion were his own. He didn’t argue, didn’t press, didn’t do anything except hold his brother up in the only way left to him. He closed his eyes, ignoring the pinprick of tears that were always only a few awful seconds away from spilling over, focused instead on Scott. It wasn’t time to collapse himself, not when his brother needed him.

John coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He grimaced a little as he caught Alan’s eye, almost cringing away at the silent invitation to join them.

Alan understood and signalled Scott with a subtle tap to his shoulder.

Scott pulled away in an instant, scrubbing his eyes and yawning.

“How far away are the others?” asked Alan.

“They were probably half an hour away from being done when Virg sent me off. I’d guess another hour or two.” He stretched widely, groaning as his bones clicked and settled into place. “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

“You should be in bed,” said John, looking his brother over. “That’s why Virgil sent you home, right?”

Scott rolled his eyes.

“Dinner first, then I promise to sleep, how’s that?”

His point was made with a loud growl that echoed between them and Scott patted his stomach, grinning at John.

“Good enough for you?”

There were no further arguments and they were soon assembled in the kitchen, pizza toppings scattered across the counter and voices loud and jubilant.

“Quit trying to put green things on my pizza,” grumbled Alan, swatting at Scott.

“You have to eat your vegetables,” said Scott, leaning over to drop more rocket on Alan’s creation. He snatched the cheese back and began to munch on it.

“Oh sure, because ham and cheese has so-oooo many vegetables.”

“It’s got tomatoes on it.”

“Tomato paste doesn’t count!” said Alan, waving the spatula wildly at him. “Get that stuff off!”

A large splodge of the paste flung from the utensil, landing squarely on Scott’s cheek.

Scott laughed, wiping it off and spreading it over Alan’s shirt in retaliation.

“Ugh, Scott,” he whined, scrubbing at it. “This was fresh this morning.”

“Well, it’s not fresh now, and not because of the tomato,” John piped up from his perch on the counter, wrinkling his nose, and Scott pointed at him emphatically in agreement. Grated cheese dropped from his fingertips and he picked it up, shoving it into his mouth with a grin.

Alan scowled at them both.

“Whatever,” he said. “I’m being ganged up on, I see how it is.”

“Just solid facts,” said Scott casually, as he sprinkled more cheese into his mouth. “Wash your shirts more often, squirt, then see what we say.”

“You’d just tease me on something else,” huffed Alan.

“It’s almost unfair,” said John, his eyes dancing as he swung his legs. “You being such an easy target and all.”

Alan punched him lightly in the arm.

“Shut up,” he said, pulling a face at him. “And you, stop eating the cheese,” he exclaimed, stealing the bag back from Scott whose hand had snuck into it again. “We need that for the pizza.”

Scott pouted, but his easy smile soon returned.

“That’s the last one in the oven now,” he said. “There’s like eight of them cooking, you don’t seriously think we’ll need more, do you?”

Alan rolled his eyes.

“Well, I need it for lunches. What exactly do you think I eat when you’re not here.”

“Fruits, vegetables, wholegrains, dietary fibre,” said John, ticking off the list on his fingers. “We certainly haven’t eaten anybody’s secret ice cream stash recently.”

Scott groaned, as he started to wipe down the bench.

“Ice cream, Alan, really? Gordon’s going to kill y–”

“What the hell is going on here?”

The words fell flat and cold across the kitchen, drawing their eye unwillingly towards Virgil. He stood still, solid and furious and eyes only on Scott.

Alan backed away in an instant, eyes wide as he tugged at John’s sleeve.

“Virgil, I–” began Scott, but Virgil cut him off, hand slashing through the air as he swept away all argument.

“I sent you home to sleep,” he snarled. “I gave you specific instructions, you were falling asleep at the controls.”

“Oh, and you weren’t?” snapped Scott, his temper flaring. “Don’t be such a hypocrite Virgil, I’m not the only one skirting flight hour regulations here.”

“I have a co-pilot,” shouted Virgil, jabbing his finger at Scott’s chest. “We can take turns; we don’t run the same risks you insist on taking when you flout the rules.”

“I know what I’m doing!”

“Yeah, ignoring the guy who can ground you for a week, that’s always wise,” snarked Gordon, limping into the room. He winced as he fell into the nearest chair, propping up a swollen and bandaged ankle on the table.

“Shut up, Gordon,” said Scott and Virgil in unison.

Scott whirled back on Virgil.

“You can’t ground me,” he said. “You know you can’t.”

“I should,” snapped Virgil. “Hell, Scott, I’m doing everything I can to make sure I don’t have to, but when you won’t even sleep when you’ve been awake twenty hours and physically sent home, you’re not leaving me much choice.”

“I was a trained test pilot,” shouted Scott. “A fucking specialist in the armed forces. We did training under conditions you couldn’t even dream of and if Dad were here–”

“Well, he’s not, is he?” piped up John. “That’s like 80% of the problem, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Gordon, an awful, leering smile spreading over his face. “The problem is you’re not here actually.” His eyes flashed dangerously as he leant forward. “We could have done it with four. But Kayo’s up on Five and now it’s just us. So why don’t you shut up and stop talking about things you don’t understand.”

Alan swore under his breath, helpless and frozen as John’s eyes sparked, his cheeks flushing as scarlet as his hair even as his lips thinned, turning a bloodless white.

“Gordon, stand down,” snapped Scott, but the taunt took like a flame to a gas line, an explosion of indignation and fervent fury.

The shouts smothered the atmosphere and Alan’s hands crept up over his ears, trying to block out the cloying antagonism that had burrowed beneath his brothers’ skin. There was no reason, only emotion and every accusation only set off further eruptions and the tension rose, fists at the ready, electricity crackling in their eyes, daring each other to take the first swing, to just try it and see where it left them.

“Stop it,” whispered Alan, his voice clogging in his throat. He sucked in a breath, watching helplessly as his words did nothing, the awful feeling of everything going wrong and they would never make it out of this mess growing hard and vicious in the pit of his stomach.

“Stop,” he choked, but the words died on his tongue as Scott screamed at Virgil and John jumped in between, Gordon hollering from his seat at them both.

He suddenly saw them as they must once have been, lost and alone and grieving a woman he had never known. He didn’t doubt that the last time this had happened, they were teenagers.

What could Alan do? Even when their dad had died, they’d stuck together. Scott had even said so, vowing they wouldn’t fall apart like they had before. Alan had always wondered what he’d meant and now, with a sickening certainty, he knew.

The overlapping voices and whirling fury rushed around him, one second a violent wave and the next a landslide, and it went on and on and it wouldn’t stop, it couldn’t stop, not unless someone gave way and left their ground forfeit.

“STOP IT,” shouted Alan, stamping his foot and to his horror, he found his voice wasn’t only loud, it was burbling with unshed tears.

“Please, just stop,” he croaked, staggering forward. He hardly noticed the deathly silence that followed, or the hands that caught him, then held him close. He only knew that whatever happened now, he was done. Done with the arguments, with the helpless waiting, with watching his brothers slowly kill themselves for someone else’s crimes.

He leant forward, resting his forehead on a warm shoulder, and relished the sudden and blissful stillness in the room. He breathed in deeply and opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he took in the scene.

It was Scott he’d stumbled into, catching him as only Scott knew how to do. He looked like he was at war with himself, trapped between guilt and worry, and as Alan watched, tears began to run silently down his cheeks.

Alan couldn’t remember ever seeing his eldest brother cry before.

Gordon looked equally stricken, eyes darting between everyone in the room as though he no longer knew who was on who’s side. A gentle hand rested on Alan’s back and he jumped.

To his surprise, John was hovering at his elbow, eyes wide and full of guilt of his own. He flushed and drew away at Alan’s stare, withdrawing to the other side of the room.

And Virgil…

Virgil stood frozen, his mouth agape and his complexion white. There was a developing bruise on his cheekbone, as dark as the shadows under his eyes. His skin looked sallow, exhaustion and stress painted as clear as day in the worry lines that marred his brother’s forehead. He glanced away, as though the sight of Alan was too much to bear, his lips moving in silent apology.

Alan knew what he was about to do and leapt forward, catching Virgil’s arm as he turned away.

“Stay,” he pleaded. “All of you.”

“I need to sleep Alan,” said Virgil, wearily. “I can’t do this now.”

“You have to,” he insisted. “You have to stay, you have to listen.”

He took a deep breath, glancing at all of them, sagging and defeated on the kitchen floor, making sure to catch Scott and Gordon’s eye so they knew what he had to say was for them all.

“You have to stop. Now. If you won’t ground yourselves, I’m doing it for you.”

No-one moved.

Alan breathed harshly, his chest heaving as his family digested his proclamation, knowing things were desperate by the way not one of them argued.

He was certain there was some kind of silent conversation happening, and John shifted beside him, but Alan’s eyes were fixed on Virgil.

He nodded slowly, looking dazed and his lips parted as if to speak.

A shrill beeping cut across him and Virgil jumped back, his eyes sliding towards the oven along with the rest of the family.

Gordon stood and hobbled across the room, ignoring Virgil’s dismayed exclamation.

“Oh, nice,” he said peering into the oven with a grin. “Pizza party anyone?”

***

The conversation wasn’t over, was indeed hardly begun, although they all knew how it would end. Still, the evening fell into an old routine, old enough that even John started to relax as squabbles broke out over pizza toppings and snack divisions.

Gordon claimed the crowning glory of an actual couch – “Don’t you know I’m injured, Alan, you go on the floor!” – and was gleefully dictating his movie choice to John, who was in turn swiping back and forth and ignoring him resolutely.

“We’re not watching that,” he said loudly over Gordon’s protests. “It was stupid in the ‘10s and it’s stupid now.”

“But Johnny, sharks! And tornadoes! And I’m stuck here like this all sad and in pain.”

“Great, you can watch it later since you’re not going out for a while.”

Virgil groaned.

“Gordon, it’s been years, stop trying to get us to watch that damned movie.”

“Guys, shush,” said Alan, gently nudging Scott whose breathing had grown slow and even. “I think he’s asleep already.”

Virgil yawned and blinked blearily.

“Told him so,” he muttered, pulling the blanket up to his chin and snuggling down on Alan’s other side. “Gordon, find a compromise.”

They found one in the new remake of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, both John and Gordon happily agreed on Jules Verne and whispering commentary back and forth to each other on whether the movie had done the story or the science justice.

Virgil drifted off soon after, as Captain Nemo proudly showed off his technological marvel to his prisoners, and Alan didn’t follow much else although Gordon and John’s jibes grew steadily louder. He was too busy feeling warm and safe, cocooned as he was by his two eldest brothers, both of whom seemed intent on never letting him go ever again. There was a steady glow inside him, not as wild as a flame but just as precious on a dark night.

He was happy, he decided. If there was such a thing as deciding. And maybe there was, because now that he’d decided, he couldn’t help but feel it, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face.

“What’s got into you?” asked Gordon, eyes dancing in the holo-light, reflecting the shallow turquoise seas of the Mediterranean.

“I’ve missed you, that’s all.”

Gordon levered himself upright, looking intently at Alan as though trying to read something in his eyes that had become overgrown and lost to time.

“It’s going to be okay, Allie,” he said softly. “It’s been a shitty year, but it won’t last.”

“I know,” said Alan, and he did.

John watched them, his expression growing wary.

“You’re not going to hug, are you?”

“Only if you get over here,” said Gordon with a grin. “Hey, this movie stinks. What do you say we put on your favourite show?”

“You want to watch The Code?” asked John in disbelief.

“What?” said Gordon looking confused. “No, Stingray. It’s like a hundred years old because you have the worst taste, but it’s pretty fun. Not scientifically accurate at all, but you never seemed to care.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“What?” chorused Gordon and Alan, momentarily forgetting their sleeping brothers.

Scott mumbled something in his sleep and they all froze, before he settled again, his face pressed against Alan’s shoulder.

“You’ve made me watch it with you a million times,” whispered Alan. “It’s like… one of my first memories, that fish jumping out of the ocean.”

John shrugged.

“Guess I was in college when I saw it or something.”

“Oh man,” said Gordon, his excitement warring with his hushed tone. “This isn’t gonna screw with the timeline or something is it?”

John levelled him with a stare.

“I’m like… twenty-nine or something,” he said, gesturing at himself. “Consider the timeline screwed.”

Alan snorted, trying to hold back his laughs, and John shot him a smile, evidently trying not to look too pleased.

“Then what are we waiting for,” crowed Gordon, ignoring Alan’s protests to keep it down. “Hop to, Johnny! You’re gonna love this!”

John grabbed the controller, poised to scroll through the catalogue as requested, when the holo beeped loudly, its sound harsh in the dark.

“What’s happening?” said Scott, jolting upright and looking wildly around him. “Is everyone okay?”

“It’s Grandma!” exclaimed Alan, pointed at the flashing framed photograph on their dad’s desk. He shoved Vigil lightly. “Virgil, wake up, it’s Grandma!”

Virgil grunted, drawing the blanket over his head.

“’t’s early,” he mumbled. “Tell her ’m not hav’n br’kf’st…”

Gordon threw a cushion at him.

“Wake up, Virg!”

Scott turned the lights up to full brightness and Virgil groaned and sat upright, glaring at him through squinted eyes.

“I thought we were meant to be asleep.”

“Grandma, wouldn’t call if it weren’t an emergency,” said Scott anxiously. “Hey, Grandma, we hear you, everything okay?”

“Thought we weren’t meant to be doing emergencies either,” muttered Virgil, but Scott ignored him.

The sun had set in Brisbane already, but the harsh lighting in the lab was bright, illuminating every wrinkle and worry line on Grandma Tracy’s skin. Alan didn’t think he’d ever seen his grandma look so worn before. His hand found its way into Virgil’s, who pulled him instinctively into a hug.

“We have an update,” she said. “We thought we were on the right track last week, but I didn’t want to raise your hopes. But I spoke with Dr Roberts half an hour ago and the results seem conclusive.”

She looked at all of them, taking in their appearances one by one.

Scott, the dark circles under his eyes pronounced in the glow of the holo, towering over them all.

Alan, wrapped in his brother’s arms, wild and hopeful.

Virgil, head drooping on Alan’s shoulder, but growing more alert by the second.

Gordon, frozen, his eyes darting between his siblings.

John.

John whose hands were trembling.

John whose eyes were wide and fearful.

John who hadn’t seemed able to breathe since Scott answered the call, frozen like a prey animal under the scrutiny of a predator.

John, who must know what she was here to say, as they all do.

John, so young, with so much life to live and so much to lose.

Grandma Tracy drew her gaze back to Scott.

“We can reverse it,” she said quietly. “The lab will take several months to develop the method, synthesize the agent. But it can be done.”

Cheers erupted in the room; the brothers unable to contain their delight. Alan whooped excitedly, dragging his family in for a hug.

“John’s coming back!” said Gordon happily. “I can’t believe I’ve actually missed him.”

“Does this mean you’re coming home too, Grandma?”

Before she could reply, there was a loud bang and the four brothers sprung apart.

“Oh, shit,” said Gordon, his face paling as he stared at the slammed door.

Scott made to move, but Alan held him back.

“No,” he said, softly. The glowing warmth in his chest sputtered and died. “Let him go.”