#last night my mom asked if I liked Alan better than Red and I was like………

[jimmyspades]

Favorite JS character I’m sorry I could only pick a few for the poll please yell at me if I forgot your guy

[burningcowboyhoagietaco]

A Way to Learn a Lesson

written by:

@burningcowboyhoagietaco

illustrated and edited by the amazing, the one and only:

@lenle-g

Before I publish the story id like to thank @lenle-g from the bottom of my heart for being patient with me, being nice to me the whole time, and for making my story even better and more exciting. Without her I would have stayed in my normal, not that good English story. so thank you for everything!!! <3<3

And here's my part at @tagminibang submission:)

☆☆☆☆☆

Scott, no!!! No way! I am not going to give any lectures to anyone." John's voice comes out tight. "Especially not in front of a crowd. No way."

"Why not?" Scott raises a brow, his voice honeyed with ‘big brother wants something’. "It's not like you're gonna get executed by some children just for talking space at them, right? You love talking about space. It's all I've heard since you were, like, seven."

"No, that's not it." There's a sharp shake of the ginger’s head, "Scott, come on!" John knows for a fact that his oldest brother knows he's the most socially awkward person to have ever lived on Tracy Island (and maybe the entire planet). "You’ve lived with me long enough to know how much I hate social.... anything." John complains. "Why would you ever think I'd want to do this?""

"Well, yes, I know that," Scott shrugs, "I've seen that look you get on your face when there's a lot of people around." He’s well aware that his brother is an introvert who hates socializing with anyone, so he quickly changes the subject to try and make his younger brother feel a little more at ease. "But hey... everyone knows how much you like it when anyone talks about space or anything about astronomy. You'd be amazing at it."

"That's a different thing." John says flatly. Flattery, it seems, wont get Scott very far. "It's like, whenever you guys ask me anything about space, I like to answer them for you, but from random people…? And in huge crowds? I just simply can't." Surely he doesn’t have to explain himself much more than that?

"Oh trust me, everything is going to be fine." Scott was a flippant hand around, talking without really thinking, because all he wants is for his brother to get out of Thunderbird 5, to visit Earth for a little bit, to mingle with people a little. It can't be that bad. "If anything happens, Gordon and Alan'll be in Thunderbird Five doing Space Monitor duty, me and Virgil are gonna keep an eye on everything, and you’re in safe hands with Lady Penelope and Parker. It's all set up, so please go have some fun for once and teach the children something cool."

"My answer is still no." John says persistently, without hesitation. He's pretty sure it'd be worse than being in the middle of a hurricane, or testing one of his Grandma's new cooking experiments. It’s lucky Scott misses his involuntary shudder.

Scott, though, is so done with him at this point, that he's pretty sure there's no choice but to use plan b and hope that that works instead on his unwilling, stubborn, red haired brother. They've got to get him down from orbit and to that lecture somehow. Scott's just not going to stand for anything else.

"Are you sure that's your last answer?" Scott asks, with a heavy sigh, already planning the best way to call in the big guns.

"Yes," John scowls, arms folded. "Yes, it is."

They'll see about that.

...

"Is everything ready?" John adjusts his sleeves, smoothing down his vest and putting the last touches on his collar. Neat, simple, formal. Can't go wrong. "My presentation papers, laptop, and my mini simple dimple?”

"Yes, all in the bag." Scott calls back, rapidly checking everything, "But do you really need that little fidget thing of yours?" He picks his younger brother's old toy up between forefinger and thumb to examine it, remembering the day John made their Mom buy it for when he gets stressed.

"What fidge- oh, yes I need it." The look on John's face leaves no doubt about that. "I've used it ever since Mom bought it for me."

"Hey… Mom would've been proud of you, you know?” Scott tells him, in a quick flash of brotherly pride. “For, you know, going out of your safe zone for a little while and teaching the children and all that."

"Yeah, I know…" John finds him a nervous smile, "But I'm not doing this voluntarily, you've forced me with that plan b of yours."

The second John says that Scott's cheeks dimple, the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he grins victoriously, his teeth a bright white in the earliest rays of morning sun.

“All I had to do was make a call." He shrugs, "Lady Penelope did all the talking and somehow convinced you to go." Scott got a little more excited. He took a couple of steps forward, slightly standing on his toes reaching John's level asking"How did she convince you?" Clearly waiting teasingly for an answer to come out of John's lips

"Huhhhh." John exhales loudly, a little despairing. "She promised me we'd go to the Pagasa Astronomical Observatory after I finish the lecture with the children." He shrugs, keeping his eyes down, embarrassed.

"The what now?" Scott stares at him, thoroughly confused.

"The Pagasa Astronomical Observatory in the Philippines.” John says, like that was obvious, “It's equipped with a 45-cm computer-based telescope. It's so powerful that astronomers and astronomy enthusiasts can now conduct effective observations of stellar bodies and other distant space objects! Scott, it’s been my dream to go since I was, like, 17."

Scott always knew how much of an astrophile his younger brother is; he never cared about his physical appearance, nor his poor eating habits and he always used to make excuses to read his books alone, yet no one has ever interfered in his personal life.

"Okay okay space lover boy,” Scott grins at him. He'd expected Penny to be persuasive, but resigning herself to hours stuck with John in full excited-about-space mode would hardly be in his top ten. Either he's gonna owe her one, or Penny's more resilient than him. “You can go, no one is holding you back."

The short silence between them was broken by a ringing sound from a nearby table, which John answers.

“...Mhm, yes? Oh, the lecture." It must be Penelope calling, "Yeah, I'm ready, I'll head out now." John grabs his bag, wandering toward where the FAB1 must already be idling on the Tracy runway. "Time to go."

"Mhm,” Scott makes an agreeable noise, watching him go. “Please stay safe and please don't make an idiot of yourself." He's teasing… mostly.

"Yeah yeah," John waves at him over his shoulder, not even looking back. "I won't."

…

"Are we there yet?" Despite the consistently amazing views out of FAB1’s windows during the flight, John’s found himself mostly looking down, fidgeting with his fingers. He’s worrying, just a little, about what awaits him in the Philippines - a whole different tropical island to his own, though still in the South of the Pacific Ocean.

"Just give Parker ten more minutes, darling,” Her Ladyship smiles at him, “We'll arrive in no time."

There’s a moment of silence before, unexpectedly, it’s broken by a call flashing up from, of all places, Thunderbird Five. There’s a prickly sense of discomfort as John realises that, of course, it’s not him calling. Gordon must be trying to reach them.

"Heeeeey Lady Penelope,” The kid greets, as Penny flicks it on, seemingly a lot less bothered by the change than he is. “Oh, and Mr. Tracy.” There’s a huge smirk on his face. “How's our newest teacher holding up?"

"Firstly, my name is John.” John points out, flatly, “Second, I'm not your teacher so please don’t call me Mr. Tracy ever again. Thirdly…” He concedes, quirking an eyebrow, “Yeah, I'm good for now, but fourth… How are you holding up, up there in my Thunderbird? She’s not much like Four, is she?"

"Ooooooooo that's a good question,” Gordon looks half like he’s considering it, half like he’s really missing his own ‘bird. “I'm holding up pretty well thanks to Alan. He’s taken all the Monitor duty stuff, so all I gotta do is keep an eye on you guys." He sounds a bit… sarcastic about that. “It’s pretty boring, honestly. How do you survive up here without a pool?”

"Young Master Gordon, are you quite done talking?" Parker glances, unimpressed, at the little floating hologram of John’s brother in his rearview mirror, "Because we're about to arrive at our destination."

"Huh… oh yeah,” Gordon doesn’t seem too bothered about that, but he waves merrily at them all the same, “Okay bye and John, please have fun, you too Lady Penelope, okay bye guys."

It’s only a few moments later that Parker opens his mouth to tell them that they’ve arrived at Chino Roque Theater, pulling up out front to let them both climb out.

John's eyes widen: it’s nothing like what he saw on the internet. It was more enormous, more luminous, more spectacular than anything he’d seen or read online. All he remembers reading is that it's a sphere shaped building located in the Philippines, in Anilao Hill, but the pictures on the webpage didn’t do it justice like being there in person does.

The building was smooth and round; the auditorium shaped like a massive egg nestled in amongst the other buildings. They were early enough that the sun was just cresting the horizon, colouring the sky with reds and oranges, visible through the geometric front of the building - where giant triangles of glass intersect together to give the people inside an amazing view of the sky at night.

"M'lady, you and John can go ahead. I'll park FAB 1." Parker said, before going to the parking lot - unaware just how tiring and long his journey to find a place to park is going to be.

They both head inside the building, admiring the sweeping glass fractals of the roof high above them. It’s incredibly beautiful, really a feat of engineering. So much so, that John almost forgets why he’s even there, until he spots a couple of buses arriving on the other side of the building, and the panic sets in. He was expecting to be a little bit anxious, but this feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. He presses a hand hard against it, trying to calm his racing pulse and stop the sudden shake of his fingers, and Penny must notice, because a little hand settles, ever so lightly, on his shoulder, drawing his attention to her.

"Hey John," Lady Penelope looks him steadily in the eye, projecting warmth and reassurance. "They're just a small, mixed group of children and teens. They can’t possibly hurt you, now can they? They just came to have a small lecture because all of them like space and astronomy just like you. Imagine yourself at their age, meeting a real life astronaut.” John tries very hard not to remind her who, exactly, his Father was, as she goes on - trying to visualise being a kid that didn’t get ‘take your son to work days’ at NASA’. It’s a pretty horrifying concept. “Most importantly,” Penny adds, “it's only for an hour or so, so you don't need to worry so much." She had to smile just to reassure him. “You’ll have filled their heads with space facts and be out before you know it.”

"O-okay,” John takes a deep, steadying breath, “I don't know if I'm supposed to trust you on this, or whatever, but I really don't have any other choice." He also wants to add that they forced him to go, but at the last second he remembers that they never forced him - he agreed to go because Lady Penelope promised him a trip to the observatory.

It seems like a pretty weak reason, now that he’s outside the stage door, knees shaking.

"Mhm, I think it's time to go inside.” She nudges him callously in the right direction, and John’s palms meeting the solid metal of the double doors is the only thing that keeps him from following gravity’s call and landing on his face. “Again, if anything happens, I'll be at the back of the room and I have a plan b if things get too much." John, pretty shocked by just how many plan b's the Lady Penelope might have prepared for the day, can only shake his head, bemused. “So stop worrying and get out there!”

She vanishes off into the atrium, and John can’t help the loud exhale that escapes his mouth before he musters up all the courage he can, and enters the room.

Bright lights startle him for a moment, and he’s pretty sure he does an awful, awkward impression of a blind baby giraffe as he stumbles out onto the stage and freezes as he notices the first smatterings of audience are already taking their seats.

The moment he placed his foot on the smooth wooden floor, his heart had started to beat faster, his hands began to sweat, the more steps he took forward the more he felt anxious. It was, he’ll think later, one of the toughest moments of his life, and he’s been to space. Multiple times.

Come on John. He tries to straighten up, shake off his anxiety, This can’t go worse than your first EVA.

Taking another deep breath, John waits patiently for all the attendees to take a seat inside the room. Waiting doesn’t help his anxiety levels at all, and he can feel them increasing by the second, but, determined, John doesn’t let it stop him from starting his lecture.

"H-Hello everybody,” He starts, incredibly conscious of the hushed silence that falls across his audience. “I'm John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons,” he rattles off his credentials, his nerves almost blurring them together, “I worked with NASA as an astronaut for three years before going… uh… solo in my astronomical studies, and I'll be your guest lecturer for the day.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, as a ripple of hushed oohhhs and ahhhs goes through the crowd. John’s pretty sure his face has gone bright red. “Thank you for having me at the Chino Roque Theater,” He goes on, before his embarrassment can bet the better of him, “I hope everyone’s had an amazing day so far. We'll be spending the next hour or so talking about astronomy and space physics, so shall we get started?" John thought it was a good opening, and yet his back was really wet from all the people's eyes on him. Glancing offstage, Penelope throws him a thumbs up, and he feels a little better.

"Um,” He blinks. “So does anyone here know how old the universe is?" John ventures, only to be surprised as almost everyone answers at once;

"Almost 13.8 billion years!"

"Yes,” The edge of a smile works its way onto John’s face. Clearly this was going to be a shout out the answer kind of lecture. He can work with that. “That's correct, now does anyone know how the universe started?"

"The Big Bang!" Most of them answer, and John feels a surge of relief. These guys really are into space.

"Okay, okay, not bad at all." He nods affirmatively at them, and the screen behind him lights up with an artist’s rendition of the Big Bang happening. "Now if I were to go and search ‘how old is the universe’ in, say, Google, the answer would be 13,772 billion years. It’d be the same thing if we looked at NASA, or even Wikipedia - so how did people get to know the age of the universe? How do you even start calculating something that old? Well I'm going to explain it for you in two ways: the good, nice way, and the kinda not that good and not that scientific way." There’s a bit of an awkward pause as John wonders whether or not he’s explained that well. When only silence greets him, he very quickly realises he needs to press on.

"So, uh, the good way.” He folds his fingers together behind his back, trying to resist the urge to fidget. “Well, in the middle of the previous century, as telescopes developed, we noticed something strange. We found that stars in very distant galaxies tend to look red… Umm, which is something that’s not supposed to happen.” A chuckle escapes John and, to his relief, the audience laughs with him. Scott never gets his space jokes. “So why’s that?” He asks, “See, if a chemical element gains or loses energy it’ll emit light in certain frequencies, thereby creating certain colors.” A small movement of his hand signals the slide to change, and a picture of the visible section of the electromagnetic spectrum appears, colouring the room with rainbow light. “For example,” John goes on, bathed in blue and violet, “Consider something like… a desk lamp, as like an element. If you give a lamp electrical energy, it’ll release that energy in the form of heat and light, yeah?" There’s a murmur of uncertain understanding in the room. “Electricity goes in, the bulb gets hot, and it gives off light. Well, we know stars do pretty much the same thing - only powered by nuclear fusion rather than a nine volt plug.”

"From studies of the sun and stars that are near Earth, we know that they’re made of helium and hydrogen, yes?” There’s another murmur of agreement in John’s crowd, “Well, hydrogen and helium can create red light, but they don't have the ability to create these shades of red that we see in deep space." The slide behind John clicks to a comparison of the two shades, on two different stars - making the difference clear.

"So, if stars are made of helium and hydrogen then why do distant stars have different colours? Are their compositions different?uh, well It’s possible, but not likely. The strongest explanation is that the color difference is due to the movement of the stars." The room gives a soft gasp at this news, and John knows he’s onto something good.

"So there's something called the redshift and blueshift phenomenon that says that if an object radiates light and approaches you, the color of the light begins to turn blue, and if the object is moving away from you, the color will turn red. This happens because the wavelength of light contracts and expands with movement meaning that something stretching equals red and contraction equals blue."

"And the strange thing is,” John adds, his audience listening raptly, “That most, if not all, stars show the same behavior, so, if we think about it, if all stars are moving away from us, that means that they were close to us at some point, and if we follow their path, we find that everything in space meets at a point named ‘singularity’."

"It was believed, in the past, that everything in the universe, or at least in the visible part that we have observed, that is to say,” John flicks to a graphic on his next slide. “All the galaxies, planets and stars, were all gathered at one point - the singularity. The theory is that this point exploded in what we call the ‘Big Bang’, and from that time onward, the universe has been in constant expansion.”

"So it’s with data from this knowledge that we can calculate the age of the universe:” With a wave of his hand, John puts a series of bullet points up on the screen behind him, then reads them aloud.

“One, the universe began as a very small, single point.” He reaffirms, “Two, the universe is constantly expanding outward from that point, and three, from these we have the ability to calculate the expansion rate of the universe, by calculating the speed of the stars that are moving away from us. If we take the furthest accelerations and enter them into this equation,” John’s board merrily does it’s thing behind him, “Then, we get the age of the universe."

"And, so we don't forget, all this talking was about the good way. There is another way to calculate the age of the universe, the, uh, not as good way, or, more specifically, the less scientific way.” A ripple of laughter goes through John’s audience - and he relaxes a little more. Maybe Scott was right. Maybe these are his kind of people. Scott’s never laughed at a space joke for sure. “There's no problem with it,” He quietens them again with a gentle gesture, “and it does support our theory and calculations, so I guess we should talk about it."

"Since ancient times, humans have been looking at the sky, watching the stars, and giving them names like Cygnus, Canis Major, Orion.” All names any young astronomer in the Southern Hemisphere would recognise, and be able to enthusiastically point out in the night sky. “In those days, there wasn't the internet so they were looking up at the stars instead.” Much like John himself, when he’d been a boy.

“As a way of calculating the age of the universe, astronomers set out to search for the oldest celestial bodies in space.” He goes on to explain, “The idea was that if we find a star whose age equals X, then the age of the universe must be greater than the number X. So we pointed our telescopes up there and started trying to find out their ages from birth, to youth, to their old age until their end."

"Can anyone guess the age of the oldest star we've found?" A lot of answers were guessed, some of them were pretty close, but some, amusingly, were way too far. "Ok, ok…” John puts his hands up to pacify his excited crowd, “Umm I see there are a lot of answers, but the oldest star people discovered was actually estimated to be 13.5 billion years old. The HD-140283, or as you might know it, the Methuselah Star. That number is very close, you’ll notice, to our estimation of the age of the universe."

"But if we found a star that is 13.5 billion years old today, then we could find an even older star next week and that would ruin all of that,” He chuckles, mostly to himself, “We also should note that this method alone isn't suitable for determining the universe’s age, but as long as we have two methods with corroborative results, we can be reassured that the estimate is correct.” He pauses for a second, “So, does anyone have questions?" A couple of hands raised, and John found himself suddenly answering a lot of questions - but he managed all of them despite his fear of the huge crowd.

He’s starting to feel more than a little overwhelmed.

"Umm… W-well that was a lot of questions,” John tries to pull it back in, his allotted lecture time ticking away on the big clock at the back of the hall. He feels a little panicky from the bombardment, and his palms have gone sweaty. “We’d better move on.” To distract himself from the people, as much as anything, “Our next topic is the theory of relativity, so l-let's get started on that."

Lady Penelope, from her fold-out seat at the back of the room, frowns. It’s clear John’s terrified and she wants to use plan b, but as long as he’s still standing on his feet, and giving the lecture, he's probably fine for now. If anything, it’d cause more of a disruption to drag him away now.

"Umm,” John takes a breath, trying to centre himself in the science of it all. “Let's start with a supposition, a hypothesis if you like, and consider it together. Okay, you’ll have to bear with me on this one, but let us suppose that we were all asleep, and the universe suddenly inflated by a thousand times.” There’s a murmur in the crowd at how odd everything abruptly getting that much bigger sounds, “Your bed, your pillow, your desk,” John extrapolates, “even the meter we measure stuff with. If humans became a thousand times bigger, when we woke up would we feel something strange? Would we even notice anything had changed? You’d think so, but no.” John’s settling back into his rhythm now, “So why is that? Because the bed and everything became a thousand times more inflated and our bodies also inflated a thousand times, with everything scaling in parallel relation to each other so that this percentage, this scale, was preserved throughout the room. You’d never know the difference."

"Henri Poincaré, the well known mathematician and theoretical physicist, says that we will never be able to discover that something like this has happened, even if we use all the mathematics and calculations ever invented.” John drives the point home with another illustrated slide, “This hypothesis is called the Poincaré hypothesis, and simply, because the meter with which we measure things will have also expanded a thousand times, there’s never going to be any equation or calculation or any analysis possible that could lead us to the truth, because the ratio is preserved in all parts."

"Now, this is important, because the same thing also happens with time. If everything suddenly got a thousand times faster, we’d still never feel anything different. Why’s that?” He asks, rhetorically, “Because time is also a thousand times faster, your heartbeat is also a thousand times faster, your body would function a thousand times faster to keep up with it all. As long as everything is increased by the same amount, the ratio is preserved, and none of us will be able to detect any change."

"So Poincaré asked the scientific community; is there no way to know that time increased or that things inflated?" John tells the room, "Well, it was Albert Einstein who answered him, deciding that the one and only way to tell, would be to have someone observing what happened to the world from another galaxy, from another world, lightyears away. For someone to point a telescope in our direction, and look through it at us, and say what happened to the Earth? Why are humans walking a thousand times faster than in the past? But this person who realized the situation,” The astronaut waves a flippant hand, starting to feel much more confident again, “would have to be a person standing on a fixed external platform in a different world, so that what happened to us was not also happening to him."

"But, as Einstein commented, this hypothesis is impossible for a simple reason and it's that there is no fixed platform in the universe - the entirety of it is in constant, turbulent motion. For example, the Earth rotates at a speed of 460 meters per second, revolving around the sun at 30 kilometers per second, and at the same time, the sun and it’s planets and dwarf planets and moons and asteroids, all revolve around our galaxy, The Milky Way, at a speed of 300 kilometres per second, and so the whole universe revolves. That's,” John takes a deep breath, finding himself out of air after so much explaining, “why it's impossible for us humans to completely accurately judge the motion of any astral body."

"Because there is no fixed berth, we can only offer relativity. This is the first part of the theory that Einstein came up with, in summary; it cannot be said that the monotony of a body is absolute motion."

"Another thing he said was that, because of the vastness of the universe, it’s impossible to synchronize, what does that mean? Well, I will give you an example.” He flicks his slide, “Say I’m a person in the Philippines, and I'm talking to someone from the United States. We synchronize, and hear each other in real time, because we have a method of fast communication. I can hold my device and say; hello, how are you?” John holds up the slim, sliver slice of his phone to show the audience, “How’s the weather there? And they’d answer me with something like; I’m fine thank you, it's night here so it’s a bit hard to tell what the weather’s doing! What’s the weather like there? And I’d answer them; it's daytime, and maybe ask them something like, what are you eating? They’d answer me; a burger, and then I’d tell them that I'm eating kaldereta, and it’s much better than a burger."

In the audience Penny quietly hopes that Gordon, who's probably listening in with the rest of his brother’s, missed the fact John was making jokes on stage. The poor little bugger’ll never live it down otherwise.

"These two events, each person talking to the other, are compatible.”  John goes on, absolutely oblivious, “It’s possible because the two wireless devices, be they mobile phones or more sophisticated comms systems, are on the same globe, creating a fast means of communication.”

"But,” John postulates, “If I was talking to someone from another galaxy and I used the same means of communication to make a call, do you know how long it would take to get to them? It would be about five to six thousand years until my signal reaches the phone of our friend, and they’ll have married, had children and died, and their children would have married and had children and died, and so on, for thousands of years before then."

"And that's why it's impossible to synchronize between the ends of the universe,” John balances his palms like he’s weighing two invisible ends, “It rather puts a damper on our chances of finding and communicating with extraterrestrial life, for sure, but at least it’s possible to synchronize within one system, like the system of the Earth. "

"This is a thing that also applies to light, for example: any star you could look up and see now, the light emanating from it may be coming from thousands of years ago. This means that it’s possible that the star you see shining could have exploded and disappeared, and hasn't existed for a long time. Why? Because it takes a couple of thousand years for the light from that explosion to reach us."

"There isn’t any proof for the hypothesis that the universe is linked by time, but the thing that happens that we’re sure of is that the universe is made up of, sort of, separate islands of different times that have no connection between them. The connection between movement and time in space is something we all know about, for example, a day on Earth equals twenty-four hours, yes?” There’s a chorus of agreement from the audience, “But on Saturn, a day is ten hours because it rotates faster. Astonishingly, a day on Mercury is the same as fifty-eight whole Earth days, which, infact, is also a Mercurian year, because the planet revolves around the sun for the exact same period as it revolves around itself."

"Okay, so, to what extent is movement related to time?” John asks, well and truly into this whole teaching thing now, “Well, Einstein was the first person to discover the connection between them and suggested that; suppose you’re on board a very fast rocket, 100,000 miles per hour for example. The mechanical watch on your wrist would be delayed over the flight, but you wouldn’t feel like time is being delayed. Why’s that? It’s because the rhythm of your heart would slow down - all of the vital processes in your body that are inside the rocket will slow down."

"As you move more, something called the dilation of time will happen.” He steps to the side, as if to illustrate the point, only to find himself stumbling a little, like if the ground beneath his feet had moved. “T-Time slows down,” John tries to recover it smoothly, but everything’s starting to feel, weirdly, like it’s shaking, and he doesn’t think it’s the anxiety anymore, “and that's-"

John doesn’t get to finish his sentence because there’s an abrupt shift and a loud cracking from under him, and getting off the stage suddenly seems like a good idea. Someone screams outside, and the volume in the room skyrockets as the children start panicking. John’s one hundred percent sure this wasn't anything planned.

He knew he shouldn't have come.

Earthquake? He wonders first, then; Tsunami? Ground slip? Hurricane? Whichever it is, John has to prioritise calming the people and evacuating them out of the building. The giant glass panels above them are trembling with the force of the shaking, and, as a professional at this sort of thing, Thunderbird Five’s Space Monitor doesn’t like the look of it one bit.

"Everyone calm down,” He has to shout to make himself heard over the roar of people, even with the microphones pointed his way, “This is a normal thing. All we have to do is evacuate immediately, as calmly. as. possible. I don't want anyone crowding the exits, do you all understand what I just said?" The front rows, white faced with fear, nod encouragingly at him, and he watches as they begin to lead the way toward the glowing green signs that signal the emergency exits. Immediately after making sure the crowd is moving, John pulls up his comm to contact Gordon.

"Gordon, are you on the line?” John’s a little breathless and he climbs down from the precarious stage, into the throng of terrified bodies, “We have a situation in here."

"Let me guess, you caused it?" Gordon seems so excited to hear something other than his brother's boring lecture that humour has outweighed his professionalism.

"Gordon,” John grits his teeth, “I'm being serious right now, there was a huge movement in the ground beneath the Chino Roque Theater, and it's still ongoing. Tell Alan to do a check on what's happening beneath us using the Ground Penetrating Radar." He orders.

"F.A.B." Comes the far more serious response, before Gordon clicks off the line to do just that. Squashing down any fear he’d about the now swelling, shuffling crowd, John opens his arms wide and walks toward them, the motion sort of like he’s trying to herd sheep, as he tries to evacuate the people safely out of the building.

He’s not exactly an expert at being on the scene during rescues.

"John, there's a landslide going on right now,” Alan’s worried little voice comes ringing out of his comm speakers, “Right next to the theatre. You’d better get out of there. I’m monitoring the situation, but it’s looking like you’re going to need International Rescue to get you and the people out of there. The debris field is spreading fast." John would do almost anything to be up there instead, at his own screens. “I've contacted Virgil and Scott, I’m patching them through now.” Alan clicks Scott and Virgil, both clearly just finishing their suit up sequences, into the conversation. It seems important to keep them up to date with John's developing situation.

"Hey Mr. Tracy, how are you holding up?" Scott jokes over the roar of his launching Thunderbird, the sound filling the background of the call with white-noise, "Oh, and how was your lecture?" John thinks he sounds far too casual in contrast to the impending danger all around him.

"Oh my God, Scott, is now really the time?” John groans, and a kid with mousey blond hair not dissimilar to Alan’s looks up at him, very confused, before the astronaut waves him on, “You are an adult person,” He reminds his big brother, “Please don't be like Gordon right now. He’s practically still a child."

"Hey!” Gordon had clearly overheard the conversation between his brothers, and springs up to defend himself. “I'm only two or three years younger than you!" He complains, not about to do the math.

"Gordon, we don't have time for arguing about that now,” John frowns, “and Scott, I'm holding up alright at the moment. Please don't ask me anything about the lecture until I get back home." If his voice cracks a little on that last bit, he’ll never admit it.

"Okay, okay I won't ask anything about that,” Scott reassures him, his amused, big brother grin very much in place, “Keep on evacuating the people safely until we arrive John, you’re doing great. It won’t take us that long. ETA at 15,000 mph is sixteen minutes.” He reassures, “We’ll be there before you know it."

"F.A.B. Scott." He reluctantly signs off. Now that he’s finished talking with Scott, John’s pleased to see that a lot of people have already made their way out of the atrium’s three sets of double doors, evacuating the building to get as far away from the landslide as possible. His fingers itch to pull up the schematics from Thunderbird Five on his comm, no matter what the people around him might think. He quickly caves, and it feels worth it to be able to see the incoming tide of slipping land.

They don’t have much time.

“Let’s go!” He shouts, chivvying. He’s a little breathless with the tension, so he keeps things short. “Come on! Let’s move guys!”

From his vantage near the crumbling stage, John can make out Lady Penelope and Parker by the main doors, ushering people through, and the sight of them fills him instantly with immense relief.

“Okay, that's a good amount of people out.” John has to jog to catch up with them, skirting around a little old lady with a zimmer frame and taking a second to correct her course, “Lady Penelope, Parker, I think you should go and check on the people who’re out. They could have minor injuries from the stampede, and International Rescue are still ten minutes out. I'll make sure the last few stragglers exit safely."

Penelope just nods, pale and worried. Her blond brows are all pinched in together, nervous and Parker looks practically haggard as he claps a reassuring hand on John’s shoulder, her faithful old companion following her pink shape dutifully out the doors. Hopefully they’ll go make sure that no one was badly injured in any way.

Turning back to the slow cascade of cracking rubble behind him, John finds the stage area has been all but obliterated, and his heart aches for the patrons of the Chino Roque Theater who’ll have to rebuild from scratch when this is over. He imagines the Tracy fund can contribute a significant amount toward that though. They often do for worthy causes.

John pushes the damp curl of his slightly sweaty bangs out of his eyes and climbs over what looks like a twisted piece of ceiling girder toward the sound of people, possibly trapped stragglers, who are calling for help.

"I miss Thunderbird 5 so much,” John mutters, keeping it under his breath so that no one hears him, as his palms are scraped raw against the concrete he’s trying to clamber around. There’s a rippp of fabric on a jagged piece of metal and the knee of his previous pristine brown jeans meets much the same fate as his poor, scuffed hands. “Oh, come on!” He’s having no luck today, “I'd so rather be assisting the situation from space. I can’t believe I’m stuck here." John grumbles, to no one in particular. He’s just not built for this kind of thing. Heavy labour and getting sweaty pulling people out of scrap heaps is what his other brothers do. At least rescues in space don’t have all this… gravity to contend with.

"John?” The crackle of a comm cut’s across his complaints, “What’re you still doing in there?” Gordon’s voice breaks him from his thoughts, little brother’s tone heavy with concern. “The building could fall any moment! You're so lucky the landslide isn't moving very fast, but it’s not gonna stay that way forever." Gordon was really worried about the fact that his older brother was still inside. “It could engulf the building! You need to hurry it up, bro.”

"I'm evacuating the people as fast as I can,” John gets both hands under the armpits of a boy who couldn’t be older than seven, and swings him above a pile of rubble toward safety, “I'll be out in no ti- Ah!"

John’s voice gets cut off with a startled cry, and it takes Gordon a second or two, time John might not have, to remember how to breathe so that he can yell in any way coherently into his comm. His eyes are wide, his anxiety levels through the roof as he tries, and fails, to rouse his brother on the other end.

"SCOTT! You need to get there now.” Gordon’s aware that he’s totally losing his cool, panic creeping in over his weak layer of professionalism, “I just lost contact with John.” He gasps, “He was evacuating people and I heard him yell and now he’s not responding! And- and it's not just him. There were other people he was trying to get out."

"Hey Gordon,” Scott tries to keep his voice steady to inject some kind of stability into the conversation, “Don't lose your cool yet. I'm sure nothing that bad happened to John. Just stay your positive self, okay? I’m arriving right now and Virgil isn’t far behind me."

Thunderbird One is panning over the city, low enough to ruffle the hair of people looking up, but it’s not a problem until the usually so sure and steady pilot finds his hands nearly slipping off her controls as Scott catches his first, horrific glimpse of the building that he knows his younger brother is inside.

“What the…?”

The Chino Roque Theater is almost flat.

"Virgil,” Scott swallows hard to try and remove any of the tremor from his voice, “A-Are you seeing what I'm seeing right now?" He almost succeeds.

"Scott this isn't a joke, it looks like half of the building has come down with the landslide! John’s in there!" Virgil sounds more terrified than Scott thinks he’s ever heard him. What scares him the most is that the exit was on the side that has fallen in, which means that a lot of people are trapped under it, their John included. "Scott, we need to help them right now.

"Okay, here's the plan,” Scott’s hands tighten white-knuckled on the steering yoke, “You wear your exo-suit and go clear the debris out of the way so that we can save them, and I'll get rid of that roof with Thunderbird One and check for life signs. Remember that saving lives is our top priority, got it? No matter what’s happened to John."

"F.A.B." Virgil sounds incredibly tense. He lands Thunderbird Two as fast as he can in the crowded, limited space. Local people are beginning to make their way out of their houses to see what all the commotion is about, and the cramped city streets aren’t ideal for International Rescue’s four hundred and six ton workhorse.

Two’s pilot struggles into his exo-suit, rushing to get the Jaws of Life prepared despite Scott’s insistence that he focus and take things slow and sensible. It’s not long until he finds himself digging among the debris looking for buried people and, in the white rush of it all, Virgil’s not even sure how he got there.

"Scott,” he presses on his comm, “Please tell me you’ve got something?"

"Fortunately and thankfully yes,” It’s hard to find the hopefulness in big brother’s clipped Mobile Control voice, but it’s there to Virgil’s expert ear, drizzled in nervous relief. “I've got a whole cluster of life signs,” Scott reports, “BPM signalling in the green. "I think they’re just trapped under the debris." Alan’s echolocation report came back suggesting that there’s a big space under what could be folded sheet metal from the ceiling, that they’ve huddled in. I'm really sure there's nothing that bad, but still we have to continue otherwise it will take a bad turn for us and the people in there."

“I can use the grappling cables in Thunderbird One to take the strain off the roof,” Scott adds, “But I need you in there to get those people out.”

“Already on my way,” Virgil ducks under some rebar, skirting around the rubble and pulling away loose debris as he goes. His heart is loud in his own ears, and Virgil hopes the creak and groan of metal and concrete above him is Scott lifting the weight off the roof, keeping it from collapsing any further onto the people below, and not anything more sinister. Virgil gets peppered by a slide of small stones, but the roof holds steady.

He presses on until he catches sight of the cluster of around forty people, all huddled together around a tall, central figure with a shocking amount of rubble dust smeared over his face, and powdered through his ginger hair.

“John!” Two’s pilot makes a beeline for his brother, despite the fact three of the people are stuck under rubble. Clearly John’s in control of the situation here, and he’s never wanted a mission update from their Space Monitor so much in his life. He can’t help but hone in on the fact John's left arm is crudely wrapped in a piece of cloth from his sleeve, which he must’ve ripped off in order to tie it.

"You have to tell me exactly what happened,” Virgil drops the controls for the Jaws of Life, and grasps his brother’s biceps in both hands instead, resisting the very strong temptation to pull the spaceman in for a hug. “And what happened to your arm?!?" There’s a river of blood seeping from beneath the make-shift bandage, but John, it seems, isn’t bothered by it in the slightest.

"Not now Virgil.” His concerns get thoroughly dismissed, “We’ve got to get these people out of here, and then I'll tell you everything." Virgil didn't like the idea that something happened to his brother and he's silent about it, but after all John was right about saving the people first since his arm is under control for now.

John crouches by the nearest injured person; a pale, skinny teen with a sizable piece of rebar keeping him pinned.

“You’re gonna be out of there in just a second, Lito.” Virgil watches him reassuring the young man for a long moment, “Uh, Virgil?” John prompts. “Any time?”

“What?” He blinks, “Oh, yeah!” His brother is clearly waiting expectantly for him to use the Jaws of Life to get the poor kid out. "I’m on it, but you better tell me everything after we're done saving them." Virgil demands. “But, uh, Scott’s kind of holding the roof up right now, so you’re probably right.”

"Okay,” John literally rolls his eyes, busy stealing a pair of blue rubber gloves from the Med Kit Virgil brought with him, and snapping them on to protect his hands and the fine cuts he’d gotten from climbing over rubble. “I promise I'll tell you everything, but can we start actually rescuing them now?" Rolling his eyes right back, the bigger man uses his exosuit to heft the rubble off Lito, before John swoops in to apply pressure to his injuries.

“Give me the fold out stretcher from your sash.” He orders, hands bloodied “Then go get the next person out. Efifania, Sergio?” John beckons a pair of nearby dad’s in closer, clearly having singled them out as capable stretcher bearers. “Think you can manage Lito here for me?”

As Virgil starts removing the rubble from above the other two trapped people, a middle aged man and a younger woman, it becomes immediately obvious that both of them have more severe wounds than young Lito. They both need medical treatment immediately.

“I’ll carry one of them.” Without the three extra sets of hands he’d need, Virgil has to leave a couple of crowd members applying pressure to their wounds, as he moves back to where John is helping Lito unsteadily to his feet. “Think you can walk, young man? We’re gonna need that stretcher for the big guy.”

“I won’t let you fall.” John promises, and Virgil feels a real swell of pride at how well his brother is handling the situation whilst being outside of both his space station and his comfort zone. It looks like having a rescue and a job to do really gives him no time for anxiety. "I agree that that's our best plan.” He adds, nodding, short and sharp, to confirm it, then John turns, an arm around Lito’s waist and the kid’s arm slung over his shoulder, to address the crowd.

“Anyone not so severely hurt needs to help get the injured out of here.” John instructs, the small crowd listening raptly. The look on the faces of these scared people is one Virgil is all too familiar with, but he knows John has far less experience of in person. They’re really looking to him as their saviour. “Virgil here is going to lead us through the path he just made.” Which is news to Virgil, but does seem like the best plan. “International Rescue will then be able to take us all to the hospital to get checked out, and then I’m sure you’ll be released to go home to your families before you know it. Got it everyone?"

In that moment Virgil finds himself struck with amazement at how John seems to have become almost as fearless as Scott, as they started carrying the two injured people out to safety. It was really a new side to him that Virgil doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

"Virgil… I need you to check on Lady Penelope and Parker.” John’s keeping pace at his side, helping the boy they’d dug out along as he goes, “I told them to check to see if anyone was hurt."

"Hmm, yeah you're right.” Virgil frowns. If Penny and Parker have any more injured party members, even minor ones that just need a check up, Thunderbird Two will need to evacuate them to the hospital as well. “Have you got any idea where they might be?"

"Well, I told them to get somewhere away from the landslide,” John frowns, as their limping, shocky party stumbles out into the bright light of day, to be greeted by the roar of Thunderbird One’s engines high above them. “They should be near here.” He yells over the sound of it.

As usual, it turns out that John is completely right. Penny and Parker are waiting for them, but neither John nor Virgil find the look on Lady Penelope's face all that reassuring.

"JOHN!” She rushes toward the battered, bloodied spaceman, her arms outstretched. Virgil very quickly and carefully finagles poor Lito out of the way as his brother gets ambushed. “Are you okay?!?” Penelope demands, frantic, “What happened to your arm?” She reaches for the bloodied bandage, and John winces, “I'm so sorry,” All of John’s carefully constructed rules around personal space are shattered as she cups his cheek, inspecting his face for injury. It’s lucky that John is by far the most patient of the Tracy boys. “I shouldn't have left you there.

"She’d been so terrified, perhaps more than anyone else here. The horrific view she’d seen with her own eyes is going to haunt her for a long time yet. One second she was getting out of the building to reassure and check up on the people, and the next she was watching half the structure collapse completely, with John under the side that fell. She still feels a little sick.

"I'm so, so, so sorry John,” She repeats, before he can get a word in edgeways to reassure her, “Please, you must tell me if there's any way I can make it up to you. Ask me anything and I'll do it."

"Okay guys,” Virgil chuckles, “while you talk things out I'll go to get the injured people aboard Thunderbird 2. Make it quick though, we’ve still got people who need immediate medical treatment, got it?"

"F.A.B. Virgil.” John nods, “We'll be quick. Penny, I..."

“I’m so sorry.” She repeats again, and pulls his good arm over her shoulder as if to steady him as they make their way at the back of the crowd toward the big green Thunderbird.

"No no no, Penny, please stop apologising.” John’s fingers tighten for a quick moment on her shoulder, in brief reassurance, “I'm not going to ask you for anything because it was never your fault.” He insists, “It was just some bad luck, that's all. Fortunately I, and most people, got out safe with no severe wounds. These things happen.”

“Your arm.” She points out softly, hoping that all that blood looks worse than it is, “John I can’t believe you stayed behind like that, it’s so...”

“Tracy?” He grins, amused but very weary.

“Scott Tracy.” She corrects, scowling a little as she holds on just that little bit tighter around his waist as his adrenaline from the rescue starts to flag. “I thought you had more common sense.”

“Hate to disappoint.” She feels the warmth of him chuckling, “I’m lucky it was nothing worse than his cut from some shattered glass that fell on my arm while I was helping one of the guys who got stuck. I don’t think any arteries or anything have been damaged, but it is... kinda deep." And he might be getting a little lightheaded from the blood loss. Still, he really wants to reassure her, just like she had reassured him before he’d gone in to give the lecture.

"Hate to interrupt your moment, but are you guys done?" Scott pops up from who-knows-where amongst the crowd to yell at them. He’s clearly joined the relief effort. "Virgil’s just finished getting everyone aboard Thunderbird 2, and he's ready to launch." He adds, squinting at the pale, wobbly mess of his brother. "And you really do need to check your arm. That looks nasty.”

"Yeah Scott,” John wipes a tired hand over his dirty face, dislodging dust, “We're done. Don’t let Thunderbird Two wait for me, I'll hitch a ride with Lady Penelope, uh,” He turns to her, bashful, to check, “If that’s okay?"

“Of course,” Her Ladyship concedes, “Scott?” She is mildly concerned that big brother might want to have the injured member of his flock under his wing so he can smother him.

"Yeah sure, ride whatever you want.” Scott flip flops a dismissive hand at them, “You can ride a pod, I won't care as long as your destination is the hospital."

"How about you, Gordon?” John knows his little brother is still on the line, probably sulking. “Is it okay if I take the ride with Lady P?"

"W-what do you mean by that?” Gordon sounds confused and maybe a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught out. “Scott already said you should go, why’re you asking me?"

"Well, she's your girlfriend.” John grins, teasing, as Penny helps him into the back of FAB1. “Of course I have to get permission from her boyfriend.

"Penny swats at him for that, amused, but careful not to hit his injured arm. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, but it is fun to see Gordon squirm - especially as Scott and Virgil both crack up, and even Alan in space starts teasing him.

"What?!?” Gordon’s face, bless that darling young man, has gone bright red. “J-Just go already." He ducks off the comm screen to try and hide his embarrassment, but it’s far too late for that.

He’s lucky that Penelope finds it incredibly endearing.

"John,” She nudges him, as the Tracy’s all click off the line to go do their actual jobs. She’s a little concerned that he’s looking a bit spaced out, if you’ll excuse the pun, and it’s probably a good idea to keep him talking. “You know we're still going to The Pagasa Observatory, just like I promised you, right?"

"Wait really?” John’s head tilts, a little floppy, towards her from where it had been sinking into FAB1’s luxurious headrests. He’s looking a little grey, but it’s good to see his eyes open. “After all that happened?” A ginger eyebrow quirks, “Are you sure there's time for that?"

"Well, we’re on our way to the hospital now, but there’ll be plenty of time this afternoon.” As long as the medics give him a clean bill of health. “You can change your clothes after we're done checking your arm then there should be time for you to go see that big telescope you've been dreaming of visiting. After all, I did promise you we’d go there after we're done."

"Well, that sounds good to me!” John smiles like there’s a supanova fuling him, “Penny you’re the best."

They reach the hospital a little after International Rescue has dropped off the fourty or so injured people, and so there’s quite a wait for a Doctor to be free so that they can have a look at John’s poor, sliced arm. Penny seems to be doing a worried hover at his side, while he waits, shaky from blood loss, and though he’s not used to having so much company, John has to admit it’s nice to have a chance to catch up with his old friend with no rescue alarms blaring.

Alan reports in that the two worst injured in the landslide have been hospitalized as fast as possible, that they were stable - the doctors have said their prognosis looked good. He also tells him that Lito’s family had been asking after the redheaded lecturer who’d helped him out of the rubble, and that John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons, should probably expect a gift basket in the mail quite soon.

John gets quite flustered about that. He’d just been doing his job.

The spaceman's arm was eventually treated, and Scott calls in to ask what actually happened to his arm. It still hurts, a properly bandaged throb just under his elbow, but not like before. The painkilling injection and little bit of morphine they’d given him when they stitched it up had probably helped with that.

Alan’s reports dug up that the landslide had been caused by a water main leaking under the building, and destabilizing the soil. Over time, water can do a lot of damage, washing away vital infrastructure if it’s not been properly reinforced during construction.

As the Chino Roque Theater was a new build, there must have been a mistake in the installation of the pipes during construction.

Someone was getting a big lawsuit heading their way, and Tracy Enterprises will be more than happy to fund the lawyers for the theatre.

As Lady Penelope promised him, they found John a change of clothes and went to the Pagasa Observatory. Penny’s quite sure she’s never seen anything as wholesome as the moment John sees the telescope - his eyes went all shiny, and the smile on his face was massive.

"Lady Penelope, Parker come take a look at the stars!!!” He calls, over his shoulder, with the enthusiasm of a boy half his age, “They’re really beautiful from here!" With such a high-powered lens pointed up at the cosmos, it rivals even his view from Thunderbird Five.

"Indeed, they are." Lady Penelope and Parker both step up to take turns, but John was the one to look through the telescope the most. With all the stealth her years as a secret agent offered her, Lady Penelope took a picture of him.

"Parker, come take a look." She whispers, beckoning her old companion gleefully over. "He looks so happy and innocent in this picture. Wouldn’t it be lovely to see his face like this always?"

"We still have some time before they close,” Parker points out, a sly grin creeping onto his nosey old face. “How h’bout we leave him like this for a little longer?"

"That, Parker.” she smiles, “Is an excellent idea.”

The End

[utterlyinevitable]

Could you write HC about Ethan's early year(s) after being left by Louise? I guess I want my heart be broken 🥺

Ethan After Louise (1994) 

Ethan Jonah Ramsey was just 11 years old when his mother never came back from the grocery store. 

His father spent the entire evening and most of the next day searching for her, only to be let down. 

Ethan was in 5th grade and astute enough to understand why he needed to stay with the neighbor. He was clever enough to catch the snide looks on the police officers faces when they told Alan he had been dumped. And Ethan knew enough to know he had to take care of his dad.

He’s confused at first. Ofc what kid wouldn’t be confused by one of their parents - his mother - the person that’s meant to love him above all else - just up and leaves without prior warning. 

It’s all so confusing and it hurts like hell. 

His dad has to sit him down and explain what happened. 

Ethan asked questions about why she left, why would she do this, did she say anything, did something happen, why why why 

And Alan could barely get through it all without crying. Not having the answers or closure they both needed was shattering. Looking at his son and realizing how their entire world changed in the last hour was more than he could handle. 

Ethan held his dad as he cried. The younger Ramsey allowed his lashes to moisten but wouldn’t shed a tear. He needed to be strong for his dad now. 

He went to bed that night, head spinning with questions and solutions he noted down in the journal on his desk - a reminder to broach the subject with his dad later on. His head hit the pillow and his sobs wracked his lanky frame. Ethan bit his lips, breaking the skin and mouth filling with iron, trying to stifle the sounds. 

Alan and Ethan leave the porch light on all night for weeks, in hopes that maybe she’ll come home one night. Maybe she just needed some time away to decompress.

And then as the days, weeks, months pass and no word from her he accepts the fault.

There wasn’t a specific day that Ethan Ramsey changed from the doe eyed, inquisitive kid and to the removed and stoic man. There were just events and harboring feelings that were never addressed. 

Ethan would never have admitted to needing a therapist, but looking back he could only imagine what things would have been like if they could have afforded someone to talk to at the time. 

Growing up there were things that reminded him he didn’t have a perfect, happy home. 

He didn’t have a mother to participate in bake sales (Alan did his best when they had the extra means to make some brownies from scratch), or bring him drinks and cheer him on during field day, or make his costumes and fancy clothes for school functions (Alan’s pretty good at sewing). And he really could never have friends over after school because he’d be alone, parentless until 7pm most days. And during science and math and invention fairs his parents were never there cheering him on. 

Ethan had to grow a thick skin quickly. 

Whenever Alan couldn’t make it to one of these events or if his son refused to participate because he didn’t want to be the odd-kid-out, Alan would always set aside some time to do something just them two. Though once Ethan reached 14 he preferred not to do anything at all. Ethan preferred his solitude and studies instead of these key bonding moments. It really put a distance between them. 

He knew his dad tried his best to work two jobs and keep Ethan’s life as normal as possible. But there’s just some things you can’t replace - like a mother. A parent. A piece of you you’ll never know no more because she left. 

Kids at school pitied him for too long. Friends seemed to pull away because they felt weird talking about their moms in front of Ethan. The only ones that seemed to treat him like normal were the ones with divorced parents - the kids who kind of understood. Though Ethan knew they could never truly understand his pain. His parents weren’t divorced. There was no court case or CPS walking through to see who should be granted custody. Nothing. Just the abandonment. 

For a while, Ethan thought her leaving was his fault. He was the one home alone with her. He was the one asking her to take him to the park. He was the one who knocked over her grandma’s vase earlier. 

What did he do to make her leave? 

Ethan threw himself into... himself. Bettering himself. Becoming the most successful version to rub in her face -- he did all this without her. He was better off without her. 

As soon as he was old enough and skilled enough, Ethan would read cookbooks after his homework and plan what he would make for dinner each week. That way dinner was on the table and ready when Alan got home. A nutritious meal and not microwaved.   

After a while he willed himself to move on - used the need to succeed to keep himself from dwelling on the loss. It was the only thing he could think to do to give himself and his father the lives they deserved - the ones they were robbed of.

His mother leaving put a strain on his relationship with Alan. They never had much in common from the get-go. Ethan was too much like his mother. He knew this deep down. And Alan was smart enough to never tell his son that fact - to never bring up all the things about him that remind him of her. 

Their relationship was familial and protective. Alan building Ethan up with unconditional love and support, unguided and letting him carve his own path even if he didn’t wholly agree. And Ethan being the perfect son - strong, smart, and not a hassle. He never wanted to add to his father’s stress. 

Even if Ethan did use his brain for evil and not good sometimes, he was a lovable scoundrel. And one that got away with everything - whether that be because of his looks and potential or pity, he’d never know.  

________________________________________

A/N: this was a lot of word vomit and no editing. if you made it this far, thank you ❤

Masterlist

Perma:

@rookiemarsswiftie @lucy-268 @binny1985 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @adrex04 @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @theeccentricbibliophile @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @whimsicallywayward15 @mvalentine @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @lifeaskim @otherworldlypresents @therookie @withbeautyandrage @angela8754 @fireycookie @stateofgracious @missmiimiie @uneravine @homeformyheart @choicesaddict5 @iemcpbchoices @red-rookie @anntoldst0ries @sophxwithers @randomperson111

Ethan:

@udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @hutchereverlark23 @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @stygianflood @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @openheartthot @senseofduties @lilyvalentine @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart @casey-v @ramseyandrys @ethanramseylover @ramseyreader  @a-crepusculo @aarisa-frost @shanzay44

[enbies-and-felonies]

Here Comes the Sun (And I Say, it’s Alright)

The second part in the “Finding Home” series!! (pt one)

AO3 LINK

taglist, just ask to be added or removed: @barrel-of-cat-mituna @completekeefitztrash @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @lemontarto @hershis-kotlc @genesiscaveat @everything-else-and-mars @juline-dizznee @chaotic-basics @an-absolute-travesty @classyfunnyquotesmuffin7 @iamstealingyourgenderaswespeak @itstiger720 @introvertedscarecrow @sunset-telepath @an-idiot-in-a-trenchcoat @cowboypossume @anaccidentwaitingtohappen @sofia-not-sophie @fire-sapphics @dr-alan-grant @real-smooth @juline-dizznee

Warnings: some swearing

Summary: Keefe meets Sammy’s moms (they love him).

Keefe looked down at the small boy who walked beside him, gently swinging his hand back and forth and humming. Sammy was a cute boy with wavy, slightly wispy, light brown hair that reached below his ears and hung in his eyes, causing him to pause every so often in order to brush it away before returning to whatever he had been doing before. He had freckles covering his face and spreading lightly over his neck, and he was missing one of his front teeth. Keefe smiled; Sammy also had the tendency to walk with little hops, or to skip and gallop. It was kind of endearing.

"Mr. Keefe?" The young boy abruptly stopped and peered up at Keefe, swiping at his hair with a thoughtful expression that seemed the wrong fit for his round face. Keefe was struck all at once by the vividness of green in his eyes.

"Yeah kiddo?" How did people normally refer to kids??

"You don't need to worry. My moms- my moms are nice and- and- and you know I'm pretty sure they will love you. I love you Mr. Keefe, and my moms will love you. You fixed my knee!" Apparent mission accomplished, Sammy turned away and started off, humming again under his breath.

Keefe's throat got thick, but he just smiled and nodded, too overcome by the pure emotions rolling off of Sammy to answer. How could one person hold so much hope and joy?? How could this kid, after knowing him for barely seven minutes, already feel such overwhelming love and fondness for him?

It knocked the air out of his chest.

"Alright, sure Sammy." His voice was tight with emotion, but he smiled anyways. The kid was alright.

"Hello, my name's Keefe." He flashed his most charming smile and tried to ignore the thumping of his heart. it's FINE, he just looks like he kidnapped their kid. Again, FINE-

"Hello Keefe! I see you've met Sammy; Thanks for finding us." The taller of the two women in front of him gave a teasing smile at Sammy, "Mischief maker." He giggled up at her and she scrunched her nose back.

She had light brown skin and her curly umber hair, which was the length of her chin, was pulled half-up into a ponytail. Her eyes were smiling when she turned them back to Keefe, and although his heart was stilling going faster than a rabbit's, he smiled cheekily back.

"I'm Maren Sauveterre, but if you even think of calling me Mrs. I'll set Sammy on you, y'hear?" Her stern words were offset by the crows-feet at the corners of her eyes and the lilting laugh that escaped. "Anyway, this is my wife, Aden."

Keefe glanced over at the muscular red-haired woman beside Maren. Despite being shorter than Maren, which actually wasn't saying much since Maren seemed to tower over everything, Aden was an imposing figure and Keefe had to remind himself to steady his breathing. At least Maren didn't seem to have a problem with his accidental kidnapping of their kid, and if worst came to worst she would probably stop her wife from beating him up.

Aden raised an eyebrow and grinned, putting her hand out for him to shake. He could do that, shaking hands was normal, it was a normal thing and he wasn't an elf and if he didn't impress her she wasn't going to kill him-

Taking her hand with what might be a tighter grip than necessary -hadn't he always been told a firm handshake was a good first impression?- Keefe gave a quick nod. Her feelings were a strong barrage of confidence, amusement, affection at Maren and Sammy.

"Good grip, son." And then Aden was smiling and turning to Maren; "You'll have to be careful with this one, Love, he's got spirit."

Keefe felt slightly relieved when he looked her over again and realized she was someone who would likely return his banter, and let an easy smirk pull at his lips.

"Yes ma'am." He responded with a small wink, and Aden burst into laughter.

He was about to say something again when Sammy tugged at the corner of her shirt and whispered up at her "Mom, mom I gotta tell you something." 

Aden quickly knelt down and tipped her head so Sammy could whisper into it, "What's up button?"

Meanwhile Maren seemed to be studying Keefe, whose heart had begun racing again. What had happened to the numbness from before?

"When was the last time you ate, or had a place to shower?" Her eyes were calculating, but not unkind, and Keefe felt his cheeks flush. He must smell worse than those selkie skins he'd once had to clean Fintan's capes with.

"I think I ate dinner last night, and the last time I showered... was longer than I care to remember." He was lying, and his heart skipped three beats. He'd had a small lunch... three days ago. Oh. That wasn't good.

"Well," Aden straightened up and crossed her arms (if Keefe hadn't already pegged her as a kindred sarcastic soul, his anxiety would have spiked again), "Sammy says you healed his knee, so I guess you're coming to our place for dinner."

"I-" What. What the fuck was the protocol for that??? Keefe did NOT have the emotional stability for- "Sure." The smirk convinced them, even if it didn't reassure him at all.

On the way to their house, Keefe learned a few things. First, that Maren might be tall as hell, and Aden muscular and *intimidating* in a way that almost made Keefe second guess his initial 'smart-ass who enjoys banter' assumption about her, but they were both kind and welcoming in a way that burned his throat.

Aden swung Sammy up onto her shoulders and called Maren 'Love' and teased them both with a fond smile just hiding on her lips, and Maren rolled her eyes and tried to tickle her side before breaking out into her bell-like laughter. Maren wore a strawberry shirt and light jean overalls that reached her mid-thighs. On her ears were strawberry earrings, and Keefe got the feeling that that was kind of her vibe. He liked it. 

Aden had her flaming red hair in a set of ornate braids twisted up to lay against the nape of her neck, side bangs hanging on either side of her face. Her outfit was a simple pair of black jean shorts, a grey tank-top, and a deep red flannel (that's what he remembered Sophie calling it at least, and he didn't dwell on it because the thought kind of stung) tied around her waist. Keefe approved of both their outfits; must be the gay.

(Another sentence Sophie had said. He really needed to stop thinking about his friends.)

It was... nice, to walk with them and not feel like there were these expectations that he had to live up to. Aden and Maren clearly adored each other, and Sammy, and they never for a moment made him feel like he was "other". Sammy rambled about bees -something about them not having lungs- and Aden complimented his knowledge while Maren smiled at the both of them, glancing at Keefe as if to say "See them? They're the loves of my life."

And Keefe could. He could see the way they fit together, the way they belonged, each, together. They fit together like families rarely did, in Keefe's opinion, and it made him ache. He had that with his friends, and now-

Now it was better not to think about it.

"C'mon Mister Keefe!!"

Keefe looked up ahead at where Sammy pulled at his Mom's hand, now back on solid ground, and smiled. Soft this time, no smirk to mask feelings he couldn't show. Sammy was already beginning to grow on him, and if Keefe wasn't careful he would let it happen. Let himself grow close to someone just to have them pulled away again, or worse, until he pushed them away, like he did everyone else.

But looking at the Sauveterre's, they way they loved their son, each other, the way they loved life-

Well, maybe this was the dawning of a new chapter in Keefe's life.

And maybe, just maybe, he would let it happen.

[nakedmossy]

Depth Over Distance - Part Three [Rudy x Reader]

[A/N: I haven’t found a hometown Rudy fic yet soooo I wrote one. I have no idea where this story is going to go and I’m honestly finding it hard to get out of writing JJ and get into writing Rudy, but here we go anyways. I wanted to write something where the reader and Rudy were hometown friends before he moved to LA, and to explore the idea of how that would change/what it would look like when he comes back. Get ready for a S L O W. B U R N. my dudes. Peace and love, Mossy x]

There were very few people in the world that could make you smile at 7 in the morning when it was raining outside, but Rudy was one of them.

You forced yourself awake as your car wound around the dirt roads, swerving pot holes and washboards, the rain starting to patter lightly on your windshield again. You followed Rudy’s tail lights away from the beach parking lot, your hula girl bobbling on the dash board, and you smiled as you were instantly transported into a flashback of the first time you had followed him down this road. 

————

It was the day you bought your car, the week of your sixteenth birthday, and Rudy had asked you to meet him out at the beach alone in the afternoon before your party later that night. You had driven your car to the parking lot where his old beaten down and barely drivable Chevy was parked and pulled in beside him. He applauded graciously as you got out of the drivers seat and you took a deep bow, laughing.

“Look at this absolute TANK!” He said, taking his sunglasses off and walking around the car, inspecting it. It must have passed his inspection because he got up off the ground after looking under the wheel wells and wiping the dirt off his knees, beaming. “Its perfect”

“Isn’t it?” You gushed, unable to contain the smile plastered on your face. “I can’t believe its mine. It feels so weird.”

“Come on” Rudy bumped your arm with his and grabbed his pack out of the box of his truck. You followed him down the trail, jogging lightly to keep up with his long, comfortable stride. When you got to the beach, he laid a blanket out and patted for you to sit down beside him, you had been telling him about how the car drove and all its quirks you had noticed and how sticky the gear shift was, and didn’t notice when he pulled two beers out of his pack.

“Oh” You said quietly, stopping talking and staring at him. “Rudy, I can’t. I have to drive to my party after this.” 

Rudy smiled at you and chucked the beer underhand at you so you had to catch it. Your eyes wide, you looked around, checking to make sure nobody was watching.

“Relax, Y/N. I will drive in front of you...if anything happens ill get stopped first.” He winked at you, knowing that one beer wouldn’t get either of you in trouble but knowing how conscious you were, and cracked his can. You apprehensively cracked your own, some of the spray from it being shaken up landing on your bare legs. You clinked cans and smiled at each other. Rudy looked at you intently and dipped his head towards you.

“To you. My wonderful best friend. I hope you have the best night ever. Happy Birthday. Congrats on the car. Can’t wait to christen it-”

“RUDY!” You smacked his arm and laughed until your face was beat red. “Cheers”

He echoed you and you both lifted your cans, drinking a few gulps. It was hoppy and made your throat burn, you squinted and shook your head.

“-AND, and,” He tipped his can towards you. “I have a present for you.”

“No.” You looked at him, feigning anger. “You know the rules. We don’t do presents...”

He ignored you and smiled cheekily, lifting a box out of his pack. Unwrapped and the cardboard torn, you snorted as he passed it to you. You hoped he mistook your blushing for the beer making you flush. As you opened the box, you could feel your legs tingling and your chest pumping quicker. Rudy had never given you a gift before - you had agreed as kids that you weren’t going to be those friends. This felt weird and intimate. First you saw the black hair and the green skirt, then the lai and the bikini top. You looked up at him and raised your eyebrows before you started laughing.

“Oh really, Rudy. Really, you shouldn’t have. Thank you.” You mocked sincerity, putting a hand on your chest. “So thoughtful...I just...”

“Alright shut up” He laughed, tearing the box up and stuffing it back in his pack. 

You smiled genuinely at him, and held the dashboard hula girl gently in your hands. 

“Thank you” You said without laughing now, making Rudy wiggle his nose and shift his position on the blanket, scratching his hand through his hair nervously.

“Well. You know...no beater is complete without one.” He said with mock seriousness.

“Hey! She’s not a beater. She’s...just...very well loved.” You emphasized the last words, hoping to convey how loved you felt at that moment.

You smiled at each other now, then the smiles faded and you held each others gazes silently. You couldn’t tell if it was the beer or the sunset or Rudy’s cologne or the proximity of how close you sat on the blanket, but the air shifted between you and you felt your head loosen on your shoulders. It was as if Rudy was leaning towards you, but you felt wobbly so you couldn’t be sure. All you knew was that he was staring at you, your eyes, your lips, and your chest was pounding and you felt light headed. 

You swallowed and broke eye contact, looking at the water. 

“We should probably get going. Can’t be late to our own party.” You smiled at him, his eyes still lingered on your mouth then hazily looked back up at your eyes and returned the smile. 

“Yeah” He agreed, then stood quickly, offering you his hand to help you up. 

You white knuckled the steering wheel the entire drive from the beach to your house, the hula girl on the dash wiggling in between Rudy’s tail lights.

————

You blinked and looked at the road again, Rudy’s rental car tail lights disappearing around the corner onto his street. You looked at the hula girl and stretched your hands out on the steering wheel, your palms sweaty.

You pulled into his driveway behind his car as he emerged from the drivers seat, taking his sunglasses off and hanging them off the neck of his shirt. You shoved the gear stick into park and reefed on the e-brake (you couldn’t trust the brakes on flat land let alone a slight hill) as Rudy walked towards your car, waiting near the hood. He placed his hand on it and smiled, you watched as you took off your seatbelt and opened your door.

“What, did you miss her?” You asked sarcastically as he feigned shock and lifted his hand to his chest.

“Of course I did” He bumped your elbows together when you stepped in beside him and you both started towards his front door.

His house hadn’t changed a lick since you were there last - you stopped visiting a few months after Rudy left, even though his mom invited you over every single time she saw you. The gutters were still rusting and the front door looked like you could kick it in if you tried hard enough. You spent more time at this house than you did at your own in high school, and walking up to it was like muscle memory, you knew to sidestep the root in front of the first step, to skip to the third step because the second was rotten and your foot would go through it.

Rudy’s mom was already coming down the hall towards the front door, making all sorts of noises and probably crying, and you could hear the family dogs scuttling on the hardwood around her feet. 

“Good lord, my boy.” His mom stopped in the frame between the main door and the screen door, then she broke into hysterics, throwing the screen open and pulling him into a huge, very Rudy bear hug. He came by them honestly. He looked at you like he needed help before she turned her attention to you and did the same thing.

“Hi Mrs Pan-Hi, yep hello-“ She squeezed you so hard you felt your back crack. 

“Mom - you literally see her once a week, chill.”

Rudy was laughing but also courteously trying to pry his mother back inside the house. It was true - she did see you every week when she came into the bookstore to pick up her newspapers and magazine subscriptions, but it didn’t matter. She was like a second mother to you and always made you feel like it was the most exciting day in the world when you came to visit.

When you finally made it into the kitchen, you and Rudy sat down at the barstools as his mom flew back into whatever she was making, both of you knowing better than to get in her way when she was cooking. She started talking to Rudy about how the trip had been and how much of a ‘weiner that Alan was, messing up your schedule like that’. Rudy placed his phone on the counter and the screen lit up briefly - showing over 20 missed calls from someone who’s name started with an A. The screen went dark before you could read it. Wow - he really was famous. Or had a stalker.

You watched Rudy and his mom convalescing over their separation (his parents flew to LA to see him at Christmas every year since he had left, but still) and felt yourself relax into your seat, smiling. Watching her rolling dough and washing fresh berries, smelling the spices and being in the same seats you had spent numerous summer mornings in in high school, you actually felt somewhat hungry.

Rudy’s mom passed you a cup of fresh coffee and you nodded a thank you at her as you began to sip it, listening to their conversation shift from how the trip was to how his acting classes were going to how Anna was doing. Anna? The name jogged your brain and you realized that was who the missed calls had been from. Rudy’s face dropped and his eyes flitted to your briefly, you lowered your cup from your mouth and held his gaze, then he regained composure and smiled at you before looking back to his mom. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah no she’s good. Actually I was gonna talk to you about that later.” His eyebrows rose and he smiled shortly at her, to which she made a confused expression and continued.

“But I thought-”

“Mom. Later.” He said finally, cutting her off. She nodded once and returned to her dough, continuing to talk to him about some of the things they had lined up while he was home. You barely heard a word she said, your gut was screaming at you that something was off about the way Rudy had reacted to her bringing up this Anna person and how odd it was he had so many missed calls from her. His body had gone completely rigid, and he had completely dodged the conversation, like he was keeping her a secret. You and Rudy had never kept secrets. Besides, if he had told his mom about a girl, it was serious. He hadn’t even told her about his high school girlfriend and they had dated for over 4 months. Why was he being shady now?

Then it hit you, and you felt like an ignorant little girl. It had been 4 years since he was home, he lived in LA and was a professional actor. He led an entirely different life that you knew nothing about now. It had been so easy, so comforting, to slip back into your old routine with him, being in his family home, visiting with his mom. But it wasn’t the same as it had been before, you were both different people now. Of course he had been with girls, was probably with girls right now, apparently her name was Anna, and who were you to him? His high school best friend? He didn’t owe you an explanation. But it did feel like a mistake coming here, expecting everything to just... be as it was. You felt silly.

As his mom brought plates of food to the table and motioned for you to sit with her, you grabbed your phone out of your pocket and checked the time. It was just after 8am. 

“Actually, Mrs Pankow, I would love to stay but I’m actually not super hungry and I have to help my dad get ready for this trip he has coming up this weekend...it was really nice to see you though.” You rushed your words and scurried towards her, forcing her into a hug and then separating and moving towards the door, walking backwards as you talked.

“Wait, but honey I made you a plate.” She stood, confused, looking at you while holding the tongs.

“I know I’m so sorry, I just didn’t realize the time. I’ll see you soon, though. Promise. Bye Rudy”

As you spoke you spoke only to her, avoiding Rudy’s eyes which were watching you intently as he rose from his seat. You put your back against the screen and apologized again before pushing through it and jogging back down the stairs, tripping on the root at the bottom and walking quickly towards your car. You heard the screen door slam as Rudy called your name from behind you.

“Hey, Y/N, woah woah woah.” He was behind you before you reached your car, his hand wrapped around your arm. “Where are you going?” He spun you to face him, his face full of concern. 

You smiled, tight-lipped, and nodded to your car.

“I lost track of time. I have to go.” You said curtly, waiting for him to let your arm go. 

“Look if its about the food...I mean, you don’t have to...” He looked down at your arm, that was so devoid of fat and muscle anymore that his hand could wrap fully around it, and frowned.

You let out a breath and looked around, pinching the bridge of your nose before speaking.

“Its not that, Rudy. I just...I need to go. I’m sorry.”  You backed away, tugging your arm free as you walked towards your car again, your face hot and feeling embarrassed. Of course he would think it was about you not wanting to eat. 

“Y/N wait” He said hurriedly, jogging to catch up to you and pressing your door closed as you began to open it. You looked up at him now, his eyes were intensely focused on you.

“What’s going on?” He was scanning your face, desperate. You felt yourself crumbling being this close to him and feeling him watching you so intensely. His expression faltered and his features relaxed. “Please talk to me” he said quietly.

You took a step back, away from your door, and let out a breath, swatting a mosquito away.

“I don’t know Rudy, I just....a lot has changed since you left. A lot. And I can’t just waltz around and pretend like we’re still in high school and nothing is different. We’re different...and...I mean if there are some parts of your life that you don’t want to share with me then that’s fine, but-“

“Hold on, what are you talking about?” His brow furrowed and he narrowed his eyes, taking a step towards you.

You raised your eyebrows at him and looked around, putting your hands in your pockets.

“You don’t have to...hide...stuff. From me. Of all people.” You said slowly, urging him to pick up on it so you wouldn’t have to say it. He looked stunned. “Anna?” You finally relented, taking half a step back.

His shoulders relaxed and a small smile crept onto his face, then a small laugh. 

“My agent?” He said in a half mocking tone. “Anna is my agent.”

“Oh. Oh...that’s...weird” You felt the gears in your head turning slowly, trying to think if you had ever heard her name before or maybe it was normal to fool around and date your agents in LA? “You’re seeing your agent?” You said sceptically, trying not to look too judgemental.

He let out a full belly laugh then. 

“No I’m not dating my agent, you loser. I just didn’t want to...talk about work yet. Its all my mom ever wants to talk about and I’m kinda trying to...have a few hours to relax first.” He said quietly, his eyebrows raised as he watched you, ready to laugh again at any moment.

You rolled your eyes and looked at your feet, nodding and pursing your lips.

“Yeah alright laugh it up. I don't know...you just seemed really on the spot when your mom brought her up. It was weird.”

He looked around and put his arms up, resting his hands on his head before his eyes settled back on you. He licked his lips and took a step towards you, dropping his hands to his sides.

“Look. There are some things about work I haven’t shared with my mom yet, and probably never will. And what I said on the beach this morning...about needing to come home for awhile. I meant that. Its...complicated. And trust me, please trust me when I say that I want to share that with you but....” His eyes were heavy on you then, he set his jaw and stepped towards you. “Y/N, please don’t go yet. I just got here.” He said firmly, his eyes locked on you.

You nodded once, scratching your forehead, and throwing your hands up dramatically.

“Fine. Alright.”

Rudy chewed his cheek and smiled, taking a deep breath and releasing it as his dad appeared on the porch behind him, the screen door squeaking.

“Hey! Kids! My breakfast is getting cold over here!” He shouted, smiling as Rudy turned around to wave at him. Rudy looked back at you once to make sure you were still coming, to which you nodded reassuringly, before he took off and hiked up the steps to greet his dad with a hug.

____________________________________________

Tag List: @bluebirdsbluebells​, @sunshinemadds​, @lovelymaybankk​, @poguestyleskye​, @alexa-playafricabytoto​, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​, @k-k0129​, @kimyeon-tae​, 

[bonsaiiiiiii]

Fic where Jeff invites a mysterious woman on the island? There you go.

🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

Jeff had just come home. He managed to hug his children again without the fear of them disappearing into his arms striking, like in his recent dreams. He was getting used to his mother offering him a taste of her kitchen as soon as she could, although he knew perfectly well that that was just a way for her to reconnect with him. He was getting used again to the rays of the sun, to the wind that struck his face, to the clouds in the sky, to the noise of the ocean. He was getting used to the smell of his house, a scent he was sure he couldn’t feel anymore in his life. He was getting used to Tiger, that loving cat that was always running around and stumbling on his feet. He was getting used to being able to enjoy a decent meal, to drink fresh water or even a simple fruit juice, enjoying the flavor he had not felt for so long now. He was getting used to dressing in clothes that were currently comfortable, abandoning for a long time the suit he had worn for 8 endless years, he was getting used to the bed that seemed a cloud made especially for him to sleep on.

Even though he was getting used to it all, he still felt something was missing. Something he hadn’t seen, and felt for a long time, even before he disappeared. Now Jeff was sitting at his iconic desk, something he’d missed a lot, admittedly, and was thinking about what he might possibly miss. Her mother appeared from the kitchen with a cake that currently looked good in her hand.

"What is that great mind of yours thinking about, son?"

How much he missed his mother. He couldn’t even imagine how much he missed her. "Nothing, Mom." He was happy to say it, to be able to talk to his mom again. "I was just thinking about someone I haven’t seen in a long time.. and I wondered how he was."

"I understand...and do I know him?" Sally said, putting the cake on the desk, right under Jeff’s eyes.

He smiled, looking at the wonderful chocolate tart that his mother had just brought him. "I think so, Mom. I just want to ask if I can call her here on the island."

"Call her?" She raised a confused eyebrow.

"I mean, the person. I would call her here if possible."

"Oh well...of course you can. This is your...territory, after all. Anyway, do you want to try the cake I made you? I tried to do it the best I could; tell me if it lacks sugar, or it’s too dry, or maybe if-"

He interrupted her, laughing. "I’ll let you know, don’t worry." he said, taking a slice that she had cut him a little while ago and biting a piece of it.

"Uhm..." he considered the words precisely as he chewed. "... it’s good, but maybe you put too much cinnamon."

"Oh my gosh! I’ll make you another one!" she said, trying to get the cake back, but Jeff stopped her, reassuring her with a big smile.

"I like it the way it is."

That’s when Alan came down from his room, yawning slightly. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw the steaming tart on his father’s desk.

"Cake!" he exclaimed cheerfully, trotting to the desk.

He was about to take a piece, but Sally stopped him immediately. "No, this cake is for your father!"

"Ugh! But he shares..."

"Of course I share, son. Help yourself." Jeff was getting used to these family squabbles, too, and found them the most beautiful thing about his return to Earth.

Alan smiled softly, immediately taking a slice of the cake, probably ignoring the look of his grandmother. He gave a small moan of pleasure right after tasting the tart. "It’s very good! You know, Dad, Grandma’s cooking got a lot better now that you’re here!"

"You mean it wasn’t good what I used to do before??" Sally pretended to be offended, even though all three in that room knew perfectly well that Alan was right. Maybe it was the fact that her son has just returned and that the family is now a little more full, but now Grandma Tracy was cooking much better than before. It was as if to reunite with his son had her rejuvenated much, also improving her culinary skills.

Alan widened his eyes, almost terrified. "...I have to do my homework bye." Once that was said, he ran out of the living room, ignoring the unflattering calls of his grandmother, who presently followed him upstairs.

Jeff chuckled to himself, finishing the slice of pie he had started, and then brought a hand to his chin thoughtfully. He forgot what he wanted to do...oh yeah, he had to call her. Knowing that the person in question would not be available via the communicator, he took out the cell phone that was kept on Tracy Island only for emergencies, also pulling out the old paper contact book with all the different numbers of various acquaintances. He quickly went through the phone book, and then found the number he was looking for, hoping with all his heart that the person had not changed his phone number in all these years. He dialed the number on his cell phone, and then stopped shortly before his finger touched the green phone to make the call.

What if it was all just stupid? She was a person he hadn’t seen for too long now, and inviting her to the island would be an impossible mission. She had certainly changed very recently, but he absolutely wanted to see her. He breathed a deep sigh, starting the call before changing his mind, then taking the phone to his ear and waiting. This started ringing, so this could only mean that she had the same number after all these years.

One ring, and Jeff looked at the ceiling biting his lip.

Two rings, and Jeff looked down again.

Three rings, and he involuntarily began to play with the edge of his white shirt.

Four rings, and he took a deep breath.

There was also the fifth ring, four more before it reached voicemail. Jeff was about to pull the phone out of his ear to close the call when suddenly the ringing stopped, a sign that someone had actually answered the call. But even before Jeff had a chance to say something, she was the one who talked.

"I was just waiting for your call. It took you long enough!"

"Sorry. But you know what it’s like, business. I should talk to you."

"Good. Tell me, what can I do for you?"

"Can you come to the island? Do you want to come back to see me after so much time?"

There was a silence, almost unnerving for Jeff, on the other side of the phone, but finally she talked once again.

"Yes. When?"

"Tomorrow? I’ll send someone to take you to the island."

"Then until tomorrow." The other person hung up without saying anything else.

Jeff sighed deeply, putting his hand through the thick gray hair. Now all that remained was to wait.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

'Tomorrow' was finally here, and Jeff was so excited. He had not been able to sleep all night, and yet at the same time he would never have thought to try a similar feeling. He had cordially asked Lady Penelope to meet with this person and bring her to the island, of course after providing all the necessary details. The Lady immediately nodded, and now had just sent an update, warning that she and the secret guest were arriving in about 10 minutes.

Jeff had sighed again, vaguely answering questions from his sons and trying to ignore the curious looks of his mother and Kayo. He waited a whole night to see her again, 10 minutes won’t be long.

"There she is. Lady Penelope is here." Scott broke the silence in the living room, and Jeff found himself currently surprised by the time it had passed so quickly. He made a deep sigh, and then watched intent the entrance from which Lady Penelope and she would enter.

As usual, her scent made itself felt even before she entered the room, but this was what he liked most about her. Even Sally noticed it immediately, because she immediately frowned her eyebrows, confused. "Wait...I recognize this perfume. Don’t tell me she..."

"Jeffss!" A vibrant female voice, which was not that of Lady P, interrupted Sally’s speech attempt, and in a few moments a woman who should not be older than 30 appeared on the doorstep like a ghost. She had a straw hat on her head that covered half her face, and dark blue sunglasses that covered her eyes.

Jeff smiled, and the woman imitated him. Then he spread his arms, and she walked swiftly towards him, embracing him almost immediately.

"Ahh, I’ve missed you all these years! You look like an old man, let me tell you." she pointed out, looking him in the face.

When the mystery woman broke out of the embrace, all eyes were on her. Before she could say a word though, Sally practically pounced on her, enveloping her in a warm embrace. "First my son comes home, then you show up again...I’m so happy..."

"It’s good to see you too." When Grandma Tracy also walked away from the mysterious woman, only the confused looks of the 5 brothers remained.

"Dad, Grandma...who is this woman?" asked Scott without taking his eyes off the mystery woman.

"Now, now, let me introduce myself." Instead, the woman answered him, and then took off her hat and glasses, revealing long black hair and smooth large green eyes, big like those of a fawn. "I am your grandmother’s daughter, who is my mother, and the sister of the mythical Lord Jeff."

"Lord Jeff? That’s new to me." Jeff interrupted laughing.

"Lord Jeff my Savior?" she asked laughing back at him.

"No. Lord Jeff my knight." Sally continued red in the face, holding back an attempt to laugh.

"Is Old Jeff okay? Yeah."

"No." Jeff expressed his disagreement by placing his arms around his chest.

"Yeah. Anyway, my name is Alexis, and I’m the youngest of the two. Actually, I’m the last born, am I?" Jeff nodded his head. "So I would be the smallest of the brothers. Are they your children?"

"... now I remember you. Are you that girl who always used to babysit me? That one that would take me to pubs of all sorts when mom and dad weren't home?" Scott asked thoughtfully.

"What?" Jeff asked whispering, launching deathly glares directly at Alexis, that looked away embarrassed. Scott, that had just realized what he had said, just laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uhm...then you still remember me! Even Parker immediately remembered me, apparently." Alexis said after a moment of awkwardness.

"Yes, h'you were the most disobedient' student h'in my driving class." Parker interfered in the conversation with his usual strong accent.

"Yeah, but now I can drive, and thanks to who I can do it?" Alexis replied by running to embrace the chaffeur, rather than embracing him she had trapped him in a hermetic socket from which Parker was trying to free himself.

"Let me go, Miss. Alexis."

"No. You’re my favorite and it’s my obligation to hug you."

"The squeeze-hug gene has always run in your family. And that’s fine." Parker sighed, returning the hug.

"You know, Lex, I didn’t recognize you at first, I have to admit." Lady Penelope approached Alexis smiling.

"Neither did I, you know? I saw you a couple of times when you were little, but then we lost touch."

"About this...where have you been all these years, Lioness?" Jeff asked looking at her.

"So...now I run an art gallery in Florida, and I couldn’t be happier."

"An art gallery? Really? And I bet your house is near the ocean."

"You couldn’t have been more precise, J! Both the house and the art gallery are located near a very nice beach, which of course is private only for me. You know how long it took me to get it?"

"I believe it. Sometimes I’ll come and see you...I figured you’d be near the beach because you’ve always been a pretty sensitive person, and the loud noises in the city don’t make you very happy. Anyway, I’ll introduce you to my kids! Come." answered Jeff, laying a hand gently on Alexis’s back, pushing her slowly toward the couch. "He’s Scott, but I think you already remember him." Jeff started by pointing to his eldest son, who smiled.

"Yes, I remember him and Virgil well."

"Yeah...now I remember you too! You always used to take me to art galleries when I was little!" Virgil said, his eyes almost sparkling.

"Oh, look at you! Aren't you the sweetest? You kept the same look you had when you were little! Come here, pal!" Lexi answered, squeezing Virgil too in a tight hug. She made a sign for Scott to join the big hug, and he nodded immediately, hugging her tightly too. Then they detached from the hug, but Alexis was standing between the two, encircling her arms on the shoulders of each brother, while the two eldest did the same.

"Then he is John, my third son. Then he follows Gordon, and finally Alan, who is the smallest of my children."

Alexis remained silent for some time, thinking of something. Then her gaze became worried, and she sighed a great sigh before speaking.

"Big brother...what have I missed all these years...?"

"Do you still remember her?" Sally wondered, as Jeff looked down on the sad ground.

"What happened to her?"

"She didn’t..." Jeff whispered closing his eyes, placing his hand on his chest and making a deep sigh. At the same time, Jeff’s five children were looking confused at the situation, having no idea who this 'other mysterious woman' was; but just 3 of them looked back and forth slowly between their father and their aunt, estranged. Scott and Virgil knew, though, who was the woman they were talking about, and their bodies immediately stiffened. Alexis noticed that.

Sally sighed slightly, touching her son’s shoulder. Alexis looked down at the floor. "Sorry...I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories."

Jeff slowly shook his head with a fake smile on his face, waving his hand as if to dissolve that speech. He didn’t like to talk about his wife, now that she wasn't with them anymore, and his kids didn’t seem to have any idea who they were really talking about.

"Anyway, what about you? You disappeared for quite a while." she continued, trying to enlighten the mood.

"I like to create intriguing situations." said Jeff pretending to be heroic. "Well...I’ve been more or less confined to outer space for eight years, alone and without communication to Earth."

"Oh wow, that’s a lot! But at least look on the bright side."

"Oh, why, is there one?"

"You took a nice vacation from this crappy world."

Jeff stopped to carefully consider that idea. "... taking the situation from this point of view, I had never thought about it..."

"See? If I’m not there, you never think about positive situations!"

"That’s your gift, love. You’ve always had the ability to look the best in each person." Sally smiled, and then carried a hand over her chest.

Alexis remained silent for a moment, and then rubbed her hands between them, while Scott and Virgil crossed their arms on their chest, visibly calmer now. "So, where’s my welcome cake?"

"Ah, you still know me so well, I see."

"No...I smell burning, Mom."

"What...oh shit, the cake!" Sally swore softly, and Alexis found herself laughing deeply, her laughter sweet but crystalline at the same time.

Even the five brothers laughed cheerfully, and when Jeff also stopped doing so he looked around with a big smile on his face. Now everything was complete, even if only for a couple of weeks, considering his sister’s business.

I missed all this.

(If you're interested I'm gonna explain Alexis' age and the two bros' age gap, or at least how I imagine it lol. I think I'll reblog this post and explain accurately eheh.)

[scribbles97]

Left Behind -- Chapter 12

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13

Read On Ao3

More tissues may also be needed for this chapter... but there may also be some laughing too! 

@gumnut-logic I really really do owe you in a big way for all your help with this novel of a fic, I see virgil fic in my future as a thank you :D

Lucy pulled the duvet further over her head as the door to the bedroom creaked open. Her head ached and eyes begged for sleep, her mouth was dry and feet ached. It had been a long, alcohol fueled night but it had been worth it. 

 “Shove over,” Val uttered as the duvet was pulled back, “Pick a side.”

 She groaned in protest, blindly rolling over to her side of the bed as Val wriggled under the covers next to her. 

 “Never again,” She whispered, throat rasping, “I swear it.”

 Val snorted, sounding far too bright for whatever time it was. 

 “You said that every time we’ve gone out since college, and yet here we are.”

 Sighing, Lucy pushed the duvet back, reaching to the bedside table for her water as she ran a hand through her hair that had long since fallen out of its delicate updo. The light was still dim around the edge of the curtains. 

 “I have a question,” Val started, leaning back against the headboard with a steaming mug of what looked like tea in her hands, “Since when were you and Hugh a thing?”

Lucy turned to face her fully, frowning at the suggestion. Sure, she had spent some time with the man that night but it wasn’t anything to make anything of… unless she was forgetting something. 

 “We’re not-- what makes you say that?”

 Val sipped her tea, eyes not leaving Lucy as she shook her head. Fear clenched at her heart, yes, she got on with Hugh, yes, they had sat and had a laugh and joke the previous night. She was grieving though, missing her husbands company in a way that she couldn’t quite coherently explain. Surely, even drunk, she would remember if something had happened between them. 

 “I’m just saying the pair of you looked awfully cosy when I came and dragged you away to dance. You’d certainly got Scott and Virgil’s attention.”

 “Shit,” She winced, rubbing her face with her hands as she fell back to her pillow, “No, Val, I didn’t… we weren’t… I swear, he’s a friend is all. I’m not looking for anything like that right now.”

 Val shrugged, “All I’m saying is you looked pretty close last night.”

 Guilt twisted in her chest. That hadn’t been the intention at all. It was just, Hugh had been there, lost his wife to her work and left him grieving with a daughter to care for. He had offered a shoulder and she had taken it without thinking anything more of it. He had made her smile when the world seemed to have forgotten to stop raining. He had been one of the best friends she could have asked for in the last few weeks and that was all she had thought it was. 

 A sob broke out of her throat without permission.

 “Aww Luce,” Val sighed, shifting next to her before there was a clink of her mug on the bedside table, “It’s okay, I believe you were just being friends. I just wasn’t sure how the boys were going to see it.”

 She nodded, clutching onto the arm that wrapped around her as she sniffed, “I want Jeff back, Val. I don’t want anyone else. I want him and his company and his conversation but it’s not… I’m n-- he’s gone.”

 Val rocked her gently, murmuring nothings into her hair softly, “I know Luce, it hurts. It’ll get better though. Not every day will be a good day, but not every day will be bad either. You’ve just got to remember that Jeff would want you happy. He only ever wanted to see you happy.”

 Reaching up to wipe her eyes, Lucy shook her head, “What do I tell the boys though? They’ll be upset and--”

 Val kissed the side of her hair, “You tell them the truth, that you were drunk and Hugh was being a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that at the end of the day.”

 “Mommy?”

 She was quick to wipe her eyes at the voice of her youngest, forcing a smile as he clambered up onto the bed and into her lap. Val moved back, giving her space to hug him close and kiss the top of his soft downy hair. 

 “What’s wrong?”

 She shook her head, “Just tired after last night kid.” 

 Pulling back from him she ran her fingers through his hair, smiling at his wide blue eyes. So like his father in his intelligence and aspirations. So full of love for those around him and a typical stubbornness that, yes, he would manage to keep up with them despite his younger age. 

 “Did you have fun?” Val asked, tilting her head with a smile. 

 Alan was quick to nod, “I can’t wait until it’s my turn to pass out. Do I have to wait until I’m Scott’s age though Mom? He’s old.”

 Lucy had to snort, shaking her head at him, “We will see. You’ve got to finish school before you can even start thinking about it young man.”

 The youngster sighed as he leant into her, face falling slightly in what she imagined was disappointment. 

 “That’s ages away though.”

 A small part of her hoped that it stayed ages away for a long time, her little boys were all growing up. Where had the time gone? When had Alan gone from a space mad toddler to a tween ready to join the rest of the family as a rescue operative? 

 “It’ll come faster than you think, kid,” Val told him, “Promise you that.”

 “A bit like bedtime,” Alan sighed, his mouth twisting. 

 Lucy couldn’t help a chuckle as she squeezed him tight, “Exactly like bedtime kid.”

 He grinned up at her, “Then I'll be able to fly Thunderbird Three and spend all the time I like in space.”

 The thought jolted Lucy slightly, all but one of her sons having clear set plans to fly the Thunderbirds. Too young for a few years or not, Alan would get there eventually, Lucy wasn’t sure how long it would take for her nerves to be shot and her hair to turn a full and permanent grey. 

 “You’ll be the best astronaut the world has ever known Allie, and that space has ever known too!” Val filled in for Lucy’s silence. 

 Alan giggled, “Just like Daddy was, right Mommy?”

 Swallowing hard, Lucy nodded, all any of her boys would ever want would be to make their father proud. It was what made their drive and determination so strong. 

 “Right kid.” She smiled, “Perhaps even better.”

 His face fell as he leant back into her, his arms wrapping as far around her shoulders as he could reach as he buried his face against her neck. It was those moments she cherished, the hugs where they clung on, reminding her very much that she was still their mother and they still needed her no matter what. 

 “I miss him Mommy. I miss him lots.”

 Rubbing his back, she rested her head against his, “We all do Allie, and I know it’s hard right now, but it’ll be okay.”

 He sniffed, shaking his head as much as he could whilst it was pressed against her, “What if I forget him Mommy? I don’t wanna forget Daddy.”

 Val reached out, stroking his hair as Lucy looked up to the ceiling to blink away her own tears. 

 “You won’t forget him Allie,” Val murmured softly, “Nobody is ever going to forget your Dad. He made International Rescue and the Thunderbirds. Maybe he isn’t here now, but that doesn’t mean we’ll forget him.”

 “Exactly,” Lucy cleared her throat with a breath, “We’ve still got all those photos at home, and all his things. But you know what’s best of all?”

 Alan pulled back, eyes red rimmed as he looked up to her, “What?”

 She brushed the tears from his cheeks, watching the familiar blue of his eyes as she forced a smile for him, “We’ve got our memories kid, like his aftershave, and his flamingo shirt, and all those barbecues he did.”

 Alan grinned, reaching up to wipe his nose on his sleeve, “Dad’s barbecues were the best.”

 “He’s still with us.” She nodded, “Never forget that, okay? He’s always with us all, kid.”

 Alan frowned, and something told Lucy that he didn’t quite understand the sentiment behind her words. Still he nodded though, wiping at his eyes as he smiled. 

 “Love you Mommy.”

 She hugged him again, smiling slightly more naturally as she murmured back, “Love you too baby.”

 Out of Alan’s line of sight, Val reached out and squeezed her shoulder, a tired, sympathetic smile saying so much to Lucy despite no words being exchanged. 

 ***

The boys didn’t say much to her over brunch, but she caught more than one knowing glance pass between Scott and Virgil as they picked at the fry-up Lee had been working on all morning. She had decided to give them a little bit longer, wondering if perhaps they would come to her and say something of their own accord, as the afternoon wore into evening though, she knew that was becoming less and less likely. 

 “Gordon, why don’t you take Alan to the pool for a bit?” She suggested, setting her tablet down as the teenager closed his school work book. He hadn’t done any work for the most of the day, and the sunglasses he’d been wearing despite the overcast sky suggested he was as perhaps as hungover as the rest of them. 

 Scott and Virgil both looked up at their board game at the suggestion, each frowning in her direction as Gordon stood. 

 “Only over sixteens are allowed in the pool though,” Gordon frowned, “Alan--”

 She nodded, glad that despite his tendency to ignore the rules he did at least listen to them. 

 “Stay out of the diving pool, and if anyone says anything tell them to call me. Only an hour though, I want you both back and washed before dinner.”

 When it came to swimming, the blond didn’t need to be told twice. With a quick nod he turned to the steps up to the back door, calling for the youngest brother as he went. 

 “Something tells me that wasn’t you just trying to wear them out before bed?” Scott asked softly.

 Lucy picked her tablet back up, only half returning her attention to stock prices and shares as she sighed,

 “I just thought it might give you two the space you need to say whatever’s been bothering you all day.”

 Both gaped, each trying to find words that she knew they wouldn’t have an issue with firing at each other. She was their mother though, not someone they could so easily lecture without getting into trouble themselves.

 “Mommy?” Alan asked as he crashed through the screen door with Gordon, “Can I really go to the pool with Gordy?”

 Turning back to face them in her seat, she smiled and nodded, “Sure, just don’t go too deep okay? And when Gordon says it's home time you’ve got to come straight back.”

 The youngest’s face lit up as he turned to Gordon, shouting that they had to leave immediately and dragging his big brother with him. 

 They all heard the front door of the house slam and the excited chatter of the two youngest as they headed towards the indoor pool. Lucy gave the older boys a moment more to speak before she locked her tablet and sighed.

 “Your Aunt Val said that you saw me with Hugh last night.” She started, watching the pair as they looked to each other and then back to her. 

 “Well,” Virgil started, stumbling slightly as he rubbed the back of his head, “I mean, you spent time with a lot of people last night Mom.”

 “And perhaps a bit more time with Hugh than others,” She admitted with a shrug, “I just wanted to make it clear that that didn’t mean anything.”

 Scott’s eyes had narrowed as he frowned, the groove between his eyebrows deep as he watched her, “So you’re just friends?”

 She rolled her eyes and sat forward, “Boys, I’ve been with your father for near enough thirty years now. How many men have you seen me talk to and laugh with in that time?”

 “We didn’t--” Virgil started, looking to Scott for backup as he sighed, “Mom, we just… we weren’t sure what to make of it. I think everyone was drunk last night and…”

 “And he was looking awfully friendly.” Scott finished, a sting in his voice to match the look in his eyes. 

 “Scott.” Virgil warned softly, frowning at his older brother, “We weren’t going to fall out over this you said.”

 The younger of the two looked to her, apology in his eyes, “We just didn’t want you to get hurt or wake up this morning and regret something or… y’know. We were worried about you Mom and if Aunt Val hadn’t have...”

 “Hugh is a friend that has been in the position I’m in. He lost his wife in the same mission that he lost his eye. He is a close friend that was offering me some comfort on a day that was hard for us all. Neither of us would have let anything happen.” 

 She shook her head with a shrug, “I’m not in a position where I want anything like that right now. Nobody is going to replace your father, thirty years doesn’t just vanish because he has.”

 Scott’s shoulders fell, his anger and questions dropping from his face as he nodded slightly in admission, “Sorry.”

 Tilting her head he watched him with a small smile, “I appreciate you’re both worried about where things could have gone, but I promise you, that’s not going to happen any time soon.”

 Scott smirked as he looked up to her, “You know those rules you and Dad always had when I was dating in high school?”

 She knew what he was getting at, the rule that he could date whoever he wanted as long as he was home before eleven and his parents knew who he was with. 

 “Yes,” she answered slowly, eyes narrowing on him, “what about it?”

 “Can we reinstate those rules?” He grinned cheekily, “Apart from the home before eleven bit, that might be a stretch living on an island and taking leave on the mainland.”

 She had to laugh at the suggestion, shaking her head at the simple thought of it. Not that she planned on being the one going on any dates in the future.

 “Well, seeing as you’re more likely going to be the one going out on dates, I have absolutely no problem if you want to keep me updated.”

 Scott leant back on his elbows with a grin, “Done deal.”

 Virgil shook his head as he looked between them, “I’m glad we cleared that up.”

 Picking her tablet back up, Lucy smiled and nodded in agreement, “Me too boys, me too.”

[halorocks1214]

the law of attraction

AO3 Link

Word Count: 5464

Summary:  The Law of Attraction demonstrates how we create the things, events, and people that come into our lives. Our thoughts, feelings, words, and actions produce energies which, in turn, attract like energies. Negative energies attract negative energies and positive energies attract positive energies

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | You are here!

holy shit i need to stop telling myself to keep my fics short cuz thats what always makes them three times longer than i originally planned. anYWAYS, i know the point of fabfivefeb is kinda to focus on one bro a week specifically, buuuut my brain grabbed my face, yelled an idea into it and now this is going to be a full series i guess. i hope this still counts! also, just as a warning, the first few fics are going to be chronologically out of order-- gordons pov fic, aka this one, comes like, almost last in the line of fics i have planned-- but im hoping that just adds to the aesthetic im giving this series

thanks again to @gumnut-logic​ for the wonderful prompt ideas. i used “How did you do that?” and iridescent

--------

If you asked just-turned-10-years-old Gordon what he thought of his kid brother, you would probably be horrified at the things he could and did say.

Nowadays the 22-year-old felt bad about it-- like, exponentially so-- but back then he couldn’t help it. It was a Tracy rite-of-passage to not want a younger sibling when they came-- yes, even Scott, who Gordon secretly believed it was his fault for John being so nerdy. You should have wanted a nice pair of tennis shoes in his place, Scotty, not a chemistry kit.

Gordon, for all intents purposes, managed to be the worst-case out of four. Virgil wondered if his fiery temper rubbed off on Alan growing up, and the more Gordon caught wind of how Alan could be when angry, the more Gordon thought his immediate older brother was right.

Regardless, everyone in the family managed to at least get the OG Tracy baby to play nice when Alan was born. Gordon’s involvement could be described as nothing: he never did anything to actively harm Alan (he was raised better than that, c’mon), but whenever Gordon could get away from the tiny tot, he did. A couple of years went by, the world adjusted to five Tracy sons, and so did the Tracy family. Even Gordon was starting to see the merit in being an older brother.

Then, tragedy struck.

The avalanche that ripped apart their entire world came crashing down in more ways than one. Hoo boy, the tabloids had a field day with it. They always wanted to know every little detail, and when the family refused to give them anything, they came up with their own stories. The only details they got were from cheating, as a nosy reporter managed to grab a picture of 3-year-old Alan fighting for his life in the hospital, and the internet ran with it.

It was very quickly found out that their mother had died in the disaster as well, and along with the little snake’s photo of Alan, accusations were thrown around as if they were nothing more than plush baseballs, not full-blown knives digging into the Tracy men’s skin. Where was Jeff Tracy? Did he leave his wife and youngest to perish without a thought? The man did have four older sons, maybe he considered them to be more valuable? The last child wasn’t a planned addition in the first place, so it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to assume so!

What they would never know, Gordon thought bitterly and spitefully, was how Alan wasn’t the only Tracy kid that played in the snow that day. Alan easily got sick as a child for undetermined reasons, and lo and behold, the tiny blonde started running a low-grade fever during their vacation. Lucy offered to stay with Alan at the cabin while Jeff went to find an on-sight doctor. Virgil, who was starting to get into that kind of stuff, went with him.

John saw… something in the gift shop he wanted to grab (none of the brothers could really tell you that much about that day anymore), and since it was relatively close to where Jeff needed to ask for a doctor, the parents felt it would be okay for the red-head to explore the shop by himself, especially since John was easily the most well-behaved out of the children. Gordon was going to go with them to-- what did you expect-- get away from Alan. That’s when smother-hen-in-the-making Scott suggested Gordon stay back with Alan so he could get to know the baby of the family more.

The only reason Gordon agreed to stay was that Scott was staying as well. Gordon hadn’t had that much time recently to hang out with his oldest bro, so he thought it was worth dealing with the little tyke in the room as well. Besides, mom was there too. She could watch him.

Gordon couldn’t for the life of him remember who was where when the literal tons of snow came to say hi. They all got knocked out relatively quick, but from Dad’s recollection of Scott’s eye-witness account, Scott and mom woke up at some point. Scott then went on to carry his youngest siblings out and away from the danger zone, only to re-pass out a good distance away from the buried cabin.

There were many details left out by Scott, and even more were left out by their father, who wanted to give his eldest some sense of security despite all the chaos. Gordon would only learn a little bit more (and by golly was it enough) when he was 16 and grounded by Scott himself. We know Dad is gone! Stop trying to replace him! Gordon shamefully admits that he was purposefully trying back then to be as difficult as possible. Sure, it was due to grief over losing their last living parent, but that didn’t mean he had to take out his rage like he was less than half his age.

People always credited Alan as being the angry baby, but Gordon could be a right bastard when he wanted.

Virgil shut up him right up with a tiny admission that Gordon would never let Scott know he knew. It was the least the swimmer could do after everything their oldest brother gave up.

“You know he promised her, right?”

Teenaged Gordon hissed as Virgil readjusted his piggyback, jostling Gordon’s broken leg in the process. Sneaking out didn’t really seem all that thrilling anymore. He still managed to squeak out through gritted teeth, “W-What?”

Virgil kept his face straight, a weird kind of stoic covering all of his emotions burning within, “Scott promised mom he would keep you two safe. It was the only thing he could do for her.”

That gut-punch didn’t help Gordon’s bruised ribs, and Virgil should have just broken his leg more next. Would have been a nicer follow up than the metaphorical groin kick Gordon received.

“Dad wondered if she was even aware-- or maybe even alive-- enough to hear him.”

Gordon had a lot of time in the hospital to think about those words, even more so when he watched his brunette brother sleep by his bedside. 22-year-old Scott should have been furious, should have ripped him a new one for being such a prick, but the only thing Gordon witnessed him do that night was run into the room as soon as he got the news that Gordon was okay and gently collapse onto his younger brother to collect the blonde into his arms while he tried desperately not to break down-- tried to be strong. Gordon was so caught off guard that he could only wrap his arms back around Scott in a weak attempt to reassure the new head of the Tracy Clan.

Later in the week when Gordon wasn’t so dead on his feet, Scott finally found the reprimand he wanted to give and tore into Gordon. Of course, Gordon snapped back too. They had the typical ‘What were you thinking?!’ ‘I wanted to have fun!’ kind of argument, but it was… softer, in a way, especially on Gordon’s part.

During that same night, after the argument, Gordon would hear 10-year-old Alan sneak into his room with a box full of familiar lights, abruptly reminding Gordon of a feeling he felt a long time ago, back during the ‘recovery’ part of the aftermath of the avalanche. One he couldn’t entirely explain until right then, thanks to Scott’s reactions throughout that entire week.

See, Scott’s plan of Gordon getting along with Alan backfired pretty horribly as Gordon, in all of his trauma and denial, managed to loop his tiny mind around into thinking Alan was at least partially responsible. If he wasn’t sick… if he wasn’t there… if he hadn’t been born--

Yeah, he was 8 at the time, but Gordon still feels sick for even coming up with that thought way back when.

Well, what’s done is done, and for the majority of the first two years, after their wonderful mom left the Earth, Gordon could only describe it like a daze of sorts. Dad was drowning himself in his work, Scott had seen horrors not even adults should’ve had to have seen, Gordon was stuck in the nice world of childhood depression, Virgil and John were caught in the middle like they always were and sometimes still are, and Alan? They really weren’t sure what he was going through due to one simple problem.

Because that was the joke of the day, the ironic twist so to speak. Believe it or not, Alan tended to be a quiet kid.

Many who knew their family would retort with yeah, anyone is quiet standing next to you, Gordon! or they would at least point out the constant babbling that tended to come from the youngest Tracy in the first place. First, Gordon would snort and admit, okay, that’s fair, and then explain how Alan was quiet when it really mattered.

And how it sucked.

The kid could go on and on about what video game he played recently or how stupid his homework was, but when you got down to it you couldn’t get Alan to talk enough.

Back when Alan still did school on the mainland, his older brothers didn’t even know he was being bullied until the bruises started showing up on parts that weren’t covered by clothes (the ones that were, though, damn). It didn’t even occur to the older brothers that Alan was getting more and more quiet each day. After getting the perpetrators expelled and rightfully ripped a new one, Scott and John asked Alan why on earth he didn’t tell them. He just shrugged his tiny kid shoulders and said, “It didn’t seem like that big of a deal.”

Virgil’s 18th birthday was a night to remember, not just because it was a blast, but because they spent half the night in the waiting room at the hospital. They were hanging out in the cities, which was probably already a bad idea. In the first half of the day, the five of them had to cross a crosswalk. Simple enough, right? However, with the torrent of adults much larger than him, 12-year-old Alan lost his grip on John’s hand and toppled over with his arm out in front of him, leaving the limb out on a silver platter to be squashed by a rather large boot.

The man that did it felt really bad, actually, which was a breath of fresh air. He insisted that he would pay for any medical bills that came from the accident. The only reason they never went to any medical facility (immediately, at least) was that, after calming down, Alan insisted his arm felt fine. His reaction time in his fingers was still okay as well, so they left it alone. The four of them probably should have questioned why Alan was so quiet for the rest of the party, but they were too into the euphoria of Virgil’s big day to realize so. A little bit more into the celebration and Alan went missing. It was a miracle that they got Scott to not run off to the nearest police officer immediately. In hindsight, they probably should have, but panic makes the mind go woo woo.

After an hour of searching, they found Alan silently crying his eyes out in a corner. Gordon suspected Virgil never really got over the guilt. None of them have, probably. They really should have insisted they got it checked out right away. Sure, the reason they mainly assumed it was okay was that they’ve been hit with worse and only walked away with bruises-- John walked home from school one day with dirt and mud in his hair, scrapes littering his arms, and when asked what happened the ginger silently commented, “I got hit by a car,” as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Not only did Jeff feel the number of years dwindle until his inevitable heart attack, but he also got to watch his eldest gain his first grey hairs with many more to come.

While getting a piggyback from yours truly, John calmly asked Alan why he didn’t say anything (again). The youngest just shrugged and buried his face into Gordon’s neck, “I didn’t want to be a problem. It’s Virge’s day…”

It would be a reoccurring problem for Alan to be hush-hush about physical and emotional strains put on him for years to come. It wasn’t a big problem out on the field (yet), but they were always extra sure to drill into the freckled boy if it seemed like he wasn’t talking as much as he usually did. They were pretty sure it came from the fact that Alan was originally, well, not planned, as all those wonderful journalists pointed out.

They never actively kept it a secret. The age gaps, as well as the press, made it real hard to do so in the first place. Plus, keeping things like that a secret did more damage than not. But the idea was there, and the idea of being a ‘burden’ on anyone was a damaging thought that always seemed to ring in the back of Alan’s subconscious, so he made sure to only speak when he felt he absolutely could or if it wasn’t too much of a task he was asking of them (which they all hated, Scott especially).

The rest of them hoped to pick up what Lucy left behind, which was her efforts to make her newest son feel wanted and loved despite not being apart of the original quota. Gordon worried his older brothers felt a little too guilty about not being able to fully wash it away. It was part of the reason they let him act a little bit childishly on missions: if he feels comfortable enough to do so, then they can’t take it away from him out of fear that they’ll never get it back. It was also why he was just so excited to go on a mission: he could prove himself to be just as good as his older brothers.

Speaking of their mother (man, Gordon loved to ramble tonight, didn’t he), the whole reason any of this was a thing in the first place was Alan’s reaction to the avalanche. That’s when his whole ‘silent act’ issue became apparent. Because the kid became quiet. Period. He stopped talking for two years. Young Gordon wouldn’t even realize this until Virgil started to teach him ASL in their free time. Alan was still an energetic kid, he just… could not get his voice box to work.

The doctors insisted there was no physical damage, either, so they just had to wait and learn ways around it.

Gordon just could not wrap his young, tiny mind around why his loud and obnoxious and annoying younger bro just shut up. Intrigued at the idea of Alan actually being quiet, Gordon started to hang out with him more, especially since Gordon craved the general sense of peace during that time in his life. Yep, crazy, energy-lover Gordon needed the space to just sit and think, and where better than to rant about how crappy life was then at your great-listener-because-he-didn’t-want-to-talk brother.

As time went on in the second half of those two years, the youngest two grew close. Closer than any of the older brothers thought possible. Scott thinks they created their own hand language just for themselves during that time. Gordon was slowly becoming more and more himself, and Alan, well, still didn’t talk, but his energetic-ness was getting bigger and bigger each passing day. Unfortunately, so did their eagerness to be the biggest piece of shits in the world.

Baby Alan stumbled across a can of whip cream that the family forgot to put away. Toddling over to Gordon, the little one shook the can around as a way to say, ‘What could we do with this?’

Gordon’s first idea was to put a huge, glopping pile right on Scott’s pillow where his head directly laid. The sputtering and anger Scott responded with, as well as Virgil’s and John’s snickers at the whole thing, filled Gordon’s head with a million ways to continue his meticulous schemes. Alan got roped in the second the general idea of being able to make his family happy came to fruition.

April 16th was the day The Terrible Two officially started. Virgil was pretty sure he saw John’s calendar with this day marked specifically as a way to remind him not to come down. Virgil just wished he could ask his immediate older brother to let him up on ‘Five that day too.

Their pranks became more and more intense as they came up with each new one, and on the anniversary of their mother’s passing, they disappeared the entire morning. Due to grief, and the fact none of the remaining three sons wanted to deal with tar and feathers or their coffee mug shocking them again, they didn’t think too much of it. Honestly, after the last prank of filling their pillows with jello, they found the quietness to be a blessing. Then the sun started to set without the two of them home yet and they saw it as less of a blessing and more of a curse.

They couldn’t lose them, not on that day.

The house security cams showed the two of them heading into the woods behind their house with some kind of box, and that was all Scott, John, and Virgil needed to go sprinting out of the house. At this point, Dad was getting better about not drowning in work, but he still needed a little more counseling before he would be fully back. That left the three eldest brothers to go on a wild goose chase.

After searching for what Scott remembered feeling like a thousand years, they stumbled upon the two blondes giggling in an opening in the trees. Bursting through the bushes without a second thought, Scott and Virgil (with John behind them) not only saw their brothers unharmed and having a blast in the middle of the opening, all around them in the trees hung big and bright lights. It was as if they were standing in a pocket of stars. Stars they made from their own will and determination.

It was iridescent enough to make the three older brothers gasp just once before remembering why they were out in the dark and cold woods in the first place. Scott trudged over a little more forcefully than he probably realized. Right as he stood over his two youngest brothers, Alan’s tiny, freckled face looked up into his eyes obliviously and pointed at the set of lights.

“Look! Gordz made it pretty!”

Scott and Virgil wrapped their younger brother in the biggest bear hug ever, anger and fear forgotten. It was quiet, whispered and somewhat broken from two years of non-use, but damn, it was Alan. The light at the end of the tunnel seemed even closer. The two of them might have stained the back of Alan’s shirt with tears. Alan didn’t need to know.

Meanwhile, John, flabbergasted and slowly entering a state of shock due to his adrenaline drop followed by even more adrenaline after hearing Alan again, walked over to where Gordon was and simply asked, “How did you do… that?”

It was a question for more than one thing: how did you get Alan to start talking? How did you hang up the lights with no serious injury? How did the two of you grow up so quickly and closely without us even realizing?

All Gordon did was shrug, bring his hands behind his head with his elbows above it, and cheekily grinned, “There are just some secrets two brothers need to keep!”

When the two blondes shared a room that night, tangled with one another like the cords in the lights, Gordon felt something in his chest. It was something warm and fuzzy, and he would only feel it again for years to come when it was towards his only younger brother.

The 10-year-old didn’t know what it was, but he knew that when he figured it out, he would try to be better at it than Scott ever was. Heh, nowadays, he realized that probably wasn’t possible, but that was also okay.

Alan only needed one Scooter.

Right now, however, he needed his one and only Gordz.

---

Brains and other therapists suggested the reason Alan got quiet after going through a traumatic event was simply that it was easier to block things out if you were quiet.

All the brain energy that went to his mouth could be used to not think about the awful things he heard or witnessed. It was perfect. It left the rest of his brain to still be used for all of the other things he liked to do: he could hang out with his brothers and sister, play video games, and (unfortunately) work on homework without cause of concern.

Alan thought it was simple. His family thought it was torture. After all, he wouldn’t tell them what was wrong, and if he didn’t tell them they couldn’t fix it. It was everything their ‘am big person, protect the small’ inner programming hated and they felt like screaming. It was the avalanche again. It was Alan’s bullies again. It was the broken arm again. It was Dad’s disappearance again. Man, they never thought Alan would come back after that one.

But dammit, Gordon thought, their dad isn’t gone anymore, and it was because their stupid, selfless little brother was willing to go through hell and back to get him for them. The least Gordon could do was show Alan how much it was appreciated. How much he was appreciated.

But at this point, Gordon was on the verge of calling it a night.

It was a simple fucking question: do you remember where those stringed lights were?

Sure, it’s been God knows how many years since anyone has pulled them out, and Grandma did pack away a lot of stuff in rather secluded places that she deemed unimportant or, well, too traumatizing. But they could at least give him a general direction on where to go! Everyone knew the basic details of the layout of their storage compartments, come on!

Gordon was sitting in the kitchen, groaning into his hands when he heard someone clearing their throat from the doorway. Snapping his face away from his palms, he looked up into the eyes of none other than his father. The older man had eye bags for days, and his eyes were a little wearier than Gordon liked, but the small grin made Gordon feel like everything was alright.

Or maybe it was the box with the familiar lights in his arms. Mostly that.

Gordon stood up and blinked, “D-Dad--”

Jeff walked into the kitchen in a way that spoke, ‘let me say this first,’ “Scott mentioned you were driving your family crazy searching for this. I may not know how you boys set up the island after I left, but I do know your grandmother is stubborn as a bull. The only place she would have put this was in the decorations closet, where it wasn’t, which I’m sure you figured out, hence the constant nagging, so that means some kind of outside force moved it to a place least expected.”

Gordon was lost, “Where was it?”

Jeff let out a slight huff of air, “The back of Alan’s closet.”

Damn. Dammit dammit damn. Why wasn’t that obvious?

With a grip gentler than Gordon remembered he had, he took the box from Jeff. As he was examining the contents, he was able to smile at his father, “Thanks, Dad, this is exactly what I wanted.”

Jeff laid a hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing softly, “I’ve left this family to take care of itself twice in my lifetime, it was the least I could do. May I ask why you need them?”

The least I could do: goddamn was this family a hive mind sometimes. That didn’t stop Gordon from asking his burning question, “How quickly can we make these waterproof?”

It took all of half a second for Jeff to raise his eyebrows in confusion, followed by one of his trademark grins.

Oh yeah, the Tracy family was coming back

---

“Shhh Allie, keep it on.”

Alan rolled his eyes. Whenever Gordon blindfolded him it always ended poorly. Whether the ultimate bad ending would come to Alan or Gordon completely depended on how previously well-thought-out Gordon planned this to be. Regardless, Alan needed to do something other than chores and college applications since there was none of it left for today. He was getting so good it was kind of bad. In fact, one of the first things he did was drown himself in his work to the point that everything he missed in his captivity was done within the first three days of being back.

And here the public thought Alan and his father had nothing in common.

Alan felt Gordon’s hands on his shoulders the entire time they walked together. Eventually, they paused as Gordon needed to open the door to the outside, which was a great sign, by the way. Alan’s ears were picking up every little noise, including each of the thunks their feet made down the stairs, as well as the whistling of the wind blowing through their hair. Alan didn’t need to take off the blindfold to know it was night. The last thing Alan was looking at before Gordon scared the shit out of him with the blindfold from nowhere was the clock, 10:04 PM.

The thunks suddenly became less hollow, signaling they were on solid ground. It took Alan a couple of seconds longer than he would’ve liked to realize that Gordo was walking them straight towards the pool. Alan, remembering all the times he’d been shoved in it, started to fight back. Only minorly, though, like a baby wolf trying to overtake the Alpha of the pack. In the end, it didn’t matter, as Gordon stopped both of them with a slight push downward on Alan’s shoulders, signaling he didn’t need to walk anymore.

Gordon took his hands away and started speaking when he saw Alan wasn’t going anywhere. He walked around to the front of his brother, “So… this might be a long shot, but you remember those ‘starry lights’ we played with all the time?”

Alan blinked a few times behind the blindfold. Yeah, he did remember them. It was a huge staple between them. The days it got hard, or cold, or when it seemed like nothing would get better, they would pull those lights out and forget everything else. It felt like they were surrounded by a blanket of hope.

Gordon first wanted to do it in some random room at their old house two years after their mother passed, but quiet Alan suggested they go out to the woods. He flapped his tiny hands, and to paraphrase what he said, We’ll have more room! Plus, the real stars will make it even cooler!

From then on, it was just another thing between the two of them. They pulled the lights out when one of them was sad and the other wanted to cheer them up. After their mother’s death, after failing a test at school, after Dad’s disappearance, after Gordon’s hydrofoil crash…

Gordon will forever be grateful for Alan’s ability to be a little piece of shit. He’ll never know how the kid snuck the box into the hospital and he hoped he never found out. The hospital staff wasn’t as thrilled by the lights hung up around the room. Gordon was pretty sure he saw the pic up on ‘Five at one point, though, so at least someone appreciated their talents.

Right, the important matter at hand. Gordon needed to work on his rambling-when-stressed problem, “Well, Allie Allie Allie, guess what I found?”

Before Alan could tilt his head, the blindfold was untied from his head by Gordon. It fell off his face to reveal said older brother standing directly in front of him with a grin on his face that said, ‘you’re not going to believe this.’ Once Gordon saw Alan’s attention was completely on him, he stepped out of the way quickly so Alan’s line of focus could stay on what was in front of him and not just on his brother.

Alan’s breath caught in his throat.

Gordon smirked at his brother’s flabbergasted look, “You know how they say how the ocean isn’t that much different than deep space? Well, I think I found a way to make them even closer.”

Alan held his hand out in front of him only slightly. He was worried if he moved anything that the beautiful sight in front of him would go away. Those wonderful, amazing lights were all submerged in the pool in various spots near the bottom, the refractions making it look like there were twice as many. The pool looked like it had a weird, unique case of the chickenpox. It was breathtaking.

Little puffs of Alan’s breath were condensing into the familiar white clouds in front of his face due to the chill, but he didn’t care. The sight in front of him was much more important. Before he could sign a thank you, or maybe even just cry (which he would hate, thank God for interruptions), Gordon slung an arm around Alan’s shoulders, catching the freckled boy’s attention again.

Gordon waited for those wide, blue eyes to look at him directly before beginning, “I can’t even begin to imagine what happened up there. Part of me wants to be selfish and never come up with thoughts even close to that kind of shit, but… it’s not fair to you.”

Alan blinked and was suddenly turned 90 degrees to be standing front-to-front with Gordon. The older brother continued speaking when he put his hands on Alan’s shoulders, stretching his arms out to their full length, “You don’t… you don’t have to talk about everything, I know that first hand, but… don’t shut us out. You’re not a burden, you’re not a problem, I know that’s a thought of yours that’s been made worse by that bastard but the last thing I want is to--”

Gordon choked off his words due to a mixture of rage and pure sadness bubbling within. Suddenly, he couldn’t look Alan in the eyes anymore, “I just don’t want to fail you any more than I already have.”

Gordon looked down at their feet to watch some of his tears fall to the ground and splish-splash on the concrete. Dammit, he promised a lot of things (mainly himself) that he would be strong for this, but he supposes he was never the best at taking things seriously.

Gordon’s breath hitched at the feeling of two small hands on his cheeks. Those same hands brought his face back up to look at Alan sadly grinning, his own tears starting to form in his blue eyes. Before Gordon could curse himself out for failing this plan so spectacularly, his heart stopped in a good way at a tiny admission, a verbal one.

“Please… don’t make… me cry, too…”

Holy shit. Part of Gordon’s brain thought, ‘sweet, it only took a few weeks, a new record!’ but the other part, the big brother one day I’ll be better than Scott! part leaped a hundred feet in the air out of pure joy. With a laugh, Gordon yanked Alan into his arms and squeezed tight. Alan simply returned the gesture, albeit his arms were around Gordon’s waist, nor was his grip as strong. They did both have tear tracks on their cheeks, however.

Alan was still there. He was still their selfless, annoying, little bro, and he might not be fully back, but it was enough to know that not even the fucking Hood could take him away from them.

It would take a while to get back to normal. Scott would still pass out due to exhaustion from time to time until he fully realized it was all over, John, while not physically up on ‘Five, would take a while to fully come back down to Earth, Virgil was going to be found at that damn piano bench more than in his own room, and God only knew how Kayo or even Dad was going to react as the days went forward.

But they would get there. The Terrible Two were going to make sure of it, one prank at a time.

[voxvulgi]

multiples of 6 - for whoever you think has the best answer including youuuu (you can skip those you don't like xD)

// alright so *cracks knuckles* *puts on accountant hat* *takes out calculator* in 100, the largest multiple of 6 is 96, which has 16 6′s in it. i have 18 muses, but 4 of them are exclusive, so i can stick to the 14 non-exclusive muses and have 2 questions to spare, which i can answer myself

Keep reading

6: do you keep plants? 

“I do. I live alone, so the flat feels dead sometimes. Plants help me feel like I don’t live alone. I do like isolation, but that’s only to a certain extent. Plants are living beings you have to take care of, and they’re a sight for sore eyes, too. I especially like them in the kitchen. When I wake up to make breakfast, the sun is at an angle that pours gold into my kitchen window, and the specific shade of green of their leaves is absolutely gorgeous. I also have a group of small pots to plant thyme and rosemary and such. I could just buy them fresh, but picking your spices yourself every now and again just...engulfs the senses.”

12: what's your favorite planet? 

“When Malik asked me this question and I told him Uranus, he laughed at me for ten minutes straight. At first, he laughed for a few seconds because he thought I was making a joke, but when I told him I was serious, he laughed for the rest of the ten. I really wish scientists just let Uranus be called Ouranos. Did they really not consider that sometime in the future, a girl would tell someone that her favourte planet was your-anus and get laughed at? Rude. But anyway, Uranus is my favourite planet...literally just because it’s pretty. Blue is my favourite colour. Also, it’s the only planet that spins on its side, which was what made me decide that it was more worthy of being my favourite planet than Neptune. Neptune just goes with the flow. Lame, right? Uranus is not like other planets. It’s different. It stays home and eats chicken nuggets instead of going to parties. Also, it was the only planet named after a Greek god instead of a Roman one, and when I found that out, I was like finally, and I just made it my favourite planet.”

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

“I live with my cousins, alright? They own a pub. So, basically, we live upstairs, and the pub is downstairs and open until late. My cousins don’t have a problem with this because they set their won work hours and wake and sleep as they please and all, but I have to attend work with the local herbalist sometimes because she trains me. So, one night, the pub was open well after the usual closing time because some man was getting married in a few days and wanted to celebrate with his friends. I’m not the kind of person to tell people how to live their lives and how late to go to bed, but I was irritated and went downstairs to ask my cousin when this would be over. You know, just so I could get a good idea of when I’ll finally be able to sleep. When I got there, the man to be married was flirting with the barmaid. I would have ignored it, but she looked terribly uncomfortable. I told him off first, and it didn’t work-- obviously. So I went back to my room and gathered some leftover poison ivy powder. I went back downstairs, flirted with him, and unbuckled his belt in front of all his friends. They ooh’ed and ahh’ed because they’re idiots, then I tugged on the back of his waistband and left him with poison ivy all over his arse. I waited until his face twisted and he started drunkenly panicking, then I left. That man didn’t know I’m related to the owners since my cousins are white and all, so there was no harm done to the pub’s reputation, but my cousins and the pub workers -- even the barmaid -- now keep asking me not to hide poison ivy in their pants whenever I look even mildly disapproving.”

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

“I’d trust Alan with every one of my secrets. Except if I do something that isn’t actually worrying but I think might worry him anyway. Because he’s a worrier. That’s not technically a secret.”

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

“Look, I think everyone has been truly scared. There’s always a moment in their life that really scares them, and just because it isn’t as scared as they can psychologically be doesn’t mean it wasn’t true scared. So yes, I have been truly scared. The most scared I’ve ever been was, obviously enough, when I got the phone call from my mother about Joseph.”

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

“Branches. They’re upbeat but at the same time make me feel calm and relaxed, which is thankfully my mood in general.”

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

“My favourite coffee shop is a block down from my work. I rarely take work there, usually just buy a coffee and leave or stay for a while and lounge. It’s my favourite because they make the coffee taste how it smells. If coffee doesn’t taste the way it smells, you might as well be drinking mud water. They practically have walls instead of windows, and there’s this terrace on the second floor. It gives you a good view of the street. Looks best in the morning because there’s a park just a street away and people everywhere. The coffee shop itself -- the interior, I mean -- is just clean and tidy. Their seats are comfortable but don’t look like something a wannabe hippie would own. They like their plants in moderation. Their tables are glass, not metal or wood. They don’t have puns or cheesy quotes anywhere. I like that.”

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

“My biggest fear was that a dragon would kidnap my mom and hide her in a tower. I thought and still think that my mom is so pretty! So I figured that if a dragon was going to kidnap someone, it would be my mom. I don’t have that fear now, but I’m...well, I’m really afraid of Jace dying.”

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

“Jenny and Dean last father’s day. Their dad’s already been dead for about a year at that point, but...hell, it’s their dad. I probably looked really sad, too, and he wasn’t even my biological dad.”

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

“I do like poetry. Not big on the older stuff, mostly because of the language barrier. The modern stuff is easier to understand. I actually prefer confessional poetry because it’s like looking into the dark corners of someone’s mind, and not in this romanticised way. Not for me, at least. This certain kind makes me feel seen because when someone shares their experiences from behind their own eyes, in their own shoes, they experience emotions and thoughts that are so raw and human that I feel less alone reading them. I haven’t read that much, to be honest, so I don’t have favourites. I’ve only read the more popular ones that have been coming out in the past decade, so I think picking a favourite is unfair because my pool is so small.”

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? 

“I don’t know. I’ve never worn a flower crown, but I suppose that if I were given one, I’d like for it to have a good amount of leaves along with the flowers. Green is my favourite colour. The flowers can be anything, but I think open ones look better. Maybe daisies-- they sound perfect. Yellows and pinks and reds would be welcome, too, as long as there’s a good amount of white daisies.”

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

“I would not say I forget easily, but I note everything down, just in case. Some things are too important to get wrong, while others just cause avoidable inconvenience. It helps me organise my time and prioritise, too, so I just opt for making notes.”

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

“Fanclub! They’re very cute. I only saw them in that movie called Despicable Me. Most of the time, Ivan and I aren’t allowed to use the TV, but it was on one of the days we were allowed, so we watched it. I liked it a lot. The minions are so full of energy and happy and stuff.”

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

“Ooooh, yes!! I’m gonna get a bunch of tattoos! They won’t be anything fancy, though. Just some stars and smiley faces here and there. They’ll all be in colour. Nothing black or white. There’s probably gonna be some small dinosaurs. And music notes. Oh, and rocket ships! I’ll just get a tattoo every time I think of something. They’ll be small. Like, and inch or something, so there’s plenty of room!”

90: talk about one of your favorite cities.

“Paris is my favourite city. The thing about it is...it loves you. That’s how I can describe it. It’s a very old city, okay? A lot of shit went down in it. There were wars and revolutions and all that. I admit that I don’t know much about the historical details because I sucked ass in history class, but I just feel like Paris was founded on fighting, and people fight for their rights and the things they love. So...I think that every building in Paris was made with love and built with a purpose. I don’t like New York because I feel like it just wants to eat you. Paris loves you. I’m very appreciative of that, and I’m appreciative of the buildings most of all. Especially the old ones are gorgeous. I try to incorporate as much of Paris into my architecture models as I could.”

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

“Not really quickly. If I just got on my computer and it tells me it needs to update, I wait until I’m done with my task before I update it. Otherwise, it’ll keep bothering me about it, so I just like to get it over with. Similar thing with my phone. I postpone the update until bedtime then let it update while I sleep. No need to let it disturb the flow of my day, you know? But I’m still gonna do it. I’m not a big procrastinator.”

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 32

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

___________

Two days after the shooting the professional cleaning service is finished at the loft, and Peter drags Laura and Derek home again. Derek is like a moping pup, leaving Stiles behind, and Peter isn’t much better. But Peter knows that Stiles and John need some time alone, to relearn how to be a family. Peter’s not exactly happy to be leaving either, but it’s necessary. The connection between John and Stiles is tenuous right now, and that’s something they need to work through. The Hales can’t be their buffer.

And there are things that John and Stiles need to talk about. Things that—after witnessing Stiles’s breakdown in the back yard the night before—Peter knows only John can address. Because John’s been there too. John’s been the hunter who suddenly had to face the realisation that he’d taken innocent lives.

Besides, Peter has his own family reunion to work on.

The drive to Satomi Ito’s territory is only an hour or so, but it feels much, much longer. Laura and Derek are at the loft. They’re in charge of getting food and a cake—and it had better be a chocolate cake with spinkles on the frosting, because that’s Matty’s favorite. They’re also in charge of clearing out the secure room—they stacked a bunch of boxes and assorted crap in it the night of the shooting to make it look more like a storage room and less like something out of the Saw franchise so that it would pass a cursory inspection from the deputies and that no uncomfortable questions would be asked. Still, from the look Deputy Parrish gave him once, Peter is fairly sure the man thinks he’s into some kinky shit.

Peter grins as he drives. That’s the kind of reputation he could enjoy, honestly.

Meanwhile, the front seat of Peter’s car is littered with packets of peanut butter M&Ms he picked up at the last gas station—another of Matty’s favorites.

Peter’s heartbeat picks up as he turns off the county road onto the private road that will take him to Satomi’s house. Her house, like the Hales’ once was, is a grand three-storey residence surrounded by woods. Seeing it always makes Peter a little homesick, and more than little bitter with jealousy. Woods, and pack, and family. The Hales are not what they once were.

But today, that’s all in the past.

Today there’s nothing that can dampen Peter’s mood.

He pulls up in front of the house, and raises a hand in greeting at the beta standing on the porch. He can’t remember the man’s name, but his face is familiar. The beta waves back, and steps off the porch to meet him.

“The alpha will see you,” he says. “But of course there’s someone who wants to see you first.”

The front door bursts open.

“Uncle Peeeeter!” Matty screams, launching himself off the porch and into Peter’s willing arms.

Peter catches him, laughing and crying at the same time, and spins him around in a circle a few times before hugging him tightly. He drags his nose through Matty’s soft hair and inhales deeply.

“Missed you, pup,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I missed you.”

Matty’s finger’s dig in tightly and his breath is hot against Peter’s throat. “Are we going home now, Uncle Peter?”

“Yes,” Peter says. “Just as soon as I thank Satomi for looking after you, yes, we’re going home.”

***

Matty leaves chocolate smears all over the dashboard of Peter’s car.

Peter doesn’t even care.

***

The loft smells of bleach. Even Matty’s human nose wrinkles when he first steps inside, but he’s quickly distracted by being smothered in hugs from Laura and Derek, and then by the veritable feast of junk food set out on the dining room table. Cake, and candy, and soda, and all manner of things that will have Matty bouncing off the walls in minutes, and passed out in a sugar coma soon after that.

“Did you make the hunters go away, Uncle Peter?” Marry asks through a mouthful of cake.

Peter ruffles his hair. “Yes, pup. They won’t be coming back.”

The sugar crash hits right on cue. Peter insists that Matty has a shower before his nap, because he’s managed to wear at least half his cake. Matty grumbles about it, but lets Peter take him upstairs to the bathroom.

He strips off in the bathroom while Peter gets the shower at the right temperature. Peter catches a glimpse of the old burns scars on his back and his legs as he steps into the shower.

“Uncle Peter?” he asks loudly, over the water.

“Yes, pup?” Peter gathers up his clothes and dumps them in the hamper.

“Do I really have to have a nap? I’m not a little kid.”

“No, you’re not,” Peter says. “But you’ll feel better if you have a little sleep. Your sister and brother might have bought you way too many sugary snacks, I think.”

“My tummy hurts.”

“Yes, I think you overdid things a little,” Peter says.

“Can I sleep in your bed?”

“If you like.”

“With you?”

Warmth blossoms in Peter’s chest. “Of course, pup.”

Minutes later, Matty is curled up in Peter’s bed, snuggling up with Peter. Peter puts a hand on his stomach to draw away his tummy ache, and Matty smiles and traces the faint dark tendrils as they curl up Peter’s forearm.

Then his smile fades. “I was really scared, Uncle Peter. I cried a lot because I thought that maybe you or Laura or Derek would get hurt, or die!”

“I was scared too, pup,” Peter says softly. “I was very scared. But we’re safe now. It’s okay to be scared, but we’re safe now.”

“Asami asked me why I don’t have a mom or a dad,” Matty whispers. “I said I don’t need them, because I have an Uncle Peter.”

Peter’s chest aches, and he holds Matty closer.

Matty looks up at him, his green eyes wide. “Would it be okay if sometimes I called you my dad? I’m your pup, aren’t I?”

“Yes, you’re my pup,” Peter says. He thinks of Talia, and of James, and of what it means to take this from them. It feels selfish, because he wants it so much, but at the same time Matty wants it too, and he can’t imagine Talia or James would mind. Not if they were here to see the desperate look on Matty’s face, and his blatant fear of rejection. “Yes, you can call me your dad if you want to, pup.”

“Thank you, Uncle Peter,” Matty whispers, and burrows close like a tick. When he murmurs the word it’s so faint that Peter’s werewolf hearing barely catches it: “Dad.”

Peter closes his stinging eyes.

***

Matty falls asleep, and starfishes his way across Peter’s bed. Peter leaves him and heads back downstairs to clean up, before the loft is infested with ants. He gets downstairs to find that Derek and Laura have already done it. Derek’s wiping the table down, and Laura’s putting the remains of the cake into a Tupperware container.

“I heard what Matty asked you,” Laura says.

Peter flinches. “Did you?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping.” She seals the lid on the container. “I was going to my room to grab my phone.”

Peter waits for the flash of her alpha eyes.

It doesn’t come.

“Mom and Dad would be happy for you, Peter,” she says. “And they’d be happy that Matty has a dad. If it’s what he wants, and it’s what you want too, then they’d want it for you as well. God knows you’ve earned it. You were always here for him in ways that Derek and I weren’t.” Her expression clouds. “That we couldn’t be. You’ve been his parent in everything but name since the time he was three.”

Peter’s throat aches, and he jerks his head in a nod.

“So be his parent in name too,” Laura says.

Peter’s eyes sting. He blinks, and a hot tear slides down his cheek.

Laura steps forward and hugs him tightly.

***

Peter doesn’t sleep. He prowls through the loft, listening to the soft sounds of Matty’s breathing, or Laura’s, of Derek’s. The loft might be clean now, but it’s hard to shake the memory of the bloodshed. The loft was their sanctuary, but it’s been breached, and no amount of bleach and new furnishings can erase that.

It’s past midnight when Peter makes himself a tea and sits down on the new couch. He sends a text to John: How’s your boy?

He gets back: How’s yours?

So John’s not sleeping either. Peter calls him.

“I think I want a new house,” he says when John answers.

“Not sure the Argents will pay for that.” John’s voice is soft with weariness, but Peter can hear the smile in his tone.

“It might be fun to make them try. How’s Stiles?”

“He’s been better,” John says. “He’s been worse too, I guess. What was it you said? Baby steps.”

“Yeah, baby steps.”

“Alan Deaton says he knows a woman down in Redding. She’s a therapist, and she’s what he calls ‘supernatural aware’. Guess you don’t put that on your website, do you?”

“Not unless you want to be overrun with people who think they’ve been abducted by aliens, no.”

John laughs. “Yeah. Anyway, I’m gonna give her a call in the morning, and see if she can work with Stiles. The more I talk with him, the more I get the sense there’s some fucked up stuff that Gerard and Kate did to him, and I just want to yell and punch walls, you know? And that’s the last thing Stiles needs. I was an adult when I had to face this stuff, Peter, and it was something I came to on my own. Stiles is just a kid, and he’s been dragged every step of the way without having a chance to come to terms with any of it in his own time. He needs more help than I can give him.”

“Baby steps,” Peter says softly.

“Yeah, I know.” John sighs, and is silent for a moment. “I’ll bet Matty is glad to be home, huh?”

“Not as glad as I am.” Peter closes his eyes. “I gotta say, John, I really didn’t think I’d ever see today.”

John huffs out a breath. “You’re not the only one. But here we are, huh?”

“Yeah,” Peter echoes, warmth spreading through him. “Here we are, John.”

[theoddcatlady]

Granny

My granny was a terrible person.

A crotchety old woman that was hardly over one hundred pounds soaking wet, she would sit in her rocking chair all day long and scowl while watching her TV game shows. She looked like a skeleton with cracked leather clinging to her bones and wisps of colorless hair sticking out from a mostly bald scalp. And she was mean. If I tried to play Legos in the living room?

“You better clean those up, boy, or you’ll regret the day you were born!”

If I laughed too loudly at whatever TV program was on?

“Stop that racket! That junk will rot your brain!”

If I so much as walked too fast?

“Quit rough housing or else!”

And that ‘or else’ wasn’t an empty threat. Granny had a big cane she carried, a dark redwood one with a raven’s head for the handle. I’m pretty sure she could’ve just used a walker to get around the house, she just liked the impression the big ole cane gave off. When she walked about, she’d smack it down with each step, hard enough to make the floor shake. If she wanted to be sneaky though she’d not made a peep until she was right behind you. Then, with her acidic voice and stale breath, she’d whisper into your ear,

“And just what do you think you’re doing?”

I wasn’t a bad child. Not really. I didn’t get a chance to be. But Granny made me so nervous I’d often forget to do things, like pick up my toys or not run indoors. And when Granny caught me, oh I’d really would regret the day I was born.

Granny didn’t just spank you with her hand. She used that cane, and she’d take it across your back and your butt with all the strength in her shriveled body. It only took one whack to make you never want to sit again, and she usually brought it down three or four times. Never while mom or dad was around though. Nope. They never got to see the spankings. Granny was too clever, I suppose she knew they wouldn’t stand for that.

I hated my grandmother. From a young age I knew I hated her. She wasn’t ever involved in my life except to cause me pain and humiliation. Invitations to school recitals and plays were met with scoffs. I actually tried a few times to have her come, maybe getting out of the damn house would make her lighten up a bit.

Nope. She would laugh and say, “I’d rather jab my ears out with an ice pick than hear you screech on stage while calling it music, Alan.”

She wasn’t quite so cruel when mom was in hearing distance, but she still wasn’t kind about it. It was a nightmare. I’d go to bed crying and I’d never have friends over. I was too ashamed and I had no doubt that in one way or another Granny would drive them away.

I only had the courage to bring over a friend one time. Kendra Reilly.

She was a fun girl, with red pigtails tied with neon green scrunchies and glasses with round lenses and cheetah print frames. She was amazing. We both liked to sit on the swings and sing during recess. We’d hold little concerts. Kendra, being the goofball she was, would ask for tips afterwards in the form of desserts or crackers. Shockingly that sometimes worked, but she always made sure to split them evenly with me. It was half my work after all, according to Kendra.

I thought maybe it’d be okay to invite her over just once. Granny was laid up in bed more often than not at the time and I figured, why not?

I walked in and was immediately met with Granny’s loud screeching voice, “Wipe off your feet on the mat or else!”

Kendra’s eyes went wide and my heart sank. “Let’s just go play in my room,” I whispered before taking her hand and sneaking past Granny. She didn’t seem to notice that there were two pairs of soft footsteps going up the stairs, she was too focused on Family Feud.

Once we were away from Granny things got better again. I turned on my Disney music and we sang along, Kendra talked about a funny dream she had last night, when it was just us it was fun.

Then my door slammed open and there was my Granny. She took one look at Kendra and her face went red as tomato sauce.  

“Why is there a girl in your room?!” She shrieked before slapping me across the face, hard enough to leave a handprint.

I was only nine years old at the time. I immediately burst into tears. “I’m sorry Granny! We just… just wanted to play…”

My sniffles went unheard as Granny grabbed Kendra by the ear and started yanking her out the door. “Come here, you little hussy! Going into boy’s rooms at your age, you’re going to end up barefoot and pregnant before you’re sixteen!” Kendra started to scream and tried to pull away but Granny was unrelenting.

I think I finally snapped. I was so tired of the years of torment, all the times I felt ashamed of having such a cruel grandmother, and seeing her attack one of my only friends just pushed me over my limit.

I didn’t shove her hard, just rough enough so she’d let go. Granny fell back on her butt with a yelp and then she clutched her chest.

“Oh! My heart! My heart!”

At first I thought she was being overdramatic, that she was trying to make me seem like some sort of monster child so my parents would ground me. But she wasn’t. Her face went gray before her eyes rolled back and she passed out.

Granny survived two days in the hospital before finally passing away.

I was torn between the feeling of finally being free and the grief that I was the one who caused her heart attack. Kendra and I lied, saying that Granny just marched upstairs, started shouting, and then she had the heart attack. Nothing about me shoving her.

My parents were quiet during the funeral. I somehow fell asleep to the minister’s monotone voice. Had horrible nightmares in which Granny burst from the coffin and wrung my neck screaming about how I murdered her. I woke up and had to excuse myself to the restroom, I’d wet myself in fear.

The next week was quiet. I was so used to Granny watching game shows or her shouting at me for something I had done. It was almost relaxing.

I should’ve known the peace was at an end when I came home to find my mother sobbing at the kitchen table while my father was resting a hand on her back. I heard her say, “I thought she was gone this time!” before I finally looked at the stove.

A woman with dark hair in a tight bun and wearing a long black dress with a high neck was stirring some sort of soup. Judging by the smell it was cabbage. She turned to me, her eyes fastened on me like a hawk on its prey.

“Alan, you’re late for dinner. I expect you to be home at five PM every week day. Where’s your homework?”

My mother wailed before burying her face in her hands. I looked beside the woman at the stove, where something was resting against the counter.

A cane with a raven’s head for the handle.

And suddenly I recognized the woman standing there at the stove cooking dinner.

That night ‘Granny’ came into my room. I was numb with shock. I didn’t understand. Was this really Granny? Was it a clone? Or was this some warped dream?

The door creaked open and I nearly hid under my bed as the dark haired woman walked into my room, her head held high. I pulled the blankets over me as I shook. I thought I was going to die.

When I looked into her eyes, I knew she was truly Granny. Gray like cement and colder than dry ice. Granny glided across the room before she sat at the foot of my bed. She rested her chin on her cane, seemingly lost in thought for several minutes before she chuckled.

“You’re a lot like your mother you know. She actually put rat poison in my breakfast. She wanted me gone too.”

I didn’t say anything.

Granny’s gaze rested on me again and her mouth was twisted in a morbid smirk.

“I only want what’s best for you, Alan. When you listen to me, things will go according to plan. I suppose I just have to be stricter with you. Now, I expect you to be home by five every day. Call me Nanny now, your mother hired me to take care of you because of what happened to your poor grandmother. Start bringing Kendra with you- are you listening or are you nodding off?”

I couldn’t have fallen asleep even if I tried, I bobbed my head up and down frantically.

“Good boy. Start bringing Kendra here. Not to your room. Girls that want to be in boy’s rooms by that age are no good. Don’t give her any ideas but keep her around. Keep your grades above a B or you’ll be punished. Your room must be clean before you leave the house. When you start going out on the weekends, you must give me a week’s notice and perform extra well in your chores. And don’t you try to get rid of me. You won’t like it when I come back. Is that clear, Alan?”

I opened my mouth but what came out was, “What will happen if I don’t listen to you?”

Granny laughed. A creepy, flat sound that scratched my ears and made the hair stand up on my neck.

“You’ll lose your privileges. Your mother used to be able to have a job, go out on Saturday nights, be married so someone she loved… be allowed two children. She lost those privileges. As long as you listen, Alan, you won’t ever have to fear losing your privileges.”

I’m now eighteen. Nanny has ordered me to propose to Kendra tonight. We’re only kids. We’re in love. But we’re not ready.

But I don’t want to lose any more of my privileges.

[latchingontoallofyou]

DWTS Premier- day after live blog

Since I didn’t watch last night, I promised to give my “Live blog” as I watched today. If you care to read what I thought, feel free. 

Opening number:

Starting with an interview, this is odd. Really, let’s play the Hannah is single from the get go. I love Kel so much! Whoa, that mirrorball opening this was trippy. I love when the pros open the dancing. Oh, Tom and Erin, I’ve missed you! I really hate this lets not say who they are dancing with and make everyone come in by themselves. They should never do that again. This is quite the process to get started. I think I like the set. It’s very shiny.

This judges twist: I’m guessing they get to save a dancer. Que the eye roll.

Hannah: This is the most of the Bachelor/ Bachelorette I’ve ever seen. That was the most unenthusiastic hello ever. Gosh I love Alan so much! She smiles a lot. I don’t like her costume. She was off timing with her arms a few times. Her movements just seem slow and small. The moves she knows, she hits sharply though. Not bad for the first dance. I think they could go on to do well. Let’s not play the showmance and I’ll be good with them staying for a while.

7,7,6

Kel: I freakin love Kel! Always have. Bringing good burger, love it! I love the reaction. I’m also glad she has someone I like again. Sliding down his tongue. I kinda love their costumes. Opps, missed hands twice in a row. So serious faced. Is he chewing gum? That wasn’t great but I still enjoyed it. I’m looking forward to more from them. Stay around long Witney and Kel! He is really listening to the judges. I like that. And man, those gems on Witney’s lips have to be uncomfortable.

6,5,5

HEY BOBBY! Love that man’s smile!

Kate: I never watched the office…. Pasha, a new cutie. Nice dimples on him. That was the shortest segment. Weird opening to the dance. She almost forgot to take off her costume. She struggled at the beginning. She seems to be almost slipping around on the floor. She’s did well in some spot, struggled through others. I think she’ll do well as the weeks go on. I love that the judges complimented Pasha too. One thing about costumes, why is she in blue and he’s in red? They just don’t really go…

5,5,5

I just love how everyone keeps mentioning that it’s been a year. Maybe they’ll learn and not do that again.

Lamar: I heard this one was bad… Don’t know him. Nice slow clap Peta. She shoots, she scores! He makes her look so tiny and she’s really not that tiny. Oh boy. I like his costume. Oh, so slow! He arms aren’t bad. Those kicks lol. He’s leg don’t need to be flexible for basketball. I mean, it really wasn’t great but knowing what the scores were, I didn’t think it was that bad. Poor guy looks horrified. Carrie Ann, good for you for being kind and really complimenting him. He did the best with what he could.

5,3,3 (Way too harsh!)

Bobby Bones! (If only I could write it like it say it) I’ve missed him on my TV.

Lauren: She’s so sweet and I love her already. I don’t even like country music. But like, why Gleb! Anyone but Gleb! He’s my least favorite male pro. Maybe she’ll take him though. Wow, go girl! She hung right in there with the ladies. She’s acting the part and doing the steps so well too! Weird song for her but it works. That was so short! She did great though! I can’t wait to see more of her. Very well choreographed Gleb.

7,6,6

I saw Kym and MumI!

Christy/ Sailor: Poor Christy! So sad for her but so happy her daughter could replace her. Such a sweet simple meeting. Ah, her excitement over the song. So cute! Aw, Val! He’s so distraught. So amazing that Sailor took over. She’s so beautiful nit like in a normal looking person type way. They are so sweet to each other.  Oh she looks so gorgeopis! Three days and she dances like this! Wow. She’s going to thrive as the season goes on. She’s really jolding her own. And she looks like she is having the time of her life! I love it! I think I’m the most excited for them so far. I loved that she went to her Mom at the beginning of the dance and then the kiss and cry after. Amazing job. Lol, she looks taller than Val. Could just be the hair.

Wow, the worst break the doctor had ever seen. Poor girl! She should have a sling on to hold it elevated!

6,6,6 (I would have liked a 7 or two. I thought it was better than Hannah)

Karamo: Never watched this show either but I think I want to… just need some time… He just looks like so much fun! I am so glad he got Jenna! They are going to be so fun to watch together, like Jenna and Adam. That was the shortest video again. Kill it you two. Haha, there is the camera mess up. So embarrassing for whoever that was. They are killing this, and they just look so good. He’s having a blast! That was so fun! He did really well too. They could do really well too. Can’t wait to see more of them, without the camera mess up.

6,5,6

And I already want to tell Len to shut up! Remember, they are just learning to dance. How can you expect them to have every piece perfect already! You trained for years so you don’t know how hard this is for them so shut up and stop being so grumpy. Yes, idealistically, the dancers need to be able to do all things but why be so angry week one when the can’t? Ok, end of rant, for now at least. Back to the show.

Ray: He’s handsome and he just looks like a good man. He looks so happy to see Cheryl. It’s so sweet.  I always have mixed feelings when she comes back but I’m glad she did. Um. Nice little solo there. Those facials were creepy. He danced better on his own but he’s hanging in there. Stand up a little more Ray. Ok, yea, that was kind of creepy but that may have been thanks to the song… Not my favorite but not horrible. He seemed to be having so much fun. Good for him.

5,5,5

Mary: She’s beautiful! 75  and a half… I love it! What a personality. She is so sassy and she’s gonna be so fun! I love how he said, “you got some good rhythm” and she just goes “I’m black” lol. Brandon, love you too. We get to see so much of personality in the video. He’s leading her so well and she looks so elegant. She’s moving well. He arms could be a bit sharper bit She did well. They are so fun. Carrie Ann is being so sweet, and Len can’t stand it. Lol, Len saying they are the same age and she asks him if he’s 75 and a half and he’s just speechless!

6,5,6 (I love how excited she is about her scores. You can tell she is loving every part of being here)

Ally: She’s so tiny. There was no doubt she’d get Sasha (eye roll) Love her brutal honesty about not being flexible. Where was the package. Nice solo to start but that was girl group dance moves. She has a lot of energy, but Sasha brings that out in all of his partners. I’m not even sure what this dance is supposed to be. Oh, she missed timing and spacing towards the end there. Sasha’s fighting Len already. Len, I actually agree with you for once tonight. More like a Beyoncé dance, not ballroom. No real connect to them at all for me. Sasha has a pink snakeskin jacket, lol

5,5,6

Oh, I just saw Andrew East, but I didn’t see Shawn. I knew they were both there thanks to Instagram.

Sean: I have no feeling about him other than I wish he would have got someone else besides Lindsay because I just love her so much and I don’t want her to go out early like I expect him to. Not sure who I would want him to have otherwise. Maybe Cheryl (sorry Cheryl). Having trump say to vote for you probably isn’t going to help him… pre preschool level dancer lol, oh Linds. That shirt is just awful! He really is bad! He put effort in. This is kind of scary! I still love you anyway Lindsay. At least he seems like he had fun. Bruno couldn’t even talk about the dance. He was stuck on the bongo playing. I really don’t need him to go on past next week. Best comment from Carrie Ann “You were off beat most of the dance” love it!

4,4,4 (how did that get 4s and Lamar got two 3s?)

I love that no one has to go up those awful steps after their dance for interviews. So much better. And maybe we’ll get cool videos from the pros and stars from there.

James: Yes for brunette Emma! I hope she keeps her hair brunette. It breaks up all the blonde. I have no clue who he is either but he’s handsome. Oh my gosh, his kids are so adorable! All those blonde curls. Emma’s reaction is priceless. They are going to be a fun partnership too. Um, best solo part of the night. She looks gorgeous! Strong frame James. Sharna said that he reminds her of her James, and I agree. She just looks almost like a natural. Wow! That was just awesome. He’s definitely a front runner.

7,7,7

Overall, it was a good premiere. I still miss Sharna and Artem. I miss seeing their beautiful faces. I’m happy the good band is back. One of the band members has Sharna’s hair…I like the new ballroom layout. They are going to be a fun cast. I think Sean might go home at the end of next week but maybe Lamar. I’m ok with either.

I missed live blogging with you all last night, but I will be back to it next Monday, Lord willing. In the meantime, here to actually getting pictures and videos throughout the week.

[plantaffinity]

Get to know me

Rules: Tag 10 people you would like to get to know better

Tagged by: @growingsucculents

Name: I don't really like strangers knowing and saying my name (I think names are powerful somehow?) so if you're my friend and want to know my name, just ask in dm 😘

Birth year: 1997

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Height: 170 cm

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the four first songs: Dude my playlist is more like an archive for every song I have ever liked in my entire life so this will be weird

1. Fearless by Kellie Loder

Okay this one is actually recent and I like it so that's good

2. Alone by Alan Walker

Pretty long ago but I did really like this one back then I think, and it is pretty I guess but I think I listened to it too much back then so now it's meh

3. Red flag by Billy Talent

omg this was so long ago!!

4. Just the way you are by Bruno Mars

Okay this is really interesting because it IS in my playlist (which is on youtube) but I have given it a thumbs down? I also haven't listened to it in a really long time and it's not really something I'd listen to now😅

Nearest book, page 23, line 17:

On line 17 it actually just says:

"fönstret."

Ever had a song/poem written about you?

Not that I know of, but I've heard that I have been included in a poem at least

When was the last time you played air guitar?

I don't play air guitar or any air instruments. The only air-thing I do is eating air-food to mime to people that I want food sometimes 😅

Celebrity crushes?

I don't really crush on celebrities because I know nothing about them (I don't take time to find stuff out either because it doesn't interest me). If we're going by looks I can't deny that Colin O'Donoghue is pretty fuckin cute. And if we go by personality, I guess Benjamin Ingrosso has a pretty adorable personality of what you can see on tv at least and he seems pretty much like an open book. At least that's how I feel right now, it might change. Personality really is everything to me when it comes to things like this and I just don't know any celebrities personally.

What is a sound you love/hate?

I love harp music and I love the seagulls sounds

Sounds I hate aren't really sounds that I hate, f.ex when I hear that mom is scratching her fingers I ger annoyed because I have had a lifelong mission of getting her to stop ruining her fingers so it's not the sound but the act? I dunno I don't think I have a sound that I hate just cause it's a sound

Do you drive?

I'm terrified of driving and no one has the time to teach me!

Last book you read?

Legend by Marie Lu

Do you believe in ghosts?

At my core I want to believe in ghosts but logically I know they don't exist. I like pretending they do though

Do you believe in aliens?

Yes. I believe in aliens more than the avarage alien-believer. Theres definitely aliens on other planets. Don't know if they're on earth and wouldn't count on it

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

No! It reminds me of winters when I was little and forced to join my family on snowmobile trips. I was very sensitive to cold when I was little so I hated it. Also had a tiny snowmobile accident with my idiot of an ex

Last movie you saw:

Well ant-man was on tv last night

Do you have any obsessions right now?

Well if we're gonna take the word "obsession" a with a pinch of salt you could say I have an obsession with a certain person right now but I'm not actually obsessed 😅

Do you tend to hold grudges?

Yes and no. I forgive people easily but I also can hate someone for years and years if they deserve it

Are you in a relationship?

Not right now and probably never ever

Tagging: @doomspaniels @aquestionablemutt @littleelectric @neevea @turquoiseforlife @kihaku-gato @scixerboa @lillann12 @ anons who sent me nice asks 💕 also @ every single swede that follows me

[queerasfolkmagic]

Introducing myself

Hello folks, 

Having been here a while, I thought it was about time to formally introduce myself to you guys. Plus I’ve spent most of the day drafting a letter of introduction to apply for an apprenticeship, so my thoughts on who I am in terms of magical practice and where I’ve come from feels a lot more organised than it has for years. 

So the basic stuff. I’m a queer cis man living in the UK, but I grew up working class in Georgia. I’ve got a brilliant boyfriend who is a dyed in the wool atheist & sceptic who nonetheless is extremely supportive of my practice. I work in the arts, and have been working professionally as a poet, performer and installation artist for the past 15 years or so. However, I’m taking some time off next year from both my company and my arts practice to focus on retraining as a psychotherapist. In its own way, this feels closely linked to my renewed interest in magic, but more on that later. 

So my journey into magic - When I was a freshman in high school, a way-cooler-than-me senior sat me down in a patch of grass near our school and asked me if I’d ever heard of Wicca. I’m not sure why she singled me out – I was a pretty nerdy and way into fantasy novels, but she was friends with my older brother. It was the first time I’d ever heard of Wicca, but she lent me a copy of Cunningham’s Wicca: A Guide For The Solitary Practitioner, patted my head, and sent me on my way. I read the book from cover to cover and shared it with my friends, and we formed (or at least formalised!) our first coven. 

The 90s was a pretty good time to be a teen witch. The Craft came out, and you could pick up Llewellyn books at Barnes and Noble (even if your heart was pounding the entire time you walked up to the register). It was good, even in the Bible Belt. There was a metaphysical shop in downtown Atlanta we’d all make the occasional pilgrimage to when we could convince an older sibling to drive us down, or later when we started getting our own licenses. We traded books and stayed up late. We burned candles in the woods – scrappy copses of undeveloped lands at the edges of our subdivisions, our public parks, our back yards. I started wearing a pentacle and drawing green men on my textbooks. It was the 90s and it was exciting. I read a lot of Cunningham and Caitlin and John Matthews. Later I found Starhawk, both her fiction and non fiction. 

However, I remember that even at the time I felt like I got more out of books like Brian Froud and Alan Lee’s Faeries or pretty much anything by Charles de Lint or Terri Windling, and the bits of folklore that got slipped into their stories. I felt more resonance with current writers grappling with and interpreting myth and folklore than I did with people writing about modern witchcraft. Partly, it was because I felt uneasy about some of the claims around unbroken lineage a lot of writers were making, rather than admitting and owning a reconstructionist approach. Also, the emphasis around fertility never felt like it fit for me. As a queer kid in a small southern town, the last thing I needed was another dogmatic approach to gender. When authors talked about the Wheel of the Year, it sounded like a beautiful myth but one that felt so removed from me. The Horned God felt like just another straight guy – unknowable and unrelatable, 

 I spent a lot of time walking through woods, and trying to be open to what they contained. Looing back, I think what resonated a lot more with me was a sense of animism – something that was discussed briefly in the books I read, but never given the same sense of importance as Deity worship. 

Then things fell apart. My dad committed suicide and my mom’s addictions started spiralling out of control. My own drug and alcohol use increased massively. I started spending a lot more time at raves than I did in nature. By the time I finished high school, my sense of connection with nature and interest in spirituality of any stripe pretty much disappeared. Occasionally it would resurface. I went to acting school, and the Goddess showed up in more than one visualisation exercise – which was both powerful and uncomfortable. After I got sober I discovered Quakerism and connected to a different kind of god – not quite the Christian one, not quite the Wiccan one – but someone who felt like a loving father and also mysterious and awesome. Still, nothing really stuck. I moved to the UK in 2004 and religion and spirituality is pretty much a no go here.  

So fast forward a couple of years – I promise I’m getting to the end! Two things happened. I took my partner back to the US to meet my family, and the newness of seeing my family through his eyes taught me a lot including the fact that my family is witchy AF. We talk openly about seeing ghosts, we talk with our dead and they speak to us in signs, we share stories about premonitions and intuition, and we create little altars all the time. I know it sounds stupid, but I’d genuinely never really thought about it before. It was just my family. I though magic came from wise women in the woods, not my Aunt Nancy in Chicago. For the first time, I thought about magic as being an inheritance, and as something that bonds me to family both living and dead. 

 The second incident happened while on holiday in Cornwall when for the first time in years I took a whole week off and sat by the sea. I didn’t do anything else. I turned off my phone and just sat in the sunshine, slept when I was tired, ate when I was hungry, watched the waves and the moon and the bees and just listened. And a message came through loud and clear (and terrifying in its clarity).  

And so with both those things in mind, I opened myself up. There were a lot of mistakes. The first witchy book I bought after 20 years was a beautiful book on natural healing – gorgeous pictures, but mostly recipes for homemade bath bombs and raw smoothies and nothing on spirituality. I bought some santo palo and realised I do not like the smell of santo palo. I bought way too many crystals and tarot packs, all of which looked beautiful and felt dead in my hands. I started a tumblr page and followed pretty much anyone who looked a bit witchy and got lost down some unfulfilling rabbit holes. 

 Then one day I pulled out a tiger’s eye my best friend had given me in high school and I felt something. Something profound – a tingle in my hand and up my arm, small but undeniable. I found a tarot pack that started giving me startlingly clear answers. – turns out it was a basic vanilla RWS pack I needed! I found some great witchy podcasts – New World Witchery, The Witch Wave, and Betwixt and Between – who were talking about things that made sense to me. 

The world of witchcraft has changed SO MUCH in the past twenty years I was away! Wicca is no longer the only flavour! No shade to Wiccans, but it feels so good to see other traditions be given more airtime. I’d never heard of Southern Conjure, hoodoo, and cunningfolk practices, and it has been so exciting to learn a bit about them. I’ve found Judika Illes and Byron Ballard. I’ve rediscovered Cunningham – not all of it is relevant to me, The Magical Household is one of the best books I’ve ever read. Most importantly, I’ve started thinking again about what bits of folklore and fairy tales feel ‘right’. So while The Green Witch and The Sorcerer’s Secrets are on my beside ‘to read’ book pile, so is The Book of English Magic, A Treasury of British Folklore, The Long Lost Friend, and A Deed Without a Name. So is Brewers Book of Phrase and Fable and Red Sky At Night and In The Pines and The Book of English Folk Tales and fairy tale collections from the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson.

So while I’m still finding my way,I’d like to be a modern-day cunning man. I’d like to use traditional and folkloric knowledge relating to my cultural and ancestral heritage (Irish, Welsh, Hungarian, Southern American, working class, queer) to help myself and the people around me deal with the challenges of being alive – finding security, dealing with grief, understanding their loved ones better. I’d like to be a repository for old ways and the creator of new ones. I’d like to be open and honest about my practices and my spiritual life. I’d like to be mostly kind and sometimes righteous when I need to be. I’d like to be on a first name basis with my ancestors and the land I live on. I’d like to spend time learning about little gods – house spirits, local faeries and land spirits, the birds who live in the local park, the spiders who make their homes in my garden – than building up big pantheons from other cultures. I’d like to celebrate the phases of the moon rather than the Wheel of the Year. I’d like to worship my mom and dad as the fierce, wonderful, loving, dangerous spirits they are. I’d like for casting a spell or talking to my ancestors to be as immediate an impulse as looking something up on Google. I’d like to be Sally Owen. Maybe Gilly Owen. One of the Owens, anyway. Definitely one of the Owens

[ask-some-werewolves-stuff]

Tal and Fang's First Change, Part 1

"Four beers? You couldn't get a six-pack?"

"I call the extra!"

"Fuck you. We'll share it."

"I don't know where your mouth's been."

"Your mom does."

Fang snorted as Alan shoved José away. The three of them were sitting in front of Alan's electric lantern. It was almost unnecessary; the moon was full, casting all of the trees in silvery light.

The three boys popped their beer bottles and each took a sip.

Far in the distance, they heard a howl.

Alan jumped so hard that he almost spilled his beer. "What was that?"

"Your mom and her date."

"Oh, fuck off, man!"

"It was probably just a dog," Fang said.

"It was coming from over here," Alan said nervously, motioning deeper into the woods. "So whatever it is, it's probably wild."

"So it's a stray dog," José said. "Calm the fuck down, man."

"I'm just saying. Maybe we should go back to my house."

"We haven't even finished our beers. Stop worrying so much," Fang said, rolling his eyes.

He took another swig . A rustling noise came from behind them, back from the path that led to the entrance to the forest. Alan turned again.

"I think somebody's coming."

"Nobody's—" Fang began, just as a voice behind them screamed "FRANCIS!"

Now Fang jumped, and while he recognized the voice instantly, Alan grabbed the lantern in a panic and swung it around toward the interloper.

Fang's older brother Tal crashed through the undergrowth, stumbled, and pulled on his leg, trying to free it from a thorny vine. He had a flashlight in his hand and a murderous look on his face.

All three boys jumped to their feet, José with a soft "fuck!" under his breath.

Tal got his leg free and hopped into the clearing. He was eighteen and several inches taller than Fang. While there was a certain resemblance in their faces, he had glasses and a mess of brown curly hair, while Fang had a bright red flattop.

Fang grimaced as Tal crossed his arms and glared down at him. "Well?!" Tal snapped, his voice trembling shrilly.

"Well what?" Fang asked, for lack of a better retort.

Tal's eye twitched.

"WELL, let's see. Mom called José's house looking for you, but his parents thought you were both at Alan's, his parents thought you were with us, and now I've to spend the night running around the forest looking for you!"

Alan raised a hand timidly. "How did you know we were here?"

"Your sister," Tal said through gritted teeth, keeping his gaze on Fang.

"Shit."

"And where did you get beer?!" Tal added, snatching the bottle from Fang's hand. "You're fourteen, Francis! What the hell?!"

Hearing his real name in front of his friends made Fang's face burn.

"Fuck off! I paid for it," Fang said, trying to snatch it back.

"Hey!"

Tal immediately tipped the bottle, attempting to spill it onto the ground—still, Fang managed to snatch it back, and on pure instinct, clutched it to his chest and ran off into the forest.

"Francis! FRANCIS!"

Tal hesitated for a second, then ran after him.

José and Alan were left alone. They shared a brief look.

"Do we...wait for him to drive us, or grab our bikes and leave?"

They chose the latter. Which was good, because the other option would have resulted in either a long wait or, quite likely, an early and painful death.

***

Looking back, Fang wasn't sure why he ran. The answer was somewhere between "I was pissed off" and "fuck Tal." He had also been drinking, of course. Were a few sips enough to impair your judgement?

Speaking of which, running with an open beer bottle? Not a great idea. It sloshed onto his shirt as he ran, and he lost about half of what was left when he stumbled on a tree root.

"Fuck!"

"Francis!"

He turned, saw his brother coming, and took off again. He didn't even have a light, and the trees blocked most of the light from the moon and stars.

There was another howl in the distance, but the pair were too distracted to notice.

Fang stumbled again and suddenly found himself falling.

He felt a flash of fear, but it only lasted a second before he crashed into the water.

SPLASH!

He swallowed a mouthful of it, thrashed for a moment, then awkwardly kicked his way to the surface, just in time for Tal to fall in beside him.

"Wha—agh!" SPLASH!

Fang ducked back as the water flew, then watched as Tal broke the surface again. It was easy to see—the moon seemed to be shining directly overhead, and it was so bright that the water seemed to be glowing silvery-white all around them.

"Since when is there a lake here?!" Tal shrieked. He spread his arms and looked down at his sopping clothes.

"Fuck!" Fang said. He was focused on his beer bottle, which was now filled with more water than alcohol. He threw it away angrily. The lake swallowed it with barely a ripple.

Suddenly, Tal grabbed his arm. "Great work," he growled. "Now we're soaked!"

"Get off!"

Fang pulled away. The two glared at each other, and then Tal clambered out of the embankment. Once on the ground and dripping wet, he reached back down to offer Fang his hand. Fang ignored him and climbed out by himself.

His skin began to tingle, but he thought it was from the cold.

"Mom's gonna have a fit when we get home," Tal said, rubbing his head. The dim light made him look unusually pale. "We better..."

He trailed off. Fang closed his eyes tightly, suddenly feeling dizzy and sick.

Then, at the same moment, both brothers cried out and fell to the ground.

Fang gasped for breath, climbing to his hands and knees. At first he wondered if he had run too much, but then a spasm of pain went through his whole body, like a flash of lightning, and he screamed, fingers clawing in the dirt.

"Fra—Francis!"

It was Tal, yelling from behind him. Fang could barely think about him. His head was spinning from more than just an alcoholic buzz, and he was too paralyzed with pain and terror to answer.

"GAAGGHH!"

Tal echoed his cry of pain, and suddenly, Fang realized that—something—was happening to his body. His skin felt too tight, like he was about to burst out of it. He heard a horrible RIIIP and for a blind moment thought that it had happened, but it was actually his jeans tearing along the seams. His shirt was straining too, and as he clawed at it, he found his nails—now an inch long and sharp as knives—slicing easily through the fabric.

"Aaah—!" he said, unable even to scream properly.

The patches of skin, newly exposed to the night air, were only bare for a second before the hair started to grow. Fang barely noticed over the pain in his muscles and bones—his face was contorted, he felt something—a tail—forcing its way out of his tattered pants, and he heard, unnaturally loud, the terrible crunches and squishes of his insides reshaping themselves.

"RAAAGGGHHH!" he or maybe Tal screamed. Either way, it came out more like a harsh, animal cry than a human voice.

Fang felt one last painful spasm, and suddenly, shockingly, it was done. His body was completely different, but more to the point, he was. With that jolt, he no longer considered himself Francis Kleeberg. The creature that remained was a sharper, wilder version of the boy whom he had been moments before.

He climbed to his four paws, still aching all over from the transformation. He shook himself, stray bits of clothes falling off from his fur. He raised his tail, his stiff ears turning. This form felt natural now. His new mind and body fit perfectly together.

Behind him, the other creature rose too.

Some part of Fang recognized Tal—it was the scent, which was somehow familiar in a way that the human Fang couldn't have described. But those same tattered memories were tinged with rage. He growled, leaning down and raising his hackles. The other beast responded in kind, eyes daring Fang to make the first move.

He leapt! And for about fifteen seconds the two were a blur of movement, wrestling each other to the ground, biting and slashing. He felt teeth snap at his fur and gave as good as he got.

Then another howl echoed through the woods.

They jumped back from each other, panting, and turned toward the noise. After a few seconds, they looked back at one another.

Fang still felt a low, burning anger at his brother. Still, this was his brother; Fang could tolerate his presence. He wouldn't allow some other to share the same territory as them.

Tal seemed to agree. With a curt nod and a soft growl, they put their fight on hold.

Then, in almost perfect unison, they both threw back their heads and howled. It an dangerous sound, warning their opponents to leave. Then they turned and shot into the trees.

[softboywriting]

Mated Pt 12 // Werewolf Shawn

(sorry im a few mins late posting this. @sippingchai gave me a SWEET distraction)

Summary: You and Shawn are mates. He’s an alpha werewolf. You’re a human. Human’s aren’t usually mated to werewolves, but that won’t stop both of you from falling in love anyway.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Everything hits the fan when you walk upstairs with Shawn and your dad is home. He takes one look and he knows exactly who Shawn is. What Shawn is. His face turns a little red, and you know he’s ready to blow up. This wasn’t exactly how you wanted to introduce Shawn to him, but here you were.

“So, are you the one that broke into my daughter's room?” your dad, Alan, asks with his arms folded. He tilts his head a little and you know he’s going to challenge Shawn.

“Sir,” Shawn starts with an oh so sweet smile, “I wouldn’t need to break into your daughters room.”

That’s it. That does it. You can see something in your dad snap. Why did Shawn have to be like this right now? He was already heated from the fact that Liam had been in your room and done what he did. Why did your dad have to open with such an accusatory question? You groan, wishing Shawn could have just answered with a simple, “No.”

“Exactly what are you implying?” Alan asks, stepping forward toward you and Shawn. Bad choice dad. Bad choice.

Shawn steps in front of you and straightens his back. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut. “I wasn’t implying anything. Simply stating a fact.” Shawn crosses his arms and looks your dad up and down. Properly sizing him up as an opponent. “I know who did break in though.”

Alan looks Shawn over, squaring him up the same way Shawn was. He fell short by about four inches and several pounds of muscle. There was no way your dad would ever be able to take Shawn on. “And who do you think it was, Sherlock?”

“I know it was her piece of shit ex boyfriend. Liam.”

“Ex?” Alan asks with raised eyebrows, looking at you. “So the two of you are a thing now?” He looks to Shawn with a disgusted face. “You moved in pretty quick then, considering Liam and my daughter were still together on her birthday not to long ago.”

“Dad, Shawn and I were already friends,” not exactly a lie but not a whole truth “and then things changed. We found out we’re mates so-”

Alan holds his hand up and shakes his head. “Excuse me young lady? Mates? Werewolves don’t mate with humans. Now, it’s bad enough you’re dating him, or whatever this is, but mates?”

“Dad, I’m not joking,” you say and try to step out from behind Shawn but he won’t let you. “Myra sent for me on my birthday and said she had a vision that-”

“A vision!? You believe that old woman? Honey, don’t feel like you have to do anything just because someone says they saw it in a dream. If you don’t want to be with Shawn-”

“Alan. Let your daughter speak,” Shawn growls, yes, literally growls this out. He’s radiating heat, his eyes are bright golden amber and all you can do is lay your hand on his back to provide some sense of comfort and grounding lest he snap and attack your dad and his big mouth. Alan takes another step forward, starting in on how Shawn better watch his tone, that this is his house and he will not be ordered around by the likes of him. You can feel Shawn losing his temper. It’s like fire on your fingertips where your hand rests on Shawn’s back, the way he was feeling was unmistakable, it was murderous.

“Shawn,” you say softly just as your dad stops speaking. “Shawn, please. This is not the way to do this.” Your dad watches you as you carefully step around Shawn and place your hand on his chest, pushing him slightly and he walks back against the door to the basement. “Please don’t lose your temper over this.”

Shawn averts his gaze to you and you can see he’s pleading with you. It’s all right there on his face. He’s begging you to let him accept the challenge your dad was posing. You shake your head a little. He looks back and down at you again. Silently asking to at least rough your dad up a little. You shake your head again. Shawn slides his hand into your hair and leans down to kiss you hard, teeth clacking against yours. He’s biting you lip, licking into your mouth. It’s a rough, frustrated, annoyed, angry, possessive kiss.  You lay your hand on his face and pull back as your dad clears his throat.

You turn around and see that your mom has joined your dad where he’s stood across the kitchen. “Dad, what’s happened has happened. Shawn and I are mates.  I-” you stop because you're not really sure how to phrase it to them that you’ve been turned. “I’ve accepted this, completely.”

“Dear, human’s can’t mate with werewolves. They just don’t reproduce. You’ll never have kids an-”

You cut your mom off as you say, “I’m not human.”

Alan looks like he saw a ghost. Grace looks like she has misheard you. It’s a clusterfuck of babbling as they both try to speak at once. Shawn’s arm slips around your waist and you lean back against him. Finally your mom gets a full sentence out. “I’m sorry, how is that?”

“I bit her. I’m an alpha like my father.”

“You WHAT?!” Alan starts for us and you pull away from Shawn to push him back, hand on his chest, he tumbles backward and you retract your hand quickly. You didn’t know you had that kind of strength. You only wanted him to stop before Shawn couldn’t lay his hands on him.

“I’m sorry! Are you okay dad?!” you stare at your dad laying sprawled out on the tiled floor. He sits up and rubs his head gingerly as your mom bends down to help him up. “I-I didn’t know that would happen.”

Alan sighs heavily. “I’m fine. Just a little surprised.”

“Honey, if Shawn is what you want, and if you’re a werewolf, then we’re just going to have to adjust. Right, Alan?” Grace says, rubbing his back. “There is nothing that can be done now. We can’t make you human again. We can’t take Shawn away from you, you aren’t a child with a toy.” She looks pointedly at Alan and he nods in solemn agreement.

“I’d like to take her home with me,” Shawn says quietly. “I’m afraid Liam may be watching your house and he might try to break in again.”

“Nothing was stolen?” Alan asks, looking at you for confirmation.

You nod. “That’s right. He didn’t come to take anything back. He came for me, we think. There was...dried...semen on my bed.”

“That little prick came into my fucking house and rubbed one out on your bed?!” Alan shouts, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He grips the counter top he’s leaned against and you think the wood trim on the side might pop off. “If that little fuck ever shows his face around here again I’ll-”

Shawn pulls you close to him. “I’ll take care of it. A wolf knows how to clean up it’s mess far better than a human.”

Grace’s eyes widen at this casual talk of a possible murder. “Shawn I know you care for our daughter but-”

“I’ll do what I have to. I will keep her safe no matter the cost.” Shawn kisses your head and you flush bright red. Your parents just nod, knowing that a werewolf’s word to his mate was a guarantee. It would be hard but they were going to have to let you go. You weren’t their innocent little girl anymore.

The two of you head back downstairs after a while and Shawn kisses under your jaw from behind you when you walk into your room. He pulls you against his chest and keeps kissing all along your neck. “Get some clothes, anything you need. I’ll see if we can use the guest house on the estate for a while.” He pushes you away playfully and you start grabbing some clothes and shoving them into your old backpack. “Don’t forget your homework. I’m sure you’re behind.”

“Yeah, I am. Also, sorry about my dad. I didn’t want it to go down like that.”

Shawn shrugs. “I didn’t kill him, so that’s a start.”

“Did you really mean what you said? You think Liam is watching the place?” You wind up your laptop charger and shove it in your bag. Shawn nods and you feel an unsettling sick in your stomach.

When you look back to question Shawn as to why he thought that, he grabs a pair of black lace panties out of your top dresser drawer and dangles them off one finger. “Pack these,” he says, voice low and commanding. “And these,” he grabs your pink and white/gold pairs. You flush and take them out of his hands to stuff in the outer pocket of your backpack.

“I’m almost ready to go,” you say and the last thing you grab is a pair of pajamas out of your laundry basket and Shawn wraps his arms around you, pulling you away. “Won’t need pajamas baby,” he kisses your neck and bites your earlobe. “I’ll make sure you’re plenty warm every night.”

Tag List: @pancakeclouds @welldamnshawn @sippingchai @ironfurycollector @shawnsr0ses @shawn-bliss @illumegeoff @shawnsassymendes @lostinshawnslight   (someone messages me earlier and i accidentally forgot to write down ur username so i didn’t tag you. im SORRY)