#so the races have to keep hopping from host to host and killing more and more people

[murderandcoffee]

how tf does one gather an audience for a project they're working on? I am NOT an influencer and would rather die than become that sort of shill

(rundown of the overall plot of my podcast in the tags if anyone is at all interested)

[the-bearer-of-bad-ideas]

do u have any ocs 👉👈 a moot of mine asked and now i wanna know if u have one!!!!!

THANK YOU FOR ASKING I HAVE SEVERAL

okok so the main ones areeeee probably broanch (and all the other characters in sywpq by extension) and donovan but ive got some others

donovan doesn't have much lore but shes pretty much just 15 year old art kid who likes bunnies and drawing anime gore she makes those stickman fight animations in her free time and probably is somewhat scene now that i think about it??? that girl is blasting millionaires in the back of the classroom loud enough for everyone to hear lmao

i had a dream where i was having a panic attack in class and she calmed me down and gave me her hat and was very niceys so i made her real because she was nice lol

donovan is also not her real name but she thinks her real name is stupid so she doesnt go by it and she took the name off a book or something

^^ she

and then i put the sywpq stuff under the cut cus its long lol

ok so SYWPQ

first off I CANT FIND MY GOOD DRAWINGS OF THEM :((((( BUT HERES THEIR GENERAL DESIGNS

fair warning i wrote most of the lore when i was like 11 so its a bit stupid but eh

broanch is this girl from an alien race (called steyaes) that split off of humans a really long time ago and has kind of just been hopping planets ever since

the patch of galaxy they ended up in was very barren of resources so this species kinda spent a lot of time just floating around in the void in a sorta hibernation like state or hopping between asteroids and small planets, whatever they could find, and using the limited resources before jumping off to look for another

theres also a thing that like. evolved?? or something??? in thats essentially jsut magic they have magic powers. imagine like a video game stamina bar that empties as the character uses it to manifest objects and attacks and yeah thats pretty much it (it takes a lot of energy to use so it's not used often for anything more major than like. controlling small objects, manifesting clouds {saoirse does that a lot}, electrical shocks, etc, but it can be used for larger things like combat)

(broanch's power stuff is more suited to combat while saoirse's and juneau's are more for controlling water and air)

she had a shitty childhood, parental neglect n all that, and spent a lot of time playing by herself and with this pair of sisters she befriended (saoirse and juneau), and pretending that she was in charge of various different things and this eventually manifested into her really wanting to host some type of tv show

when she was around 16 she ran off cus. shitty home life. and since steyaes are one of the relatively stronger human-adjacent species she ended up taking up various jobs bounty hunting or going off looking for rabid animals that were causing issues so she can kill them or whatever

she kinda just went around doing whatever for a couple years until eventually

one day she and saoirse were on this random planet they found that didnt really have much going for it but they were just kinda talking doing whatever, when humans found it

at this point in the universe humans do know theres other civilizations out there and have talked to them but they all kinda tend to keep to themselves so the humans on the ship are a lil surprised to find someone here

since this planet is otherwise entirely empty theyre like "ok cool this is ours" but broanch basically just goes "nuh uh i was here first" and starts fighting with nasa cus this planet is HERS actually ueah totally uh huh

....and then i dont exactly remember what happens at this part cus again i made most of this when i was 11. but. basically they dont really resolve the fight but because its happening there's loads of tv coverage and broanch is immediately like "WOW IM ON TV :DDDD" and decides that now is when she should finally bring her tv show host dreams to fruition

since she's only known for being on this planet she decides to use it as the prize for her new gameshow and then also decides (purely to piss off nasa) that the show is going to be run as a club at a random highschool cus why not lmao

the show is called "So Ya Want Planet Q?" and the contestants are all 16-18 year old students at a highschool in bumfuck nowhere america

she did not tell them going into this that is was a gameshow and advertised the club as an "afterschool hangout thing"

episodes are recorded live through saoirse running around with a camera and the show functions similar to something like total drama or bfdi (i made this entire thing in the trenches of my bfb hyperfixation lmfao) except instead of elimination by vote theres a point system, and the games change pretty much every episode, ranging from fairly normal stuff like trivia to a literal bomb defusing thing at one point

broanch is the main host and does all the talking and saoirse is the cohost and helps set up challenges and man cameras, and acts as the voice of reason to broanch's stupidity

saoirse's spent more time on earth and knows more about social norms and culture and shit so she's also the "resident human expert" because broanch has no fucking idea what shes doing

saoirse and juneau im still working on fleshing out but theyre pretty much just. normal. idk

saoirse's the cohost obviously and while juneau does help with the show occasionally she generally thinks its a bad idea so doesn't very often

i have a few other misc characters but those are the two i draw the most :D ive got another thingie called like plantii or somethign but again that was mostly made when i was 11 and also all the lore is on my laptop profile that im still locked out of :(( ill find it eventually though

[lost-in-the-pink-mist]

Today we want to ramble about the Krang and their goal! We don't know if we've ever really touched on what, exactly, the Krang are doing. Or what the Krang actually are. So lets take it from the top!

The original "Krang" species was a cluster of hivemind colonies who expanded their population (and thus gave each colony more time to live as their older bodies died out. Effective immortality!) by literally building themselves bodies, but one colony got sick of competing for resources and decided to take over, spreading through the same means they used to connect to their original bodies (though its always less effective when the body already has a mind, its a lesser secondary form of hivemind and no one in the Krang's species would have found it comfortable to live in a host like that without bodies of their own). They used the other colonies bodies to run a true factory line to make more bodies for themselves, keeping it going until resources ran out and all the other colonies bodies died from starvation, injuries, or old age.

From there, the Krang started planet hopping. Their first planet went perfectly according to plan, and was eventually drained of its resources just like their home planet.

The second planet seemed to have been going similarly, but the Salamandrians turned out to be a lot more mentally adaptable than the Krang had ever experienced before, and their method of takeover was too slow to avoid it. They'd still had enough of the planet to start their production lines and run them for a decent amount of time, with only a small resistance to bother them, but as time went on and generations passed, the small resistance eventually became a real threat with natural mental barriers that the Krang couldn't get through. The Salamandrians survived and the Krang were eventually forced to flee the planet (the Salamandrians feel a lot of guilt for letting the parasites get away, they have teams out scouting the universe for Krang infested planets and trying to eradicate them, hoping it'll make up for them being unable to kill the colony while it was much smaller and weaker on their planet)

Its only a few hundred years after this point that the Krang arrive on earth. The Salamandrians had managed to stop almost all of their takeover attempts, but they've perfected their method to avoid any Salamandrian-like resistance threats and detection from the Salamandrians themselves.

They need a conduit. A magically inclined local who is compatible with the entire planet's population. All they need is one, if they can get to one they can spread to them all regardless of distance. But its not an easy thing to do on earth when there's two dominant races they need to find a very specific magic user. It gets even more complicated when one of the races has essentially wiped out their own magic users. They have to find the one remaining magical human family line. Aka the Hamatos.

From there, the worst case scenario is obvious. We'll get into the litpm bad end timeline another time though

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: The Windblown (Quentyn II) [Chapter 25]

She is coming. Her host is on the march. She is racing south to Yunkai, to put the city to the torch and its people to the sword, and we are going north to meet her.

Frog had it from Dick Straw who had it from Old Bill Bone who had it from a Pentoshi named Myrio Myrakis, who had a cousin who served as cupbearer to the Tattered Prince. "Coz heard it in the command tent, from Caggo's own lips," Dick Straw insisted. "We'll march before the day is out, see if we don't."

+.+.+

"We'll get provisions in Yunkai, maybe fresh horses, then it will be on to Meereen to dance with the dragon queen. So hop quick, Frog, and put a nice edge on your master's sword. Might be he'll need it soon."

In Dorne Quentyn Martell had been a prince, in Volantis a merchant's man, but on the shores of Slaver's Bay he was only Frog, squire to the big bald Dornish knight the sellswords called Greenguts. The men of the Windblown used what names they would, and changed them at a whim. They'd fastened Frog on him because he hopped so fast when the big man shouted a command.

Frog prince, she's not going to kiss you, please go home.

He refers to himself as Frog throughout this chapter. Oh, Quentyn.

+.+.+

The Windblown went back thirty years, and had known but one commander, the soft-spoken, sad-eyed Pentoshi nobleman called the Tattered Prince. His hair and mail were silver-grey, but his ragged cloak was made of twists of cloth of many colors, blue and grey and purple, red and gold and green, magenta and vermilion and cerulean, all faded by the sun. When the Tattered Prince was three-and-twenty, as Dick Straw told the story, the magisters of Pentos had chosen him to be their new prince, hours after beheading their old prince. Instead he'd buckled on a sword, mounted his favorite horse, and fled to the Disputed Lands, never to return. He had ridden with the Second Sons, the Iron Shields, and the Maiden's Men, then joined with five brothers-in-arms to form the Windblown. Of those six founders, only he survived.

[...]

An old man he was, past sixty, yet he still sat straight and tall in the high saddle, and his voice was strong enough to carry to every corner of the field. 

There are old sellswords and bold sellswords, but no old bold sellswords. - Daenerys V, ASOS

The Tattered Prince was selected to be Prince of Pentos, and refused. It's giving Jon Snow.

For those thinking that might also be hinting at a volunteered exile, we'll later learn the Tattered Prince does want Pentos. So no, I don't think so.

"What I want," said the Tattered Prince, "is Pentos." - The Spurned Suitor, ADWD

+.+.+

But Gerris had the right of it; he and Arch were here to protect Quentyn, and that meant keeping him by the big man's side. "Arch is the best fighter of the three of us," Drinkwater had pointed out, "but only you can hope to wed the dragon queen."

Wed her or fight her; either way, I will face her soon. 

Boy, you don't know how right you are.

+.+.+

The more Quentyn heard of Daenerys Targaryen, the more he feared that meeting. 

[...]

And Books, the clever Volantene swordsman who always seemed to have his nose poked in some crumbly scroll, thought the dragon queen both murderous and mad. "Her khal killed her brother to make her queen. Then she killed her khal to make herself khaleesi. She practices blood sacrifice, lies as easily as she breathes, turns against her own on a whim. She's broken truces, tortured envoys … her father was mad too. It runs in the blood."

And the best lies contain within them nuggets of truth, enough to give a listener pause. - Tyrion III, ACOK

+.+.+

It runs in the blood. King Aerys II had been mad, all of Westeros knew that. He had exiled two of his Hands and burned a third. If Daenerys is as murderous as her father, must I still marry her? Prince Doran had never spoken of that possibility.

That's the problem with marriage pacts, you might get a Viserys or Daenerys.

He had exiled two of his Hands and burned a third.

I never considered this might be foreshadowing. She exiles Jorah.

+.+.+

Frog would be glad to put Astapor behind him. The Red City was the closest thing to hell he ever hoped to know. The Yunkai'i had sealed the broken gates to keep the dead and dying inside the city, but the sights that he had seen riding down those red brick streets would haunt Quentyn Martell forever. A river choked with corpses. The priestess in her torn robes, impaled upon a stake and attended by a cloud of glistening green flies. Dying men staggering through the streets, bloody and befouled. Children fighting over half-cooked puppies. The last free king of Astapor, screaming naked in the pit as he was set on by a score of starving dogs. And fires, fires everywhere. He could close his eyes and see them still: flames whirling from brick pyramids larger than any castle he had ever seen, plumes of greasy smoke coiling upward like great black snakes.

Good lord.

"What's the point of Quentyn Martell's POV?" This. This is the point. POVs in Slaver's Bay that aren't Daenerys.

+.+.+

When the wind blew from the south, the air smelled of smoke even here, three miles from the city. Behind its crumbling red brick walls, Astapor was still asmolder, though by now most of the great fires had burned out. Ashes floated lazy on the breeze like fat grey snowflakes.

+.+.+

The Yunkai'i did not lack for commanders. An old hero named Yurkhaz zo Yunzak had the supreme command, though the men of the Windblown glimpsed him only at a distance, coming and going in a palanquin so huge it required forty slaves to carry it.

They could not help but see his underlings, however. The Yunkish lordlings scuttled everywhere, like roaches. Half of them seemed to be named Ghazdan, Grazdan, Mazdhan, or Ghaznak; telling one Ghiscari name from another was an art few of the Windblown had mastered, so they gave them mocking styles of their own devising.

Ha ha, funny author. Almost as funny as introducing three new characters, then changing their names the next chapter.

Yurkhaz zo Yunzak will be an important character, but I don't remember enough to have an opinion of him.

+.+.+

Foremost amongst them was the Yellow Whale, an obscenely fat man who always wore yellow silk tokars with golden fringes. Too heavy even to stand unassisted, he could not hold his water, so he always smelled of piss, a stench so sharp that even heavy perfumes could not conceal it. But he was said to be the richest man in Yunkai, and he had a passion for grotesques; his slaves included a boy with the legs and hooves of a goat, a bearded woman, a two-headed monster from Mantarys, and a hermaphrodite who warmed his bed at night. "Cock and cunny both," Dick Straw told them. "The Whale used to own a giant too, liked to watch him fuck his slave girls. Then he died. I hear the Whale'd give a sack o' gold for a new one."

Guess who buys Tyrion in a slave market.

Is every character morbidly obese in this book? He's probably supposed to remind me of Illyrio. Couldn't tell you why.

+.+.+

Then there was the Girl General, who rode about on a white horse with a red mane and commanded a hundred strapping slave soldiers that she had bred and trained herself, all of them young, lean, rippling with muscle, and naked but for breechclouts, yellow cloaks, and long bronze shields with erotic inlays. Their mistress could not have been more than sixteen and fancied herself Yunkai's own Daenerys Targaryen.

Is the horse named Drogal? Does she call her slaves freedmen?

+.+.+

The Little Pigeon was not quite a dwarf, but he might have passed for one in a bad light. Yet he strutted about as if he were a giant, with his plump little legs spread wide and his plump little chest puffed out. His soldiers were the tallest that any of the Windblown had ever seen; the shortest stood seven feet tall, the tallest close to eight. All were long-faced and long-legged, and the stilts built into the legs of their ornate armor made them longer still. Pink-enameled scales covered their torsos; on their heads were perched elongated helms complete with pointed steel beaks and crests of bobbing pink feathers. Each man wore a long curved sword upon his hip, and each clasped a spear as tall as he was, with a leaf-shaped blade at either end.

"The Little Pigeon breeds them," Dick Straw informed them. "He buys tall slaves from all over the world, mates the men to the women, and keeps their tallest offspring for the Herons. One day he hopes to be able to dispense with the stilts."

The giant dwarf is a nod to Tyrion, but I don't know what the hell the rest of it means.

+.+.+

"Some say that herons are majestic," said Old Bill Bone.

"If your king eats frogs while standing on one leg."

"Herons are craven," the big man put in. "One time me and Drink and Cletus were hunting, and we came on these herons wading in the shallows, feasting on tadpoles and small fish. They made a pretty sight, aye, but then a hawk passed overhead, and they all took to the wing like they'd seen a dragon. Kicked up so much wind it blew me off my horse, but Cletus nocked an arrow to his string and brought one down. Tasted like duck, but not so greasy."

We've got an arrow taking down a massive bird, but it's the hawk that's the dragon in this scenario.

Herons fleeing once they see a dragon is probably a sign of things to come.

+.+.+

The last time the slave soldiers of Yunkai'i had faced the dragon queen's Unsullied, they broke and ran. The Clanker Lords had devised a stratagem to prevent that; they chained their troops together in groups of ten, wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle. "None of the poor bastards can run unless they all run," Dick Straw explained, laughing. "And if they do all run, they won't run very fast."

Something to keep in mind when Daenerys returns to Meereen in TWOW, and decimates the Yunkish slave army.

Game of Thrones didn't do a great job at conveying those were slaves she was burning.

+.+.+

"A pack of stinking yellow fools," Beans complained. "They still ain't managed to puzzle out why the Stormcrows and the Second Sons went over to the dragon queen."

"For gold, they believe," said Books. "Why do you think they're paying us so well?"

"Gold is sweet, but life is sweeter," said Beans. "We were dancing with cripples at Astapor. Do you want to face real Unsullied with that lot on your side?"

Daenerys better not lose battles in Westeros.

+.+.+

A real fight, thought Frog. The words stuck in his craw. The fight beneath the walls of Astapor had seemed real enough to him, though he knew the sellswords felt otherwise. "That was butchery, not battle," the warrior bard Denzo D'han had been heard to declare afterward. 

[...]

Dead or alive, the Butcher King still took the Wise Masters unawares. The Yunkishmen were still running about in fluttering tokars trying to get their half-trained slave soldiers into some semblance of order as Unsullied spears came crashing through their siege lines. If not for their allies and their despised hirelings they might well have been overwhelmed, but the Windblown and the Company of the Cat were ahorse in minutes and came thundering down on the Astapori flanks even as a legion from New Ghis pushed through the Yunkish camp from the other side and met the Unsullied spear to spear and shield to shield.

A whole chapter dedicated to telling me Yunkai doesn't have a hope in hell.

+.+.+

The rest was butchery, but this time it was the Butcher King on the wrong end of the cleaver. Caggo was the one who finally cut him down, fighting through the king's protectors on his monstrous warhorse and opening Cleon the Great from shoulder to hip with one blow of his curved Valyrian arakh. Frog did not see it, but those who did claimed Cleon's copper armor rent like silk, and from within came an awful stench and a hundred wriggling grave worms. Cleon had been dead after all. The desperate Astapori had pulled him from his tomb, clapped him into armor, and tied him onto a horse in hopes of giving heart to their Unsullied.

Dead Cleon's fall wrote an end to that. The new Unsullied threw down their spears and shields and ran, only to find the gates of Astapor shut behind them.

What the hell?

I'm instantly reminded of Roose Bolton's decoy, but I doubt he'll be a dead guy.

+.+.+

Yet that was no real fight, he thought. The real fight will be on us soon, and we must be away before it comes, or we'll find ourselves fighting on the wrong side.

[...]

Those were hardships to be endured, the stuff of all adventures.

But what must come next was plain betrayal. The Yunkai'i had brought them from Old Volantis to fight for the Yellow City, but now the Dornishmen meant to turn their cloaks and go over to the other side. That meant abandoning their new brothers-in-arms as well. The Windblown were not the sort of companions Quentyn would have chosen, but he had crossed the sea with them, shared their meat and mead, fought beside them, traded tales with those few whose talk he understood. 

Aww, he's made wildling friends.

Nice for the sellswords, but I wish more Yunkai were humanized. We're getting nothing but evil one-dimensional caricatures right now.

Oops, sorry, am I being a slavery apologist again?

+.+.+

It was the Tattered Prince himself who did the speaking. "Orders have come down from Yurkhaz," he said. "What Astapori still survive have come creeping from their hidey-holes, it seems. There's nothing left in Astapor but corpses, so they're pouring out into the countryside, hundreds of them, maybe thousands, all starved and sick. The Yunkai'i don't want them near their Yellow City. We've been commanded to hunt them down and turn them, drive them back to Astapor or north to Meereen. If the dragon queen wants to take them in, she's welcome to them. Half of them have the bloody flux, and even the healthy ones are mouths to feed."

And it begins.

Just when she thinks Astapor is behind her, someone rides in on a pale mare.

+.+.+

"A fair question. You're to ride east, deep into the hills, then swing wide about Yunkai, making for Meereen. Should you come on any Astapori, drive them north or kill them … but know that is not the purpose of your mission. Beyond the Yellow City, you're like to come up against the dragon queen's patrols. Second Sons or Stormcrows. Either will serve. Go over to them."

"Go over to them?" said the bastard knight, Ser Orson Stone. "You'd have us turn our cloaks?"

"I would," said the Tattered Prince.

Quentyn Martell almost laughed aloud. The gods are mad.

Now he doesn't have to defect! This is like the only good thing to ever happen to Quentyn Martell.

+.+.+

Hugh Hungerford frowned. "You think Queen Daenerys will take us in …"

"I do."

"… but if she does, what then? Are we spies? Assassins? Envoys? Are you thinking to change sides?"

[...]

"Let us be frank," said Denzo D'han, the warrior bard. "The Yunkai'i do not inspire confidence. Whatever the outcome of this war, the Windblown should share in the spoils of victory. Our prince is wise to keep all roads open."

Hedging his bets. Now we know how he made it to sixty.

I'm a little cloudy on the details, but I believe Daenerys doesn't take the Windblown sellswords in at first, because she doesn't trust them. Then Barristan Selmy is put in charge, and agrees to do business. Is that correct?

More relying on the wrong people basically.

+.+.+

"Every one of you has ample reason for wanting to abandon me. And Daenerys Targaryen knows that sellswords are a fickle lot. Her own Second Sons and Stormcrows took Yunkish gold but did not hesitate to join her when the tide of battle began to flow her way."

It only now occurred to me that Taena Merryweather and Daario Naharis might be playing the same role in each queen's story. Other than the sexual attraction, I mean.

Cersei knows Taena is playing both sides, but seems to forget that as the story develops. Daenerys knows she shouldn't trust sellswords, but. . .

+.+.+

The three Dornishmen were silent as they left the command tent. Twenty riders, all speaking the Common Tongue, thought Quentyn. Whispering has just gotten a deal more dangerous.

The big man slapped him hard across the back. "So. This is sweet, Frog. A dragon hunt."

A dragon hunt?

Final thoughts:

That was one of the hardest chapters to read in the entire series. Not gruesome, I mean I didn't understand anything.

-> return to menu <-

[whet-ones-write]

Baku Birthday 2021

So I’m posting this a /little/ early because I’m just too excited to share this fic! So I joined in with Bakugou’s Birthday Bash hosted by these amazing people!!

@phasmwrites​ @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda​ @lady-bakuhoe​ @jodrawssmut​ & @ramen-rambles​ 

And since joining I couldn’t have found a more supporting and helpful group on Discord!! Special thanks to: @hoe-doroki​ for being my beta reader and editor!! Thank you for dealing with my sorry, inconsistant ass and giving me the strength to pull though and just do some of my best writing to date! I haven’t written so much in so long and it was rather nice!! 

And to @notchesandbullets​ for telling me I can do this and be those words of praise when I needed them the most helping me pull though and finish this!

Contains: DragonShifter!Reader x Bakugou. Fantasy Setting,

WC: 3755 - Masterlist to all the works!!

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, oral (Female + M reviecing), Cowgirl, unprotected sex, Cum eating, Premature Ejaluations (if you squint), Age gap? It’s implied Reader is much older than Katsuki. Restraining Katsuki, Pervert Kiri

Looking around his throne, Katsuki couldn’t help but scoff at what came to his mind. He had everything a chief could want, but it still wasn’t enough for the young, barbaric male. Vast and grand was his home. People were happy, going about their day, harvest due and bountiful, the river running steady and clean. 

Though, he was still missing a vital element to his life. Someone to make him happy, to have by his side and call his own. So the only thing he had left to need or want was someone to walk into battle with him, because not just any person would. 

No, they had to have a few key traits to meet his standards. They needed to have a willingness to fight, to want to protect those around him and themselves with everything they had. They had to be able to take flack and a joke but also be serious when the time came. They had to be able to take no shit from anyone and make sure to be willing to put others in their place if they went out of line.

It wasn’t much! Honestly…Or at least he thought so. 

“...ugou, Bakugou!” A voice snapped him from his thoughts as he glanced at his adviser, unhappy over the fact he was interrupted from his thoughts. 

“What is it?” Katsuki questioned as he lazily shifted his attention to the man standing at his right side. 

“As I was saying, there have been some sightings of strangely coloured dragons in the nearby valleys. We do not know if it is one or more or if they’re passing by or staying. Moreover, they have yet to attack the villages, but it would be wise to at least investigate the surrounding areas before anything happens,” his assistant spoke as he looked for what the King was going to do. 

Taking a moment, Katsuki couldn’t help but smile as he got up and began to stretch. “Eijirou, prepare for a flight. It seems there might be someone that needs a reminder of who those valleys belong to.” 

Though to the Bakugou family dragons were revered and seen as good omens, there was a limit. Dragons that fought over territory could be destructive and wipe entire lands from existence, so if there was ever more than one in an area it could prove to be a bad omen instead.

One dragon or one family were seen as protecting the lands, keeping invaders at bay and being loyal by nature. Though another one could offset the balance, should they prove to be hungry or hostile. The valleys in which the Bakugous lived were famous for having the longest standing relationship with the red dragons of the Kirishima clan. They had served one another for generations with the latest duo being that of the Barbarian King Katsuki Bakugou, son of the late Chieftess Mitsuki Bakugou, and the dragon that protected the lands, Eijirou Kirishima, son to late Hikori Kirishima.

Standing at seven feet, the mostly human nodded and saluted as he walked with his friend outside. “Yes, sir.” He beamed happily, seemingly excited by the prospect of seeing another dragon. “Though, what are your instructions, should they prove hostile?” 

“Hostile?” Katsuki mused, placing a hand to his chin as the other morphed into that of a forty-foot-long dragon from the tip of his nose to the very end of his arrow-pointed tail. Once finished, Kirishima leaned down to lower his wing, letting Katsuki get on by walking up the thin bone of the arch of his wing and holding onto his spines, climbing all the way to behind the red horns that adorned his head. “Should the dragon wish to try and stay, we will start through the diplomatic route.” 

That was the thing about Katsuki. For all his bloodlust and anger, he was quite the strategist when it came to monsters several times his size. Having worked with Eijirou for some time, they had built up a bond of trust valuable for when trouble arose. 

“Should that fail, we will have to take things up a notch. I would like to avoid a fight if at all possible.” He sighed as he clung to the horn while the other took off. “The valley is full of fish making their way upstream for the breeding season,” he muttered before groaning and slapping his face as he remembered something, getting even more irritated. 

“It could be a female dragon,” he groaned, looking down to Eijirou. “With breeding season approaching, it could prove very troublesome,” he grumbled as he lay down to keep low as Eijirou took to the sky. 

“Hm,” came a deep rumble from the beast.

A female dragon would be far better than a male should they be able to move it along. It could prove worse in the long run, though, as other males came to try and have their chance, destroying the local landscape fighting over the female. 

“Not going to be influenced? I know you’re a young male.” Katsuki snickered as the dragon grunted and shook slightly in a ‘no’. “Don’t worry, whatever happens we’ll sort it,” he offered quietly as he calmed down to focus on the mission at hand. 

They took to the base of the mountains and looked for any signs of disturbance. With fear running though the nearest village, it was clear to see that the crops were half unattended and in the middle of being harvested. “I’m going to go take a look at the surrounding areas and talk to the locals. You go on up the mountain and scout that out,” the Chief commanded. With a short huff and a nod, Eijirou turned to slowly and carefully make his way up and around the mountains. 

It wasn’t long before Eijirou returned with some news. Meeting in the center of town, the dragon descended slowly and waited for Katsuki to approach before he spoke. “I found a trail of blood from the ground leading up to a cave roughly halfway up the mountain. 

Nodding, Katsuki signaled for Eijirou to lower himself so he could climb onto his back. “Sounds about right. The locals saw a figure flying unsteadily across the sky and into the mountain. There was a loud thump before all went silent. It’s more than likely a dragon. It hasn’t done harm to the villagers yet, though, so a slow, quiet and careful approach is needed.”

Coming to the entrance of the cave, Katsuki hopped off Eijirou, immediately noticing the plants had been recently crushed and a splattering of dried blood was leading into the cave. Looking up to Eijirou, he nodded and quietly led the way in. Eijirou used a small breath to light the torch that Katsuki would have to use to see. 

It didn’t take them long to find the cause of the blood and crushed plants. Lying in front of them was a bronze dragon just as large as Kirishima, if not bigger, bleeding heavily from it’s hind leg, belly and face. 

“Holy shit,” Katsukimuttered as he looked over the sight. He froze as the dragon raised its head. Chuckling, you looked over at Katsuki and Eijirou. “If you have come to kill me, at least make it swift.” 

“Tch, don’t lump me with most humans,” Katsuki stated as he approached you, looking over the wounds. A huffing could be heard as he made his way closer, your muscles tense and beady eyes watching his form, ready to attack should harm come. “I’m a Bakugou. We don’t harm your kind.” 

“You may not harm but you enslave. I feel sorry for the red scaled one over there. Forced to serve you like their ancestors,” you mumbled, laying your head down and closing your eyes to rest. 

Eijirou huffed before he sat down. “I’m not. It’s nice to have lands that we don’t have to fight over and live in harmony with humans,” he protested, watching as Katsuki assessed the wounds. “I am from the Kirishima clan.” He beamed, almost a little too excited to say so. “It’s nice to see another shade of red around here. Normally those of the Shinsou clan are around these areas.” Eijirou started, tilting his head to the side. “So what brings you here?” he mused. 

Which was how you explained your side of the story. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to attack those of draconic race because of the first dragons causing havoc and turmoil for humankind. You were a young dragon who still had not found some land to live in. So, you were aimlessly looking around for somewhere to sleep before you were ambushed by a kingdom that had a bad past with dragons, driving you out. 

“Well,” Katsuki started as he backed off. “If you revert into your human form, we can take you back and give you medical aid. I’m not about to let a creature like you just die pathetically cold and alone in such a depressing state.” 

With that, they watched as your form changed into a bloodstained, corseted, sleeveless dress, wings still visible with a tail barely peeking from beneath your long skirt. Their eyes lingered for a little too long to be completely respectful.  

Getting up from where he lay, Eijirou gently enclosed you in his claws, protecting you, letting Katsuki onto his back before taking off back to the kingdom to give you the aid you needed. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next thing you knew, you were waking up to some argument going on outside, though you took no heed to it. After all, you would need to at least stay to repay the kindness the human has shown you before taking your leave. 

As the flap to the tent opened, you looked up at the figure that came to inspect you in the cot. “How are you feeling?” The one that entered had torn red wings and a thin arrow-headed tail much like that of the dragon you’d seen earlier. 

“Much better, thanks.” He watched you as you got up to move around.

“Yeah, my mother is a great healer.” The man beamed proudly before his face dropped for a moment in realisation. “Oh, that’s right! I’m Eijirou Kirishima!” He offered a hand for you to shake as he introduced yourself. “I’m Katsuki’s dragon companion. Speaking of which, when you feel up to it, he wants to see you in the throne room. He’s currently occupied with some business, so why not come later tonight before dinner? He wants to talk to you about some things.”

“Ah I see” You nodded in agreement though still clearly wary of him. 

“Yeah, my mom specialises in herbal and magical treatments for dragons. You should be fighting fit by the end of day! So enjoy yourself and have a look around! You’re more than welcome here as long as you don’t kill anyone.” You found yourself chuckling lightly along with him as he waved. “See ya! Rest up well and don’t push yourself too hard!” He beamed as he left. 

As Eijirou left you alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t help but think back to just how trustingly and kindly Katsuki had treated you. Taking your leave from the tent, you looked to the sky to gauge the time of day. Deciding you had at least an hour before the sun would set and you would need to see the Chieftain, you went to see what the town had to offer.

As you walked among the townsfolk, you couldn’t help but notice that dragons and humans walked around one another as if that were a normal thing to do. Had things always been like this? And how had this not spread to other countries? Though be that as it might, you were happy for these people; they seemed to be comfortable and welcoming just like the man who had found you. Perhaps you could stay a little longer than intended… 

Still, once the sun started to set you walked back the way you came only to come across a tent larger than most, assuming that was where Katsuki would be wrapping up the day. 

You slowly opened the flap as some villagers came out, happily discussing the day’s harvest before you heard. “Come on in, dragon!” Katsuki called as he remained seated on his chair smirking to himself. “Feeling better, I see?” he questioned as he sat up straight. Even like this, you could see and feel the power he irradiated. 

“Yes, much, thank you.” Bowing, you smiled before you were told to stand upright. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please just let me know. It’s the least I can do after you saved my life.” 

The moment those words left your mouth, you had a feeling that you were either going to live to regret it or thank him.

“Speaking of which,” he started as he leaned back and patted his lap. “Please, come here,” he commanded. Once you approached, he leaned forward, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger as if inspecting you. Up close, you could just see how deep ruby red his eyes were as well as how sharp his teeth were. For a human, he had a great set of fangs on him. ‘Shame he’s a human; he would have made a great and fierce dragon,’ you couldn’t help but think before he spoke, bringing you back to reality. 

“Yes, you’re perfect,” he muttered, pulling you into his lap forcefully by your waist. “Strong willed, a fighter, and someone I could learn to grow better with,” he stated as he suddenly captured your lips. “You will be my partner,” he stated as his hands wandered low. 

Spluttering and blushing, you thrust your arms at his chiseled chest, putting some distance between the two of you. “B-But how do you know? I could kill you! You barely know me,” you protested, though with his power he forced you to fold your arms, leaning in to whisper. 

“But you owe me your life. Surely this is nothing and if you don’t feel like you’re the one you’re more than welcome to leave,” he purred.

You knew he was right. This young, powerful man knew that dragons didn’t back down on their word, and so serving him would mean repaying the debt? A small price to pay, truly. 

“So why not get on your knees for your Chief and thank me properly?” he offered, leaning back and letting go of you. You watched as the grin on his face was almost ear splitting as you sunk to your knees in front of him. He let his hands wander down his trousers to help you get them off and down to his ankles. 

“That’s it,” he praised, reaching out to gently lay his hand on your head. His eyes watched you with keen interest as you slowly took him into your mouth. He wasn’t completely hard and you shifted to get a better angle and grip him in your hands, though he tried to encourage you with soft words. “That’s it, fuckin’ take it all in,” he muttered as he leaned back, getting more comfortable on his throne. The grasp on your hair got tighter as he started to get impatient and guide your face along his length. “Come on now, no need to be so shy about it.” His teeth showed as he smiled. “You’ve lived longer than I have, surely you have the experience?” he goaded. Which, if you were honest with yourself, was true. You were most likely older than him, and could show him a thing or two while you’re at it. 

Straightening your back a little from the floor you looked over his hardening dick. Licking your lips, you took the head in, using the flexibility to weave in between the head of his cock and the shaft before leaning up and taking it in as much as you could. Tongue flat, running along the thick vein underneath, you slowly bobbed your head back and forth, breathing when you could. It wasn’t long before you felt a tug with the hand that ran through your hair to pull you away from him, leaving you panting, and breathless from working so hard to please him. 

His cheeks flushed a bright pink he chuckled almost as breathlessly as you, having forgotten how to breathe in the moment before letting go of your hair. “What a good girl,” he praised as he shifted back and patted his lap.  “Why not come for a ride?” he questioned as he watched you stand. “I would have taken you back to my room, but I'm feeling impatient. It’s my birthday after all,” he informed, eyes hungrily watching over your form as you stripped naked, and then worked on taking off his trousers completely. 

“Your birthday?” you questioned him as you straddled his lap. “I see. Perhaps this will be enough of a gift then?” you mused lining yourself up, slowly trying to sink yourself down on him.

His head slammed back against the back of his throne as he groaned. You were taking your time, though as you hadn’t prepared yourself. You knew your body could and would stretch, but it was painful to begin with. He was stretching you to your limit, but you licked your hand to reach down to let the saliva coating his dick for an easier entry only then were you able to sit down fully on his lap. 

Taking a good minute or two you both sat, panting, just feeling one another as you got used to the stretch of his cock within you. His hands empassing your hips, he tried to get you to move, but you had other ideas. It was his birthday? That’s just fine, but you would make sure it would be a ride he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. 

You gently grasped his hands and took them off your hips to raise them above his head as you started to roll your hips back and forth. Leaning in close to kiss him and to distract him, you used your tail to wrap his hands above his head. He only just realised when you leaned back.

“W-What the fuck is—shit—the big idea?” he panted as his eyes were glued to your form, which started moving so effortlessly up and down on his dick. 

“It’s your birthday. I want to spoil you, so enjoy the ride.” Chuckling a little darkly, you couldn’t help but use your wings to give you some extra momentum and power into your movements as you rode him. 

He couldn't believe just how lucky he was to have such a beautiful person ride him within an inch of his life. You knew just what to do and how to please him, which, to his embarrassment, had him orgasming not much longer after you started. 

“F-Fuck!” he grunted, unable to couldn’t help it when his hips met yours. Though your gut had only just started to coil with your own orgasm, much to your disappointment. You remained seated on his lap as he came down from his high, letting go of his arms. 

He watched you only to frown. Noticing you hadn’t orgasmed yet he couldn’t help but feel like a teenager all over again. 

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. 

Growling, he forcefully lifted you up from him as he slid to the floor, getting you to sit in his seat. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he brought you to his face and started to lap up not only at his own cum that had started to seep it’s way out from the confines of yourself, but searching for any original taste of your own essence. This surprise had you leaning over with a groan. In all your years, no other man had been so willing about doing this. 

Smirking from the inside of your thighs, he knew from your expression that you were loving it or at the very least surprised by his movements. “What?” he questioned, so close to your cunt that you could feel his breath ghosting it. “Never been eaten out before?” He seemed a little too smug, as if he almost already knew the answer. 

With a shake of your head, he only shifted closer and got more comfortable as he nudged your clit with his nose. “Hmm, good. I'm a man starving for pussy and it’s delicious, so don’t mind me,” he muttered before his gaze lowered. 

Though his dick felt great, this was almost a thousand times better. There was no painful stretch, only a soft muscle, though not deep. The slurping and sucking sounds and sensations were what quickly brought your end. He was more than happy to guide you though your high as you remained hunched over his head, hands which you now realised were in his hair, forcing his face just that much closer. 

Leaning back once you had come back to Earth, you watched him as he wiped his chin and cheeks with the back of his arm. “Thank you for the meal.” He chuckled, giving off a lopsided smile, showing off the pearly whites of his sharp teeth. He stood as he gathered up his trousers as he got dressed. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner in my home,” he stated as he turned to you and passed you back your clothes. 

Slowly taking them, you nodded as you got dressed despite the shake in your legs. “Y-Yeah, I think I will,” you confirmed as you slipped back into your clothes. 

“Good choice. I’m not finished with you yet, beautiful.” Leaning in, he kissed your cheek before taking his leave only to find a very flustered Eijirou waiting outside. “Something wrong?” Katsuki questioned with folded arms, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

“N-No!” the dragon protested, though the redness that was spread all the way up to his ears gave him away. 

“Next time, just ask. It’s rude to eavesdrop.” Katsuki laughed as he walked away, going to join the mass for dinner. 

“K-Katsuki! I had to make sure you were safe! After all, she’s a rogue dragon,” Eijirou protested in earnest. Though he wouldn’t admit it, that would be something that Eijirou would very much like to do. 

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, man.”

Rolling his eyes, Katsuki took a seat at the head of the banquet table, waiting for your arrival before the festivities could begin.

[one-boring-person]

Hello, may I place a request? With Dwayne, something where the reader ends up inviting Laddie to a picnic. The boy being the only friend of her younger brother. Dwayne is worried that he can't find Laddie, until he finds him on the beach, laughing and having fun with her and her little brother.

I hope you like this!😊💛

I Should've Checked.

Dwayne (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: mention of violence

Masterlist

If Dwayne's heart still functioned as normal, it would be pounding in his chest as he races through the crowd filling the Boardwalk, eyes wide, nerves coursing through him. He can't remember a time when he last felt this terrified about the boy he's looking for - well, except for the time Paul tried to teach the kid how to fly by telling him to jump off of Hudson's Bluff. Every instinct he has is trained on the need to find the small boy, panicking as he shoves people away, ignoring their angry shouts and curses as he ploughs past them, dark hair flying out behind him.

It's not often that Laddie goes wandering, but when he does, boy, does he go far. 

The others had shown very little care when Dwayne first figured out that the young half-vampire wasn't with them anymore, showing their usual indifference to the subject. Paul would usually show some more interest, but he was distracted by a performance taking place on the main stage, so his undivided attention was nowhere to be found for Dwayne, who then decided to go looking by himself. Twenty minutes later and he still has no idea where his young ward is; Star's gonna kill him when he gets back. 

Stopping at the edge of the Boardwalk, near the separation between it and the beach, Dwayne bangs a fist down onto the wall in frustration, growling angrily to himself as he scans the crowds again, biting back another hiss from the brief pain in his hand. Internally, he's fighting the urge to bare his fangs and flash his eyes, his self-control tested to the limit as he breathes deeply, despite not necessarily needing to. The dark-haired vampire has always kept up the breathing habit that the rest had dropped, using the strategy to keep himself calm and collected in situations like this, though it doesn't seem to be working at this moment. He chews at his lip, another habit he never kicked, turning to face the beach instead, needing to calm himself down.

As soon as he does so, he's hit by a very familiar scent, his stomach dropping as he realises where it's stemming from. Spinning to face the black beach, he allows his sharp eyes to roam over the large expanse, searching closely for the source of the scent he knows so well, the slight odour marred by an unfamiliar pair of smells, both of which are similar yet different. Standing stock still, Dwayne gazes out at the beach, picking apart every little detail he can see, until he notices a small circle of lanterns set up some distance to the west. Frowning, he sets his sights on it and hops the wall, starting out over the fine sand towards the ring of light.

At first, he's worried about it, having remembered the threats of witches and their rituals from the past encounters, a shudder going through him as he's reminded of the violence of the last time. Thankfully, he rules this possibility out as he catches the distinctive note of cheerful laughter on the wind, and confusion replaces his concern and fear, his brow furrowed as he moves silently through the night.

Getting closer, Dwayne can now see that Laddie is sat on a worn rug on the sand, grinning and laughing as he and another boy his age dig into a whole host of finger foods. With them is a young woman, who smiles contentedly as she watches the two eat, chewing at some of her own food as she stands back, keeping an eye on everything for them. In the flickering lantern light, she's cast in an unnatural, unflattering light, but Dwayne can tell she's beautiful from where he is, his eyes widening at the sight of her. 

Slowly, he approaches them, calling out to them to avoid scaring them all, his voice carrying clearly on the breeze.

"Laddie?" 

He receives a response after a moment, the young boy's voice a little obscured behind a mouthful of food, but Dwayne hears it well enough.

"Over here!"

Stepping into the light, Dwayne smiles politely at the girl glancing over at Laddie.

"What're you doing here, Laddie? And why didn't you tell us?" He asks, lifting an eyebrow at the boy.

"(Y/n) said I could come. I wanted to spend time with Harry, and I thought you would say no." Laddie replies, looking down slightly.

At the mention of her name, the girl turns and nods at him, smiling in confirmation.

"I'm (Y/n), this is my brother, Harry." She greets, holding a hand out to shake, "You must be Dwayne?"

Taking her hand, the vampire smiles, relishing in the feeling of her body heat against his frigid skin.

"I am." He agrees, looking at Laddie, "I didn't realise he was out seeing friends."

"He never told you?" (Y/n) asks, eyes widening, "I'm sorry, I assumed you'd let him come."

"I didn't, but he seems safe here, so it's fine." The vampire assures her, glancing at Laddie again, "Next time ask me, kid. I don't want you getting hurt or lost."

"Yes Dwayne." Laddie sighs, before he turns back to Harry, the two continuing their conversation.

"I'm so sorry, I should've checked properly." (Y/n) rubs the back of her neck, looking guilty as she shifts in place.

"It's totally fine, don't worry." Dwayne reassures her again, waving a hand to his side to dismiss the topic, "What's the occasion?"

"Oh, there isn't one. Just thought it would be nice, you know?" She replies, watching her little brother.

"Fair enough. Can't do better than a picnic, really." He chuckles, gesturing to the variety of food.

"Well, exactly." (Y/n) laughs in response.

Waiting a moment, she does her drink and places the empty cup on the floor, before going to the main box of food.

"Do you want anything? I have plenty to go round." She offers him, and Dwayne just can't help the smile that creeps onto his face.

"If you wouldn't mind."

[onechicago-upsteadrhekker]

the trouble with wanting (is i want you) - part three

Friends! 

It’s here! Finally! The last part to my version of Hailey’s time in New York!

I know it took a while me to post everything, but better late than never I guess! I hope this lives up to your expectations and I can’t wait to see what you think of it!

Huge shoutout to @anniesardors and @imjustwritingg for hearing and reading all the things and just being the biggest hype girls of all time!

Please enjoy this fluffy chapter before we get served a whole host of angst in the season finale tomorrow lol. Also, just a forewarning, it’s a long one... Like over 10,000 words so you’re welcome haha.

Tagging: @imjustwritingg, @anniesardors, @thetwit, @angelsjedi, @chichichicken, @carissalizz, @maya-asturias, @stephanie708, @cpd5777 

Read on AO3

It was nearing eleven in the evening and Hailey didn’t think she’d ever been so exhausted from the events of the day. Being released from the hospital and Jay’s mandatory five laps around the floor of the hotel had taken its toll on her.

It was a good kind of exhausted though because today, she had fallen in love with Jay Halstead all over again.

With every gesture and smile and look he gave her she fell in love with him again and again. His strong, but gentle hands, his heart always so kind and his eyes filled with an affection that made her heart ache in the best way. 

Even though her side was killing her, she felt so incredibly grateful to have him with her because the devotion he’s shown to her over the past few days, and especially today, made her once again realize that he truly was one of a kind.

And spending the day with just him, laughing and joking and asking each other silly questions almost made getting injured worth it.

She yawns through a giggle, her eyes shining bright as she listens to him wrap up a hilarious retelling of a time when he was on patrol. For one of her questions, she’d asked him for his craziest experience on the beat and he’d launched into a story about him and his old partner responding to a burglary call at two in the morning.

A man had claimed that he had been robbed and was missing five pounds of bacon but upon further investigation, it turned out the wife had been sneaking into the kitchen for a late-night snack.

“We did get some bacon out of it,” he laughs, looking up at her from where he was laid out at the end of the bed. “So, it wasn’t all bad.”

Shaking her head in amusement, she stifles another yawn with her hand and Jay gives her an affectionate smile and a pointed look, both of which she’s become quite familiar with by now.

“As much as I love this, I think it’s time for someone to go to bed.”

She arches an eyebrow, trying not to look as tired as she really felt. “So, I have a bedtime now?”

“When you’ve been shot and are taking some pretty heavy pain killers you do,” Jay smirks and she knows that not only is he right about her needing rest, but he is also getting payback for all of the times she had forced him to bed using the same argument.

He glances at his watch, the smirk growing, “Oh, and look at that. It’s time for another round of meds.”

Hailey gives him a look and scrunches up her nose, still not thrilled with the idea of taking them, but silently thankful that they should knock her out for a few hours. Shaking out a few pills into an open palm, Jay grabs a fresh bottle of water from the mini fridge and gives the items to her. 

“Do you want a shower tonight?” He asks as she throws the pills back in one go and takes a gulp of water to swallow them down with.

Wiping at her lips with her shirt, she shakes her head. “I took one this morning before you got to the hospital, so I’m good.”

“Alright,” he nods, leaning down to pick an empty plastic bag that had floated to the floor. “Why don’t you get ready for bed then? I’ll clean up out here and then help you change your bandages.”

Hailey carefully climbs out of the spot she’s been sitting in for most of the day and pads over to the chest of drawers she had finally unpacked in when it was clear she would be staying in New York for more than two weeks. She pulls out an oversized police academy shirt and a pair of running shorts before turning to rifle through the small duffle that Jay had packed for her hospital stay for her toothbrush.

She makes her way into the bathroom and even though her back is to him, Hailey is still very much aware of every move Jay makes as he busies himself with tidying the room and washing their dishes.

It all seems so domesticated and easy, like something they’ve done a thousand times before, and yet it feels different than if they were in one of their apartments doing the same sort of thing after pizza and beers.

There was something about knowing Jay couldn’t just hop in his truck to go home if he felt like it or that she couldn’t hide away in her own bedroom for a few minutes when the overwhelming urge to kiss him comes over her and it makes her heart beat erratically inside her chest.

She rinses her mouth out and takes a deep breath to steady herself before leaving the bathroom now dressed in her pajamas.

Jay places the last dish away as she comes out, turning to look at her with another easy smile that makes her knees week. She thinks it should be illegal for someone to look that handsome doing such a mundane task, but then again, it’s Jay and she knows he looks good in anything and everything he does. She doesn’t even have to work with him every day to know that.

She sits on the edge of the bed and Jay makes his way over to her silently, gauze and medical tape in his hands. Lifting her oversized shirt, she keeps it from falling down with an arm crossed just below her breasts and she thinks for a moment that there should be some sort of initial awkwardness at being this close, that she should feel uncomfortable, but there isn’t, and she doesn’t. 

Jay had been there when the nurses had first changed her bandages, had carefully studied their movements as they showed him what to do when she got home, but now that they were here, his hands touching her and just the two of them in a hotel room it was almost too much.

His fingers were gentle, but nimble as he carefully undid the bandages taped to her stitched side and Hailey couldn’t help thinking how his hands were more reassuring and comforting than even the nurses with all their experience and technique.

“Cop who scares you the most?” The sudden question almost makes Hailey jump, not expecting him to speak and she wonders if maybe the silence was getting to him too.

She blinks but doesn’t have to think too hard on this one. “Platt, for sure.”

“You?” She questions and she can hear the smile in his voice when he gives the same answer she had a second ago. 

As his fingers continue working over her injury, she can’t help the way her heart rate quickens. Can’t stop the goosebumps from popping up all over her skin. If he notices the way she shivers just slightly, he doesn’t show it as he begins to apply the fresh gauze over her side. 

“Did you always wanna be a cop? Before you met Platt, I mean,” he asks then. She hates the way it catches her off guard again, but also feels grateful for the distraction instead of thinking about his hands moving over her body. 

“Um, no, actually. I was really into gymnastics when I was younger. I remember watching the Olympics with my brothers and just loving the way they all moved through the air. Did it for a couple years but didn’t stick with it. Obviously,” she says as he puts some slight pressure on her side to apply some medical tape over the gauze.

“I’m sorry. I know this part hurts,” he says immediately, his fingers stilling, and she shakes her head.

“It’s okay,” she breathes out through gritted teeth. 

She takes another deep breath and feels him begin to move his hands over her side again a moment later. Instead of thinking about the discomfort and pain, she puts her focus back on the way his fingers feel on her skin. The way his hands have taken down some of the most hardened criminals of Chicago, but here he is, as gentle and as soft as can be with her. Like he always is. 

His hands leave her side a moment later and then she hears him whisper from beside her. “All done.”

She nods and pulls down her shirt before slinking further into the bed and carefully lying on her uninjured side as comfortably as she could. She watches him as he cleans up the medical supplies and disposes of her dirty bandages before turning off the main light of the room.

There’s just the nightstand lamp on, now casting a softer glow throughout the room. 

Hailey took another deep breath, trying to breathe as quietly as she could as she listened to Jay moving around the room on the other side of the bed. Her heart was starting to beat wildly again with anticipation as she waited for the inevitable dip of the bed when he was ready to turn in for the night.

She could hear his footsteps fall softly, the door to the bathroom closing shut as quietly as possible and she knows he’s trying hard not to disturb her. It didn’t matter though; she’s so hyper-aware of him, every noise he made echoed loudly in her ears.

If she were being honest, the thought of them sharing a bed had plagued her mind well before she’d been sent to New York and he’d hopped on a plane when she’d gotten hurt five weeks later. When it dawned on her that this meant that her bed-sharing fantasies had a high probability of coming true, her nights had been filled thinking about this moment more than she would ever admit.

Generally, she wasn’t an over thinker, but when it came to this, her mind had raced with the possibilities and each scenario had played out in her mind like a scene from a cringy rom-com.

The bathroom door opened, and her eyes flew shut. He moved silently over to the empty side of the bed and there was some rattling on the nightstand as he plugged his phone in and took his watch off. When it was quiet again, she waited for him to climb in beside her, but she could almost feel his hesitation.

She was about to tell him it was okay, and she didn’t mind sharing; that the bed was big enough for both of them, but then he climbed in next to her like it was just any other night. Like it was completely normal, and he’d been sleeping beside her for years.

It wasn’t a night of passionate frenzy and tangled limbs or awkward small talk over them sharing a bed.

It just was.

*

“Jay?”

He barely heard it, but it was enough for him to wake up.

Turning over quickly, he squinted, trying to see Hailey through the darkness, “Hailey?” He rasped groggily, “You okay?”

She sighed. Or tried to. He heard it catch in her throat before she drew in a quick little breath of pain and he knows that her insomnia is probably what woke her up, but it’s her ribs and side that’s keeping her from falling back asleep.

He tried to shuffle closer to her without jostling her too much, “You in pain?”

He was close enough now to see her facial expression. Her brows were furrowed like she was upset with herself as she muttered a ‘crap’, “I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Blinking, he shakes his head, becoming more alert as he props himself up on an elbow, “Hey, no, you didn’t wake me up.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, but he’ll say anything to make sure she knows that he really doesn’t care about the interruption.

“How long have you been awake?” He asked, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. It was three in the morning.

Hailey does some sort of half-shrug, still laying towards him on her uninjured side, “A few hours I guess.”

Jay frowns, “You could have woken me up a long time ago.”

She still looks a little frustrated at herself, her forehead creased in pain and he knows all too well how brutal the first night out of the hospital can be.

It’s painful, coming off hospital grade pain medication administered through an IV whenever it was needed, having to now rely on low-dosage pills to get through the night.

It’s certainly not a comfortable night, not by a long shot.

And when there aren’t any nurses to answer your every beck and call, you realize just how hard everything is to do by yourself when recovering from an injury.

But she’s not by herself and he’s ready to do anything he can to help her tonight even if it is three am because she was there for him his first night home after getting shot in the shoulder and every other night when an injury was serious enough to warrant a hospital visit since she’d become his partner.

She would sleep on his couch, waking him up in the night to give him another dose of medication even if he didn’t think he needed it and she was there to gently change his bandages with comforting hands and this last time, he could have sworn he’d felt her warm lips touch his forehead as he drifted off to sleep after she’d made him his mom’s soup recipe; it was his favorite and Hailey always made it for him when he got hurt or sick after she’d found out what the recipe meant to him.

But more than that, he cares about her and this is what partners do. They look out for one another.

He’s also quickly realizing how much it hurts to see the girl you’re in love with in pain.

He’s pushing the sheets off of him, already reaching for the bottle of pills sitting on his nightstand, “I should have been more diligent about you taking these pills every four hours.”

He’s a little frustrated with himself for not setting an alarm to give her a dose during the night because now her pain is so bad she can’t sleep. Something he knows she needs to heal quickly.

Hailey carefully rolls on her back, gently holding a hand to her incision and the bruises surrounding it, “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Jay. It’s not your responsibility and I shouldn’t have been so stubborn yesterday.”

“Hey,” He sets the fresh water bottle he’d just grabbed from the fridge on the table next to the pills he’s shaken out before quickly climbing up on the bed to look at her closely.

He wants her to see how serious he is when he says this, “I will take care of you. Every time, any time, anywhere you need me. Even if you don’t think you need me, I will be there. Always, Hailey,” His eyes search hers, “You got me?”

She doesn’t say anything then or protest anymore, just nodding her head and accepting the out-stretched water and pills, quickly throwing them back before handing the bottle back to him.

They stare at each other for a few seconds too long before she blinks and he’s moving to put the half-empty water bottle back on the nightstand. He gets in the bed and waits till Hailey gingerly lowers herself back into the comfort of the mattress before he reaches out and flings the fallen covers over both of them.

He turns out the light he’d flipped on before rolling over to face her. There was a good foot between them, but he never wanted to gather her up in his arms more than he did in this moment, just quietly staring at her in the sliver of moonlight that was cast about the room.

She was breathing shallowly, her arms carefully folded in a comfortable position and her head resting peacefully on her pillow. Her blonde hair was spread out behind her and even though it was messy from sleeping, Jay didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so perfect.

He was staring at her and she was staring at him and even though neither of them had found the courage yet to admit that they fall asleep thinking about each other even when they aren’t together, they both silently knew.

They knew in the way they laughed together and in the way they sit quietly in the truck doing their job and in the way it felt right in this moment.

The world had never felt so right than in this moment, next to each other.

“Favorite memory?” It is whispered into the dark much like she’d said his name not even five minutes ago and if he hadn’t been listening to her quiet breaths, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.

A smile instantly creeps across his face at the question, and he knows he should take a minute to think about the answer to such a difficult question because how can one pick out a single favorite memory among a lifetime of them in such a short amount of time?

But he doesn’t even need a second because the answer is right in front of him.

“This. Now. Anytime I’m with you,” He answers honestly, and it feels like the most direct thing that’s been said between them regarding the feelings they both so clearly have.

He can hear her breath hitch just slightly before she breaths out a chuckle, “That’s not an answer. You gotta pick a moment.”

“Says who?” He challenges with a raised eyebrow she can barely see through the dark.

Hailey gives him a cocky little smirk, “Says me. I’m the one playing your dumb game and I’m the one asking the question, so I should be allowed to make my own rules.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean by ‘dumb game’? This is one of greatest games of all time,” He mused airily with a hint of fake indignation, “I mean just think of all the great stuff we’ve learned about each other. It’s truly an unmatched bonding experience.”

“Uh-huh,” She couldn’t help but laugh at his overrated words of praise watching as a grin takes over his face.

“Because learning that you used to steal from Will’s hidden candy stash when you were a kid really strengthened our relationship in a special way,” She rolled her eyes.

“Well, it’s not like there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know,” He defended with a pointed look at her.

She’s still grinning that wide smile that says she thinks he’s something else, but she’s so carefree with her sparkling eyes and cheeky dimples, his heart feels like it might burst from his chest at the sight.

He’s leaning on a bent elbow, propping his head up as he gets lost in her and his expression morphs into a soft smile as he thinks about what he just said.

“We’ve spent a lot of hours together, Upton,” His eyes crinkle with fondness and Hailey feels a happy warmth settle over her as she hums in agreement, thinking of all the time they’ve spent telling story after story or just sitting in absolute silence waiting for something to happen.

It’s easy being with him. Has been since the very beginning. Even when they were figuring each other out and dealing with a lot of emotional trauma, there was never any real awkwardness.

He’s comfortable and natural and she’s never had that with anyone. That’s how she knows they are good together and that’s what lets her know that they have the potential to make this last forever.

She almost gives voice to her thoughts. Here, in the dark of a hotel room as they lay in a bed together for the first time, only a few inches separating them, but then Jay slowly starts breathing out the answer to her question and she knows it’s not their time yet even though she desperately wants it to be.

“Remember a few months ago when we all went out to Molly’s after that flesh-eating bacteria debacle?”

Hailey nods. She remembers being overwhelmed at the feeling of being carefree after the stress and terror they had all been put through in the last seventy-two hours. She remembers being thankful that she was alive, but more than that, she remembers being so very relieved that Jay was okay.

She’d had nightmares for months after that where she didn’t make the shot in time, that Jay had infected himself and lost limbs or died because of it.

“And afterwards you wanted ice cream, but everyone else wanted to go home so me and you went to get some?”

She remembers that too.

She doesn’t know why, but she’d had an intense craving for the frozen treat that night and she remembers mentioning it to the team in passing, figuring that she would just stop for a carton from the store on her way home, but then Jay said he would take her and the next thing she knew, they were down at Navy Pier getting ice cream.

She remembers thinking that it felt dangerously like a date and that they were going to get caught for being out past their curfew like a couple of teenagers.

Hailey notices his gentle smile as he gets lost in the memory and she thinks she can just barely see a blush coloring his cheeks. She wonders if he also thought the outing felt a little like they were reckless high schoolers out on a late-night date.

“That’s it. That’s my favorite memory.”

She knew that’s where he was going with this, but she still feels a little shocked hearing it, “That’s your favorite memory?”

If she sounds a little dumbfounded, it’s because she is. She was expecting him to say something about a favorite trip or something with his mom, not some random night where the two of them got ice cream.

“Out of all your memories, that’s the one you’re choosing? What about one of your birthdays or some other special occasion?” She questions again, thinking surely there is something better than a crowded night out in Chicago.

There’s a bashful look on his face, but it doesn’t diminish the contented glimmer in his eyes as he simply nods, “You asked and that’s my answer. Or do you have rules for that too?”

Hailey rolls her eyes, adjusting her head on her pillow, “No. I was just wondering why out of all the nights, that’s the one you picked.”

She doesn’t really expect him to answer, but once again he shocks her when he moves his head just slightly closer to hers and he looks at her like she’s everything he’s ever needed.

“That whole night I remember watching you laugh. Really laugh for the first time in months,” He smiles to himself as he recalls the memory, staring off into the distance, “After everything that happened with Adam and Kelton and then the outbreak, things were finally starting to look up and we were all just so thankful to be out without any stress of a case hanging over our heads.”

Jay shifts his gaze back to hers, “And then we went to get ice cream and we just talked without worrying about our team or being split up or potentially dying from a deadly bacterial infection.”

He takes a breath, “I remember being so grateful and relieved that you were okay after being in isolation, that being with you outside of work, seeing you so happy made me realize how damn lucky I am to have you as not just my partner but as my best friend too.”

Hailey has to blink back tears, not expecting the sentimental response or that it would affect her this much. She reaches out and takes the hand he has laying on the mattress, “You’re my best friend too, Jay. I hope you know that.”

She thinks she sees his eyes flit down to her lips and she thinks that this might be it, that he was getting ready to kiss her, but then he doesn’t, and she tries not to be frustrated at being constantly on edge thinking that each moment is the one that would change her life.

“What about you?” He asks, still holding the hand she placed in his.

“My favorite memory?” She arches eyebrow and he nods as she rolls slightly onto her back, staring up at the ceiling to think before answering.

Like Jay, she doesn’t have to think long, “That time I got really sick with the flu and you came over to fix me your mom’s soup recipe.”

It is his turn to look skeptical of her response, echoing the words she’d said to him, “That’s your favorite memory?”

“Yeah,” She nods before turning her head to look at him, “Even though I felt so crappy, I remember thinking that that was the first time that anyone had taken time out of their day to take care of me like that.”

“Hailey….” Jay breathed out, squeezing her hand as a feeling of protectiveness swept over him, his heart aching to hear that that was the first time she’d ever felt cared for while being sick.

“You made me feel safe when I wasn’t feeling good and in a vulnerable position,” She looks at him fervently, “You make me feel safe, Jay. On the job, when I’m not feeling well, and I’ve never had that before.”

He has that same look from the bar when she’d told him about how her dad would hit her mom and how she’d wished someone would come put her father in his place like Jay did with Shane.

What she didn’t tell him then was that even though Jay wasn’t around when she was a little girl to save her, he had already saved her by just being the kind of man he was.

The man who was selfless in his actions and who was brave without need of recognition, who was patient with his words and slow to anger.

So different from her dad.

From any man she’d met really, especially being in a highly competitive male-dominated career.

Jay’s forehead is creased like it does when he is distressed, so Hailey smiles at him and tries to lighten the mood, “I know what you’re thinking, and it wasn’t all bad. My brothers tried to be there for me, and we had fun when we could.”

She smiles, a little melancholy thinking of the brothers that she’d roughhoused with when she was younger and feels that little pang of sadness when she remembers they are not nearly as close as they were when they were kids, but regardless she knows she wants to let Jay in, so she chuckles to herself and starts to offer some insight to the good parts of her childhood.

“We used to build pillow forts all the time,” Hailey snuggles down into the bed, grinning as she recalls the all the messes they made in their hidden sanctuary that was the attic.

That’s where they would go when they wanted to pretend that they had a normal childhood. No one ever went up there except for them and it was fairly soundproof, so they felt safe to have a little fun without their father hearing.

“We would take all of the pillows and sheets and blankets off of our beds and haul them up the ladder leading to our attic and then my brothers would hang the sheets from the rafters, and we would pile the pillows underneath so we had a soft place to lay.”

There is a soft smile playing at Jay’s lips now and she’s glad she is sharing this rare piece of childhood wonder with him.

She wonders if he is imagining a little girl with blonde pigtails and a wide smile and some part of her hopes that that little girl is not her, but another little girl that plays with her siblings and instead of blue eyes she has green with two parents who are laughing right alongside her.

“I would crawl under those blankets and pretend like it was my mansion and that my brothers were my servants,” Jay laughs at this and Hailey gives a rueful smile, “Most of the time they were happy to indulge and if my oldest brother was in a really good mood, he was usually persuaded into reading to us younger kids.”

Jay smirks, “Now why do I get the impression that you had all your brothers wrapped around your little finger?”

She smirks right back, “Well, it’s not my fault that I was just so dang cute.”

“No, no it’s not,” He says softly, his expression suddenly so open and vulnerable she can’t help but blush.

She yawns, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over her, and it effectively breaks any moment they were about to have as a smirk reappears on Jay’s face, “Looks like the meds are starting to kick in.”

Hailey noticed that the sharp, throbbing pain she’d woken up with had lessened to a dull ache and that her head was starting to feel fuzzy, so she knew he was right.

Yawning again, she let her eyes close, humming, “Tell me another story about you and Will.”

She hears him shift, and she knows he is settling into the pillows before his gentle voice overtakes her senses and she’s carried off with dreams of little Halstead boys with green eyes and red hair.[EF1] 

*

She’s woken by a beam of sunlight shining straight into her eyes and the last thing she remembers is listening to Jay’s soothing voice as he told her about the time he fell out of his second-story bedroom window because Will had reversed all the locks in the house as a prank and he was trying to get out.

Apparently, the only thing that had saved him from breaking something was the shed that was under his window and Hailey remembered thinking as she drifted off to sleep that it truly was a wonder that Jay had lived this long between his childhood misadventures and his penchant for getting shot in adulthood.

Turning, she is half-expecting to find him asleep beside her, but he is not there, and the mattress is cold enough that she knows he’s been gone for a while. One look at the clock tells her he has because it’s ten AM and she’s never known the man to sleep past six.

True, she’s not well-acquainted with his sleeping schedule, but she knows enough about him to know that his time in the army instilled early morning habits. Even if he was injured and she was staying with him she would find him awake by at least seven.

Carefully stretching, Hailey is pleased to find herself in significantly less discomfort than she’s experienced over the past few days and she’s hopeful that she will be able to be more mobile than she was yesterday.

She slowly pushes herself upright and looks around for any sign of Jay. His wallet and watch are missing from the nightstand and the door to the bathroom is open, so she feels safe assuming that he has gone out somewhere.

Her stomach growls and she hopes he is getting them breakfast.

It is then that she notices all the chairs and tables have been pushed to the middle of room and there are sheets stretched out over them in a semblance of a fort. The pillows that they weren’t using were thrown underneath and she feels tears prick her eyes because of course, Jay would make her a pillow fort after learning what they meant to her.

Throwing back the covers, she gently swings her legs over the edge of the bed to stand up, rubbing her eyes as a grin makes its way onto her face. She wasn’t lying when she’d told him that pillow forts were something that brought back good memories of her brothers, but she has a feeling that they may be taking on a whole new meaning to her from now on.

Of Jay and hotel rooms and lazy mornings. And if things fall into place, sometime in the future they will mean living rooms and slow kisses and little feet.

Her gaze catches the book lying on her nightstand. Her eyes sparkle as she grabs it and makes her way over to the fort, carefully squatting down so she could crawl underneath the ‘roof’ made of white sheets held up by chairs and heavy objects.

Settling comfortably on her back in the midst of the pillows piled on the floor, Hailey opens her book to her last marked page and gets lost in the world of Farewell to Arms.

*

She doesn’t know how much time has passed before her ears prick up at the sound of the hotel door being opened. She listens as Jay swings it open, catching it before it slams back into the latch as he softly calls out her name.

Staying quiet, she hears the crinkle of bags being sat on the kitchen countertop, Jay calling out her name a second time before he’s silent again, his footfalls coming closer to her spot under his fort.

She watches as his legs appear in her line of vision, his head suddenly making an appearance a few seconds later when he swoops down.

Hailey grins, “Hi.”

Jay grins back in amusement, “Hi,” He squats down in front of her, still just outside the fort, “I take it you found my surprise?”

“Mmhm,” She hums, the sparkle in her eyes softening sincerely, “Thank you, Jay. And not just for this, but for everything you’ve done for me.”

He shakes his head, “Hailey,” He pauses and huffs out an incredulous chuckle, “you don’t ever have to thank me.”

Unexpected tears spring in her eyes as his words touch her in a way she can’t quite describe. She ducks her head and blinks rapidly, trying to dissipate them before clearing her throat and looking back at Jay.

She uses her head to gesture at the space beside her and arches an eyebrow, “You coming in or what?”

Jay laughs, rolling his eyes as he slips off his shoes and carefully maneuvers his tall frame under the sheet roof.

Laying down next to her, he notices the book laying loosely in Hailey’s hands. He nods to it, giving it a pointed glance before looking at her and smirking playfully, “You want me to read to you?”

This time, she rolls her eyes and lets her body sway to gently bump him, “You want to read Ernest Hemingway to me?”

Shrugging, he plucks the book out of her hands and flips through it, “You got anything else?”

“No,” She shakes her head, “It’s the only thing I brought.”

Jay sighs as he looks at the title ruefully, “A Farewell to Arms, Hailey. Really? This is like the most depressing book on the planet.”

Frowning, she gives him an affronted look, “This is one of my favorites!”

He raises his eyebrows, shaking his head in disbelief, “I will never understand it, but okay,” He opens the book again, thumbing through the pages trying to distinguish what part she’s at because almost all the pages are dog tagged from overuse, “Where are you at?”

She diverts her gaze quickly, scrunching up her nose sheepishly before giving him a wry look, “I just got to book five.”

Jay gives her a look that says ‘really’ and huffs out a sigh as he turns to the last section, “I mean the whole book is depressing, but this is arguably the worst part.”

“But it’s so good, Jay,” She insisted, settling her head down into the pillows waiting for him to start reading.

He shakes his head again but turns his gaze to the page and starts to read, his voice gentle and lilting. Hailey thinks she could listen to him read to her for a lifetime and never get tired of hearing him.

He reads about the Henrys living in their cabin and then about Catherine preparing for the baby. When he gets to the part where she goes into labor, Jay notices a melancholy look in Hailey’s eyes as she lays quietly listening next to him, playing with her loose hair as she looks up at the billowing, white sheet.

Then he gets to the part where the doctor wants to do a C-Section and Jay swears he hears Hailey sniffling when he gets to the part where the nurse tells Frederic that the baby was dead.

He is almost to the end now, and he is surprised to find himself choking up just slightly as he reads line after line of Frederic pleading with God to save his wife. Hailey is definitely tearing up at this point and when he reads the last couple of lines, she wipes away the tears and sighs as he closes the book, clearing his own throat.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes before Jay feels like he can speak after going through that emotional rollercoaster of an ending, “God, Hailey, how do you like this?”

She shrugs, turning her head towards him and he’s slightly surprised at how close they were. If he wanted, he could barely dip his head and be kissing her.

“It’s beautiful in a gut-wrenching kind of way,” Her eyes have this inquisitive look in them, and it reminds him of how she looks when she’s going over files, trying to piece together backgrounds for motives.

He can’t help but scoff at her response, “It’s devastating is what it is. I mean the poor guy survived the war just to have his wife and child die all in one day.”

He shudders, rapidly pushing the unbidden, very unwanted image of Hailey in the same situation. God, he couldn’t even imagine, and he and Hailey were just barely on the cusp of being together.

“But it’s life,” She offers softly, a knowing look on her face and this time the look in her eyes is of someone who has seen a lot of death and unfair endings, “We know all too well how cruel this world can be.”

Jay sighs in acknowledgement, letting his head drop as they both quietly think about Hailey’s loaded statement.

He puts the book out of the way and rolls onto his side so he’s fully facing her, “Life is cruel, but it can be really beautiful too. Even in the pain.”

Hailey is quiet for a moment as she watches him, contemplating his words before she cocks her head, a strange little smile on her face, “Who knew Jay Halstead could be such a philosopher.”

Jay can’t help chuckle, his eyes crinkling merrily as he teases, “Who knew Hailey Upton could be such a sentimentalist.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “I guess your game was good for something then. We are just partners; I guess we don’t know everything.”

She said it teasingly because they both know that they knew the things that mattered, but then Jay looks at her and she can’t quite make out the expression on his face.

“I guess so,” He murmurs back, their eyes locking, and Hailey can feel her smile fading from her face as Jay’s gaze darts to her lips.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

The air had shifted from light and playful into something of hopeful anticipation as they both held their breath because this was it. Somehow, she knew that this was the moment they both have been waiting for.

“Hailey,” The way he says it brings her back to flying bullets and quiet break rooms; to teary eyes and soft whispers when the threat of being spilt up was very real and too overwhelming to think about.

He’d said her name then just like he was saying it now, breathy and gentle and maybe even a little bit scared. And just maybe, Hailey thought, they had been on the edge of this for far longer than she’d even realized.

“You know, I think I have just one more question for you,” It was barely a whisper, his minty breath ghosting over her face.

Her own shallow breathing had nothing to do with her bruised ribs and stitched side but everything to do with the way his forehead was almost touching hers as they lay on their sides underneath the fort made from sheets and pillows.

The joking and the laughter and the bright sunlight of a hopeful day shining through the white sheets, surrounding her and she feels it in her bones that this is the monumental moment of their great love story—the start of a beautiful life bursting with love and tears and pain and joy and pillow forts and all the things that come with loving each other; of building a family together.

Her eyes were lidded as she looked into those brilliant green irises that she loved so much, and the feeling of warmth and affection and pure adoration washed over her as Jay’s gaze dropped to her lips before his eyes closed completely, slowly breathing her in.

Their lips were almost touching now as they lay in the quiet of a lazy afternoon of an ordinary Sunday afternoon and it was in the way it was just so natural, so comforting that made her feel like she’d just had a glass of warm milk and was now tucked up in bed.

But that tingling feeling she had low in her belly and rushing through her bones was so much better than she’d ever felt before and she knew it was much more than just an ordinary Sunday—it was an extraordinary Sunday.

“And what question would that be?” She was almost afraid to talk even at a whisper for fear of breaking the spell they were under, but the barely murmured question was filled with hope and love and affection, adding a deeper layer of warmth to the bubble they had created.

“Are we only just partners?” His nose skimmed hers as he moved his head slightly, his slightly open lips almost touching her cheek in the barest hints of a kiss.

Hailey hummed, letting out a soft little sigh as she gently ran her hands up Jay’s torso, stopping at his chest, her touch light and soft.

“Do only just partners fly all the way to New York?” It was a rhetorical question spoken in hushed tones as Jay gently nuzzled her neck before bringing his head back up to gaze at her, their lips once again mere millimeters apart. She swallowed faintly, “Because I think we both know that we aren’t just partners.”

His eyes held soft tenderness and fierce devotion, the quiet future she’d dreamed for them reflecting so clearly back at her. The pads of his fingertips touched her cheek so scarcely it almost tickled, “I’d follow you anywhere, Hailey. To New York, back to Chicago,” His gaze burned into hers and she knew he was getting ready to say the words she’d been hoping to hear for so long.

She felt the fingers of his other hand tangle with hers by their sides, “To the edge of the universe and everywhere in between. Wherever you are, I am, because you are the person I always want to come home to.”

She felt the promises land on her lips more than she heard them, his voice was so soft and quiet. And Hailey thought it was perhaps the most intimate she’d ever been with a person.

It was vulnerable and gentle and warm and just pure, unadulterated love, and she knew she would never be able to put this feeling or this moment into words, but she knows that this is where she belongs; next to him, in his arms, his heart beating under her palm.

She barely had time to whisper, “Oh Jay” before his lips were softly pressing against hers in an intentional kiss instead of fleeting brushes. It was unhurried and really quite innocent as far as kisses go, but she’d never felt more cherished than she did in that moment.

His lips just barely moved against hers, languidly filling her up as he kissed her in the way one would savor the taste of something new yet familiar.

A last first kiss.

Jay pulled back slightly, their lips still touching as he looked at her, his strong but gentle hand cupping one of her cheeks, “Because you are my home. The person I want to share it all with—the joy and the pain. The person I want to tell my secrets to. To whisper all the hopes and dreams and promises. And that’s why I love you.”

Maybe he’s crazy for telling her what he so deeply feels in his heart right away, but then he looks at her and he knows it isn’t. They were already closer than most couples ever are, and he thinks that’s what makes them so special—so different from any other relationship he’s ever had.

It isn’t crazy because it’s true and they are them.

He knows she’s already seen the truth in his eyes anyway.

*

When Jay walks into the hotel room later that day, arms laden with Greek takeout, he does he wanted to do last night and calls out a ‘honey, I’m home’ in a teasing manner.

Hailey smiles at him brightly, her eyes shining with the laughter that’s so clearly on her face, and he can’t help but drop a kiss on her dimpled cheek, marveling at the way tonight was so vastly different from the night before.

It was so easy now, to just drop a kiss to her cheek or her lips whenever he wanted, like he’d been doing it for years and yet, he still had that buzzy feeling of anticipation that he’d had this morning when he kissed her for the first time.

Something tells him that it’s going to always feel like that when kissing her no matter how many times he does it over the course of their lifetimes and that thought alone sends his heart racing and makes him think dangerous things like rings and vows and forevers.

He knows, he knows, it’s definitely way too early for those types of thoughts, but then again, that has never stopped him from imagining a future with her before. Before they were even together. But now they are, and it’s proving difficult to not think about the thing that he’s wanted for so long is realistically and finally within his grasp.

“What?” She’s cocking her head, her lips quirking up in a question and he realizes he’s been staring at her for the past couple of minutes.

Jay shakes his head, lips quirking up in a smile of his own, “Nothing.”

Hailey gives him an inquisitive look like she’s not entirely sure she believes him, but the grin on her face tells him she’s too happy to care. She turns back to where she is gingerly picking up the room, gathering their collective dirty laundry to throw in the washing machines downstairs and he is suddenly, once again struck with the thought of this is what he wants his future to look like.

“What are we gonna do for the next couple of days? I’m probably not up for traipsing all over New York, but we should do something other than stay in this hotel room.”

Her back is to him as she talks and continues to tidy the messy room, leaving the fort for now, but gathering up a few pillows that are laying on the floor to throw back on the bed.

“We’d both go crazy, especially considering I’m not allowed to do anything ‘physically active’ which is, not going to lie, kind of a bummer seeing as how I’ve waited for ages for you to make a move and we’re here totally alone with nothing to potentially interrupt us,” She rattles on casually like she’s talking about the weather and while he is also bummed at not being able to take that final step of being together totally and completely for another couple of weeks, he is thrilled that they have this time together to get to know each other as a couple.

There are more intimate things than just sex and those are the moments he is looking forward to. He wants to know what she finds romantic and how much she likes to cuddle and if she hogs the blankets at night or if her feet get cold.

Things that only a boyfriend would know.

He realizes she’s stopped talking and is looking at him again, this time with an eyebrow raised in exasperation, “Jay! Have you been listening to me at all?”

He blinks and shakes his head sheepishly, knowing she must have been waiting on an answer to a question he hadn’t heard.

Her eyes furrow inquisitively as she shakes her own head in slight amusement before turning back to her task, muttering something about how he was an idiot, but she loves him anyway.

“Hailey,” He blurts it out, like he’s desperate, like if he doesn’t say what he wants now then he’s afraid it’ll never happen. She looks back at him again, this time with a hint of concern on her face, but he’s just looking at her like a man in love and she’s his whole world.

“Let’s get married.”

*

“Well, look who it is! The elusive damsel and her brooding knight in shining armor,” Adam exclaimed, his arms flung out wide as Jay and Hailey made their way up the steps and into the bullpen.

Hailey glared at him, but the smile threatening to take over her face ruined the effect, “Ha ha, very funny. A girl goes away for a while and she’s suddenly elusive, she gets hurt and now she’s a damsel.”

She accepts the gentle hug that Adam was offering as Kevin and Kim crowded in behind them at the top of the steps, waiting for their turn to welcome her home.

“Hailey, you can’t ever leave again. Or if you do, you gotta take me with you because one more day alone with these children and I would’ve lost my mind,” Kim insists as she moves in for a hug of her own.

There was a chorus of affronted heys’ from Adam, Kevin and Jay as Hailey chuckled at the desperation in Kim’s voice.

“Also, clearly you need us watching your back because the second you go off without us, you get hurt,” The statement is meant to be funny and it gets the eye-roll it deserves, but Hailey knows this is Kim’s way of saying she’s glad she’s okay.

Hailey is sure had they been alone, Kim would have been more direct with her feelings of relief, but as women in the force, they had to be careful not to exude to much sentimentality even if they know their unit would never use it against them.

“We sure did miss you, girl,” Kevin tells her as he steps up for a hug of his own and she grins into the man’s broad chest when she hears Jay mutter a, “And what am I? Chopped liver?”

Adam starts to tease him, but whatever he was about to say is cut off by Kim’s loud gasp as she all but yanks Hailey’s hand which was still resting on Kevin’s back to her face.

“Oh my God,” The squeal that comes out of her mouth is one none of them had ever heard before as she pulls on Hailey’s arm, bringing her fingers to eyelevel as she narrowed in on something that hadn’t been there before.

“Did you get married?!”

That definitely got the other’s attention, Kevin and Adam’s heads’ immediately snapping over to look at Hailey’s left hand that Kim still had a hold of, “Holy crap, Hailey. You go away for like five weeks and you come back freaking married?”

Hailey tries retracting her hand, but Kim still has a tight hold on it, staring at the engagement and wedding band on her ring finger of her left hand. She opens her mouth to say something, but she doesn’t get very far before Kim’s talking again, “I’m sorry, but who the hell did you marry?”

There is a beat of silence before Adam curses under his breath, muttering a ‘no way’ as he practically leaps across desks to grab Jay’s left hand which was rifling through his duffel bag. Much like Kim did with Hailey, Adam brings Jay’s hand to his face, pulling him half-way across his desk and ignoring his protests.

“Holy no way,” Kim’s eyes were about as wide as saucers as they all glanced back and forth between the two partners.

“You two got freaking married?” Kim says again, her voice at an unnaturally high pitch.

Hailey can’t help but smirk at Kim’s expression as she sits down with her mouth slightly agape and has to suppress a laugh at Kevin and Adam’s matching dumbfounded expressions. She shares a secret look with Jay, the sparkle of laughter evident in his eyes.

She glances over their friends before shrugging and offering a simple, “Surprise!”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Adam states as he slowly sinks into his desk chair, his face whiter than Hailey had ever seen it.

She knew their news would be a shock, but she didn’t think it warranted this strong of a reaction. Jay sends her another look that says the same thing and she knows he’s about to ask Adam if everything was okay when Kevin starts laughing.

“Oh man. Dude, what did we tell you?” He snorts, holding out an opened palm as Adam looks up at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t think it would actually happen and you told me nothing of the sort,” He defends, looking very uncertain, his eyebrows furrowed in distress.

Swallowing, Adam finally looks at them, flicking his eyes between her and Jay, “You told Trudy, didn’t you? Why would you do that?”

Jay shoots Hailey a look before slowly shaking his head, “No, Adam, we didn’t tell anyone.”

His face goes even whiter than it was before, and he sinks out of his chair to sit on the floor, burying his head in his hands.

Kim’s eyes widened and she looked at Adam warily, “Adam, what did you do?” Her eyes narrowed in alarmed suspension, “Don’t tell me you actually made that bet with Trudy.”

Adam was now lying flat on his back in the floor, his head moving back and forth in misery as he groaned, “I thought I had it in the bag. I mean, if Jay and Hailey didn’t tell her then how the hell did she come up with exactly what happened? That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

Kevin shook his head in slightly terrified admiration, “I don’t know, man. Trudy Platt is as mysterious as they come, and she has mad skills.”

Hailey’s eyebrows furrow as she watches Adam’s dramatics play out in front of her, “What bet? What are you guys talking about?”

Kim and Kevin share a look, ignoring Adam who was still moaning in disbelief on the floor behind his desk and at Kevin’s shrug, Kim looks back at Hailey and Jay.

“Well,” She draws it out like one who is coming clean about something they don’t particularly want to divulge, “We’ve had bets going for a while on when you two were going to get together because we all knew this was going to happen sooner or later and we decided the other day that it was going to be sooner rather than later because of the whole New York thing.”

“And somehow Trudy ended up pitching the idea of you guys eloping and I guess Adam was stupid enough to take the bet,” She purses her lips, “Not that any of us actually thought you were going to get married. Together, yes, but married?”

Kim trails off and Hailey’s eyebrows arch warily, “Wait a second. What do you mean ‘we all knew this was going to happen sooner or later’? Because to be completely honest, I didn’t even know if it was going to happen till a few days ago.”

“Girl,” Kevin shakes his head and uncrosses his arms to put his hands in his pockets, “You have no idea the amount of gossip you guys generate down in patrol. You two are like a freaking slow-burn romance novel,” At Kim’s odd look he hurries to add, “Not that I know anything about those. That’s just what Vanessa says and honestly, this whole thing was started by her so you can just go find her in whatever undercover operation Narcotics has her in and bring it up with her.”

There is a slightly uncomfortable pause as Hailey and Jay take in the information that they are already a source of gossip in the district, but it’s broken by another one of Adam’s distressed groans.

“Man,” Jay looks over at him, his eyebrows arching like he was finally fed up with his friends’ bemoaning, “What the hell kind of deal did you make with Trudy.”

Kim crosses her arms, also clearly unimpressed, “You know, I’d also like to know what has you rolling around like you’re in state mourning.”

“I didn’t think they were actually going to get married, or I would have never made the bet,” Adam insists again, running his hands over his face, “I owe her a months’ worth of drinks at Molly’s, and I have to do school crossings for the rest of the school year.”

Jay laughs, “Oh man,” He shakes his head in amusement, “You do realize it’s only February, right?”

Adam glared at him, “Oh shut up.”

Clambering to his feet in a huff of despair, he heads dejectedly towards the stairs, “I guess I’d better go settle up before Platt comes up here to rub it in my face.”

They watch him go, each trying to hold in snorts of laughter before he disappeared around the corner and Kevin turns back to where Hailey and Jay have taken up residence at Hailey’s desk.

“I still can’t believe you two are actually married,” He rubs his face briefly with an astonished huff of laughter, “Together, I could believe. In fact, I have money on it, but married? Like, what inspired you to skip the dating phase?”

Hailey and Jay share an amused look, her expression changing imperceptibly before Jay turns back to Kim and Kevin, “I guess we should probably come clean.”

They look a little confused for a moment before Kim creases her forehead skeptically, “Wait a second,” Her eyes widen in realization before she slowly starts to speak, “Are you telling us that was all a joke?”

“Well,” Hailey smirks, starting to remove the wedding and engagement bands on her finger as Jay did the same with the wedding band he was wearing, “The married part was a joke but the together part,” She looks at Jay and he gives her a soft smile full of warmth and love, “That’s for real.”

“Wait, seriously?” Kevin gave an impressed grin, chuckling, “So, Adam didn’t really lose that bet?”

Jay shrugged, grinning, “No, not technically,” He winks, “but we don’t need to tell him that.”

“I honestly can’t believe that turned out as well as it did,” Hailey shakes her head in disbelief, “We had no idea Adam had made that bet with Trudy. We just thought it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t because that was entertaining as hell and I for one am going to enjoy watching Adam carry out a bet he actually didn’t lose,” Kim flops down in her desk chair, powering up her computer as she laughs.

Kevin follows suit, laughing as they all turn to their computers to start the workday. They have to smother snickers when half an hour later, Adam trudges up the steps with a smug looking Trudy Platt following him, rattling off his new school crossing schedule.

*

“I can’t tell you how good it feels to be back,” Hailey sighs, leaning into Jay as they walk out of the district and into the roll-up, Jay’s arm slung around her shoulders.

He kisses the side of her head, “It feels good to have you back. I know I’ve said this before, but nothing was the same while you were gone. I hope everything will start to go back to normal now that you’re here with me.”

Hailey suddenly extracts herself out from under his arm and puts a good couple of inches distance in between them. Jay frowns, confused at her sudden coldness, “Hailey?”

“What?” She gives him an innocent look, a smile starting to tug at her lips, “You said you hope things go back to normal. This is normal for us.”

Jay gives her an unimpressed look, “Ha ha. Very funny. You know what I meant.”

She chuckles and lets Jay sling his arm over her shoulders again as they continue to walk over to where he parked the truck earlier.

“A new normal then,” He amends, “One where I get to kiss you and touch you and tell you how much I love you.”

Nestling her head into his shoulder, she looks up at him with a heartfelt smile, “Sounds good to me.”

They are at the truck now and Jay walks with her to the passenger’s side before stopping to turn and face her, his hands coming to rest on her upper arms. He takes a breath and Hailey’s eyebrows furrow at the almost nervous expression he is wearing, “I know that whole marriage thing today was a joke, but I meant what I said while we were in New York.”

Hailey remembers the initial shock she felt when Jay had blurted out that they should get married as they stood in their hotel room mere hours after their first kiss. He hurried to add that he meant sometime in the future, but he wanted to let her know how serious he was about this relationship even if it was way to early by most standards to be talking about marriage.

She’d listened to him ramble on uncharacteristically about how he loved her, that she was it for him and he just wanted her to know that. That one day in probably the near future he wanted to ask her for real and he hoped beyond all belief that she would say yes because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her but even if she didn’t want to get married, he was okay with that. He just wanted to be with her on any terms.

After she got over the surprise of his statement, she found that she wasn’t frightened by how fast things seemed to be moving and if it had been anyone other than Jay, she knew deep in her bones that she would be running for the hills at even the hint of marriage.

But it was Jay and if she were being honest, she would’ve married him back in New York if he’d asked her to and she would marry him tomorrow if he dropped down on his knee right now to propose to her.

Jay swallowed and she could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “You are it for me and someday, I’m going to ask you to marry me. I hope to God you say yes, but I want you to know that as long as I’m with you, my life is filled with purpose, so we don’t need to define anything with a piece of paper or anything. I just need you to know how serious I am about this.”

“Jay,” She interjects softly, placing a hand on his chest over his rapidly beating heart, “Today, tomorrow, ten years from now. If and whenever you ask me,” She smiles gently as she moves to cup his stubbled cheek, “My answer will always be yes.”

I hope the ending wasn’t too cringy, but I had to end it somewhere lol! As always, let me know what you thought!

Love you all and can’t wait to see you for my next project!

[griefpersevering]

sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand

the lokius beach fix-it fic nobody asked for

[Read on AO3] [Buy me a coffee?]

“Who are you?”

Loki stares at him for a long moment, his heart sinking in his chest. First Sylvie, now Mobius… maybe Lokis are destined to lose.

“What?” he asks, still breathing heavily.

The last few days have all melded into one; an indecipherable blur of racing for survival and not much else. With so much happening in quick succession since his failure in New York, it’s impossible to tell whether it has been days or weeks or months since he first arrived at the TVA.

Mobius doesn’t answer, just raising an eyebrow at him.

Loki allows his eyes to wander, assessing the situation and resigning himself to a fight. If Mobius doesn’t know who he is… well, there’s a chance he could get pruned again, and he would like to avoid that situation. Currently, the only people he can see are B-15 - who shouldn’t be too much of a problem - and Mobius, who he would prefer not to hurt, but if he doesn’t recognise him then-

Mobius bursts out laughing, B-15 snickering behind him. She claps him on the shoulder before waving goodbye and wandering off, still laughing to herself as she leaves.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Mobius says between breaths, his confusion replaced with a smile. “That was mean. I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Mobius?” Loki ventures, still wary.

“Look, all that stuff about the Multiverse or whatever?” he replies, waving a hand dismissively. “Not our problem. I’ve officially retired, and I’ve got an excellent retirement plan. Fancy joining me?”

Loki crosses his arms, frowning. “You tricked me.”

Mobius shrugs. “Seems only fair.”

He tries not to smile. “You’re sure the TVA can deal with the Multiverse?”

“Yep, B-15’s taking care of it. Now, come on, there’s a beach waiting for us.”

Mobius fiddles with his TemPad for a moment, a doorway opening up in front of them. He takes a few confident strides towards it before hesitating, looking around the library one last time.

“You don’t have to come with me, you know,” he says, not meeting Loki’s eyes. “I know… I know a quieter life doesn’t really agree with Lokis. You can stay for the fight, if you want, or for Sylvie.”

Loki’s chest constricts at the mention of her, but he forces a small, sad smile onto his face. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he answers, and Mobius smiles.

“For all time, then,” he says, extending his hand to Loki.

“Always,” he finishes, taking it as they step through the doorway together.

keep reading under the cut!

1991

The other side of the portal is exactly what Mobius promised: a beach. But what he failed to mention is the beauty of said beach - it isn’t just any old strip of sand, but one of the most breathtaking places Loki has ever had the honour of visiting.

They take a few steps into this new world, their shoes filling up with sand and their hands still entwined as they let their eyes adjust to the bright light. Loki pauses to slip off his socks and shoes, the sand warm and soft between his toes. Mobius follows suit, leaning on Loki for balance, a huge smile on his face.

“It should only be a few minutes walk from here,” Mobius announces, grinning.

“What is?” Loki asks, but he doesn’t get an answer. For once in his life, he isn’t sure he needs one, happy to go along with whatever adventure Mobius has planned.

They walk in comfortable silence, their feet sinking into the sand as they take in the tropical sights. To their left is a bay filled with sparking water which disappears past the land out to the horizon. In the distance, Loki can see a much busier beach by what appears to be a town. If he listens carefully enough, and the wind is blowing in the right direction, he can hear a hundred conversations carrying across the bay at once, a pleasant white noise that mixes with the sound of lapping waves.

To their right is a row of secluded houses, all enveloped in lush greenery that grows from the forest behind them, seeming to lean forwards and envelop them. Their front doors are all painted a variety of bright colours - red, yellow, purple, orange, pink - apart from the one at the end, which is just the default brown.

Mobius pulls a set of keys out of his pocket, a tiny fish keyring hanging from them. “This one is ours,” he declares, and he tugs Loki towards the little cottage at the end of the row.

It takes him a moment to find the right key to unlock the door before it swings open, a neutral brown and white hallway greeting them. He leaves his shoes on the mat outside the front door, Loki following suit, before venturing inside their new house.

Loki can’t say he is surprised by the decor - it isn’t exactly reminiscent of the TVA, but everything is decorated to look almost like a show home. There are no bright colours, no personal touches, nothing to indicate that anyone has ever lived there before them.

Just as Loki opens his mouth to say something, Mobius wrinkles his nose and beats him to it.

“Would it kill someone to pick up a paintbrush?” he complains, but he’s still smiling. “That’s what you get for a company retirement plan that’s only been in place for six hours, I guess… we’ll have to do it all ourselves.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Company retirement plan?”

Mobius grins. “We have a lot to catch up on. Come on, why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll get us something to drink.”

As soon as he leaves the room, Loki rolls his eyes and waves his hand, using his magic to clean the blood and the dirt off of him and to change into a pair of shorts and a bright green haiwaiian t-shirt. And, now that he thinks about it… he frowns and uses what little magic he has left in him to spruce up the place a bit, before collapsing onto the (admittedly, very comfy) couch.

Mobius returns only a few minutes later, raising his eyebrows at the way Loki is sprawled across the sofa, his eyes closed. He looks around the room, taking in the few things that Loki has added - a blanket draped across the back of the couch, a wooden coffee table with a golden bowl of fruit placed neatly on top, and a framed poster of a jet ski on the far wall.

Oh, Mobius thinks with a snicker, you’re gonna love what I have planned for tomorrow.

“Did you get us a drink or are you just going to stand there for all eternity?” Loki asks without opening his eyes, swinging his legs so that there’s room to sit next to him.

“Sorry if I wasn’t moving fast enough, your highness,” Mobius teases as he plops onto the couch, passing a cold beer bottle into Loki’s waiting hands. “The new outfit slowed me down a bit.”

Loki smirks, cracking open one eye to see the outfit that he’d swapped for Mobius’ old clothes. “I thought you’d appreciate something more comfortable. Besides, we match.”

He swings his legs back up onto Mobius’ lap, taking a swig of his drink. They are quiet for a moment, listening to the distant crashing of waves and enjoying the lack of need to do… well, anything.

“Do you mind if I turn the television on?” Mobius eventually asks, and Loki hums an affirmative. He grabs the remote, trying to avoid jostling the legs on his lap as much as possible, before pressing the on button.

As an afterthought, he tugs the soft blanket from the back of the sofa and drapes it over the both of them, firmly focusing his attention on the screen in front of them rather than the sleepy god next to him.

{o0o}

Since he isn’t exactly human, Loki doesn’t need nearly as much sleep as humans. Usually, about eight hours is enough to get him through the week. However, with all the crazy stuff and time hopping and running for his life that he has done in the last however long, he’s asleep within minutes of making contact with the sofa.

When he wakes, however, it is to light streaming through a thin beige curtain. He sits up, running a hand through his hair, as he sleepily takes in his surroundings.

Somehow, he has ended up on top of a bed that he has never seen before. Given the boring decor, he assumes it must be the upstairs of the cottage… so, presumably, Mobius had moved him upstairs in his sleep.

Loki waits for that statement to sink in, for him to feel that usual sense of panic at someone being there and moving him while he was vulnerable, but it never comes.

(If he is being honest with himself, he knows exactly why Mobius is the exception, but he isn’t ready to admit that, not yet.)

He wanders over to the window, yanking open the curtain. There, outside, is the same paradise they had arrived in only last night. And, if the digital clock on the bedside table is enough to go by, it’s 10am on the twenty-fourth of September, 1991.

The view is even more beautiful when he is more awake to admire it, Loki decides. The bay sparkles like a rare jewel, and he finds himself cracking the window open to let some fresh air in.

He sighs, a long breath that mists the glass in front of him. He’ll miss this place, when he inevitably has to leave. Because there’s no way he can stay here for the rest of his life; he’s a Loki, after all, and Lokis are destined to lose. This - a paradise beyond time with someone who knows who he is and accepts him for who he is? He could scoff at the idea. When has the Universe (or the Multiverse, he supposes) ever been that kind to him?

Loki stares blankly out of the window for a few minutes until he is broken from his trance when he spots a familiar figure struggling down the beach, attempting to balance much more shopping than one man can manage.

He blinks a few times, making sure that it is, in fact, Mobius, before barking out a laugh and rushing downstairs and out the front door to lend him a hand. After all, what kind of guest would he be if he let his host embarrass himself publicly within 24 hours of moving in?

When he catches up to him - wearing the same garish, bright orange haiwaiian shirt that Loki had conjured up for him yesterday, he notes - Mobius doesn’t even notice he’s there until several of the bags are lifted from him.

“Hey! Oh, it’s just you,” he exclaims, adjusting a box under his arm. “Thank you,” he adds.

“What did you get?” Loki asks, tucking some of the smaller items into a pocket dimension so he had free hands to carry the rest of it.

“Oh, just a couple of things to spruce the place up. I got a bit carried away, actually,” Mobius admits as they start off back down the beach. “How did you sleep?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “Like the dead, apparently. Did you move me while I was asleep?”

Mobius doesn’t meet his eyes as he responds. “Yep. You looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

There’s a pang in Loki’s chest; another reminder that leaving this place will get more and more painful the longer he stays. He can’t get used to these common gestures of affection - he can’t think of another person who would have cared enough about his comfort to go to the effort of carrying him up the stairs.

“Is something wrong?” Mobius asks, interrupting Loki’s train of thought. He’s staring at him, a curious expression on his face, and it’s only then that Loki realises they have stopped.

“It’s nothing,” Loki replies quickly, giving Mobius one of his most charming smiles as he starts walking again.

Mobius stays rooted to the spot. “Bullshit.”

Loki stops, his back turned to Mobius, and sighs. A range of lies are on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite find it in himself to bother trying to keep up a facade that they both know Mobius can see straight through.

“I’m having a nice time,” he states, after a minute of debate.

Mobius starts walking again, juggling his shopping as he catches up to Loki. “And that is a problem… why?”

“Because good things don’t last!” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Lokis are destined to lose.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow. “You think this will be taken away from you,” he says. It isn’t a question. “Well, I have a present for you, then. Two, actually.”

They reach the front door of their cottage, Loki’s eyes trained on the ground as he scuffs his sandals on the sand. Mobius rummages through his bags, trying to find something specific.

“May I have the red striped carrier bag, please?” he asks, when his search comes up fruitless. Loki conjures it for him, passing it over. He doesn’t know what’s in any of the bags (although, now, he’s thinking he should probably have checked), he had only picked it because it is one of the heaviest ones.

Mobius opens the bag from him with a word of thanks, peering in to check it’s the right one. Then, he sticks a hand in his pocket, pulling out his fist closed around something.

“Here,” he says, offering his closed fist to Loki. “This is yours to keep, forever.”

Loki cautiously holds out a hand, and Mobius drops the item into his palm. Loki stares at the little piece of metal, wondering how it could mean so much.

“...Is this?”

“The key to our house, yeah,” Mobius confirms, smiling. “And a crocodile keyring, since I’m apparently never going to get over meeting that version of you.”

Loki smiles, just slightly, cupping the key carefully in his hands as he admires the keyring.

“And that bag is also for you. Well, the contents are, I don’t know if you want the bag as well-”

It’s not hard to tell that Mobius is nervous, so Loki can’t begin to imagine what is in the bag. He picks it up, sand pouring out the bottom of the bag, raising his eyebrows at what he finds.

“Green paint?”

Mobius grins, scratching the back of his head. “We’re the only ones with a boring front door. I figured we should probably fix that, add some of your flare.”

Loki gives him a shit-eating grin, sliding the keys into his pocket.

“What?” Mobius asks, sensing something is up. “What did I say?”

With a wave of a hand and without the paint can ever being opened, the front door is suddenly the colour of Peppermint Fresh.

“You seem to be forgetting you live with a god,” Loki declares, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, come on.”

They spend the rest of their day renovating their new house, Loki’s powers speeding up the process immensely. Other than paint and wallpaper, Mobius had also bought them both some clothes, as well as a range of random items to make the place look a little more personal, and two whole bags of groceries.

“I’ve never cooked anything before,” he admits, just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. “We never had to, at the TVA. We always just went to the canteen.”

Loki hums to the radio playing in the corner, standing back to check if the strip of wallpaper he had just hung looked straight. “We always had people cook for us, back on Asgard,” he replies. “My mother tried to teach me, but I found pestering my brother much more interesting.”

“Do you miss your family?” Mobius asks, collecting the paintbrushes from around the room so he can wash them in the kitchen sink.

“They weren’t my family,” he responds immediately, before wincing. “Well, not biologically. But I’m starting to think that maybe family is more than just DNA.”

Mobius nods, shoving the paintbrushes into a carrier bag. When he’s sure Loki has nothing else to say, he gestures to the door. “Want to make sure I don’t set fire to the kitchen?”

Loki smiles. He has found himself doing that more and more since he has met Mobius; the man always seems to know what to say and do. “I’m pretty sure you know that I have quite the history of arson, but sure.”

So, they go downstairs, Loki waving his hands and cleaning the stray blotches of paint off their clothes.

“Let’s start with something simple,” Mobius suggests, opening the fridge. “Fish fingers?”

Loki nods. “Surely even you can’t mess that up.”

Oh, how he was wrong. An hour later, they’re sitting next to each other on the couch (upright, this time) eating burnt fish fingers and scoffing at the programme they’re watching.

“Do humans really believe in these things?” Loki asks incredulously, squirting more ketchup on his plate in an attempt to overpower the burnt taste.

Mobius scoffs. “I think it’s for entertainment, Loki. But yeah, ‘aliens’ don’t act like this. At least, not as far as I know.”

“There’s a multiverse now,” Loki muses. “Maybe there weren’t any before, but there are now.”

Mobius shrugs. “Who knows. It’s not our problem, either way.”

Loki doesn’t answer, instead opting to scoop the fishfinger into his mouth. Mobius frowns at his lack of response, grabbing the remote and muting Mulder and Scully’s investigation.

“You do know… this whole multiverse business, it’s not your fault, right? And, as far as we know, nothing catastrophic has happened yet.”

Loki swallows, refusing to take his eyes off the silent TV. “That’s the thing, Mobius. It is my fault - partly, at the very least. And what if something bad does happen? Any suffering or pain caused by this is on my shoulders.”

Mobius puts his plate down on the coffee table, nudging him with his shoulder. “That statement is so incorrect, it’s unbelievable. I thought you were supposed to be smart?”

Loki doesn’t say anything, and he sighs.

“Look - first of all, it isn’t your fault. This is all on Sylvie. I don’t know what happened there, but from what I gather, you tried to stop her, and that’s all that matters. I’ve met a hundred different Lokis, and every single one of them would have done what benefits them the most, not fought to try and do something to help other people.”

“She kissed me,” Loki says, out of nowhere. “Sylvie, I mean. And then she just… tossed me away.”

Mobius frowns. “Did you like her?”

“I thought I did,” he admits. “But I think - I don’t think I liked her like that. I think I mistook wanting her to be safe and happy for love.”

“It’s a kind of love, just perhaps not the one you assumed it was.”

Loki nods. “I loved her like a sister, I suppose.”

“And she betrayed you,” Mobius continues. “When you were finally allowing yourself to trust others again.”

Loki puts his plate on top of Mobius’, suddenly not hungry. He tries to turn his attention back to the muted television, but he’s missed too much of the exposition to properly understand what is happening.

“Loki, look at me,” Mobius says softly. “Loki.”

He turns, praying that he doesn’t notice the tears welling in his eyes.

“Experiencing two conflicting emotions is perfectly normal,” Mobius continues, reaching for Loki’s hand and squeezing it. “You can care about Sylvie, and be upset about what she did at the same time.”

“I just-” he tries, his voice cracking. “I just wonder whether she ever cared about me, or whether she was just using me the entire time. I mean, it’s the kind of thing I would do, isn’t it?”

Mobius stares him dead in the eye, his voice firm. “Maybe once, but not now. You know what makes you different from every other Loki?”

“The fact I stole the Tesseract, escaped to the desert, and then helped to take down the man in charge of the universe?”

“No.” Mobius sighs. “Well, yes, I suppose. But what I was trying to say is that you’re different to every Loki because you care. You recognised your faults, and then you tried to change them.

“You said, earlier, ‘Lokis are destined to lose’, and yet here you are. I would count this as a win, wouldn’t you?”

Loki is uncharacteristically silent after that. They sit like that for a few minutes, neither of them speaking, before Loki stands up and disappears into the kitchen, taking the plates with him. Mobius sighs, reaching for the TV remote and turning the channel to some random movie.

When Loki returns a few minutes later, he sits straight down next to Mobius. They watch the movie - something about little fluffy monsters - together, not finding the need to speak.

It’s only by the time Loki’s head has drooped onto Mobius’ shoulder that the silence is broken. He drags the blanket over the sleepy Loki that’s attached itself to him, grinning at how adorable he finds the ferocious god.

“Thank you,” Loki mumbles, only half-conscious, and they both know he isn’t only talking about the blanket.

{o0o}

This time, when Loki wakes up, he knows the bed he lies in is his own. He frowns, not remembering getting into bed, before realising that Mobius must have carried him upstairs again.

If anyone asked him, he would say that he had fallen asleep because of all the magic he had used to renovate during the day, but that wouldn’t be the truth. No, he’d be a little more hesitant to admit that their little cottage by the beach feels like the safest place he has ever stayed. Besides, emotions are exhausting.

He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and checking the little clock by his bedside. 9:24, it reads, which isn’t too-

“Loki?” a sleepy voice says from beside him, and he has to stop himself from leaping out of the bed in surprise.

Because somehow, in the few minutes he has been awake, he has failed to notice that he is not alone in the room. Next to him, tucked neatly under the covers, is Mobius, Captain America pajamas and all.

Loki wrinkles his nose at the choice of outfit, but doesn’t voice his opinion. “What - did I fall asleep again?”

“Mmm,” Mobius hums, eyes sliding shut again. “‘S too early, go back to sleep.”

Okay, Loki’s pretty sure his heart just melted slightly. “I don’t need as much sleep as you,” he replies gently. “But you should lie in.”

“Fine,” Mobius complains, rolling over. “But I’m stealing your pillows.”

Loki can’t help but grin at the ridiculous sight - Mobius M. Mobius, formerly one of the most prestigious members of an elite organisation, spread starfish-style across their bed in his Avengers pajamas.

(Although, Loki supposes, the actual Avengers won’t exist for another twenty or so years, thanks to their time travel shenanigans.)

He slips into the hallway, leaving the door ajar behind him, before rummaging around in the bags they had shoved in the study yesterday without bothering to unpack. It only takes a few minutes to find the item he’s looking for, and it takes even less time to sneak back into their bedroom, his footsteps entirely silent.

Click! Loki smirks from behind the disposable camera and sneaks back out of the room, hoping that Mobius doesn’t wake up. Just because he doesn’t want a throne anymore doesn’t mean that he isn’t the God of Mischief- surely, Mobius should be expecting at least a few harmless pranks.

It’s a nice morning - cool, but in that way that suggests it might get much warmer later in the day - so Loki decides to go for a walk. He has barely made it past the second house in their row when a familiar face pops up from behind a hedge, waving wildly.

“Hey! I know you - blue box guy!”

Loki blinks a few times, trying to place the man in front of him. “Casey?”

“Yeah!” he exclaims, hurrying out of his front gate. “You stole my drink.”

“Sorry,” Loki replies automatically, before shaking his head. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you would not believe the week I have had,” Casey begins, waving his arm dramatically. “So I’ve been behind a desk my entire life, right? And then Mobius comes along, and he’s all like ‘Everyone who works for the TVA is a variant and the Timekeepers aren’t real!’ So there’s a bit of a fight - not everyone believes him, you see, and I had no idea what to think - and then a load of people come back from a field mission saying they saw Judge Renslayer as a high school principal!”

“Really,” Loki says drily, trying to keep up with the man’s incessant babbling.

“Yeah! So then Mobius takes over, just for a while, and he says that there are two Loki variants who are gonna take down whoever is behind the TVA, and he comes up with a plan - the people who still want to work there answer to B-15 and do whatever they want to, or you can retire to a few different locations in a few different times! And I figured, ‘Gosh, I nearly died twice in the span of ten minutes and that was scary so I should probably make sure my life has meant something,’ and also a multiverse sounds like a lot of paperwork, so. Here I am!”

Loki is silent for a few seconds, still trying to process all the information that Casey managed to spit out at an alarmingly fast rate. “Wait. So, everyone who lives here used to work for the TVA?”

Casey nods. “This row of houses, yeah. ‘1991 Beach’ was the most popular retirement option - I was pretty lucky to get one of these spots.”

“Huh,” is just about all Loki can manage.

“And guess what, criminal whose name I don’t know!” Casey exclaims excitedly. “I met a fish the other day.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, amused. “Did you, now?”

“Yep! Which, uh, makes your threat much more vivid.” Casey shudders.

“Don’t worry, I don’t kill people anymore,” Loki says, and realises that that is probably the truth. “Sorry about that, and for stealing your drink.”

Casey shrugs. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“I should head back, but it was nice to see you again, Casey.” Loki turns back to their house, his feet slipping slightly in the sand. “Oh, and, by the way - my name is Loki.”

He turns his back and walks away before he can see the look on Casey’s face, but if the sharp intake of breath he hears is anything to go by, he has certainly succeeded in surprising his new neighbour.

When he gets back, Mobius is awake, shuffling around the kitchen in his pajamas. “Morning, sunshine,” he greets as Loki appears in the doorway, sniffing the air.

“Breakfast?” he asks hopefully, and Mobius laughs.

“Yup. Full English, I thought. Did you have a nice walk?”

Loki perches on the edge of the table, smiling. “I didn’t get particularly far. I had an… interesting conversation with Casey, though.”

“Oh, I remember him. Bit weird, if memory serves,” Mobius responds, scrunching his nose as he cracks two eggs into the frying pan. “Wait, how do you know him?”

Loki scratches the back of his head. “I may, uh - I may have threatened to ‘gut him like a fish’. And then I stole his drink and poured it into your salad.”

Mobius raises an eyebrow. “Wow, okay.”

“In my defense, he didn’t know what a fish was until he moved here. And, I was part of the reason he retired, so.”

“How did he not know what a fish- You know what,” he replies, shaking his head as he turns back to the stove. “I don’t care.”

Loki turns the radio in the corner on with a flick of his wrist, and they are both content to sit and enjoy the quiet morning while Mobius cooks. In no time at all, they are sitting across from each other, two plates of food in front of them.

Picking a piece of eggshell out of his food, Loki warily takes a bite. “Did you have any plans for today?”

“As a matter of fact,” Mobius responds with an excited grin, “I do.”

It turns out, Mobius’ plans involve him packing a backpack and eagerly dragging Loki down the beach to a small jetty. There, waiting for them on the end of the small pier, is a jet ski.

Loki grins. “So that's why you chose the beach.”

Mobius grins, dumping the bag on the side and fishing his keys out of his pockets. “I have read about these things every day for almost the entirety of what I can remember, and I’m finally getting to go on one. Are you coming?”

“Of course,” Loki answers, and he clambers on behind Mobius.

“Hang on,” he shouts over the engine, and Loki wraps his arms around his waist. “You ready?”

“I’m starting to think this might be a bad- woah!”

Before Loki can even finish his statement, they’re off. Mobius soon gets the hang of it, zipping around the bay and whooping. Loki can’t help but smile - sure, he isn’t nearly as bothered about jet skis as Mobius is, but the man’s excitement is contagious. Besides, there is a certain freedom to it; he can feel the wind in his hair and taste the salt on his lips.

Suddenly, Mobius attempts to do a sharp turn, jolting them both with absolutely no warning. Loki tries to hang on, clinging tightly onto his chest, but the movement catches him by surprise and he ends up in the water.

Mobius turns the jet ski around, slowly pulling up next to (the now very wet) god. “Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very apologetic.

“Maybe I’ll stick to sunbathing,” Loki suggests as Mobius hauls him back onto the ski before dropping him off at the jetty.

“Are you sure?” he asks, clearly torn between having the time of his life and leaving Loki on his own.

“Of course I’m sure,” he answers. “I think I’ll survive an hour or two on my own. Besides, I don’t want to ruin your fun by vomiting all over you.”

Mobius pulls a face. “Maybe it’s for the best, then. I won’t go far, I promise.”

“Go!” Loki says, waving his arm at his friend as he picks up their bag. “Have some fun. You’ve earned it. I think we both have.”

Hours later, when the sun has started to set over the horizon, the two men find themselves lazing on the beach next to each other. Mobius slips a chocolate wrapper into the book he’s reading and places it down next to him, turning to his companion.

“Loki,” he begins, staring out at the sea. “Did you ever think you would settle down like this?”

“Never,” Loki answers, without any hesitation.

“Me neither.”

In the distance, there is the faint smell of cherry pie - perhaps one of their neighbours is cooking. A seagull swoops by overhead, landing on a fence a few feet behind them and bobbing about. If you look closely enough, you can see the ripples on the top of the water; the only clue that there are fish below the surface.

“We make a strange pair, don’t we?” Mobius muses, watching the sky turn from blue to orange to pink.

Loki hums. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other.”

There’s no argument to be made against that in Mobius’ mind, so they sit together, not at the end of the world, but at the beginning of one.

THE END.

tag list! ask to be added or removed :D

@tiredgayemoweeb / @idrilearfalas / @consulting-supernatural / @doomeccentric / @lyriumwolf / @peterspattersons / @inconceivablelife / @sunsetcurve123 / @i-am-the-trash-duchess / @hermes-creature / @alexmalikplays / @hisfishfingersandcustard

[jui-imouto-chan]

Ouran High School Host Club AU (Inspired by this post)

Yes, I used everybody they offered as the characters (and more!), it’s just a really big club. 

(It will 200% get bigger if I keep writing this, don’t test me)

Ship Tags: MiyaHina, AtsuHina, OsaHina, OiHina, KurooHina, BokuHina, AkaaHina, TsukiHina, UshiHina, AoHina, HyakuHina, NishiHina/NoyaHina, Hinata Harem aka Hinata/Everyone. 

Loosely follows plot, but a few things have been changed to match Haikyuu more, such as:

•Hinata isn’t an honor-student, he’s on an athletics scholarship (and while there are plenty of decent athletes there, they’re all rich enough to not need a scholarship)

•Hinata wears blue-light glasses often. He has good vision but having the glasses framing his vision helps him focus in class instead of getting (as) distracted.

•Yachi and Hinata switch off on some Haruhi stuff but Yachi isn’t the one the guys are all simping for.

•Yachi is an actual honor student but she’s not on the kinda full-ride scholarship Hinata is on. She’s like, partially rich, but not enough for Ouran (so she gets bullied or at least teased.)

•Hinata and Yachi got to be really good friends at orientation since she can sympathize with him better than all the actual rich people, and she helps him with his studies so he doesn’t completely flunk his classes. 

•The Twins, like Hikaru and Kaoru, have the same color hair (brunette) atm

•Hinata’s mom is a drag king to parallel Haruhi’s dad’s sitch

•Oikawa doesn’t let Iwaizumi into the club because he kills his eccentricity and egotism. None of the others can vibe check him the way Iwa-Chan does so that’s why he seems even more unbearable and thus more Tamaki-like.

••

Hinata tried to figure out where Yachi disappeared to, peering down halls and into classrooms through small openings of the doors. “Yachi-saaaan...”

He barely registered the vague scent of roses and sweets saturating the air as he pushed the door softly. 

The wood swung open as though pulled, Hinata stumbling through with a shout. A breeze and rose petals drifted by his face as he opened his eyes, head whipping up to view the silhouettes of the boys not too far from the door.

“Welcome to the Harukou Host Club!”

“Th-The... --What’s a host club?”

Hinata watched as all of the boys’ faces fell into befuddlement. 

“W-What a funny joke,” a brunet, sat upon a throne-like chair, commented, his fingers interlocked beneath his chin. “Isn’t that cute? Trying to win our hearts with humor.”

“But--”

“So, what kind of guys do you like? We’ve got plenty of types to spare, and I don’t think any of them have any problem attending to a male--ah, sorry, what’re your pronouns? That was rude of me to assume.”

Hinata’s instinctive, “He/him,” came out before he could attach his protests at the services offered, his stress elevating as the brunet hopped out of his chair and sauntered over to him, hands extended in shows of eccentricity.

“We haven’t gotten a boy, yet, huh, ‘Tsumu?” one of the guys still in the group commented, his arm draped over the shoulder of his exact copy (sans the parting of the brown locks). 

“No, but that’s because the only boys we’re involved with are each other,” the copy, ‘Tsumu(?), said, grabbing the other’s chin to hold his gaze. They stared into each other’s eyes for a second before their faces got a little green, the two of them separating to mime vomiting whilst laughing.

Hinata had to tune back into the brunet approaching him, who seemed to be going off on a tirade about beauty and elegance. He tuned back out almost immediately, finding even schoolwork to be more interesting.

“’Tsumu and ‘Samu are awful at the twincest-schtick, don’tcha think?”

“Right? I thought so, too. We’d be ten bajillion times better at it if we were identical twins!”

The ravenette rolled his eyes, although he drew in the other smugly. “Identical or not, the reason we work is because I’m a good actor.” Then, placatingly, he amended, “And you’re not hard to tease and smother with affection.”

His silver companion’s eyes lit up. “Man, you’re so cool, Kuroo.”

“Make sure to call me Tetsu when there are girls here.”

“Oooh do I get a nickname? Like, Kouta instead of Koutaro?”

Kuroo grinned, “Don’t give me an offer like that. I’ll call you Honey or Beloved, and while we’re raking in the cash, Akaashi’ll sell a bunch of merchandise with it.”

Another ravenette, probably Akaashi, nodded calmly as he penciled into his notebook. Beside him, a tall blonde smirked, his glasses flashing menacingly as he tapped away into a calculator. Kuroo and the silveret both paled and protested at him, which he seemed to ignore.

Speaking of ignoring things...

“You’ve been talking a long time, haven’t you?”

The brunet, knelt on the floor near a table, glanced over at him like he forgot who he was talking at. “Is that praise of my oratory skills? I’ve always been told that people get lost in my speeches, and it’s no surprise that you’ve gotten so enthralled with one!”

Seems like I wasn’t the only one who got lost, Hinata thought, noting the despondent, glazed eyes of some of the occupants. A short guy with a patch of blonde hair jumped up into a handstand on the shoulders of one of the taller guys in the back with white hair, and it was made evident that, no, some of them just always appeared completely detached from reality.

“So, anyway, what kind of guy is your type, Mr. Athlete? Maybe you like the cool type? The boy lolita?”

“—I AM NOT THAT SHORT—”

“You are quite that short,” the brunette continued, “Or maybe you like the strong silent type? —We have three of those. We also have twins—identical and fraternal— if you’re into the taboo kinda stuff. We don’t kinkshame here.”

“Maybe we should,” muttered the blonde guy with the calculator. His mouth was covered by a silver-haired guy with black ends, whose face betrayed no emotion even as the blonde fought against his palm irately.

“I’m not into this kind of thing,” Hinata said quickly, “Besides, doesn’t it cost money? I don’t think I’d be able to afford something like this, anyway.”

“Speaking of not being able to afford things... Shouldn’t we check up on her?” Probably-Akaashi motioned to a corner of the room with a piano and a familiar blonde girl hiding beneath its bench, sobbing meekly into her knees.

“Yachi-san!”

Hinata raced over to her, her head whipping up at his call. Her teary eyes let loose some sparkling droplets as she leapt at him, although the rope binding her ankles to the bench prevented her from fully reaching him. He thankfully was close enough that he saved her from a tumble to the floor.

“Hinataaaa,” she whined into his shoulder, “I’m going to have to sell my organs!!!”

“What!?”

“She came into our clubroom earlier and broke the vase we were supposed to sell at an auction,” explained one of the twins.

“It was worth eight million yen, and she told us she doesn’t have enough money but that she’ll sell her organs in order to pay us back, which is impressive in the dedication but very concerning.”

“We had Wakatoshi-kun put her on the bench to calm down, but she tied herself to it because she thought she would be our prisoner as a punishment.”

Yachi clearly tuned them out, too busy crying and hiding in Hinata’s arms. The redhead patted her on the head, wondering how things could get this weird in less than twenty minutes of her being out of his sight.

“Yachi-san.”

No response. Her blubbers were even less coherent now.

“Yachi-san!” He shook her by the shoulders until she blinked up at him. “I’ll help you, okay? Just promise me you’ll be more careful. And help me with my homework again!”

“Hinata...”

He grinned at her and patted her head. When he turned back to the group of boys, he could see they parted somewhat to allow the brunet to be visible whilst lounging on his throne that was turned to face them.

“I’ll be taking on Yachi-san’s debt,” he declared. The brunet rested his cheek on his fist and peered down his nose at him, smirk drawing his lips.

‘Kuroo’ spoke up, “Hoh? All eight million? Are you sure you can make it up, Chibi-chan?”

“You couldn’t even afford a school uniform; how do you plan to pay us back?” said the blonde guy, eyeing his white-and-pink tracksuit with no lack of judgment.

“I’ll...” Hinata glanced back at Yachi, her eyes glistening, and steeled his resolve, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Then, Chibi-chan, from here on,” the brunet guy’s voice, initially dropped, lilted upward as his amusement mounted, "You’ll be our bitch.”

“What.”

•

Hinata frowned at the smudges all over his lenses, ignoring the twins (both sets) measured him for his uniform. 

He almost didn’t notice when Kuroo bent down to meet his eye-level and gently grasped the frames of his blue-light glasses. “Alright, Chibi-chan, we’ll be taking these. Though it doesn’t even seem like you need them, huh, since these lenses don’t really have any magnification?”

“Well, no, but since we have a lot of work on laptops here I thought they’d be better to have.”

Kuroo hummed and slipped them off his ears and nose, and all of the twins gawked at him as he blinked up at them.

“What?”

Osamu kicked Atsumu’s calf, and the Miyas dragged Bokuto away with them.

“Nothing,” said Kuroo, “Maybe they just forgot you’d have a face behind these.”

“Oh, I’ve done that before! Like when people are sick for a long time and they wear a mask, I kinda forget they have mouths!”

“Yeah, just like that.” 

•

“What kind of coffee is this?” The brunet, now known to be Oikawa Tooru, asked, beckoning Hinata over with the most obnoxious “come-hither” motion to ever exist.

“Instant. I don’t really understand coffee, but this is what my mom buys. It’s just cheap enough that I still have money for lunch.”

Oikawa sputtered at Hinata’s lackluster funding for his nutrition, although his mind finished processing what was said about the coffee itself before he could really express any amount of disbelief at the former.

“What do you mean ‘instant’? Are the beans already ground or something?”

Hinata blinked. “Coffee’s made of beans?”

Oikawa sighed heavily and drew up to his full height, holding the coffee container skyward as a few girls approached for their hosting appointment.

“Alright, you know what? I’m up for a challenge! I’m going to try some commoner’s coffee!”

The girls in the clubroom gave shrieks of surprise, Oikawa’s announcement drawing the attention of the entire room. Hinata longingly and despondently stared outside at the people running around the track and beginning practices for their various sports, allowing himself to be dragged away by the club president.

“Darn rich people,” he mumbled.

•

Oikawa was very clingy, Hinata found. Every spare second he had at the club was spent with the other nearby, coddling him and encouraging him to learn up close. It was so draining that the Miya Twins and the Fraternals dragging him into their games was infinitely more appealing, but that could also be his bias for Bokuto coming into play. 

Kuroo was cool, too, yes, and the Miya Twins gave him food, but Bokuto’s energy was so perfectly aligned with his that Kuroo whined about his brother being snatched away on multiple occasions.

This time, with Oikawa monologuing as dramatically as ever, Hinata had no sets of twins to free him from the absolutely boring speech. He spaced out so hard, he didn’t notice Oikawa coming closer and hugging him to his chest excitedly. 

He shouted, the fright sending tears into his eyes, and he reached desperately at the tall trio nearby. “Help!”

All three of them instinctively drew closer, but it was the white-haired eyebrowless one who pulled him out of Oikawa’s grasp by the armpits, Hinata’s legs dangling in the air while the brunette sat stupefied. 

“A-Aone-kun, you didn’t have to go so far...” Oikawa tried.

Hinata smiled at Aone in thanks and patted his head gently to express further gratitude. Whence he was placed down, Aone bowed to him, and he bowed back.

•

Nishinoya was a very fun person to be around, although their interactions were sparse. He shone under the attention from the girls, and if Hinata didn’t know the girls were paying for his time, he’d have assumed the reverse was true. But it made sense, you know, since Noya-san was just such a cool dude.

The girls cooed at him and giggled at his jokes, and his dorky personality coupled with his small-but-wild looks made him a charmer. He also offered Hinata cake on a frequent basis, and often accosted the others to make sure they ate up--especially Tsukishima, who seemed prickly enough that Hinata didn’t want to get near him with a ten foot pole. 

Unfortunately, Tsukishima was also the one mostly in charge of handling his debt, so he could not actually be avoided. Hinata was assured by Akaashi that he’d remove any undue charges Tsukishima would add to the debt, although Hinata would’ve preferred he hadn’t said anything about those undue charges and just did the removals with Hinata none-the-wiser, as then he wouldn’t be paranoid about the things Tsukishima would charge him for.

•

Hinata hadn’t meant to attract the attention of one of Oikawa’s most attached clients. She gave off a weird vibe and when he mentioned her to Yachi, the blonde girl went a little paler than usual (which, while a frequent occurrence, didn’t fail to raise alarm bells in the redhead’s mind). 

“She’s territorial,” Yachi managed, eventually, and Hinata had to go through all of the lessons the girl kindly drilled into his head in order to remember what that word meant. 

“Oh. So why would she be interested in a guy at a host club? Isn’t he, like, one step from prostitution?” Yachi choked at that, shaking her head to fight down any amusement.

“I don’t think she thinks those other girls are a threat.” 

Hinata hummed, “Well, she keeps glaring at me, so maybe she’s just a little dumb and confused.”

Yachi pursed her lips, barely able to keep her laughter contained.

•

Hinata wondered why Yachi’s schoolbag was tossed into the pond. Alongside it sat his, and as he began running through the halls to go attend to the issue, he spotted that client. 

Hinata quite pointedly ignored her, continuing down the halls and stairs. He felt a small flame of rage light up in his chest at seeing Yachi’s notebooks scattered across the surface of the water, covers just buoyant enough that the papers were only starting to soak in water, and he prioritized getting her items out and organized before he could even ponder grabbing his own. 

He’d been in the pond for twenty minutes, thankfully having managed to salvage most of her things, before a voice broke through the quiet of the grounds. “What are you doing?”

Hinata didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know it was Oikawa, his voice light and airy, with a hint of playful exasperation. 

“I can’t find my wallet.”

“You’ll get sick with your clothes all wet. Can’t you just let it be?”

Oikawa didn’t seem to understand the necessity of what he’d likely consider pocket change. “I need the money for food. I’m not going to get paid for a couple days and I don’t want to starve in the meantime.”

There was a lengthy period of silence. He wondered if Oikawa left, trying desperately to make out the shape of his coin pouch amidst the colorful pebbles lining the bottom of the pond. He nearly growled in frustration as a series of ripples tore through surface, though as he heard the telltale sound of someone wading through water, he spotted the brunette with his pants rolled up and bare feet gingerly resting on the stone. 

“What are you doing?” Hinata quarried, eyebrows drawn up in confusion. 

Oikawa’s face was concentrated yet somewhat peaceful as he copied Hinata’s searching motions, fingers gliding across the smooth pebbles. A few strands of hair caught the water and were left with shimmering drips that occasionally fell back into the pond. 

“I’m helping.”

He never turned to look away from the bottom, focused mostly on the task at hand. Even his distant, deeper, and yet airier voice conveyed how little attention he was giving his words, and Hinata could only wonder if this was the most genuine he’d ever heard the other in their past week of interactions.

“Why?”

“Well, why not? I mean, everyone tells me I’m dripping with good looks,” he chuckled, the breathy quality sending something through Hinata that made him duck his head down and resume seeking his funds.

The two sought it out for over ten minutes before getting any results. The small coin purse, shaped like a small black crow, sat cradled in Oikawa’s palm. He proffered the item to Hinata with a wink, the redhead unclasping it and sighing in relief at the dryness of its interior.

“Thanks, Grand King.”

As Hinata beamed up at the other, the reflected light from the water seemed to hit Oikawa’s eyes harder, as though a flare traveled across the distance between the earth and the sun solely for this moment. He held up a peace sign and smiled back at the other, wondering if such luminance could ever be reproduced. 

(If it could, then he’d love to bottle some up and save it for a rainy day, but maybe there was a hint of greed in that thought.)

•

“Oh, dear, I can’t believe someone would do such a thing!” the client across from him cooed. Her face tilted down a bit, and shadows draped across her eyes and cheeks. “Still, I can’t believe you got Tooru to scrape through that filthy pond for you. He always has been excessively charitable.”

“Yeah,” Hinata mumbled, stuffing a bite of cake into his mouth. The sweetness was significantly dampened by the presence of the girl. What was her name, again? His focus shifted to trying to recall it.

“I couldn’t imagine having so little shame that I’d be a charity case, though. I mean, doesn’t it embarrass you to have Tooru waiting on you hand and foot?”

Yachi, who’d been standing just within earshot, turned to their conversation just then, a disgruntled look on her face. Despite the anxiety that spread quivers across her body from her sternum, she frowned heavily and managed to inquire, "Aren’t you just jealous?”

Something flashed across the clients face then: anger, most likely. Hinata was drawn out of his attempt at recollection by her hand shooting across the table to yank him over to her, a scream escaping her as they toppled to the ground. Teapots and cups burst apart upon contact with the pink tiles, some of the tea soaking into the knees of his gifted uniform pants as it puddled.

Hinata’s palms and wrists ached from the way they slammed against the floor, on either side of the client’s head. People were quick to crowd them, murmuring and gazing in horror. 

“Help!” she cried, “He attacked me! He just jumped across the table, I--” she scooted out from under him, and he slowly sat back on his haunches before accidentally falling onto his bottom. The discomfort of his soaked clothing did little to distract him from the confusion welling within. 

She crawled over to Oikawa whence the brunette stepped closer to the scene. He was the first one over, ever keen regarding the club’s new pet, but only after surveying the situation did he close the distance. 

Her fingers clutched at Oikawa’s pant leg, creasing the fabric as she shivered with tears in her eyes. Hinata’s jaw was slack. Did he do something? Did he try to do anything to her while he was spaced out? He was sure she pulled him, but should he have been expecting such a thing and made to avoid it?

He slowly turned his eyes over to Yachi, whose face was creased in an anger he’d never quite seen before. Her meekness took a sideline to the frustration and disbelief drawing together her brows and tugging her lips downwards. 

“Tooru, please, you have to do something. He was like an animal, I--”

Her desperate face fell into shock as warm water rushed across her face and scalp, soaking the top of her uniform dress. Her panting became a squeaking staccato, and she blinked as her brows drew up steadily. 

“Tooru?” she whispered, before whipping her head around to the Miya Twins, who glared down at her, unimpressed. “What are you doing? Didn’t you hear me?! I--”

“God, you pigs sure like to squeal, don’tcha.”

Osamu glanced down at the jug in his grasp. “I oughtta grab another one at this rate.”

“Why did you--” Hinata startled as Yachi stepped in front of him. 

“You pulled him to you! I saw it! You were envious that he got Oikawa-san’s attention and tried to frame him!” she blurted. 

More whispers and gasps spread across their audience easily. Oikawa’s face was steely and impassive as the client stared up at him with a cocktail of hurt and anger. “You can’t believe her, Tooru, I--”

“You really are beautiful,” Oikawa interrupted, his fingers gliding under her chin.  “But nothing more than that. It seems you’re not classy enough for our club, my dear, and so I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, Hinata’s heart clenching with a mild bit of sympathy, before she got to her feet and took off, her broken shout of, “Tooru, you idiot--!” echoing through the clubroom.

“I’m sorry, ladies; regrettably, we’ll have to cut our time short for today.” Tsukishima said with his paper-thin smile. It dropped as Akaashi continued for him,

“All of you will receive a full refund of the costs for today’s appointments. You can also use those same funds to reschedule, if you’d like to. We deeply apologize for the inconvenience.”

The girls cooed and cheered, and Tsukishima barely kept his frown from forming.

Eventually the clients filed out of the clubroom, exclaiming their farewells to the hosts. Hinata and Yachi silently stared after them, not wanting to look back to the hosts surrounding them.

“So, what should I do about you?” Oikawa said, drawing Hinata’s reluctant attention. The appraising look and grasp of his own chin were not reassuring at all; Hinata and Yachi glanced at each other and gulped. “Hmm, Tsukki-chan?”

“Don’t call me that,” the bespectacled blonde groused, before pushing up his glasses and smirking. “Since our guests had to leave and receive refunds, our profits for today are at a zero. And because of the drama earlier, we have a few broken teapots and cups from one of our specialty sets, as well as a table that needs to be repaired. To make up for all the damages and overall loss... Akaashi?”

The ravenette typed into a calculator quickly. Bokuto hid behind a sinisterly-grinning Kuroo with his fingers half-heartedly covering his eyes from fear of Akaashi. Akaashi presented the calculator screen within a second.

“Approximately one hundred thousand yen.”

“H-Hundred...”

“Thou...-sand...” Yachi’s eyes swam. Hinata caught her as she half-fainted, both of them shaking with tears welling in their eyes.

“That’ll be added onto your debt, you two. You’d better hope one of your descendents pays it off.” Tsukishima’s smirk shaved additional years off their lives, and Hinata had to pull Yachi’s soul back from the air to shove it back into her body. 

“Darn rich people,” he whined. Kuroo cackled.

••

That was fun ngl. Like, some things go slightly different than in OHSHC, but overall it has some of the same vibes I think

I feel like Bokuto and Akaashi as Honey and Mori respectively would be funnily fitting despite the roles I have them in here, but I think I’m gonna be fluid and loosey-goosey about who is which OHSHC character most of the time (since Noya isn’t entirely Honey-like and there are lots of people who can fit different roles). Kenma and/or Kuroo can fit Kyoya and Tamaki roles too, now that I think about it. Damn this show for having so many characters.

Also this is a nightmare to tag since a lot of characters have multiple spellings for their names and there are so many characters. Heck, that’s why I wrote all the ships at the top!

Anyway, I hope y’all liked it! Might write more if asked 

Also, should I cross-post some of this to Ao3? 

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Disaster Bisexuals ~ R.C. (part 1)

A/n: Haha short little series because I’m simping for this bitch HARD. Male reader as usual yaaaaaaay

Word Count: 5200+

Masterlist

Being Jack Morton's best friend was starting to be the worst decision Y/n had ever made. Jack respected Y/n's refusal to be part of the Order but when Jack got attacked by a werewolf and went to investigate, of course Y/n was brought along.

They had always been a team. Jack had a very strong sense of right and wrong, tending to protect the people he cared about with a passion that Y/n found refreshing. On the other side, Y/n had a reputation for being a very cold, reserved person. People used to mock him for being a sociopath, using his intense curiosity and how he was so slow to trust or care as reasoning, even if all it had ever been was an effort to protect himself. In fact, once he does care about someone there was absolutely nothing he wouldn't put himself in front of to protect them. As it turns out, he cared so much that it often caused him, forcing him to be cautious who he handed out his heart to.

Y/n was incredibly smart, Jack just as resourceful. With their combined minds, Jack's good instinct, and Y/n's terrible luck on always finding himself in just the place to put him as direct danger as possible, they ended up getting things pretty well figured out in the end.

So when Jack went into the woods chasing down a werewolf of all things, of course Y/n came along. It was only once they got to the house that Jack's instincts kicked in. "We cannot go in there."

Y/n looked at him like he was an idiot. "Are you kidding? We came all this way and you're just going to leave?" It was Y/n's one weakness. The reason he always found himself inches from death. He was, above everything else, curious. Once he'd caught the scent of something he thought was really interesting or cool, he couldn't be turned off from it until he figured out every question he had. When he rarely ever ran out of questions, you can imagine how far he ended up going before he’d even consider stopping.

Well, if Y/n was going in so was Jack. "Fine. Lead the way."

In the very front, bouncing on his toes with eagerness, Y/n blazed a trail that was far too fast for Jack's liking. They actually made it into the house and to the weird door with the creepy staircase leading down to a basement that looked like one of those places that was built specifically for things to go wrong at. Jack could feel the horror movie energy so strong he could almost hear the soundtrack.. Jack caught Y/n's arm. "We are NOT going down there. We're leaving. NOW."

It was then that Y/n looked behind them as he was pulled short. There, was a full fledged werewolf hulking in the doorframe. Y/n locked gazes with the thing and his eyes widened. "Jack, look out!" He pulled Jack forward, launching himself toward the wolf as it attack. Thankfully Jack tripped and tugged Y/n back, causing the claws of the beast to rip up his back instead of his chest. The wolf seemed so shocked that it actually took a step back- just in time for Jack and Y/n to nearly topple down the stairs and get into the room in the basement. Jack pulled them into a second back room that had an alter and a bunch of chests. Even sketchier than the book room that they'd had to go through. Even sketchier than the basement staircase that was made for things to go wrong at. This is where people came to die.

Y/n, ever loyal to his role in the story, was indeed dying.

Unlike the countless other times they’d both found themselves a little too close to danger for it to be comfortable, this time Y/n was badly hurt and bleeding. Heavily. Not even shock could keep him going much longer as his heart raced and he lost blood even faster. "What are we going to do?" Y/n whispered, hearing the wolf from before banging against the door again and again. They had no way to get out - no windows or other exists - and Y/n was already paling. He would die here and then the wolf would kill Jack when the door was finally busted through.

Before Jack could get them out of this predicament like he always did, both boys' attention was dragged away from the door. Two chests had moved, turning on their side without prompting from the boys or anyone else. The lids opened. Hopped up on adrenaline and with too much going on to think straight, they stepped forward to investigate.

They weren’t kidding when they say that curiosity killed the cat.

They weren’t dead at least... but they were immediately swallowed in fur so that had to count for something.

Long story short: Greybeard chose Jack and Midnight - popularly referred to as "canon fodder" - chose Y/n.

Things only got more complicated from there, but Y/n seemed to be adapting to it a lot better. He had chosen his side. He had played a lot of d&d in his time and this felt like one of those campaigns; he was part of something really important. More importantly, he was learning about something really cool. For every answer he got he had three more questions and with a bit of reading he could answer every single one. He took it upon himself to read each and every book the wolves had that he could, learning more and more every day. He never ran out of things to learn, even being able to get new information if he’d already read the book. In fact, the more times he read something the more he realized he was missing. It was curiosity’s playground!

While Jack flew off the wall and was constantly almost dying, and everyone else debated whether both boys were worth trusting, all Y/n Did was learn. At first they were hesitant around Y/n as he was close to Jack (who was constantly going back and forth on loyalties, even if he came through in the end) but... well, all Y/n did was read endlessly, ask unending questions, and answer the call for help when needed. His curiosity was a little annoying at times but mostly harmless. He was dependable. More importantly, he was loyal. He’d meant that oath, and it showed with just how compatible he was with Midnight. It didn’t take the others long to trust him.

His trustworthiness really came through when he used his knowledge to find a book Jack vaguely alluded to being in the library. Hamish had gotten hurt and whatever weapon had been used, the wound wasn’t healing. It was in fact rapidly getting very very bad. Y/n was able to navigate the shelves in just a few minutes, whipping up the salve and taking care of Hamish when Lilith and Randall were clueless and Jack was distracted by something to do with the Order.

Y/n saved Hamish’s life, even when Jack was struggling and had been suffering without Y/n’s usual participation. That was all they needed from Midnight’s new host.

Ironically, Y/n had been trying very hard not to get attached. He was trying to stay here for Jack, and for all he was learning, not the people who had started to look to him for information and smiled at him when he delivered. Not the people that gave him nicknames and memorized his favorite alcohol combinations and walked to class with him and studied with him and talked endless shit like normal friends do, and listened to him rant in turn.

That had always been Y/n's biggest weakness, though. Werewolves and magic? Easy. Becoming a champion for said werewolves and being thrown into a world he had not signed up for? Fine. Almost dying to get chosen as a champion? Whatever! Not getting attached to the people who were quickly becoming his family... and, more importantly the pretty boy who seemed to be the biggest dork ever?

God help Y/n's heart.

Above everything else, it was Randall Carpio that was making Y/n's life a living hell.

While Jack went off about Alyssa whatever-her-face and Edward (he listened more to the parts about Jack's dad because he knew Jack needed someone to hear that) Y/n couldn't help but relate in a way that he'd never related to Jack before. See, the problem with joking that someone is a sociopath is that they start to think about it. Consider it. Believe it even. Y/n had never had feelings like this for anyone before.

He knew he found people attractive. He could appreciate that Jack had really pretty eyes and a nice jaw line. He could appreciate that Alyssa's smile was bright and her voice had a soothing tone to it. He could appreciate that Hamish was really sexy in that "I'm in charge and know what I'm doing, I dare you to defy me" top kind of way. In the same way, he knew that Lilith was gorgeous and powerful and could see why someone might be attracted to her. Aside from appreciation or aesthetic admiration though, Y/n didn't catch feelings. If he found someone attractive, he had sex with them. Then it wouldn't pan out and he would move on.

It never panned out.

Obviously.

Randall was... different.

Randall made Y/n feel stupid.

Like that one time Jack tripped and fell into a creek and almost drowned and Y/n and jumped in after him. It had been rainy season so the water was high and rushing. It would have been better to get a tree branch or look for somewhere to catch Jack. Whatever it was, anything would have been smarter than jumping in so they were both disoriented by the chaos in the current. Jack almost pulled Y/n under in an effort to get air. Only by a miracle had Y/n been able to think clearly just enough to catch something so Jack could pull them both to shore. THAT level of stupid, that had him between Jack and a fucking werewolf and inches from death because of a claw wound on his back. The kind of stupid that had lead them into that house to begin with.

Randall made Y/n feel giddy. Every time the brunette was around Y/n's energy levels skyrocketed. He could never sit still and his old stutter he’d sword was dealt with ago resurfaced far too much, making him cringe and go silent a lot because he didn't want to hear it. Randall made a joke and Y/n laughed every time. Every time they got close or brushed, Y/n was hyper aware of it. In fact, Y/n was consistently hyper aware of Randall no matter where he was. Y/n had never had a problem with nudity before he got naked in front of Randall and suddenly he couldn't breathe.

As time passed, Y/n got used to dealing with his emotions. He had never had to hide anything like this from anyone before but no one had said anything so he was pretty sure he had kept it under control. If Jack knew he wouldn't have stopped teasing Y/n about it, and surely Randall at the very least would have said something if he knew? Or at least flirted with less people, one could hope.

Speaking of, Randall flirted with SO MANY PEOPLE. He was constantly talking about how attractive everyone was and if he saw a chance to make a move, he did. It was driving Y/n insane. He found himself avoiding Randall, doing his homework in his room and trying to ignore his roommate. Or in the basement again, reading books and memorizing things that he thought might be useful- like the concoction that had cured Hamish. He read and reread and learned. Between school and this whole new world of magic and trying to help Jack get his shit together, Y/n stayed busy and kept his grades up. With all the shit being thrown at him, he was feeling proud of himself and better than he had in a long time. He was thriving.

Then Randall began hovering. No matter how much Y/n tried to avoid him, Randall was there anyway. Whether Y/n was studying and Randall came over, claiming the others were being annoying and he hated studying alone, or he was in the basement reading when Y/n was, or he was asking Y/n for some thing or another, or even dragging Y/n out for drinks and hang outs that Y/n really tried to not enjoy...

Randall was insatiable.

One day Y/n grabbed a book from the basement library and Randall claimed he wanted to read it. When Y/n handed it over, Randall continued to ask if Y/n could read it out loud instead because Randall couldn't actually understand the text. Latin, which Y/n had for sure seen him read before. And it didn’t stop there! If Y/n ever sat anywhere that could fit two people, Randall sat with him. If Y/n found himself playing with his food, Randall stole some with that stupid grin on his face. If Y/n wanted to do something in his spare time, Randall found a way to be a part of it. If Y/n was engaged in a conversation but not saying anything, Randall would ask his opinion like they were in a class discussion and got extra points for including quiet kids. Y/n began to wonder if Randall was as touchy with the others as he was with Y/n. Randall was ALWAYS touching him.

The sudden change was freaking Y/n out. He felt flustered and unsure and embarrassed and confused constantly. He wasn't sure what was going on or how to handle it. How do you solve a problem when you don't now what the problem even is? Or if it was a problem at all...

Jack made it even worse.

"Will you stop flirting?" Y/n's heart stopped when Jack said it, unsure where it had come from or why.

Randall looked at Jack with an eyebrow raised. "And why would I do that?" He hadn’t lost his cool in the slightest, and if his smirk said anything it seemed he had even enjoyed Jack’s outburst.

Jack rolled his eyes. "You're making Y/n uncomfortable. He won't say it because he doesn't want to offend you, but I've known Y/n basically our whole lives and he's never liked anyone before. Just leave him alone."

Jack meant well. He did, Y/n knew that. But Y/n felt the stares of his childhood. The people that would laugh and poke fun and tease. Call him heartless. Ask him what it was like to be broken- to not like anyone. Girls who hated him because he didn't return the feelings they had. Boys who tormented him because everyone accused him of being gay and closeted. Teachers who did that generalized "leave him alone, he's just different than you guys" like being different wasn't the single worst thing you could be when you were a kid in a small town.

The realization that Jack thought Y/n was incapable of liking anyone crossed his mind and it was too much. Maybe Y/n hadn't really been coping well. He'd taken everything one step at a time, carefully and on purpose like he always did. But he was hurting and struggling, especially with this new emotion that effected him so deeply. An emotion he hadn't experienced until now. And, magic? Fucking MAGIC?

Y/n felt his eyes water and locked gazes with Randall for a second before he turned and left the room.

He didn't cry. Y/n didn't cry. It wasn't a thing he could control, he just didn't ever really cry. He might shed a few tears, but even that was rare. He just wasn't capable of really crying. It had always made him feel too vulnerable and awkward, but topped with the accusations of being emotionless, on top of the pressure to hold it together as a man, AND all the teasing he’d gone through in his childhood? Yeah, no. The thought that emotion could be so much and so strong that your body couldn't physically hold it in anymore made Y/n feel icky all on it’s own. So he didn't.

He did that day.

The next day was the next time he heard from anyone. Y/n got a text from Jack saying the pack was going out for drinks. Randall seemed to have gotten rejected by someone, and with Jack's rockiness with Alyssa right now they were day drinking to get rid of heartbreak or whatever. Y/n didn't go. He wasn't heartbroken after all. It's not like he had lost anything. He had nothing to lose. He still had all the friendships he'd started out with. Besides, even if Randall had been flirting it obviously hadn't meant much to him because a few hours later Y/n was picking them all up after a bar fight had broken out. Well, all of them but Randall - who had disappeared in the middle of it with a random girl.

Randall wasn't back that night when Y/n stayed up late waiting for him. He sat and did an essay that wasn't due for a month just to have an excuse, but it got super late and he got tired and he couldn't rationalize it any more so he went to bed. Randall wasn't back the next day either when Y/n woke up for class. How long did Randall usually stay out with someone he slept with? Did he stay in the morning and cuddle? Give a little kiss after he made breakfast? Did he walk around shirtless, hair a little messy? Did he smile as he flirted? Winked? Hold them from behind, chin on their shoulder and a soft look in his eyes? That was a little fishy, and definitely never anything Y/n had done with his one night stands... maybe Randall was different. Maybe all people who weren’t like Y/n were.

"Y/n?" Hamish was standing there, waving his hand in front of Y/n's face. When they met gazes, Hamish continued, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Y/n laughed sheepishly. It seemed that Hamish had called Y/n quite a few times. "What's up?"

Hamish's expression stayed rather dark, causing Y/n's smile to drop. "Have you seen Randall?"

Y/n's heart stopped in his chest. So Randall still wasn't home, and it wasn't normal. "I haven't, no. Do you think he's in trouble?"

Hamish frowned deeper. "I don't know. Find Jack, will you? He isn't answering my texts or calls. I'll find Lilith."

Y/n stood, nodding, and they parted. Y/n found Jack, of course, coming from a talk with Alyssa. "Why is everyone blowing up my phone?" Jack demanded.

"Randall is missing," Y/n told him. Jack sobered up at hearing that. "Come on." They headed back to the house where Lilith and Hamish were waiting. They discussed before all going separate ways to look for him. Nothing seemed to be giving any hints until Jack brought everyone back. He - to no one's shock and everyone's annoyance - had Alyssa in tow. Thankfully Hamish kept Lilith at bay long enough for Jack to explain how Alyssa could help, because without Alyssa's tracking spell the pack never would have found the weird science facility. They never would have gotten Randall out... even though all the added drama not being involved would have been appreciated.

Y/n didn't hear any of it though. The more danger it was revealed that Randall was in, the more anxious Y/n got. He was so relieved when he saw Randall that he would have done something stupid if not for Lilith rushing forward and hugging him... and then slapping him, adding a, "Never do that again."

Randall scoffed softly. "Missed you too Lil."

Y/n felt eyes on him and looked over to Alyssa. Her eyes moved between Randall and Y/n, her lips curving in a knowing smile. Y/n looked away from her. It didn't matter what she knew- no one would believe her anyway. Randall nodded to Hamish and then passed Y/n with an awkward smile. Y/n opened his mouth to say something but then- he didn't. Randall moved on without noticing and whatever Y/n was going to say was completely lost.

"Everyone back to the Den," Hamish ordered.

"Even her?" Lilith demanded, motioning to Alyssa.

"Especially her," Hamish replied.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. "I could destroy you with a snap of my fingers."

"But you won't." The words tumbled from Y/n threateningly. She met his eyes evenly, accepting his challenge.

"But she can't," Jack corrected lightheartedly, trying to keep the peace. He already had enough of his friends hating Alyssa. If Y/n did, he didn't know what he'd do. "Not yet anyway." They exchanged a smile and Y/n glared. He averted his eyes from the couple that was becoming a pair that was really beginning to bother him. When he locked eyes with Lilith, they smiled with each other. Amidst all the other bullshit it was a nice exchange, especially because Y/n had been struggling to get on Lilith's good side.

"You know as well as I do that we need to talk about this." Hamish's voice was slow and reasonable. No one argued.

They all began to head back to the Den, Y/n catching up with Lilith as they walked. Before Y/n could think of something to say to Lilith, she said something first. "Why won't you talk to him about how you feel?"

Y/n almost tripped. "Talk to who?" He tried to play it off but she shot a look at him and he felt that he had already lost this battle. He sighed but didn't budge.

Lilith rolled her eyes. "You know he feels the same way about you too, right?" Y/n still didn't say anything, and after a while Lilith added, "Usually I'm the quiet one." Y/n did smile at that. Neither spoke until they were almost at the house and Lilith stopped Y/n short, gripping his wrist softly. "I saw how worried you were today. How reckless. And don't think we all don't know why you don't study with us or come drinking or spend time with us ever. I see the way you look at him when he's around. I thought you had a thing for Jack at first which is why it took me so long to say something, but... you're really good. Better than Jack. You're loyal and curious and actually kind fo fun. Coming from someone who hates people, I like you or whatever." She seemed really awkward in this moment of vulnerability and Y/n softened at the effort she was making. "I hate seeing him suffer. I hate to see you suffer too. After what Jack said about you not liking anyone or whatever, Randall won't listen to me. Please-"

"Are you guys coming?" It was Jack. "We all need to be here for this."

The two nodded, letting Jack go inside. "I will," Y/n told Lilith. "Try, at the very least. I've never... before him, I've never liked anyone at all. I don't know how to do this."

Lilith actually laughed. It was a sort of huff, her smile small and slightly sarcastic, but it was still there. "Welcome to the club, Y/n. None of us know how to do this. Least of all people who do it all the time."

They headed inside. Y/n's eyes found Randall immediately. He was surprised to see Randall looking back. They didn't look at each other long- the second they were caught looking they both looked away.

Hamish made drinks. He offered one to each of the people in the room. Randall turned his down. "You never pass up an aprés-kill drink."

"I'm not in the mood," Randall dismissed. Y/n frowned, taking his. He wasn't usually here for this tradition but he wouldn't mind a little alcohol in his system right about now.

"Aprés-kill?" Alyssa asked.

"We all have our traditions," Lilith told her.

"Yeah, we have aprés-kill, and you kill innocent people." The words were accusing. Randall looked at Alyssa directly when he said them. Even Y/n's eyebrows came together in surprise.

Randall was pretty laid back. He was the one who'd talked everyone into letting Jack join. Y/n was there when Randall had stood up for Jack despite everything that was putting the Pack in danger. Because Y/n had vouched for him and because Randall had a good intuition. Because he gave people the benefit of the doubt. Now he seemed like he was about to tear Alyssa’s throat out right then and there. And sure, Randall had never hesitated to kill before but he was almost murder hungry. Actively into it, driven. Craving. It was so unlike him it was startling.

What had happened to him in that lab?

"That was an Order-backed operation?" Alyssa seemed genuinely surprised.

"Doing a bang up job with your undercover work there buddy." This he directed to Jack and Y/n began to get agitated. He had never dealt well with people coming for Jack.

"I have never even seen that guy before." Jack's response was dismissive. He wasn't dealing with the blame game this time.

"No one's blaming you Jack," Hamish assured. Y/n didn't agree with his assessment.

"Hemmings went rogue," Alyssa cut in. "It's the only explanation."

Randall scoffed, "Of course!" He faced Alyssa again. "Because the Order isn't inherently evil."

Alyssa, who had sat down at this point, looked about ready to shoot to her feet and fight Randall right there. "My Order would never sanction that."

"Right," Lilith remarked sarcastically. "They only torture people in a fun way."

Alyssa scoffed and Y/n stepped forward. "Wait what? What do you mean fun way?"

"Oh you didn't hear?" Lilith responded immediately. Eagerly. "The Order tortured Alyssa for information when they thought she knew about us. She didn't give them anything for whatever reason-"

"Her crush on Jack," Y/n said under his breath.

Lilith nodded. Alyssa scooted forward. "Hold on, now torture bothers you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lilith demanded. She had eased at Y/n’s interjection, but now she squared up again and the tension and emotions in the room became that much more tense.

"You're not the least bit curious as to why you were kicked out?" There was an energy suddenly between the two girls and a pause that seemed too long.

Hamish looked between the girls. "Wait, you two know each other?"

Alyssa looked to Jack who spoke next. Whatever he was about to say, the fact that she was too scared to say it herself already had Y/n anxious. "Lilith was in the Order."

"Is that true?" Randall stepped forward and Y/n instinctually moved between them, just in time to catch Randall when he almost launched at Lilith. "HEY!" He sneered the word at Lilith, but when Y/n stopped him he turned his aggression immediately to Y/n without hesitation. "Get off of me!"

"Randall, chill out a little bit." Jack stood, as protective of Y/n as Y/n was of Jack.

Randall stayed away from Lilith only because Y/n wasn't budging. Because of that, he turned on Jack. "If it wasn't for us  you'd be another one of their fucking drones."

Jack was quick to defend. "I thought they were trying to make a difference, do something good."

"It was you who taught us what we know," Y/n reminded. He was trying to remind Randall of what he'd thought before, but it seemed to do more damage than good.

"I never should have made Jack a knight," Randall snarled.

"No you probably shouldn't have," Jack remarked rather bitterly.

Y/n spoke up again. "If he hadn't been a knight, I probably wouldn't have been either. Think of all we've learned since then, and how far we've come despite how rocky things used to be. Aren't you glad you made him a knight? Aren't you glad I'm one?" Randall gave Y/n a look that made his blood freeze in his veins.

Alyssa intervened. "Can we focus?" Y/n was relieved when Randall looked away. His eyes fell to his feet and from behind him he felt Lilith’s hand almost touch him in comfort. He could imagine her face twisted with shock and concern, then shift to uncertainty if her comfort of all of them would be enough as her hand dropped away from where it had been reaching. Alyssa’s voice cut through the racing thoughts bouncing around in Y/n’s skull. "You murdered a high-ranking member tonight. They're going to be coming for you."

"Can we just kill her and get it over with already?" Lilith demanded. Her frustration at seeing all her friends to wound up was getting to her.

"Is that your answer for everything?" Alyssa demanded.

"Yes," Lilith remarked, snarky.

"No one is killing anyone else tonight," Jack ordered.

"You're not the boss, Jack." The room went quiet. Never before had Y/n shut Jack down. For a solid five seconds it was silent and with every single one, the tension and aggravation grew immensely.

Hamish cleared his throat. "He's right Jack. How about you let me call the shots?"

"Can you even make a decision without resorting to Beer Pong?" Lilith snapped.

Y/n's head began swimming. He'd never been good with big groups or emotions or arguing. The voices became distorted a little as he felt his chest squeeze. He wasn't exactly listening. It seemed he'd been out of it far too long but it could have only been a few second when he came back to Alyssa and Lilith, who were chest-to-chest. They had moved around Y/n to get to each other and Lilith's eyes were that statement silver glow. Alyssa had her knife out. Y/n was moving again, this time to get back in between the girls. "Guys calm down."

"It's not your job to protect everyone," Lilith sneered. Whatever Y/n had missed it had made Lilith aggressive enough that even her growing soft spot for him didn’t help ease her aggressiveness in this moment.

"It kind of is," Y/n argued, finding it harder and harder to keep his own cool.

Lilith's lip curled back. "So you're protecting HER?"

"I'm protecting YOU," Y/n responded, getting heated himself. He was tired of this bullshit.

"You don't think I can take her?"

Y/n made a sound in the back of his throat. Had he just growled? "What do you think happens when you kill her Lil? We struggle to be united enough- we'll never get along if she's dead because of you."

"And why should we care about how you or Jack feel?" Randall demanded.

Without hesitation Y/n rounded on Randall. "Because whether you like it or not, we're knights too! And whatever you have against Jack, you have no right to loop me in with him. I've done nothing but protect you guys and teach you guys what you should have already fucking known since day one."

Randall scoffed. "You're only here because Jack is- you said it yourself. You're never around. The only reason you even agreed to stay is because you want to know more about how we work. You don't care about us." Y/n growled again, his hands curling, claws extending.

Jack shot to his feet. "Edward Coventry is my father."

Silence. Dead silence. Even worse than when Y/n had spoken against Jack. Y/n stared at Jack in shock- not because he didn't know, but because he knew how much Jack absolutely did not want to tell anyone. Finally Randall spoke. "You didn't think to tell us that your father-" he spat the word, making Y/n flinch. "-is the leader of the FUCKING ORDER?" He was hysterical and Y/n was alarmed by it. Randall had never been like this before.

"It's none of your business," Jack dismissed.

Y/n stepped up again. He had to stay calm. He had to keep the peace. He didn't want to see anyone in this room dead tonight. Not even Alyssa. "Just calm down okay?"

"Don't fucking touch me." Randall stepped away. "You knew didn't you?"

Y/n frowned. "It wasn't my secret to tell you Randall. That would have been a betrayal of Jack's trust."

"Oh, Jack's trust?" Randall looked like he was ready to murder someone. Even with Y/n’s fluctuating control, Randall was only growing in agitation. "It always is about Jack, isnt it? Is Jack safe? Is Alyssa safe so that Jack can be happy? Are we all getting along so Jack can feel comfy here? Please don't kill Jack, even though he is putting your friends - practically family - at risk. Give Jack time. Jack this. Jack that. God, are you in love with him or something?"

"No!" Jack and Y/n said at the same time, faces twisted with disgust.

Randall scoffed. "I trusted you, man. I trusted both of you. You betrayed me."

"I betrayed you?" Jack finally sounded irritated, rather than tired and bored like before. The tension was getting to him as well. "You turned me into a fucking werewolf!"

"That's a mistake I can fix right now," Randal threatened.

Alyssa stepped up. "Randall, I think whatever Hemmings did to you is still affecting you." Her anger had completely disappeared, exchanged for shock that shone out of wide, analyzing eyes.

"You want to know what they did to me?" Randall demanded, seeming to be losing it a little. He was breathless and fidgety, shifting from foot to foot and looking at everyone sharply. EVERYONE, like he was waiting for even the long time members of his pack to attack him. "They opened my eyes to your bullshit."

"Randall," Hamish warned.

Randall whipped around, breathing sharply and fast. He screamed and ran- Y/n tackled him before he could even get close. Y/n was suddenly underneath Randall as they twisted and fought. Randall punched him once. Twice. Y/n screamed. Everyone was wrestling him and they were saying something but Y/n couldn't hear it with Randall's body squishing his face. He felt a hit- to Randall, though Y/n felt the impact through him, and then when Randall's body went limp. It was Lilith who pulled him out from underneath the now unconscious boy.

The second he was free, Y/n scrambled to his feet. "God I hate it here!" He screamed, tears rolling down his face. "I'm never like this. This stupid wolf!" He punched the wall and everyone jumped back. Jack was the first one to recover. He had seen Y/n like this once before. "I'm always... Putting myself in danger for you idiots and none of you even care!" His eyes fell to Randall and he took in a sharp breath. "You still don't care about me." That stopped Jack dead. Y/n looked at all of their faces. Those who knew, and those who were realizing, and those who had suspected and were now being confirmed. Y/n looked at those faces and he felt his heart twist in his chest.

He turned and ran and he didn't look back once, even when Jack called after him.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Book Four - Part 9

Dapper wakes up somewhere new, feeling unwell, while Trick struggles alone in his room. Red, Blue, and Dok come home to help.

Tws for imprisonment, major illness, psychosis, sedation, and verbal and physical aggression from Anti.

Part 9 - The Locked Room

Anonymous asked: Sorry for saying you were a joke... it's just that your source material didn't really paint you in a nuanced or multidimensional way, and that's mostly what we're all basing our understanding on... You're a bit of a prick tho

Your camera comes back to life in unfamiliar hands as afternoon light spills across black hair and turns it to gold. Silver turns you gently in his palms, curious and bright-eyed, the panic of the night before gone from his face. Closer up, you can see some of the ways in which he is not Mark - a pair of small scars across his chin, a habit of picking at his lips that leaves them raw and red, a gauge in one ear.

As for your camera, the tiny symbol of an eye that usually resides in the corner, either opened or unopened, has been replaced by a small, presumptuous G.

“Hi,” says Shep, sat on his bed and looking at you. He hears footsteps down the hallway outside his room and furtively tucks you against his side, waiting for the steps to pass before he draws you out again.

“Hi,” he repeats, beginning to smile. “This is cool. I actually have a way to talk to you. Yeah, no, it’s okay. My source material is a joke, that’s why I said it even before you did. But - a prick?”

He pauses, glancing away.

“A prick,” he repeats in a mumble. “I think that’s new… I like that, let me just…”

He hops out of bed and takes a journal from one of his dressers, and then opens it up to reveal a long list of descriptors, some more inane than others, all printed in scrappy handwriting down the lines of his notebook. There are general adjectives in some places - “strong,” “bold,” “foolish,” “cute,” “conniving,” “selfish,” “clever,” “sweet” - but other places have full phrases or apparently random words - “you fucking annoyance,” “loves kids,” “buddy,” “your own kind of superhero,” “my soldier,” “a joke Mark forgot about,” “martial arts nerd,” “eats all the fucking candy in the house” - and it goes on for pages and pages.

On the first open line, he pulls out a pen and writes “a bit of a prick.”

Anonymous asked: damn, shepard. what happened to you lot?

Shep puts down his pen and turns to you, grinning. “Ah, you’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that. It’s been a long… eight years? And you haven’t exactly kept up to date with me. Which isn’t your fault. I guess. Not really.”

He side-eyes you, flipping his pen between his fingers.

“Anyway, this is my first year back in Dark’s houses for a while. I was living in the city for a few years after Dark kicked me out because I kept, uh. Bringing criminals back to the house for interrogations. They said I brought too much attention to us, so they had Google throw me out. Guess I deserved it… it turned out to be mostly okay. I had my own apartment for a while. My own pet rat. I was teaching martial arts and making rent. Then I kind of got into some trouble trying to be a fucking hero again… and I got lonely. Stressed all the time. Can’t keep a girlfriend. Rat died. Kind of a breaking point for me. So I came back here. Because of course I did. Because I always do. Because I don’t have any purpose without somebody else fucking giving it to me.”

He sighs bitterly, scratching at the web of cuts on his leg from Anti’s vines last night. Some of them are fairly deep, but he’s just stuck a mess of Band-Aids over the top and went to sleep with a towel beneath his legs just in case.

Anonymous asked: are you happy with this, shep? i'm trying to figure out how much we can trust you.

“You can trust me entirely, we’re just not on the same side,” answers Shep frankly, raising his eyebrows at you. “What’s not to trust? I belong to Dark. That’s true. There you go. Make of it what you will. And as for being happy, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve done much nastier things for Dark and enjoyed them much more. Parts of my life are still hard on me, but I’ve done what Dark tells me for the better part of eight years, ever since I pulled my head out of my ass and realized Mark was never going to come back and make me a real hero. So now I make my own choices. Sometimes I make ones he probably wouldn’t make for me. Sometimes I make ones almost no one else would be able to make. And that’s freedom. That adrenaline… that knowing that you are changing someone else’s life, that you matter, even in the worst fucking way possible… that’s freedom.”

Anonymous asked: are you doing ok, shep? seems like your life's been a bit of a mess.

“Yeah,” laughs Shep. “Honestly, things are fine now. I’m just never getting out of this house, you know? I don’t know. Ippy moved out two years ago. Yan’s in prison and nobody wants to bust her out after what she did. Dark has Google throw out or kill anybody who annoys them. Wil travels half the year, Eric works at the aquarium, Host’s published, even the twins have jobs, haha. And Bim…”

Silver scratches bitterly at his legs, maybe trying to draw a little blood now, bored of the scabs.

“Ran off about four months ago,” he mutters. “I miss him. Asshole. Didn’t tell me where he was going. Doesn’t answer his phone. Could have taken me with him. There was nobody quite that chaotic. I don’t know, maybe Dark just killed him to stop him from making our faces too public like he always wanted to, the little showman. But no, it’s okay. I’m like Google, you know? I’m just always going to be stuck in this fucking house. But I like it pretty well. Dark keeps me busy. And I like when the others come visit. I’m pretty much friends with everybody. Maybe I’ll get another rat soon.”

He flashes you a sudden look of alarm, his hands drawing away from his legs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m… first time I get to talk to you in years and I don’t have anything worth saying, I just - I can tell you stories! Maybe. Uh. I’m not good at telling stories. Ask Host. I should have taken video then so I could have something to show you. You’re going to forget again and then all of this will be for nothing and no one will even see me differently. Eight years! Fuck. Do you want to go talk to somebody else? I bet you do. Well, sorry I’m not good enough for you, okay? Guess I never was. Whatever.”

He shoves the camera onto the bed, picking tersely at his mouth.

The door swings suddenly open. A figure in a long coat leans against the doorway, crossing his arms.

“I can hear you being a little bitch all the way from my room,” drawls Host.

“Oh, fuck off!”

Host laughs and leaves him again. He’s not interested in chatting.

“This story isn’t about us,” he calls back at Shep. “Don’t damage the narrative integrity with your need for their attention. Let them see their baby brother. He’s not well.”

Anonymous asked: hey, shep, don't you start saying you're not good enough for us. no matter what mark says or did to you, made you a joke or whatnot, that doesn't mean you can't become something different. and i have no doubt that one day, people will know you, and people will love you. maybe you'll have your own story. you just... can't rely on mark to write it for you. sometimes you have to do things like that for yourself. and for what it's worth, i think you're pretty cool. you're different. for example, what's up with that book you just wrote in?

Shep grins weakly, acknowledging the foolishness of his own outburst.

“I try to get rid of the thoughts of him,” he says. “You should hear Dark snarl about the stories Mark told about them… but I’m just jealous. It’s stupid. And you guys - you never - ”

He shrugs and lets out a huff, the irritation fading again. He knows it’s all useless and unfair, but it never stops eating at him. What could have been. But he tries to cheer up for you.

“These are just things I am or might be,” he says, hefting the book. “Things other people have called me. I try to figure out which ones are true. And which ones I want to be. I’m not good at that part so much, though. Sometimes I decide I want to be, like, nice, but then next thing I know I’m shouting at somebody for looking at me wrong, ha. I’m glad the others put up with me. I mean, some of them are dicks. But we kind of make a team together.”

“I’m not what I was then,” he adds after a moment. “So maybe I broke away a little. But at the same time, I’m not sure the story I’ve told is the one that I wanted. Or the one that I want.”

Anonymous asked: it's okay, shep, we don't mind hearing you talk. could we go see dapper, though? i'm a little worried about him.

Shep lets out a sigh, breathing out some of his anxiety. “Yeah. Sure. Is that actually his goddamn name? We’ve got some pretty nutty names around here, but not ‘Dapper.’ I guess it’s kind of cute.”

He gets to his feet and scoops you up, wandering down the stairs. The house is quiet but for the whirling of a fan overhead and the buzzing of a show somebody left playing on the TV. Out in the yard, you catch a glimpse of a few of them playing badminton, dropping the birdie most of the time and then racing each other to pick it up and bring it back to their side. Wilford’s booming voice drifts into the house as though from much farther away than it is. Around their feet, barking joyfully, is a dog almost as enormous as Anti’s wolf-like form, wagging its tail furiously and racing to the birdie along with its owners.

“Actually,” says Shep, pausing outside the only door with extra locks. “I’m not sure Ippy will want me inside. Let’s see if he’s in here.”

He pushes the door gently open. Edward only glances up for a second before turning back to his notes. It’s a makeshift clinic room, barely even the size of the bedrooms, and it’s cramped with a desk and a bed and some examination equipment and dressers with supplies in them. Dapper’s on the bed, tucked up tight, asleep.

“What’s that?” asks Ippy.

“Uh, a camera.”

“Is it now?” he answers dryly.

“There’s an audience or something.”

“Is there someone who can tell me what’s going on with my patient?”

“Well. I guess. I think.”

Ippy reaches out, beckoning for the camera. Shep hands it over and Ippy drops you on the bed, still scrawling in his little notebook. “I’d like medical history, please, allergies, recent injuries, notable behaviors, sleeping habits, blood type, next of kin, etc. Start talking.”

Shep chuckles at his bluntness and pulls up a chair beside him, grinning at his friend as he works.

“What are you looking at?” mutters Ippy, and he reaches out to shove playfully at Shep’s head. “Called me in on my day off for this, huh. Fuckers. You’re lucky he’s actually sick or I’d be peeved.”

Anonymous asked: you can always change. seriously, shep, it's never too late to become someone different. and i'm sorry that none of us did anything. it's difficult, when mark made so many videos and gave so many more characters attention and left others with nothing. you did not deserve that, and i'm genuinely so sorry. does mark still even make videos? we haven't heard anything about him in a long time.

“You’re talking to them about this?” asks Ippy.

Shep shrugs, settling down in his chair.

“It’s very simple, Shepherd. Mark doesn’t have much control of his power and even if he did you were still early enough that you would have been created.”

“I know, Ip.”

“Telling a story about you would only limit your freedom and subject us to more publicity, which is dangerous.”

“I know, Ippy.”

“The audience can’t do anything for us without videos and them dwelling on the thought of us does not make you any more of a - ”

“I know, Edward!” snaps Shep. “Okay?”

Ippy rolls his eyes and turns back to Dapper.

“Mark makes videos sometimes, but he focuses on bigger productions,” adds Shep with a sigh. “I think he mostly wrapped up ego stuff, but you never know with him. We don’t talk. And ever since he got that bigger deal as a real producer - ”

“Can we not talk about Mark?” asks Ippy. “I don’t like hearing about him. He’s fine, I guess, but I just prefer to live a Mark-less life at this point, thanks. A life unmarked by Mark, as it were.”

“You really are peeved today.”

“I just have boundaries, Shep, maybe you should learn some.”

.

Dok wakes to the buzzing of the lights in the bathroom.

He shifts uncomfortably, feeling his back protest, but the cold plastic of a hospital chair is much better than waking up in that room back in the house, aching on the unfinished floor, dreaming of spiders crawling over his skin. He shudders and sits up, pulling his - oh. This is Red’s hoodie, wrapped around him. He sighs and glances at his brother splayed over the side of Blue’s bed, dead asleep.

The bathroom is silent but for those burning lights. He waits a long time, but nothing moves.

“Blue?” he calls wearily, getting to his feet. He knocks his fist gently against the door. “Okay? Want the nurse or something?”

Blue doesn’t answer.

“Hey, Blue, no silences,” he begs with a sigh, rubbing at his head. “Too many nights finding Trick hurting himself in the bathroom. Come on.”

Blue mumbles something. Dok grimaces and pushes open the door.

He’s okay, which he’s grateful for, though he’s almost too tired to be relieved. He steps forward and takes Blue carefully by the wrists. He was just standing there staring at them. Too intently. Too blankly.

“What’s going on?” asks Dok.

Blue turns to look at him and his eyes are fogged and all but blind. Dok touches his cheek to ground him, sighing in his brother’s stead.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t have to be sorry. Tell me what’s up.”

“I don’t… know. Just… looking at myself. So weird.”

“What’s weird?”

Blue reaches out and touches his own reflection on the surface of the mirror.

“Not me,” he mumbles. “More and more often, it’s not me. Not real. It makes me feel really… I don’t… I don’t like it.”

Dok shifts on his feet and pulls his sibling’s fingers away. “That’s called dissociation,” he says. “I get it too sometimes when Anti uses me. It can’t be easy having been possessed so often lately.”

Blue shakes his head numbly, managing to fix his eyes on him for a moment. “Dissociation,” he repeats.

“Let’s ground. Tell me three things about your body.”

“What?”

“Look. In the mirror. Tell me three things about yourself. Anything. Obvious things. It’s okay.”

Blue stares into the mirror, blinking. His mouth parts. But he doesn’t say anything. After a moment, there are tears welling in his eyes.

“Blue,” breathes Dok.

“Sorry,” repeats Blue frailly, turning away from the sight of himself, covering his face with his hands. He doesn’t want to see himself. He doesn’t want Dok to look at him. He doesn’t want anyone to look at him ever again.

“What’s going on?”

“I just want Anti’s fucking head, alright?” snaps Blue. “I just want to murder him. And then I’ll feel like myself again, and I’ll get my magic back, and then my body back, and we can have a chance to be okay again. And until then I just have to deal with this. Until I rip his goddamn throat out. Like I promised him I would. When my hands are covered in his blood, then I’ll feel better.”

Dok looks at him, taken a little aback. His hands curl together nervously on his stomach. He stares down at the floor.

Blue sighs bitterly through his teeth, shaking his head. ���I know you don’t like talking about blood. Sorry.”

Dok shrugs. “Is fine.”

“Dok, I just can’t take much more, you know that, I know you feel the same way… surely you get this same bloodlust, don’t you, my darling? He’s been torturing you. Don’t you want to torture him back?”

Dok’s stomach turns. He takes a step back, shaking his head.

“I would not like to ever torture anybody ever again,” he says quietly. “I have had my fair share, thank you.”

They stand side-by-side in the bathroom, frowning together, cold.

“What if it doesn’t make it better?” asks Dok.

“What?”

“What if killing Anti doesn’t make it feel better?”

“Killing Anti will solve most every problem of mine I can think of,” answers Blue soundly, straightening up.

“Oh, goodness,” grumbles Dok, rolling his eyes. “I’m not even going to start with you.”

“Better not, you sassy little monkey man.”

“Monkey man? I am monkey man? How dare you say this.”

“Yeah. You’re bananas.”

“Blue, I will end you.”

But he’s laughing now and that’s what matters. Dok snorts and rolls his eyes, trying to let himself laugh a little too. He leaves the bathroom and flops down on his chair, gazing at Blue as he limps back into his bed and sits down. They look at each other for a long moment, trying to make each other smile with their own tired grins.

“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” whispers Blue. “I wish I could keep all of you safe.”

“Don’t have to be sorry,” Dok says again, letting his eyes slip shut. “I know you’re trying so hard. It’s not your fault at all.”

“I’ll kill Anti for you,” Blue swears, his eyes shining through the haze that seems to lie over them most days. “Then we can be okay again.”

“And what if we can’t?” asks Dok, barely even registering the words before he feels them leave his mouth. “What if we can’t kill him, Blue? What happens then?”

Blue stares out at the smog of the sky, wishing he could see the stars.

“Then I think he’ll kill us instead,” he answers simply. “And then, either way… it’ll be over.”

Dok nods slowly, not opening his eyes. Blue reaches out. They hold each other’s hands in the low light.

.

Anonymous asked: Hey there Ippy, we don't know much about Jameson medically, besides that he has schizophrenia and takes the medicine Haloperidol/Haldol, and he's allergic to rowan (as though he might be a chageling?). He's not a regular human either, he's basically Jacksepticeye's version of you guys.

“Ohhh,” says Ippy, standing slightly outside his clinic, arms crossed over his chest and eyes wide. “Schizophrenia. I’m relieved, actually. Because if this was fever delirium… we would have a problem.”

Google leaps out of the room, synthetic blood dripping down his neck, and slams the door hard behind him, panting. From within the room, hissing.

“Kid’s fucking nuts,” Gigi snarls.

“Kid’s fucking delusional,” answers Ippy sharply. “And that’s not his fault. This is on you for kidnapping somebody with a psychotic disorder.”

“He would have died there anyway,” sneers Gigi, stalking past Ippy. He has a red shirt now instead of blue. “That little monster wasn’t going to get him any help for that infection. And if you don’t do something fast, he’ll die here instead. He’s exhausting himself. Sedate him again.”

“No. Too much sedating. We have to calm him down. I’ll give him his Haldol intravenously so he can’t throw it up with this fever. You just have to steal some for me.”

“I only take orders from the Darkness,” answers Google.

Ippy sighs and shakes his head, turning stonily back to the door of his clinic. “If this doesn’t change, I’m sending him back to his brothers.”

“That place has no family. And Dark will speak with him before he’s let go. You get him well enough that he can have a discussion, then he’s free to go.”

Anonymous asked: JJ, honey, are you doing alright? I know you must be absolutely terrified right now, but at the very least you're getting medical treatment and they plan to give you back to Anti after you have a discussion with the Darkness. I know it'll be absolutely terrifying, but I think it's the only way to get home. Ippy is going to give you Haldol, if you'll let him? You'll feel much clearer if you do, then maybe you can make plans on what to do next.

JJ has not struggled this much with his symptoms since he and Red were homeless in Columbia and he knows it.

But he can’t make it stop.

“Tell my big brothers to come get me if they have to kill everyone in this house to do it!” his hands scream, and that is the last coherent thought you get out of him.

He moves! He has to move. He doesn’t just pace, he darts around the room, he races. His hands strike strike strike every surface. He pauses only for a moment to be sick over the waste basket, leaving him pale and dizzy, but even then his body is consumed by wracking spasms and shakes. He spins in a circle. He can’t stop looking at the lights no matter how hard he tries. His eyes are up, up, up. Fluttering, rolled back. Watching the light. Fixed on the light. If he looks away bad things will happen. The cameras told him so. Didn’t they? Someone did and he knows it must be true. He has to look at the light or the Darkness will get him.

“I’m already here,” whispers Dark’s voice in JJ’s head. He spasms and jolts back with terror, rubbing at his arms and shaking himself like he’s trying to act out a seizure, but despite his frantic motion and his fear, his face is numbed to any emotion, blank as it was when Red would struggle to understand him in Columbia. Dapper starts to sign wildly, but the words don’t make sense together to anyone but him.

“Skin. I was in. Blood up tree branch he made me go there and I didn’t want to! Can’t Red come? Miss candy and bedsheets, where? The radio, turn down. Does my blood come up? Does my blood rise?”

Ippy peeks his head inside the room. Dapper turns and sends a lamp flying towards him, smashing it against the wall, and Ippy ducks away again. Dapper grins joylessly, with his teeth, his eyes rolled towards the lights on the ceiling. He holds up his wrists and his hands dangle as though on string. Then he crumples to the ground, dazed and panting, scratching at the fever in his face.

“Jackie,” he begs. “Chase.”

Anonymous asked: dapper, jamie, my dear. you're okay, yeah? we would tell you if we thought you were in danger. and now i'm telling you to try to be calm, okay? we'll tell you if we think you're in danger. i promise.

For just a moment, he manages to drag his flickering eyes over to you. There’s a red light on the camera. That counts, right? Does it? His hands search the floors for his bear. Trick packed his things. Didn’t he? But what if it was a trick? Isn’t that why he named him that? Also guns and grey shirts.

He rubs at his aching, pounding head, and swats at a tactile hallucination on his legs. Just a snake, though, and those you don’t have to worry about. It’s dogs and cats that will tear their teeth into you.

He registers the promise vaguely, but his paranoia is so high he could be home safe and sound and still feel that Dark was slowly killing him. He casts his eyes over your message, counting the y’s. Nine. Does that mean something? He knows it means something. The universe is trying to talk to him. God is trying to talk to him. He just needs to listen.

Anonymous asked: ippy's gonna get you your haldol, okay? he's kind. he won't hurt you. do you think you can agree to that, dap? that way, if you are in danger, it'll be clearer, and if it's a hallucination that'll be clearer too.

He would like his Haldol. He would. That’s one of the only mercies Anti usually grants him. He registers that someone is coming into the room and you said it was okay. He rocks his head back and forth, trying to think, feeling drool clinging to his lips. Where is he?

Ippy tries again. Creeping, patient, quiet.

“Are you feeling up to talking?” he asks quietly, when he manages to get into the room without being assaulted. Dapper learned from Anti and when he does not have a blade he makes use of his teeth and his mean white fingernails.

Dapper rocks his head, still trembling from the catatonia, burning with fever.

“I don’t know where to fucking start,” Ippy mumbles, kneeling down beside him. “You’re going to puke up your medication. Google might get you some of the liquid stuff, might not. Depends how generous he thinks he’s being. And what Dark tells him…”

Dapper shudders, baring his teeth.

“Please turn down the radio,” he says, clawing at his ears between signs, but it just looks like more frantic movement to Ippy. “So many people talking all at once.”

“Can I give you something for the fever?” asks Ippy, getting up to get him some water and medicine. “Yeah? Try to keep you hydrated? I need to look at your wrist.”

Dapper clutches his arm to his chest, squirming. “Anti? You’re playing games with me? Can I come out, please? Been good.”

scunneredzombie asked: Jay, they're going to give you some of your medicine. You have a really bad fever right now, it's most likely making the psychosis much much worse. We're here to help and so is Ippy. You will be okay. Breathe, Dapper, just breathe. You will get through this. Remind yourself of things you know are real, things that are unchanging and true no matter what. Cling to those for now. That's what I do during my psychotic episodes.

What’s real? What’s unchanging? What’s true?

Dapper squints his eyes up at the light on the ceiling and tries to think. His hand is still searching for his things. Ippy passes his backpack towards him and Dapper finds his bear, dragging his gaze down to it. Red and Blue and Dok got it for him for Christmas this year. He’s had it for months, even in Columbia. The fur is alpaca. It doesn’t feel quite like any other texture. Cloudy and thick at the same time. Warm. It still smells, faintly, of their home in Peru.

He tries to breathe.

“Okay, I’m going to try to give you some medicine here,” Edward warns him carefully, moving closer. “It’s good for you. Just to bring the fever down a little. I’ll look at your wrist again here in a minute.”

JJ scoots away, shaking his head, but it only makes him dizzy. A hundred voices speak to him. Edward’s is rich and deep and all too familiar. He concentrates on the faint beep of the camera, a sound he’s grown used to over months and months of what would otherwise be total loneliness.

He hopes Trick is okay at home. He’s sorry he left him alone.

Anonymous asked: yeah, you're doing well, dap. just gotta hang on a little longer, okay? and ippy will help you, dap. you don't have to trust him, but you trust us, don't you? and we trust him. it's okay, dap. you're gonna be okay.

Ippy takes his chin in his hand and angles him towards him.

Nope.

Anchors fall away and Dapper feels something inside himself snap. This has always been the rule. This has always been the rule, the rule he has learned since his creation: no one touches him but Anti and his brothers.

No one.

And the punishments he’s seen Anti inflict on those who broke that rule -

Dapper does not often wish for a voicebox that works. But right now, all he wants to do is fucking scream.

His teeth flash and bite down hard on Ippy’s hand, making Dark’s look-alike yelp in alarm. Dapper slams their heads together and grabs him by the throat, burning with fury, burning with fear, burning alive on a pyre he did not set, and then Google is there, and he has him by the hair, and he shoves a needle deep into the neck of Anti’s most savage attack dog.

Dapper quails, gripping frantically at Gigi’s hand. He chokes and looks up into deep brown eyes. There is no red glow.

He slides to the ground, asleep. Google lets him go.

“Alright?” asks Google quietly.

Ippy swears under his breath and puts his hand to his forehead, teeth marks indented in the skin. “I’m fine, goddammit.”

“Keep him asleep til he’s better,” says Gigi. “I will not tell you again.”

Edward shakes his head slowly, biting his lip, but he doesn’t protest.

Jamie sleeps. The fever is burning in his flesh.

Anonymous asked: Trick is right, Anti. You keep asking, multiple times now, "why did this all fall apart?" And the answer is because you constantly excuse your cruelty, excuse your abuse and all the pain you cause, by blaming Jack and saying you "can't control yourself". You, sir, are just as capable as anyone else in the world of controlling your temper and controlling your aggression. You need to stop making excuses. They will leave over and over and over if you do not change.

“Leave over and over,” mutters Anti under his breath, his eyes angry, aglow in the morning light through the great window in the master bedroom.

Trick is still asleep, though he shifts now, his hair mussed around his eyes. The roots have turned brown. The bright green is beginning to fade to yellow.

Anti wraps his arms around his waist, tugging him close. Trick rolls over with a yawn, trying to rise, but Anti’s grip holds him in place. Trick cracks open an eye and finds himself pressed against him.

“Anti, hey, wake up,” he mumbles, rubbing at his sleepy eyes. “Lemme go. I want a shower and some coffee.”

Anti is already awake, but Trick can’t see that, and he doesn’t move. Trick pauses. He starts trying to squirm out of Anti’s arms without moving enough to wake him if he is sleeping, but he doesn’t have much luck. Anti tightens his arms around him as he tries to escape.

“Anti?”

Anti glares out the window, ignoring his wriggling. Eventually, blinking in surprise, Trick just stays in place.

Leave over and over. Anti grips his ribs until his fingernails put cuts in Trick’s shirt. Leave. Ha. He isn’t going anywhere.

Anonymous asked: are you alright then, anti?

Anti gets out of bed after a half hour has passed. Trick is hot and uncomfortable, needing to stretch and change out of his sweaty sleeping clothes and use the bathroom. But he’s stopped struggling by the time Anti releases him.

The glitch gets to his feet and picks out an appearance for the day in the mirror, settling on the younger man he wore when Dapper was created, ruffling teal hair in the mirror. Trick sits up and gives him a smile. Anti doesn’t answer your question, but the way he looks at Trick - he focuses on the bruises someone left in his wrist as they pulled him along. Something simmers in Anti’s eyes. He turns towards the door.

“Where are you going?” asks Trick, hurrying out of bed. “Hey - Anti? Come on, have breakfast with me or something. Don’t leave me, dude.”

“I have to go get your little brother,” answers Anti. “Just stay here, Trick.”

“Anti, I - ”

He glitches away.

Trick stares at the door, mouth slightly parted.

Anonymous asked: You gonna do something that will stop Dark from kicking your ass a second time?

“Where in the narrative did Dark kick my ass?” snaps Anti, stalking into the forest. “Last I checked I was tearing them and their fucking soldiers a new one when Bubblegum McGee scoops my kiddo off the ground and disappears like the deranged little thief he is. And then all of them went sprinting for the hills. No. When I find Dark, I’m burning down everything they love and tearing apart that mangled excuse for a spine of theirs. Then we’ll see if they remember me.”

Anonymous asked: Trick? You want to talk for a bit?

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” says Trick, trying to recover quickly, nodding his head and straightening up. “Yes, please. House is super quiet without anybody else! Last time I was this alone was when Blue was in hospital and I’d come back to the house and try not to worry about everybody else too much. But I do have Noodle! He’s always got my back. I’m just going to get changed and then we’ll go make some breakfast and check on kitty cat, yeah? Doesn’t have to be a sucky day just cause things are trying to go bad. I can stay positive.”

Anonymous asked: Alright, we'll just have a bit of a "you" day. Decompress a bit. It's good to check in on yourself and have a little time off. (Give noodle some pets please!)

“Yes,” laughs Trick. He worries at his hands, yes, kneading his fingers into his palms, and you can see the edge of a breakdown somewhere in the back of his eyes, but he has survived a lot and he wants to prove to himself that he can be okay even without Dok sometimes. Maybe even to be okay when Dok isn’t, so he can look after him better. So he can look after all of them better.

Next time they’re scared enough to run away, he wants to be someone they can trust.

“Decompress - play some games, probably - chill with my cat - cook a ton - swim, maybe… yeah!” Trick pulls his shirt over his head and turns toward the door, grabbing the handle. “I’ll - ”

It’s locked.

Trick stops. Tries it again. Stares. Glances at you. Tries again.

It’s still locked.

He stands in front of the door. His hand rests on the door handle.

Outside, a mewl.

Anonymous asked: can the window open, trick?

“The… window?” he asks. “Yeah… yeah, it can. But I’m on the second story.”

He moves to the window and lets it swing open. The fresh air and the scent of the forest are refreshing, but the red brick of the patio is still several meters down.

Anonymous asked: where's noodle?

Claws pick at the carpet outside Anti’s bedroom. Trick hurries back to the door and kneels down, crouching to try and see his cat through the crack beneath it.

“Mrow,” complains Noodle loudly, scraping at the carpet with his claws out. “Meehhhh.”

“Daddy’s here, kitty cat, I’m right here.” Trick reaches for him as though he could pull him beneath the door. Noodle attacks one of his fingers, chewing on the end, but Trick doesn’t even mind. “Are you hungry? I’m sorry I didn’t let you out last night. Things were crazy, baby. But I’m coming, boyo, I’ll… I’ll, uh…”

What is he supposed to do?

Anonymous asked: do you think anti will be mad if you leave the room?

“I don’t know. It was probably an accident.”

Noodle yowls on the other side of the door. Trick stares at his kitten’s paws, his eyebrows drawn back in worry. You see him look down at his feet.

He knows it wasn’t an accident. And he wouldn’t have locked it if he was okay with Trick leaving.

Anonymous asked: Okay unless we know a for our window downstairs is unlocked, I wouldn't use the window, don't want you getting locked out of the house entirely. You think you might be able to find a key or break the lock if you need to?

“It’s… maybe I could? I don’t want to get in trouble. But there’s no keyhole on this side. I’d have to really bust the door up. And then he’d be so angry.”

Trick steps back from the door, chewing on his nails. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe.

“Okay,” he says after a moment. “Okay. I wish he hadn’t done this, but he did. I’m safe in here. I have a bathroom with water and all the stuff I packed into a bag in case I got kidnapped is here. Dapper was keeping food in the drawers. I’m okay. But my poor cat…”

Anonymous asked: for now, at least, you can make sure noodle has food, right? is the food only in there? maybe you can grab a little something and push it under the door

“That’s a good idea. Okay, let me look.”

He goes back to the bottom drawer and pulls it open to reveal Dapper’s stash. He recoils a little, scrunching up his nose - he hadn’t realized how bad it smelled in the panic of last night, but now he notices.

“This is kind of nasty… we’ve only been here a couple weeks. Why would he keep - ugh, cheese!” Trick chucks the hot string cheese towards the trash, making a gagging motion. “He has to know this would go bad right away, right? Why even take it? Look, my cookies from last week. Hard as rocks cause he didn’t even ask me to wrap them. There’s lint on them. He just shoved them in his pockets. Fuck’s sake… oh!”

Here’s some stuff that should still be edible. Crackers still in their packs. A couple apples. Tupperware with brownies. One pack of raisins, one pack of dried cranberries. And a little pack of Dapper’s favorite - jerky. Most of it is gone, but there are a few good chunks still at the bottom.

“At least I can give him something, then,” says Trick, taking a breath.

Anonymous asked: Anti keeps his favorite trophy locked up in a case when not in use

Trick looks at you, eyes wide, and then away, trying to make himself scowl. He crouches down beside the door and pushes dried meat towards his cat. Noodle seems to accept the offering. He goes quiet and Trick hears him chewing. It’ll take him a while to get through that.

Trick sits back on his heels and stares at the door.

“Always wanted to be Anti’s favorite trophy,” he mumbles, something frightened and tired passing across his face. “Or thought I did, I guess.”

Anonymous asked: you have a choice, then, trick. do you want our help in leaving the room, to go to noodle? or will you stay here and wait for anti to come back and let you out?

Trick sighs and slumps down against the door, rubbing at his face. He stares out the window and thinks.

“You know… I think I’ll try to stay here for a while,” he says, giving you a smile that looks more like a grimace. “It’s not bad. We’ve definitely stayed in much worse places! I have lots of room and a clean bathroom and everything I need. Maybe I’ll take a bath. Yeah… it’s okay.”

He glances around the room. How long has he been in here? Two hours? Oh, twenty minutes. He bites his lip and sighs. He puts his head between his knees and rubs at the back of his neck.

“Always kind of knew it couldn’t really be fun for anybody to be locked in a room all day. But I thought maybe, with Dapper’s nerves, it was better for him just to stay up there with Anti. And when I imagined it, I guess I made everything nice. Him getting to eat his own food, sleep whenever he wants, just working on his art all the time. Doing whatever he wanted, you know? I usually imagined Anti actually… being here, though. Yeah. I guess that I thought that when he loved me, I’d be able to feel it.”

Trick pauses, looking up. Looking out at the sun.

“That’s always the thing with me, though,” he says. “Even when I know for a fact people love me - it doesn’t always feel that way. And I thought - well, Anti, he just… with his power, it’s like he can make me feel that way. Or maybe it’s just him. But those days when I would just spend all my time praying to impress him… and then he would brush his hand across my hair or smile at me… it would be my favorite part of the week. Like I finally got it all right. Like I’m finally worthwhile.”

He puts his head down again, looking at the carpet, his fringe falling into his eyes. It occurs to him that he doesn’t really like bright green. Or dying yellow.

“I love him,” he says, a little hollowly. “But I think maybe Dok was always right. Nobody else can magically fix me. I need to stop expecting Anti to put everything right in my head. That’s not fair to either of us. I should have been happier just being with Dok. Cause Anti gave me these bursts of joy, yeah, and he’s trying to be better to me these days - but Dok has been the earth beneath my feet for months now.”

He stares at the food in the drawer, rotting. He tugs uselessly on the door handle. He stares around the silent, empty room, and the silence stares back, and says nothing.

“I shouldn’t have been jealous of my little brother,” says Trick, heart sinking. “I should have been making sure he had ground to stand on too.”

Anonymous asked: yeah, i get that, trick. and i think anti does love you, as much as he can love someone anyway. although, trick, you don't have to answer this now, and if you don't want to talk about this right now i'll stop, but trick? if given a choice between dok and anti, who would you choose?

“Oh, hey,” protests Trick, a little weakly. “That’s family both, we don’t talk like that. Hey, it’s okay to love people in different ways, and I know you don’t like Anti. But the truth is that just because I’m closer to Dok, I would never ‘choose him’ over any of the others. We all gotta just love each other in the way we need. I want to do what’s best for all of them. If… if Dok and Red and Blue need some space from Anti, well… maybe they should have some. But even if I lived with some of them instead of the others, it’s not because I’m trying to pick someone as my favorite. We just all need different things at different times. Whoever needs me most is who I ‘choose.’ Whoever I can help. And I hope it’s always… all of them, you know? When you’re a family, helping one person is good for everyone.”

Anonymous asked: It's easy to fall into a "grass is greener" mentality but abuse is abuse no matter if you're crouched by a window with a gun, locked away in an attic, or running through the streets with stolen drugs. I don't blame you for wanting a higher standing with Anti but he's not going to give you what you want, to no failing of your own.

“Ha! Okay, fair… maybe being in the basement and being in the attic both kind of suck. But I’ve always had Dok. Having someone there with you is what makes it not sucky. Look, this house is fucking awesome! But there’s no one here with me right now. And that does kind of suck, even worse than when Dok and I were sleeping in the same pile of cheap blankets beside a window in a broken down cabin during a Norwegian fall. We had a good time in Norway, didn’t we? Before everything went wrong? Do you remember… we got fish in a restaurant in town, ha… and I got my crinkle paper…”

Trick pulls it out of the pocket of his basketball shorts and presses his fingers to the crinkly baby paper, familiar and fond. He smiles while his eyes grieve.

Anonymous asked: Those sound like fair conclusions, Trick. It sounds like you've been thinking a lot about yourself and how you've interacted with your family in the past. That's really good; well done. For what it's worth, I am really sorry you got left here alone. You don't deserve that. Are you sure you don't want help leaving, or looking for something else to do?

“Aww, you guys are like my therapists now,” laughs Trick, genuinely pleased. “That’s sweet, thanks. No, um… I’ll stay here a while, I guess. Think Dap would mind me looking through his sketchbooks? Maybe I’ll draw a little myself. Or… write, maybe. Yeah. Maybe I’ll write a little.”

Anonymous asked: trick, that's admirable. and i do mean that. you have a lot of loyalty. but trick, it's not just that they need some space from anti. anti has hurt them, time and time again. family doesn't hurt each other like that, trick. anti has gone too far, many, many times.

“I am loyal,” he agrees quickly, because that’s something he’s always known and one of the few things he’s almost always liked about himself. “Yes. Mh.”

He pulls his eyes away from the rest of the message uncertainly, fiddling with his hands as he sits down on Anti’s bed and pulls Dapper’s latest sketchbook off the bedside drawer. He’s grinning for a minute. They’re mostly pictures of animals. Some people scattered in there - dancers and babies and old people in love. Dapper’s good and he’s gotten even better since the last time Trick checked in on his art, which was… how long ago?

But there are other things in the pages too.

Faces that almost hurt from how familiar and yet unrecognizable they are. Images Trick recognizes from Dapper’s hallucinations, painful and threatening. One baby that is not like the rest in a way Trick can’t express. And… himself?

Himself burning?

Trick takes a moment to realize what this is. The night he got the burn that now laces from his palm to the back of his hand. He hadn’t realized Dapper remembered, or was even there, watching, as it happened.

In the image, a dark figure shoves him towards the fire. His shirt sleeve is already ablaze, his hand consumed, and yet - despite the fire, despite the pain, his eyes are like those of a monk in Mass, wide, adoring, tear-filled - and those eyes are fixed on the creature pulling him into the flame.

Trick shoves the sketchbook away from him, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” he croaks, turning his face away from you. “Later. Okay? Later, I promise, just… not right now.”

It is the second time he has pushed your concerns aside in as many nights. There are messages waiting for him that he’s avoiding. But he still isn’t ready to hear it.

Anonymous asked: okay. that's okay, trick. do you wanna talk about something else, then? i can tell you a funny thing one of my birds did, if you'd like.

“Ha. Birds, wow, that’s awesome. Yeah, sure! Tell me.”

Anonymous asked: alright! so, my sister has an obvious favorite, and the bird knows it, and likes to hang out on people's shoulders and stuff. and today, she flew up onto my arm, and then stared at me face very curiously, and so i started talking to her, and she immediately tried to eat my teeth. very smart bird, who apparently does not quite get what is or is not food. she's very funny.

Trick snorts and covers his mouth with his hand. “Oh, no! I do not like the sensation I am imagining. A beak picking at my teeth, haha. Geez. Sounds like a funny bird. Noodle likes to try to eat toes when we move at night.”

Anonymous asked: oh, yeah, my friend's cats are kinda like that too. for a while, when they were kittens, we had to be careful because they would try to attack our feet. is noodle chaotic like that?

“Half the time he is nuts-o crazy boy, and then half the time he pretends he’s a perfect angel and he just wants all of Daddy’s attention and all of Uncle’s attention and everybody’s attention one hundred percent of the time. And he looks up at you and cries until you scratch him.”

Anonymous asked: oooo, do you write, trick?

“Well, I thought since I’m sure jabbering your guys’ ears off, I could write some shit down. Dok had me do that for a while once. It was right after… well, there’s blurry spots in my memory. It was right after I started being his twin. I was pretty low. I was, um. Self-harming a lot. Losing a lot of my memories. So he recommended I write stuff down. Whatever I was feeling. And he said even he wouldn’t read it, he promised. We were in this kind of warehouse place at the time, and there was nowhere to sleep. Not a lot of privacy except my pieces of paper. They’re gone now. But I think they kept me focused on something, at the time.”

He holds Dapper’s pencil in his hand, taking a loose sheet of paper. But his eyes get fixed on the stretched out sketchbook on the floor once again. He looks away from the image of himself with a grimace.

That night - that look on his face - that wasn’t what he remembers. Not exactly.

Want to know a secret? he writes.

He has scrawling, beautiful, messy handwriting.

I was pissed at you that night. You left me and Dok to freeze. I don’t even think I started that fire because I was trying to keep Dok warm.

He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut. Bites on his lip. Puts his pencil back down.

I wanted to make you angry. I wanted there to be a confrontation. I was angry at you. But I didn’t know how to tell you because you didn’t care about me back then and that was what burned, more than this goddamn scar on my hand. I wanted to hurt you for hurting me. But all you did was hurt me worse. You act like you want things to be good between us now but we’ve never even talked about

He stops and sighs and scowls before crumpling the paper up, scratching at his scalp.

“Forget it,” he mumbles. “Not that. Just…”

Noodle mewls at the door, beginning to get bored with his jerky. Trick smiles softly and chuckles, turning away.

When you were a kitten your body was like a slinky and I could feel every one of your bones. Hot little spine rubbing against my wide palms. Big fuzzy leaf ears. When you were a kitten you made a weight beneath my throat and when I breathed I would feel the tiny thump of your heart. You are the memory of someone I lost.

And Trick is stopped again, closing his eyes again, turning away again.

“Maybe I’ll just go get a hot bath. Relax a while. I’m okay. Poor kitty cat. Don’t be lonely, okay, baby boy? I’ll be back in a while.”

Anonymous asked: Keep your head high and your standards higher, Trick.

“My standards for this rich guy’s bath are high as fuck right now,” he says, slinging a towel over his shoulder. “Motherfucker got bath bombs and everything. This better be some Spirited Away experience or I’m out. Minus the evil lady, though. Just the big steamy bath and the nostalgia, please. Hey, keep an eye on my kitty for me, yeah? You’re still in the cameras all over the house? I’ll be out in a little while. Maybe a long while. Thanks, guys. Uh. For real.”

Anonymous asked: I'm sure noodle is going to be okay, Trick. If you're worried about him just stay near the door and he should be fine óvò You might want to try to slip him something to eat tho, I have no idea when was the last time anyone could've fed that kitty

Trick slips him one more piece of jerky and lets him chew on his finger for a moment before he slips into the bathroom. Noodle has his snack happily outside the door, and then, deprived of Trick’s presence, he goes exploring.

Trick has made toys for him out of anything he could find. He plays with string and a ball that makes a jangling sound. He zips around the house for a while. He searches for Trick and Dok, or anybody to give him some attention.

Usually they’re down in the basement. Usually they all stay down in the basement, Noodle himself shut in most of the day to avoid Anti, though he’s perfectly content to stay down there with everything he needs. But today, he gets to explore. The door was opened while Dark’s soldiers searched the house and he’s free to roam. It’s a little exciting.

He’s okay. For now, he’s okay. Trick has fed him and there’s a little water still in his bowl by the door. He’s okay.

But Trick was too hot in his bed for a reason. And he’s right - the windows do open.

Noodle gets tired of the basement. Noodle gets tired of his toys. Noodle wants to see Trick and the others.

He explores. The fresh breeze and the smell of the trees - the movement of the grass and the warmth of the sun - the song of the birds, the scurrying of mice, the cool water of the pool - they call to him.

He has not been outside since he was too small for anything but milk. Not until today.

He slips out through the window of Red and Blue’s room, and he explores.

Anonymous asked: hey, shep? dapper's brother has a golden cat, who we just saw leave, but he's away from the cameras at the moment so we can't tell him about it yet. could you and the others keep an eye out for the cat? his name is noodle, although i don't know if he knows it or not.

Shep hears the beeping in his pocket and pulls the camera out immediately.

“Shep! Come on, throw it in!”

“Just a second!”

His eyes scan your message and brighten, a hint of gold from the sun lighting up the brown curve of his irises. He feigns disinterest for a moment, pausing to kick a soccer ball back towards someone on the lawn. You can hear a dog barking and voices chatting. The sun is overhead. It’s a beautiful day.

“Would that make you happy?” asks Shep. “If I found the cat for you?”

He looks up at the forest.

Outside of the sunlight, Darkness reigns in more ways than one. The trees are thick and tall and heavy, shrouding the earth in a loving chill. Animals scamper across the dirt and lean plants curl up from the ground and latch onto the broad backs of trees, clinging to damp red wood. And for miles - for miles - it stretches on before him.

“Okay, then,” he says. “I will.”

Anonymous asked: it would help. thank you, shep. anti doesn't like animals, so i wouldn't recommend bringing the cat back to the house they're in, but you can bring it here and we'll tell the brother about it.

“I’ll start looking right now,” he says. “It’s a big forest. But I can do it.”

Anonymous asked: sleeby jj...Soff sleeby bean.. get well soon

His eyes slide open to your familiar light.

He stares at you for a second, his eyes heavy with shadowed circles.

Then he registers the message and manages to roll his eyes for the first time in days, huffing out a bit of a sigh.

“Not a bean.”

It’s only as he signs it that he realizes he’s no longer restrained.

He sits up slowly, pressing his palm to his forehead and grimacing. He doesn’t feel well at all. His stomach swims with nausea and he can feel his blood chugging sluggishly through his veins. But it’s better than the last few days.

He glances around the room, blinking slowly. He’s alone and there’s light streaming in through the barred window.

Alright. He’s had his nap. Time to start trying to escape.

Anonymous asked: Jj, think about this first. Anti is already coming for you, and if you try to escape you'll be in miles and miles of unknown forest, with no haldol, no medication for your fever, and no way to be sure you can get home. At least maybe wait until you've gotten over the infection and until you can steal some haldol to have with you? Just trying to analyze the situation fully before action is taken.

“I am not going to sit quietly while the monster who has haunted my nightmares - well, one of them - keeps me prisoner. I only do that for Anti. Come on, don’t be boring! Help me get out, yeah?”

He struggles to his feet, but as soon as he’s found a moment of balance he loses it again, tumbling into the wall and holding himself there on shaking arms and legs. He swallows thickly and turns towards the windows, yanking on the bars with his good hand. The other one is swaddled so thickly in bandages he can barely feel it, but at least his fingers stick out to let him speak most words.

That being said, he has about four good yanks on those bars before his head is swimming. He slumps against the wall, clinging to the metal. His whole body aches.

“Maybe you have a point,” he admits sullenly, rubbing at his face.

Anonymous asked: Haha, sorry Jay, not trying to be boring! I just want to make sure you've got a second voice to help think clearly. Look around you maybe? See any spare haldol or fever medication you can swipe and save up for when you do the grand escape?

“Thank you,” says JJ, grinning slowly, though nothing quite makes it to his eyes. “Okay, let me look. I think I must have something in me now because my psychosis is a lot less intense right now.”

He glances around the room. He isn’t hallucinating and his thinking is much clearer, but his expressions are still dulled, his face is twitching, and he isn’t sure what’s true and what’s not. He needs rest and a lot less stress.

He checks the drawers, but everything’s locked up.

nikkilbook asked: JJ, remind me again why Dark frightens you so much? I’m sorry, but I can’t remember clearly. He doesn’t remember any of you either. He showed up that first time because he didn’t know why Anti was trespassing in his territory.

Dapper looks over at you.

He turns away for a second, chewing on his nail. Shrugs. Sits down on the bed.

“Not a fun time,” he signs eventually.

scunneredzombie asked: Rest up, if you can, JJ! I'm almost completely certain you'll be safe here. Darkness won't hurt you because they want you healthy enough to talk to them. You need rest and to let your haldol take effect.

“Dark can do a lot worse things than hurting anybody,” he answers. “It’s the talking to them that’s more likely to fuck me up than anything. And I never want to see them again. Tell them to leave me alone! Where’s my big brothers? Are they coming to get me yet?”

Anonymous asked: How are you feeling, JJ? Still burning up?

“I actually feel quite cold.” He hugs his arms around his sunken chest, staring around the room. His lips are chapped to blood and his face is the color of bleach. He doesn’t look well.

“This is miserable,” he admits, his signs soft. “I remember when I was created I always had energy and felt strong and healthy most of the time, even when I got hurt. I bounced back. The last few months, I’m just… every day I’m sicker. My bones break and I catch every cold and infection. Keep have psychotic episodes. Don’t sleep well.”

He realizes he’s just complaining and makes himself stop, digging his nails into his palms. Won’t help anything. He needs to get out.

He creeps to the door and takes the handle in his hand.

“Going somewhere?”

He turns, spitting, back to his bed, the hair on the back of his neck standing up like an angry cat’s as he snatches a pen off the nearest counter for self-defense.

Wilford nods patiently, following his movements as he swings his legs on the side of the little clinic bed. “Very good, very good.”

“You stay away from me.”

“Oh, my dear, forgive me, I don’t understand a word of that. Shall I get you paper?”

Dapper steps away from him, watching him with glittering eyes. After a moment, he nods.

Wilford pulls a pad of paper out from behind his back as though it had been there all along and sets it on the bed beside himself, smiling.

“What are you so frightened of, young man? Come on, then, calm down.”

Anonymous asked: Are you wearing your dress-shoes? The heel might be good for smashing the locks off the drawers! Though you'd have to be uh... as quiet as smashing can be haha.

JJ looks down at his bare feet. He scowls. Just like the day he was created.

But Wilford has boots on. “Give me those,” he demands.

Wilford doesn’t speak sign language, but he gets the gesture. “Sure,” he says, tugging a boot off and tossing it to him.

Dapper slams a desk drawer handle remorselessly. A loud clang signals the death of the handle as it flies to the ground. Dapper yanks the drawer open.

“Ippy says you’re all sorts of unhealthy,” says Wilford cheerfully, still kicking his legs, halfway bootless now. “Do you feel better today? He said you have so little Vitamin D he could probably break your bones with a pillowcase. You need some sun, dear boy!”

Dapper searches through the drawer, but there’s nothing but cotton swabs, gloves, tongue depressors and everything boring. He raises the boot and smashes another dresser handle, a little breathless.

scunneredzombie asked: Anti is trying to find you right now, I'm pretty sure. I understand not wanting to see them, they're frankly a terrifying jedi-powers 3D glasses fender-bender in you all's life. You'll be home soon, JJ. But you need rest right now, you could end up hurting yourself if you're in a bad mindset or not with the proper medication. I know being careful is no fun, but right now it seems like the best option. I know this sounds fucked, but trust Anti to find you. Like he'd give you up that easily, ha,,

“You don’t want to see Dark?” asks Wilford, finally sounding genuinely wounded. “Oh…”

“You stop,” signs JJ fiercely, whirling on him. “You’re lucky you’re out of your mind or I’d call you a creep for staying around that horrible - that horrible - thing. Whatever. Leave me alone. You’re a killer just like them.”

“I think your camera’s right. You ought to sit. You don’t look very well.”

Dapper glares, panting a little. He glances around the room again, a sense of despair shuddering its way over him. Always locked in his room. Always locked in his room. Always locked in his room. He grips at his hair, breathing through his teeth.

“Hey,” says Wilford. “It’s okay. Can you hear me at all? Do I need to be writing things down too? My handwriting is very good. Would you like some water?”

He clears his dry throat, his eyes flickering over to Wilford. Actually, he would. He’s parched.

Wilford nods and gets up. He disappears for a second and returns with a glass of water. JJ takes it from him with shaking hands, sinking down onto the bed.

Anonymous asked: Hey Wilford, you're not... planning on hurting JJ, are you? You don't seems like you have any intention of it but knowing you we can never be too wary >_>

“Excuse me!” Wilford waggles his finger indignantly, making a noise like pshaw! again and again. “I have never hurt a living soul in my life. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’m a pacifist, actually. Excepting that door-to-door salesman who would NOT stop coming by…”

Dapper hisses out a breath, pressing at his forehead, feeling faint again. He scoops up Wilford’s pad of paper and sets Ippy’s pen to it. “You really have no idea what’s going on, do you?” he scrawls out in a bitter, looping cursive.

“Do you?” spits back Wilford just as quick, a little fire flashing through his eyes.

Dapper sinks in on himself, exhaling. “No,” he writes. “Not ever.”

Wilford eases again, grinning his nonchalant, slightly dazed grin.

“Why’d you come in here?” writes Dapper.

“To see you,” answers Wilford eagerly, clapping his hands together. “Finally, a new ego with a real aesthetic!”

“I’m not a new ego, Wil. Look, I don’t look like you.”

“No, you’re not like me - well, like him,” insists Wilford, undaunted. “You’re one of the boys that runs around with him sometimes. He can create things too, that’s alright. You can still stay here.”

Dapper softens a little, quirking his eyebrows. “You’ve met Jack?”

“Seen him! They made a lot of videos together for a while, do you remember? Every day!”

JJ laughs, shaking his head. “You’re thinking of Ethan.”

“No, who? Noooo. The brown-haired one. Loud? Bouncy?”

“They’re both - ” JJ cuts himself off, laughing into his hands. “Never mind.”

“I don’t have my glasses on.”

“Apparently.”

Anonymous asked: Hey JJ, did you and Wil knew each other before the whole timeline mess?

“No, not really,” JJ signs to you gently. “I’ve never really had anyone outside of Anti.”

“Are you mute?” asks Wilford politely. “What’s wrong with your voice?”

“I’ve never been able to talk,” he writes out. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t be able to stay for long.”

“Oh,” says Wilford, face falling. “Oh, I thought that was why you came.”

“You took me from my house. Do you remember?”

“No… you’re thinking of one of the others, I think?”

Dapper lets out a sigh and smiles. “Never mind. Just - ”

It’s then that Edward enters the room.

Dapper stiffens, rubbing his shoulders and staring down at the floor. Ippy looks relieved, stepping carefully into the room, as though approaching an animal caught in a fence.

“Hi,” he breathes. “Feeling any better?”

JJ looks away, uncomfortable.

Anonymous asked: Hey Dap? I just wanted to let you know that it's ok to be experiencing symptoms right now. You're under so, so much stress, your body must be having hell and two pence. It's ok if you feel apathy, have a hard time with facial expression, hallucinating. You will be okay. You will get out soon, and you will have time to de-stress, you will see your brothers again soon. Know even through the fear, everything will be okay. You were made for happy endings.

“Do you have symptoms like these often?” asks Ippy.

Dapper plays with the edge of his paper, unsmiling.

“Your, uh… friends? Said you had a psychotic disorder. When was the last time you saw a clinician about that? Seems like you’ve been on Haldol a pretty long time.”

Dapper draws circles on his pad, not looking up.

Ippy sits down in one of those backless chairs that doctors roll around their offices in. “Are you aware that you have a Vitamin D deficiency? Serious enough to be impacting your bone strength?”

Dapper glances at Wilford but doesn’t answer.

“Broken rib… infected wrist… some pretty serious scarring…”

Dapper leans down to write something. Ippy waits patiently. Dapper turns the paper around and he’s written “stop talking to me” across the whole page. Ippy rolls his chair away and lets out a grumble beneath his breath, getting up to -

“Hey! Who broke my drawers!”

Wilford and JJ exchange glances.

“Probably the dog,” answers Wilford wisely, and it almost, almost makes JJ smile.

It’s okay. He’s okay. It’s okay for him to be psychotic. He’s just got to get through it, like he always does. It’s okay to struggle.

Anonymous asked: Hey now! Let the doctor take care of you, bud. You deserve some proper medical attention, you deserve some healing after everything you've been through.

“That’s not my doctor,” signs JJ bitterly, glaring Ippy down as best he can, though he mostly ends up looking like he’s squinting. “Give me back to my brother.”

“Five questions,” asks Ippy. “Yeah? Then I’ll give you some space.”

“One question.” He holds up a finger.

Ippy holds up three.

Dapper turns his head away. Tries to glare again. Nods. Fine.

“When was the last time you saw a psychiatrist?”

He’s never seen a psychiatrist. That’s why they mostly just call it a psychotic disorder. Schneep says it’s probably schizophrenia, but he’s a surgeon. Until Anti stole Dok, he would just tell Dapper that Jack fucked his head up as bad as his voice.

“I don’t have a psychiatrist,” says Dapper. “The Haldol is fine. It manages most everything.”

“Most of the positive symptoms, I bet,” says Ippy. “And even if antipsychotics are helpful, they still need to be adjusted sometimes, and you should probably be seeing a therapist for behavioral therapy.”

“What’s positive about psychosis?” asks Wilford. “Is that like the fun kind of psychosis? A little LSD, anybody?”

“Wilford,” sighs Ippy. “Positive means something added. So things like hallucinations, delusions, hyperactivity, disordered thinking - those are positive symptoms. Most antipsychotics work best for those. But there are negative symptoms too - depressed mood. Flattened expressions. Lack of enjoyment or pleasure. Feelings of hopelessness.”

Dapper stares at the floor. After a moment, he writes “question two” pointedly.

“Why do you look like Mark’s friend?”

“It’s exactly what you think it is. Don’t waste either of our time.”

“Dark says Jack doesn’t have videos with you or any of the others.”

“Is that a question?”

“No, grumbles Ippy, rubbing at his forehead. “Forget it. Who gave you all your scars?”

Dapper’s eyes flicker. He glances away. “Self-harm,” he writes.

“Liar,” answers Ippy evenly. “They go all the way to your back.”

Dapper hisses, tucking his pad up against his chest for a second. He lets out a breath of air, shaking his head.

Anonymous asked: His ribs are broken because his "big brother" nearly beat him to death then left him sitting in filth for hours until he passed out. He's deficient in vitamin D because he spends his entire life locked inside one room and that same brother almost never lets him out. He's scarred from year of torture and abuse. Let's just say he doesn't have the easiest home life.

Ippy sits back, setting his clipboard aside.

Dapper closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t feel well.

“Please just leave me alone,” he writes. “There. You got your answer. My brother did all of it. Go away.”

Ippy gets up. He takes Dapper’s bear off the bedside table and hands it carefully over to him. Dapper swallows and accepts it, pulling the familiar warmth and texture and smell to his chest. It’s grounding.

“Want to come sit in the sun for a while?” asks Ippy.

Dapper looks up at him, eyes wide. Ippy waits.

Dapper sighs and shakes his head, curling up against the wall. Even if he wanted to accept anybody’s niceness right now, he’s too tired.

“Okay,” says Ippy. “You don’t have to. But you should know - now that you’re awake and talking - ”

“No,” Dapper is already writing, the pen shaking in his grip.

“They just want to talk. That’s all. They won’t - ”

“Tell Dark to stay away from me,” writes Dapper frantically, tears budding in his eyes. He underlines it. Again and again.

Tell

Dark

To

Stay

Away

Ippy gets to his feet wearily. He unlocks one of his drawers and sets a Haldol and a Vitamin D tablet out on the dresser beside Dapper.

“Get a little sleep,” he says. “You’ll feel better.”

“I want Dok,” writes Dapper. “Please.”

Ippy is already shutting the door behind him.

nikkilbook asked: Edward, do you have any contacts in the city that work with homeless shelters or other kinds of emergency housing? I think that’s where three of his brothers are.

Edward’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? Sure, there’s some shelters. I usually refer them to LAAG. Sets you up in a hotel for a month or two if you’re out of somewhere to stay. Mostly for moms with kids, though. There’s some men’s and women’s shelters in town. Lot of homeless people out here, unfortunately. Hey, Gigi.”

“What?”

“What’s the closest homeless shelter?”

“Are they finally kicking you out of that pigsty you call an apartment? The closest homeless shelter is Missionaries of Charity Relief Services, 23.6 miles away. There is an adjoining soup kitchen.”

“There you go.”

nikkilbook asked: Could you send someone (non/less threatening, if possible?) to ask after them, see if they’d be willing to come and help you with JJ? Though one of them, Marvin, is hurt really bad as well because of some messed up dark magic crap that Anti thought was a good idea. Schneep, the doctor that JJ keeps referring to, is doing his best, but he’s technically a surgeon with holes in his memory.

“Excuse me,” Google cuts you both off, stepping forward. “You have to run decisions like that past Dark.”

“Then ask Dark,” answers Ippy mildly. “I’m sure they’d love to worm their way into somebody else’s heart. They wanted that other kid that was there, right? Bet they’d be happy with you if you brought the other three back to them.”

“You think you’re very clever.”

“But I got you thinking about it, didn’t I?”

Google glares at him.

Then his composure breaks, just the smallest bit, and you see a smile on the edges of his mouth. Ippy laughs and trails past him towards the kitchen. “Come on, you goddamn sycophant. It’s curry night. You can help me make it.”

“I’m not your maid,” says Gigi stubbornly.

But he follows right after him into the kitchen.

Anonymous asked: Does seeing outsiders reaction help you realize it JJ? How horrible Anti really is to you? You're dying, Dapper. You might be dead if you hadn't gotten medical treatment. You have all the scars because of his actions. All of your pain was caused by him. You have a psychotic disorder and he's never /once/ taken you to a psychiatrist. If he was your brother, if he loved you beyond being his pet, he would have at least taken you to therapy. Can you see the damage he's done, Dap?

“Save the realization tactics for my brothers, my friend,” JJ signs quietly. “I’ve always known exactly what Anti is. I used to stay because I was scared of what he’d do to me if I tried to get away. Now I just know there’s no escaping. Not for me.”

And that is when the light from the sun flickers and dies.

Dapper closes his eyes. He knows. Right away, without pausing.

“Dark,” you see his mouth move.

“Feeling… hopeless?” asks a voice that echoes. “I can help with that.”

“No,” says Dapper. “No, you can’t.”

And he gets to his shaking feet.

Anonymous asked: They made a deal JJ. This is the last time. If you don't allow yourself to escape, allow yourself freedom and family, true family, love... Then I fear you'll be stuck with him forever. Let yourself escape. Let Jameson Jackson live. Let your soul breathe again.

JJ holds the camera close to his chest, sinking down beside his bed as his legs give out on him. It makes Dark tower over him. He closes his eyes.

Family, true family - what he wouldn’t give for them to be here right now. And it’s odd to him because most often, when he wishes for family, he wishes Anti were here to protect him.

Today, he doesn’t wish for Anti at all. Even if Anti would protect him from Dark, it doesn’t matter. He wants… fuck, he just wants Red and Blue and Dok and even Trick, because every one of them, he has begun to realize, would take care of him if they ever had the chance to. Blue would be shouting at Dark to back off, Red would already be on the attack, Dok would be making him feel better, and Trick, he thinks, would just be wrapped around him, holding him, just like he did when Gigi and Shep came to take him away.

Maybe he wasn’t stuck up in the attic or in the backroom or in Anti’s bed because everyone else hated him or didn’t want him around. Maybe it was always just Anti’s barriers.

“How interesting the pair of you are,” Dark says, looking down at JJ with your viewpoint in his hands. “To know him intimately… to speak with him. Even when I talk to you, it’s always me on the one side of the camera, and you never able to answer… Mark sees to that. How interesting, though, to be the ones to tell him he’s loved.”

Dapper takes the writing pad in his trembling hands. “What do you want?” he writes.

Dark leans down, too close to him. “I told you. Let’s talk. I want to know everything about that monster you live with - and just how I can get rid of him.”

Dapper creeps along the wall away from Dark, shaking his head minutely. He and Anti have their struggles, but he doesn’t sell his brother out, and especially not to Dark.

“Come on, little one. What are you so scared of? My soldiers have all seen the markings all up and down you. Wouldn’t you rather let me extract a little vengeance for you?”

“Not little,” writes Dapper. “What do you want with Anti? Why kill him?”

Dark cocks their head coolly, eyes flashing red and blue.

“If you don’t remember him, there’s no reason to be angry.”

Dark doesn’t answer. Dark never answers if they don’t have to. They don’t give up information, period.

“I hope you know I hate your guts,” says JJ.

And then Dark’s hand is on his throat.

JJ wheezes in alarm, grabbing Dark’s arm as the room seems to flood with a darkness so thick it seems to shove at his bones like a fist or a car collision. He kicks his legs desperately and, for a moment, manages a shrill whistle of alarm - and then Dark makes him still.

The calm is like an infusion of something, settling into his lungs and chest and softening his violent terror into a whimpering fear. Dark drags him back to his bed and throws him onto the mattress. And Dapper, shaking and petrified with a weepy, muted alarm, curls his body into a roly-poly and hugs his bear to his chest, staring up at Dark with huge, watering eyes, because the times when he acts childish and too cute to hurt have never been anything more than a fear response.

“There you go,” says Dark, sitting down in the chair beside the bed and leaning back, their eyes closing for a moment from the strain it puts on their spine. Anti’s attack has left them physically shaken and weak, the pain haunting them through waking and dreams. For that, they will have revenge - and for the way that the thought of Anti has haunted them for more than a week now. “Be good now and tell me how you know me.”

“My brother brought me to you some years back to reset me even better than he can alone,” writes Dapper shakily. “He manipulates thoughts and he can possess people. You manipulate souls and emotions. I woke up a different person. Since then I feel like I have a different personality every day. You and Anti took who I was from me.”

Dark shakes their head faintly, squinting for a moment. They glance at Dapper, at his eyes, at his chest. They don’t say anything.

“Please don’t hurt me anymore,” writes Dapper.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” says Dark gently, and they try to make it feel, in Dapper’s heart, that this is true, but all he does is close his eyes and hide.

Anonymous asked: hey, jamie, dapper, my dear. i know you've been hurt by dark before, and i'm not saying you have to forgive them, or trust them, or anything. but can you try to trust us, when we tell you that you are safe? i wouldn't say that lightly, dap. but right now, you are safe. deep breaths. we're here to help you.

“There, that’s right,” agrees Dark quietly. “Don’t be scared.”

Dapper shudders under another wave of their power. Affection and faith well up in his chest, and this feeling, at least, has an anchor of truth in his head, a foundation it can stand on. Yes, he remembers the days when you have kept him company, the days when you have warned him of danger or convinced Anti to leave him alone. He remembers Trick and Dok taking him for fish and chips, presents you picked out for him, and the beeping of the camera on so many of the nights in the past seven months where he would have been completely alone without you.

He sucks in a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“If I met you and your brother,” says Dark. “Why don’t I remember?”

“You are a creature manipulated by the stories your creator tells,” writes Dapper slowly.

“Mark did this?”

“No. Another storyteller. My creator gave me his power of manipulating stories. Last year I changed things without meaning to. There are inconsistencies now - people who remember things that never happened in this timeline, and people who have forgotten things that happened to them in another life. And then there are things like you, somewhere in the middle - torn between memory and loss.”

Dark’s eyes narrow, smoke curling off their shoulders.

“I know you don’t remember Anti,” writes Dapper. “But at the same time, you do.”

“Enough,” says Dark. “Quiet. Let me think.”

Deep black eyes pierce into JJ like a scalpel. He stares up at the light, trying to breathe.

“The truth is you know nothing of what’s happening around you,” Dark murmurs.“You’re delusional and ill. You remember things that haven’t happened because you have a disorder.”

“No,” signs JJ, shaking his head. “No.”

He does have delusions sometimes, very intense ones. But he won’t let Dark tell him that he doesn’t know his own power - the piece of himself that Jack gave him.

“Look at you.” Dark shakes their head, eyes glittering, and smoke curls around them like creeping cats wandering through the air. “The moment you’re away from him, you crash, is that it?”

Dapper closes his eyes, turned up to the lights.

Dark hums and gets to their feet, drawing out wine and glasses as though from the shadows themselves. They pour two cups of rich, black wine and press a cool cup into his hands. Dapper’s fingers wrap around the glass slowly, his eyes blank.

“Why did you become psychotic the moment you were away from him?”

His gaze flickers up to Dark’s. He doesn’t answer.

“Of course,” mutters Dark, backing away and sitting down in their chair. “You live with a mind manipulator. I bet he makes the voices quiet, doesn’t he?”

Dapper’s mouth parts, a gleam of something hard appearing for moment in his eyes before shifting away again, leaving him tired and only vaguely annoyed.

“Admit it,” says Dark. “You rely on him. Don’t you? You wouldn’t last on your own, not without him. The medication manages some of it and he manages the rest. When he’s away, you can barely survive. You need him – desperately.”

You can hear Dapper breathing now. His eyes are fixed on the light above. He holds his wine too tightly in his fingers.

“And he tells you so,” adds Dark slowly, staring at Dapper’s face. They tilt back their wine and they drink. “Doesn’t he? Constantly, I would guess. You and him both know that you need him – and he loves it.”

Dapper doesn’t have anything to say to them. He wants to be far away. He hates them.

“It must be difficult to be both – ”

“Don’t even fucking start with me, jackass, as if you know anything about what it’s like to be mute and psychotic and abused by the person I love most in the world, as if you’re not the one who fucking triggered my schizophrenia, as if you know anything about my life or what I’ve done to – ”

“Calm down,” says Dark gently, and Dapper feels a rush of unnatural calm flood over him. For a second of raw terror, he is completely aware that he’s being forced to feel something he doesn’t really feel, and then, the next moment, he is slumped back in his chair, letting out a low sigh of relief.

“I can’t understand sign language, so you’ll have to write for me,” says Dark. “We can have a calm conversation if you stay level-headed instead of getting so out of control. I’ll forgive you because of your fever.”

Dapper reaches dazedly for the writing pad, trying to keep his thoughts straight. This is happening again. He’s losing himself again.

“You talk about my brother controlling me and then shove your way into my chest yourself,” he manages, his handwriting scrawling and small. “Just tell me what you want from me or let me go home.”

Dark drinks from their glass again, never breaking eye contact.“What do you think I want?”

“I think,” Dapper scrawls. “That you don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on.”

It is Dark’s turn for their eyes to gain a hardness. Something glitters in black irises.

“And you hate that, don’t you, Darkness? More than anything. More than anything.”

Dark does not answer.

“You want to know how to kill Anti because you remember him,” writes Dapper. “The fragments of the memory of him haunts you because you hate not knowing and you hate being confused, and the thought that I somehow changed your story is second in bitterness only to the knowledge that Mark has already told it for you. Of course you don’t want to admit you don’t remember. It means someone else changed you without your permission. Your greatest fear.”

“Watch your words,” warns Dark.

“Anti hated you at first. We would agree that you were a creep, a control freak, an asshole. But you were insistent. How pretty he was, you would say, and how you had finally found someone who matched you in ferocity. After a while, it started to flatter him. He decided he was some sort of exception to you. You would be terrible to everyone else but good to him. He loved that. The thought of being special to someone. His abandonment issues made him look past everything horrible about you.”

“You’re making this up.”

“You taught him to dance,” writes Dapper, his words coming faster and faster beneath his scrawling hands. “Do you remember? Your hands on his waist as he finally trusted you enough to put his head on your shoulder. You would bring him flowers, roses he pretended he didn’t want and then put in a vase by his bed, purring to me about how wrapped around his finger you were. You would go hunting together and let him have the kill because you loved to see him lose his mind with the power and the fun of it all. His sadism was wild any time he was with you. He would come home and hurt me on accident - mostly - because he was so violent and worked up he couldn’t control his energy and his excitement. Do you remember?”

Dark’s eyes are raised to JJ’s now, staring at him, their mouth faintly parted.

“Have you been dreaming, Dark?” asks Dapper. “Killing him won’t make it stop. Speak with him. I don’t think the two of you know what love is, but you loved the time you spent together.”

“You’re sentimental as well as delusional,” answers Dark, tilting back their wine.

“I would listen to me if I were you,” writes Dapper. “Because at this point, Dark, there are outcomes - you cool his fury, or he will kill you.”

Red and blue in Dark’s eyes. Bone through their rotting fingers.

“My brother has taken on power he should never have stolen,” says Dapper. “You can’t beat him with Blue’s power combined with his own. Calm Anti down, Dark - or he will burn down everything you love.”

Dark blinks, revealing, if only for a moment, an unsettled look on their face.

Outside the window, the others are laughing and talking. Dark catches a glance of Wilford’s bubblegum hair and the movement of the enormous dog you spotted earlier. Host’s voice murmurs down to them through the ceiling and someone is cooking in the kitchen, making the house fragrant with garlic and spices.

“Please leave me alone now,” says Dapper.

“One last thing. Is it true that you can time travel?”

“Yes,” Dapper answers. “I know you can feel the power in my chest.”

“I could take it,” says Dark. “If I wanted to. Your power is a part of your soul and that, my darling, is my specialty.”

Dapper flips a page on his pad and writes across the full page:

“It would burn you alive.”

A flicker of a small on Dark’s coy mouth.

“Yes,” they say. “I suppose it would. I’m not as stupid as your brother.”

“Whatever you say,” writes Dapper dryly.

Dark gets to their feet, draining the last of their wine.

“Can I go?” writes Dapper desperately.

“Hm? Oh, no. We’re not finished, doll. Hey.”

Dark reaches out to cluck his chin, but Dapper jerks back, terrified. Dark laughs and takes their hand back, leaving Dapper with a sudden and painfully intense feeling of exhaustion. He crumples against the bed, his eyes flickering shut.

“Get some sleep,” murmurs Dark, turning their back and beginning to disappear back into the shadows. “Hostages are no good to me dead.”

Dapper fades into darkness.

.

Blue wakes up to a hand on his shoulder. “Mh? What is it?”

He hears his twin chuckle softly above him. “You make cat noises when you’re waking up.”

“Mmmhhhh,” protests Blue sleepily, cuddling down deeper into his blankets.

“You can go back to sleep,” Red whispers. “I just wanted you to know I’m heading back to the house for a couple days. Stay here with Dok and I’ll - ”

Blue is awake. He almost flinches out of the sheets, sitting up fast and grabbing Red’s sleeve. “Wait, no. I’m coming with.”

“No, Blue, you need to stay here and rest.”

“I’m feeling much better,” replies Blue, his tone brooking no argument. “And I am NOT going to be miles and miles away while you go back to an Anti who’s no doubt furious. I need to see the others too. I have to make sure they’re okay. That’s my job.”

“I’m coming too,” answers a quiet voice from the doorway - Dok slipping into the room with three cups of hospital coffee.

“Guys, no,” protests Red. “Please. I’d rather you be here. Dok, Anti threatened to kill you.”

Dok shrugs, placing coffee down on the bedside table. He plucks at his necklaces. “We might need these,” he says, picking at each raven talisman in turn. “And I… I need to see Trick.”

“We’re both going, Red,” Blue insists, touching his arm and squeezing reassuringly. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’re here.”

Red smiles weakly at the both of them. “Just… promise me you won’t try anything stupid, okay?”

“Promise,” says Blue.

“I never do,” answers Dok dryly.

The twins laugh quietly at his answer. It does not, however, hide the fear that trembles in Dok’s fingertips and rattles the insides of his chest.

He can do this. He can. He has to.

immabethehero asked: Good luck dudes!

“Thanks,” says Ro, looking up at the house. “Yeah, thanks, we appreciate it.”

Blue and Dok are behind him. He can hear them whispering to each other, but he doesn’t want to interfere. Blue is wrapped around Dok like a vice, rubbing his back as he tries to reassure him, and Dok clings to his necklaces and his sibling and hides.

“Is, um.” Ro stares at the windows and door. “Is Anti really angry? Is he in there right now? I don’t really know what to expect…”

Anonymous asked: uh, trick? i believe noodle has decided to go exploring. outside. i'm going to tell the others, so they can look for noodle too, but i thought you should know.

“Noodle?”

You find Trick kneeling by the door, scratching at the carpet and trying to catch his cat’s attention. Yesterday, he waited patiently for Noodle to come back. Today, four days after Dapper was taken, Trick has only seen Noodle twice, and the light in his eyes has become desperate and frantic.

“Baby!” he hollers, sticking the last piece of jerky under the door. “Come here, sweetie! Daddy’s upstairs. Where are you? No, no, no, he can’t have gone outside. Noodle, come here! He’s never been outside in his life. He’s always been with me. Noodle!”

He wipes at hot tears on his face, back shaking from how long he’s been crouched there. Anti has let him out of the room a couple times, but he’s been with him the whole time, so all he’s done is make himself dinner a couple times or watch a movie with Anti.

He wants things to go back to normal.

“Noodle! Please come here! You’re scaring me!”

Anonymous asked: Dok, what if you feigned that you were "taking off" your necklaces, but quickly clasped the animal one around Anti, then got him weak as you could and used the light? Or perhaps told him the only way to stop their power was for him to wear them, then put the animal one around his neck? Do you think a plan like that would work?

“Yeah, if I can manage that I would like to do this,” says Dok frailly, gripping Blue’s hand so hard it’s beginning to bruise. “Might not be able to trick him, but could maybe act fast and hurt him.”

“Remind me what all of these do,” murmurs Blue, touching his brother’s collarbone.

“This one is light, this one is transformation, and this one keeps Anti out of my head,” Dok whispers. “They said I should give the light one to a warrior.”

Blue glances at Red, pacing his way towards the house. He wants to be the first one inside, to bear the brunt of Anti’s fury. Blue pulls Dok after him, trying to think.

Anonymous asked: Trick has been alone for such a long time, and Anti has been locking him all alone in one room most of the days, he really needs you Dok, needs you to help him fight. As for Anti, he's been in and out of the place, we're not sure what he's doing.

“Anti locked Trick in his room?” asks Red.

“Let’s go,” says Dok, pulling away from Blue and hurrying towards the house.

“Dok! You don’t know if Anti’s in there!”

“He’s already seen us on the cameras from this close,” answers Dok, yanking open the door to the house and moving inside. “If he wants to come after us, he will. There’s nothing we can do about that. Right now, I just want to see Trick. Where is he?”

He runs down into the basement where they’ve been staying, but Trick isn’t there - and neither is Noodle. Dok returns to the ground floor, where Blue and Red are looking through their own room. Blue shuts the window that’s been open for days, making the room hot and airy.

“Where’s kitty?” asks Blue.

“I’m sure he’s just with Trick,” answers Dok. “Right?”

Anonymous asked: Trick is locked up in Anti's bedroom, and Noodle is missing, he escaped outside. Trick's been alone with no one but Anti for this whole time.

Blue and Red exchange wide-eyed looks, Red already pacing towards the door to look around for the cat. Dok races upstairs, feeling more awake than he has in weeks.

“Trick!” he knocks rapidly on the door and shuffling sounds greet him from the other side.

“Anti?”

“Trick, it’s me,” Dok calls.

“Dok!”

The way he calls his name is almost a sob. Dok scrambles with the lock on the door, turning the stiff lock to the right. Trick shoves the door open and meets his eyes.

“Are you okay?” croaks Dok.

“Fine,” whispers Trick, though his hair is limp and dry and his eyes hollowed out. “Are you?”

“Yes. I’m okay. Listen, Trick, I just - ”

Trick crashes into him and hugs him to his chest. They fall back against the wall, pinned together, skulls pressed together and arms wrapped around each other’s ribs.

“You don’t have to explain,” says Trick. “I should have protected you better, so you didn’t have to run away. I’ll be better for you, Dok. I’ll take better care of you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have been someone you could trust.”

“Trick…”

They wrap tighter around each other, rocking each other’s bodies against the wall, safe in each other’s grips.

Anonymous asked: He's here.

Blue is hugging Trick and Dok to himself, babbling at them about how he loves them, about how he missed him, about how happy he is to see him. Trick is relieved to feel less alone for the first time in days. He tells Blue he looks better and that he loves him too.

It’s Red who sees Anti.

He’s leaning against the banister at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at him with cold blue eyes.

Red swallows. Anti doesn’t say anything.

He signs “come here.”

And then he walks away.

Red feels a shudder down his whole body. He glances back at his brothers, celebrating the mini-reunion together, talking about everything that’s happened.

He doesn’t see Dapper. Anti must have him with him.

Red needs to see him.

He swallows once again, clearing his throat this time. He won’t be afraid. He can’t let himself get lost in Anti’s lies again. He sees what he is more clearly than he has in years and now - now he has to protect his brothers from the monsters in the middle of them.

He moves down the stairs after Anti.

Anonymous asked: Uh guys, look out, the big-bad wolf is here

“Big bad wolf…”

Anti turns back to Ro for a moment in the middle of the hall, his eyes burning red.

“That’s me, then, right, Jackie?”

Ro’s blood seems to frost over in his veins. He stops short in the hallway, mouth parted.

Anti narrows his eyes and turns away, leading Ro further down the hall. Red can barely bring himself to follow, but his nerves are tempered by his confusion.

Anti has never called him Jackie before.

“Where’s Dap?” he asks quietly, stepping after Anti.

Anti doesn’t answer. He steps into the office room where you once found Dapper drinking and waits.

Red steps in after him, chewing on his lip.

Anti closes the door behind him and sits down at the desk, propping his feet on the table. He glares at Ro, flipping a knife in his hands.

“You got a deathwish or something,” says Anti.

“No,” Ro manages. “No.”

“Tell me why you went,” Anti snaps.

“You were threatening Dok. Blue was sick. I got scared.”

Anti stares at him, eyes burning with flame.

Anonymous asked: Anti Blue was dying and you were threatening Dok. Don't punish Red for being their protector, that's literally what you make him be. Thanks to his action, neither of them are dead. You have him to thank for the time away you got to think about your temper.

Anti takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. “Was that all it was?”

“Yes,” says Ro quietly. “I just didn’t want them to get hurt. Anti, you can’t threaten to murder Dok and expect me to - ”

“I can do what I want,” snaps Anti. “What’s your name?”

“What?”

“What’s your fucking name?”

Ro licks his mouth anxiously, glancing around for a second. He wishes Blue were here.

“It’s Red, Anti.”

Anti sighs, shaking his head at him. His posture relaxes slightly, letting his head thump back against the office chair.

Anonymous asked: Dapper isn't with him because Dark's soldiers stole him away. It seems like Anti can't find him.

“What?” asks Ro, incredulous. “Wait, you mean you actually let that monster get their hands on him?”

“You weren’t here!” shouts Anti, glitching to his feet and making Red stumble back. “You were the one I chose to protect them, Red, but you ran away without him or Trick like they meant nothing to you!”

“I thought you would keep them safe!” cries Red.

“I would have been able to if you had been here and I had known about Dark!” Anti snarls back, slamming his hand into the office table, a slight tremor in his palms. “But you and them both turned your backs on me! I can’t trust anyone but myself!”

“You were going to hurt Dok!”

Anti’s palm connects with Red’s face, sending him staggering back. He feels blood rush to the handprint on his cheek and he grips at his face weakly, looking up at Anti with watery eyes.

“You would have been useless if you were here anyway,��� growls Anti. “You’re terrified of Dark. Fucking coward boy. And to think, Jack called you a hero.”

Hurt and fury light up in Ro’s chest. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut, straightening his back again and clutching his hands into fists.

“I found Dark today,” says Anti coldly, turning away. “We can get Dapper back. If you help me, maybe I won’t fucking slaughter you for running away like the little bitch you are.”

“I’m not a little bitch,” says Red. “You… you’ve never liked me.”

“Correct,” answers Anti.

Anonymous asked: Jackie's throwing caution to the wind, you're willing to throw everyone's lives to the wind. Even moreso now that this is the last run-through, right?

“If you turn on me like that again,” says Anti. “I’ll kill you like I promised you I would.”

“You expect my loyalty,” says Ro. “But you don’t even like me. You threaten us and hurt us. How do you expect me to stay?”

“You’ll stay because if you don’t I’ll end all five of you,” snarls Anti, Jack’s teeth in his mouth giving way to those of a dog. “What, you think you did a good job, running away from me? Think you saved them from anything? I know you were staying in Ashley Valley Hospital Room 412.”

Ro’s blood is cold.

“I know the fake names you used, I know the food pantry where Dok was getting you food everyday, I know what Blue’s doctors said, I know, I know, I know. You can’t get away from me, Red. You never will. All the more because you’re a spineless, needy moron who can’t think of anything but a man who doesn’t love him anymore and whatever bullshit your mind fixates on on any given day. You’re broken, Red. Same way Jack made Chase and JJ broken. Even when you were Jackie, you were still pathetic.”

“Wonder why Marvin and I were able to beat you to hell, then,” says Ro.

It’s a mistake as soon as he’s said it. It’s a mistake. It was a bad choice. He shouldn’t have said it.

But he doesn’t regret it.

Anti takes a step back towards him, his eyes narrowed like a cat’s.

Jackie takes a step towards him too, fists clenched.

“When I said that you made me forget important things in the past,” he says. “I meant that you made me forget people I loved and the places I come from. But there are other things you made me forget too, Anti. You’re not as untouchable as you’ve always told me you were. And you know what else?”

Anti’s eyes are pupil-less, iris-less, white.

“I think you’re still afraid of me,” he says. “I think that every time you flinch back from a bird at the window, you are flinching away from the memory of just how bad I hurt you the first time you stole my baby brother.”

Anonymous asked: Stand strong, Jackieboy man. You've got a war to fight.

Stand strong. He straightens his back. The others need him.

“Come on, then,” he snaps, taking another step forward. Anti takes a step back. “I can see it in you. That you want to hurt me. It’s a look I’ve gotten used to. That you want to see me begging so you feel less scared.”

“You shut your mouth, Jackie,” says Anti.

“No,” spits Ro, clenching his fists. “No, I won’t. I’m tired of you silencing me. I’m not stupid and I’m not a coward.”

Anti strikes him, harder than the first time. Red backs off, grabbing his face with a gasp. Tears water in his eyes. He straightens up again, seething.

“You’re the fucking coward, Anti,” he croaks out, something snapping in his chest. His little brother really has always hated him, no matter how hard he tried to love him. “I won’t let you tell me differently anymore.”

Anonymous asked: Hey younger brothers, you miiight want to go to the office with Red and Anti, something tells me it's about to go downhill from here, and you'd be stronger together, protecting each other.

Blue blinks and looks around, realizing only now that his twin is gone.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes.

He turns and races down the stairs, tearing towards the office.

Anonymous asked: You are not pathetic, Jackie. You are a hero, through-and-through. You've spent your every waking moment protecting them from abuse in any way you were able. "Broken" is just Anti being an ableist, abusive asshat. You are stronger than him. You always have been, no matter what he tries to convince you of. Break free of him, Jackieboy Man.

“Yeah, you know what, they’re right,” Jackie continues, lifting his chin up and glaring at Anti as bruises form on his face. “You know what I think, Anti? I think you’re so desperate to believe that our creator - that Jack - ”

“Don’t say that name!” screams Anti, slapping him again.

Red laughs. “I think you’re so desperate to believe that Jack was in the wrong that you tell yourself he did something wrong to us just because of things like me being autistic. And that’s pretty fucked up, Anti. There’s nothing wrong with me. There’s nothing wrong with Dap and Trick. Honestly? I think Jack was probably an okay guy, and you’re the one who’s always been the villain.”

“Stop it!” screams Anti, driving his fist into Red’s chest. Red steps back, but doesn’t falter. “Stop it, stop it!”

“You like to act like you’re in control and you can’t even control your temper and your fucking daddy issues!”

“Red!” shouts Anti, his eyes flashing. “Stop it! You’re just like Jack, you’re just like Dark, everybody turns on me eventually! You were always just Jack’s little soldier, his failsafe! You think I made you a guard dog? Jack used you for years to get what he wanted.”

“Jack was trying to protect us from you!”

“You don’t even remember!” Anti grabs Red by the throat and slams him into the wall, crashing his head into wood. “Who have you been talking to? You - ”

“Hey, stop, stop!” cries Blue, appearing to grab Anti’s hands, trying to tear him off his twin. Anti kicks his cane away from him and sends him crashing to the ground.

“I ought to put both of you right back in the hospital!”

“Anti, don’t hurt him!” shrieks Blue. “Dapper’s not here! You can’t fix this if it all goes wrong!”

Anti’s grip tightens for a moment on Red’s throat. Ro chokes, gripping at his fingers.

Anti drops him to the ground.

“You’re right,” he spits, turning to grab Blue by the hair, dragging him back up to a sitting position. “So I’ll deal with you two once I have my boy back.”

[valkyrieofthehighfae]

Horseshoes, Hand grenades, and Gargoyles

Summery: Hally Lavellan has been hired to take on a clan of gargoyles on her own. Explosives and chaos ensue and the elven woman finds herself in a world of excitement.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Violence, language

Tagging: @thearohandmaiden, @capricornrabies, @notreallybeccab, @meshlamando​​

It was late when I got the call from Keres’ guard, Sylvain I think his name was, requesting my assistance in an important matter. I was a little confused as to why the Blood Fae was requesting for my help exactly since, y’know, elves and Fae don’t like each other much, but I was getting paid, so I wasn’t about to turn him down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, did you say you’d pay me to make weapons and go kill a clan of gargoyles? Fuck yes! I get to make things explode, this is the happiest day of my life!” I was grinning widely at the big guy’s words, absolutely excited to get paid to blow shit up. This was the dream! “When do you need me? Uh huh. Okay, I can be there in a week. No, no, it’ll only take me twenty minutes tops to make everything I need, it’s the ride there that’s gonna take that long. And, uh, convincing Rune that this is a good idea. My fee is six thousand gold to cover expenses on materials, travel, and on the offhand that I lose a limb doing this. Well, another limb anyway.” I rubbed my right arm, wincing at the thought of going through another loss of a limb. One prosthetic was more than enough, thank you.

“Brilliant! I’ll get to work and see ya in a week.” I ended the call and jumped to it, grabbing my sketchpad and began designing a grenade launcher and rocket launcher of my own design, turning on my music and cranking it loudly as I got to work, welding and hammering, singing along with the tunes excitedly. I was so into my work, I didn’t notice Rune at first until she was turning my music off, startling me.

“Lahalaan Lavellan, I have been yelling at you for the past twenty minutes. What are you doing?” Rune had her hands on her hips, glaring daggers at me and I winced a little bit, grinning awkwardly.

“I’m making a grenade launcher and rocket launcher. I just got a call from Keres’ guard about hiring me to make them and go kill a clan of gargoyles!” I didn’t falter under her glare, my baby sister not as intimidating as she thought she was.

“I-I’m sorry, you what?” She was staring at me like I’d grown a second head and I assumed she hadn’t heard what I told her.

“I was hired to make a grenade launcher and go kill gargoyles.” I was ecstatic over the idea, I had been dying for a little action, it had been so boring lately, so this was going to be a blast. So to speak.

“I… do you have a plan at least?” Rune wasn’t even shocked at this point, she just rolled with it. Guess she was too used to my shenanigans for anything to surprise her anymore, which was mildly disappointing. I needed to do better about keeping her on her toes clearly.

“Yes!” I grinned then stopped for a moment and frowned a bit. “No… Yes!” I had to cycle through a couple of thoughts for a moment before coming to a full decision, but I was almost certain that I had at least half a plan put together.

“This is either madness, or brilliance.” Rune was pinching the bridge of her nose at my response, her voice sounding tired and resigned.

“It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide with each other.” I pointed out, much to her irritation clearly with that groan she let out before walking out of my workshop, grumbling in elven. I chuckled softly before turning my music back on and getting back to work on my project, wanting to get it all completed and ready to go.

~*~*~

One week later, Rune and I were riding up to the palace on our harts, the two of us looking up at the famed Scarlet Keep with wide eyes.

“Whoa. It’s so much bigger than I was expecting it to be,” I muttered in elvish to Rune, who nodded slowly, eyes the size of dinner plates as we got closer to the keep. Waiting outside for us was Keres, the Blood Fae queen grinning as we hopped off the harts and approached her, the Fae hugging us tightly.

“What are you two doing here? I wasn’t expecting to host you! Not that I’m unhappy to see you, of course, I’m glad you two are here.” Keres stepped back, puzzled now that our greetings were over and done with.

“We’re here to kill gargoyles!” I was beaming. “Well, okay, I’m here to kill gargoyles. She’s here to make sure I don’t blow myself up.” I pointed at Rune and Keres just stood there, head slightly tilted, and brow furrowed.

“I’m… sorry? I don’t recall asking you to come do that?” Keres was puzzled, trying to determine when she asked us to be gargoyle exterminators.

“You didn’t. I did,” Sylvain came walking out, dressed in that imposing ass armor of his that had Rune shifting closer to me, hiding a little bit from the intimidating Fae. “Got here just in time too. Do you have what you need?”

“Oh yeah,” I grinned motioning to the grenade launcher and rocket launcher plus the bag of ammo. “So, where’s our quarry? Oooh I sound like a bounty hunter when I say it like that.”

Rune rolled her eyes and shook her head, smacking me upside the head lightly, earning a scowl from me as I rubbed my noggin where she smacked me.

“You know, how’s Opal gonna feel about you being this stoked to kill gargoyles?” Rune inquired with a cocked eyebrow, bringing up our gargoyle friend in the Court of Stars. I opened my mouth to reply, then shut it again, thinking that over. What if this was her clan we were about to murderize?

“We don’t tell her about this…?” I ventured after a moment of awkward silence and Rune sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. The frustration was palpable and Keres snorted a little bit, muttering that this reminded her of her and Ajax a bit. “Anyway, let’s get moving! I wanna get going while there’s still daylight.” I pulled a map out of the bag I had with me and unfolded it so Sylvain could mark where we needed to go.

“We managed to take out quite a few of them, but I don’t know how many are left. There’s this old ruin they took over as their home, your best bet would be to start there.” Sylvain took my pen, marking the map and trail we needed to use.

“Brilliant. I’m expecting half of my payment upfront and the other half upon completion. You good with that?” I folded the map back up, handing it over to Rune, and accepted the small leather pouch he handed over, tossing it up in the air a few times, before palming it and sliding it into my bra. “Onword, Buttercup! There’s fuckery to spread!” I was cackling, scrambling up onto my hart’s back while Rune groaned.

“Only Varric gets to call me ‘Buttercup’, Hally.” She muttered darkly as we took off, waving at Sylvain and Keres. This was going to be intense and I was a little nervous; these were old elven ruins, who knows just how many gargoyles were there calling it home. I was almost a little nervous that I hadn’t made enough ammunition for this job, what if there were more gargoyles than originally planned on? I was getting too into my own head over this, I needed to pull myself together and focus on the job at hand. Just had to get through this and we’d be six thousand gold richer. Could use it to buy Rune a new bed since she and Spooks broke hers on accident, maybe stock up on some more supplies for the clan. This was going to be just fine.

~*~*~

“Was this part of the plan?!” Rune bellowed, hurling a fireball at a group of gargoyles hot on our heels as we raced through the elven ruins.

“No! No it was not!” I shouted back, turning long enough to hurl an explosive behind us, yelping as we got tossed forward from the blow back. We scrambled to our feet and took cover long enough for me to load up the grenade launcher and fire it off, wincing slightly from the kickback.

“You don’t even have a plan!” Rune realized quickly, hitting my arm angrily. I smacked her back, glaring at the pissed off mage and shook my head a little bit, trying to do some calculations in my head.

“I do too! Sort of!” I didn’t have shit but she didn’t need to know that. I was at least trying to come up with something, but thinking was a little hard when I was currently having to keep an eye out on my surroundings for fucking gargoyles. Now I got why Sylvain wanted this place cleared out, this clan was huge.

“Oh, brilliant, so you have half a plan?!” She conjured up a blizzard to slow them down and I crammed another grenade into the launcher, getting it set up for round two.

“Even better! I have a quarter of a plan!” No I fucking didn’t, I didn’t have shit. I was flying by the seat of my pants here and was winging this job.

“Brilliant! We’re gonna die!”

“There’s that Rune optimism I love! We’re not gonna die, it’s gonna be fine!” I lied through my teeth with a devilish grin. Had to keep my little sister reassured that we would be fine, that I was going to keep us safe. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. I’ve got an idea! Rune, start running!” I grabbed the rocket launcher, getting it set up and fished out some smoke bombs I’d made, yanking the pins and hurling them over our cover while Rune sprinted towards the exit. I took aim at the roof of the ruins, took a deep breath and fired the rocket, tossing the weapon aside and hauling ass as fast as I could after Rune as the ruins came down around me, Rune thankfully outside.

“Hally?! HALLY!”

I burst out of a cloud of smoke, dirt, and debris, coughing hard and collapsed to my knees, trying to catch my breath, and looked over my shoulder. There was no way any of them would have survived that, it took out the entire building, making it collapse in on itself.

“Sorry you can’t study that particular ruin, sis. Told you I had a plan.” I panted, taking her outstretched hand and getting to my feet. “Was it a good plan? No, no it wasn’t. But it worked!”

“You pulled that out of your ass right then and there, didn’t you? There was never any plan, you just went in without thinking. Well, okay, I say you weren’t thinking, but you definitely were thinking. Thinking about one thing: explosions. As per usual with your damaged brain.” She took her staff and hit me in the head with it, making me yelp.

“Why do you have to hit me?! That’s not gonna make me any smarter!”

“It might if I hit you hard enough!”

“Let’s just go collect the rest of my money please. I need a shower. And we have a week-long ride home. Hey, think Keres will let us stay at the palace tonight?” I asked and Rune just threw her hands into the air, stalking off without answering. “Rune? C’mon, what do you think?” I called after her retreating back, breaking into a jog to catch up with her, hoping that Keres would be cool and let us crash there for a night. Fighting gargoyles was a lot tougher than I’d originally thought and I wanted a shower and a nap.

[aliceslantern]

Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 10

Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.

Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.

But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.

Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo arrives in Destiny Islands, and experiences quite a bit of culture shock.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

It was raining in Radiant Garden when Riku arrived. He very nearly had trouble with visibility and the ship skidded a little when he touched down. He swore.

He'd offered his friends the opportunity to come along, on the one hand trying to get Sora interested in something, but he just said to "enjoy time with your boyfriend" with an eyebrow waggle.

He and Kairi had both been merciless, teasing him about it. Neither seemed that concerned he was dating someone who used to be Zexion. They both said Ienzo was a great guy. "Dating." They hadn't been on a date; he could fix that. They hadn't also called it that in so many words. Ienzo had, in his letter.

Riku's heart was racing. He checked himself one last time, making sure his hair looked alright in its ponytail.

Ienzo was waiting under an outcropping, a small duffle next to him. Riku dashed out of the rain as quickly as he could. “Beautiful day, isn’t it,” he said to Riku, and Riku noted that the subtleties of his tone had not carried over to the letters.

“Just perfect,” he said, feeling at a bit of loss for words. He was here, he could touch him.

There was a beat, a moment. Ienzo cleared his throat a little. “I’m not a mirage,” he said.

Riku chuckled. “Right.”

A bit awkwardly, Ienzo pulled him close. Riku got the notion that he didn’t hug much, and it probably didn’t feel natural to initiate. But it felt good, too good, to hold him, to breathe in his smell. He didn’t want to pull away, not yet. “It feels like ages, and yet an instant,” Ienzo said. “Let me look at you.” He pulled away and brushed his fingers across Riku’s cheek. “Your hair grows preternaturally fast.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. Riku realized for the first time that he was, in fact, now slightly taller than Ienzo.

Ienzo just stared at him as though he might disappear. Riku wondered if this time had been lonely, or difficult, for him. Ienzo cleared his throat a little. “Enough of the longing gazes for now, I think.”

“Right. Ah. But first.” He kissed him, and for a second they melted against each other. It felt exactly like Riku remembered. “Not sure I could’ve flown straight if I didn’t do that.”

“Well if it’s all in the guise of safety,” Ienzo said. “Do you need anything before we leave? Are you hungry?”

“I brought snacks,” he said. “Let me get your--” He picked up the bag.

“What a gentleman.”

They walked quickly through the rain back into the ship. “As many times as I’ve seen the inside of this on a video, I’ve never actually seen it,” Ienzo said. “It’s quite a lot smaller than I thought.”

“Yeah, no idea how the three of them managed,” Riku said. “You should see the size of the bunk rooms. But Sora’s a half-pint. You want to nose around a moment, go for it.”

“...I think I shall.”

Riku watched him poke around, looking into the tiny rooms, almost hitting his head on the door frames. His eyes were alight with curiosity. “These are so small,” he said.

“Sora always said they tried to avoid sleeping in it if they could.”

��I don’t blame them.” He turned back. “Well. Thanks for that. Should I just--”

“Sit wherever,” he said. “You only really need the straps for takeoff. It’s really safe.”

“...Quite.” He sat to Riku’s right and did up his harness. “Here we go, then.”

He smirked. “You nervous?”

“No,” he said. “But consider I’ve never much been off the ground.”

“It’s okay. I won’t kill us.”

“How reassuring.”

The takeoffs and the landings were always Riku’s favorite part, partially because it required the most input from him. Seeing the worlds disappear beneath him, and feeling the g-forces, was always a bit of a thrill. He tried to do so as gently as possible, keenly aware that as a first time flyer part of Ienzo’s calm was staged. He had his hands clenched very tightly in his lap. But once they were actually in the quiet of space, this seemed to disappear. “Is that really it?” Ienzo asked softly, gazing down at the world.

“Cool, isn’t it?”

“This is bizarre. It’s so… small.” He pressed his hand gently against the windshield. “Huh.”

Riku let him have the moment. “You’ll see more as we go along,” he said. “But it’s mostly a lot of rubble.”

“From the Fracture, I’m sure.”

“Could be.” He turned away and set the course. “We’ve got a good few hours before we get there.”

Ienzo undid the straps and settled more comfortably. “Is it very hard, to fly?”

Riku laughed. “No,” he said, and to demonstrate he lifted his hands from the controls, seeing Ienzo pale. “Aside from takeoffs and landings it pretty much flies itself. All of the positioning gummies. You wanna try?”

Riku could see him debating it. “Maybe on the way back.”

“All I have to do is keep an eye on the radar. If we’re lucky we might see some Heartless ships, but they’re generally getting rarer and rarer.”

“Do you fight them?”

“Yeah. There’s lasers, and a shield, the whole nine. Sora has it tricked out pretty good. Most of them are weak, anyway.”

Ienzo leaned over a little more to see the dash.

“There are other ways to travel around, but this is the most comfortable,” Riku said. “Using the lanes between… it’s like a motorcycle versus a car.”

“I’m going to pretend I’ve experienced either of those things.”

Riku chuckled. “Right. Well, you’ll see some of that on DI.”

He was quiet for a moment. “This is one of the first times I’ve physically travelled anywhere,” he said. “Whenever I… went to other worlds, I just… used a dark corridor. All it took was a few steps.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Travelling? Yes. Darkness? No. Always a stink that’s hard to get rid of.” He wrinkled his nose. “I haven’t been anywhere since I’m human again. ...And that’s nearly two years.”

“...I can’t exactly say the same.”

They chatted for a while longer, about nothing much, mostly about Riku’s new life back home. He was more excited than he thought to show Ienzo around, to give him a taste of normalcy as well. “Though it’s going to be a whole lot hotter than you’re used to,” he said. “Like, don’t be shy to tell me it’s too much. We can go back into the AC.”

Ienzo laughed. “It’s a good thing I like you.”

Riku felt his face flush. He tried to come up with something witty to say quickly. “...You said you had to tell your friends something to leave.”

“Yes. Well.” Ienzo leaned back and crossed his legs. “In their minds, one must always have a reason to go somewhere. Leisure isn’t exactly in their codebook. I said I wanted to check in with Sora and Kairi, make sure everything was alright, learn what I could about your journey. Ansem already knew, and asked if I would be visiting you, too. It was only a hop-skip-and-jump before the others figured it out. It… shocked them that I’d even wanted to pursue a relationship of any kind.”

“Why? You’re grown up.”

“To a degree they’re used to who I was , not who I am.”

Riku frowned and checked the radar. “I know how that is.”

Ienzo smiled. “I know you do. Does it bother you that I said something?”

“No. Not at all. Sora and Kairi have been teasing me about it. They think it’s hilarious. I’ve never really… shown that I had a crush on someone.”

“You have a crush on me? How sweet.”

“I’ve literally kissed you.”

The rest of the flight went smoothly, and Riku saw the familiar blue sphere emerge. “Ah, there it is,” he said. “Look.”

“How pretty.” He was already strapping himself in.

“We’re landing down on the play island. It’s basically the only inconspicuous place I can keep this thing. But it’s not far from there. And we’re a good few hours ahead of you for time, I think.”

“I see.”

His friends had helped him build the makeshift landing pad. The earth of it was different than the rest of the island, and they were on the far side where the ship couldn’t easily be seen from the mainland. The touchdown was easy. “Here we are.”

“I guess so,” Ienzo murmured.

“Ready?”

“Quite.”

He took Ienzo’s bag, and they started walking.

“You said this was a play island?”

“Oh, yeah. When we were kids we spent hours and hours here. Now we hang out here.” He pointed out the main landmarks; the shack, the waterfall, the treehouses. “It’s… a good place to come if you need to be alone. Lots of nooks and crannies.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“We’ll take my boat back to the mainland. From there it’s about half a mile walk.”

“A mile?”

“Right… uh…” He struggled to remember metrics. “Almost a kilometer. About ten minutes, fifteen if people stop us. Which they might. Sorry in advance.” He helped Ienzo down into the rowboat.

“Stop us?”

“Well, it’s a small island,” he said. “Everyone knows everyone, and everyone’s been chatting me up since I got back. A new face is gonna be interesting to them.” He started rowing. The surf was nice and gentle today, making it easy. He noticed Ienzo’s eyes flick to his arms and felt a flush of pride. “We’ll be staying with my parents.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to impose, I brought money for an inn--”

“Ienzo, no,” Riku said, with a small laugh. “You even bringing that up is gonna seem rude to my mom.”

“Oh… is that cultural?”

“I guess so?” He shrugged. “She loves entertaining, too. Besides, you might decide you want to stay longer than the amount of money you have.”

“I see--I didn’t even bring a hostess gift--”

“It’s alright,” Riku said. “That doesn’t matter here either. People like to host. They don’t expect you to do anything other than have a good time.”

He looked a bit embarrassed.

“Relax,” Riku said. “It’s going to be fine.” They were at the dock at last. He docked and helped Ienzo back out, taking his bag from him. The sun was starting to set now, casting the shore in pinks and reds.

“Oh…” Ienzo said. “That is lovely.”

“It kinda is,” Riku said. He rested a hand on Ienzo’s waist, and though he jerked a little at the touch, he leaned into it. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of sunsets here. But they’re always something.”

Ienzo nodded. After a few minutes, they headed up the shore to the road. They were standing close enough that their shoulders nearly touched, and Riku’s heart was beating hard. He wanted to touch him. He needed to. He reached out, groping for Ienzo’s hand, found it at last. Again, he jumped a little.

“I’m sorry--”

“No, I’m just not… used to it,” Ienzo said, squeezing his hand gently.

It was nice , walking up the road hand-in-hand like this. With my boyfriend, Riku thought. The streets were emptier at this hour than he thought, but then he remembered. “Oh, right, there’s a game going on.”

“A game?”

“Blitzball. On TV. I think it’s the playoffs. Well, better for us.”

“What is blitzball and what is TV,” Ienzo asked, not humorlessly.

Riku sighed and explained.

“Oh, almost like volleyball,” Ienzo said, with no explanation of what this was. “Though this TV intrigues me.”

“Well, I have one in my room, so we can watch later if you feel up to it.” If his parents didn’t chat them up until dawn.

They turned onto his street. The houses were fairly close together, with small patches of lawn. Ienzo looked around at it all, his eyes wide, curious. His eyebrows shot up when a car drove past them.

“That’s a car,” Riku said. “We use them to get around on land.”

“Fascinating. I’ve seen them on other worlds, but this looks different. How does it work?”

“Um…” He struggled to remember. “Well, they’re solar powered, so the sun charges the batteries, and the batteries… help make the engine go.” He laughed a little. “I don’t know anything about engines.”

“Do you know how to drive?”

“No. I don’t really need to. Almost everything is within walking distance, and if it isn’t, you can take the bus. Er. It’s a car that has room for lots of people, and takes them along a route.”

“Like a streetcar,” Ienzo said. “Radiant Garden used to have those.” He sighed. “I knew our worlds were different, but I didn’t realize… how much. I’m already sweating.”

“And this is night,” Riku said. “Wait til tomorrow.” He took his house keys out of his pocket. He could use the Keyblade, but that seemed weird, and extra. “This one.” The house looked like any on the street; a simple two-storey, three bedroom, with a small offshoot over the garage. The siding was a bright teal, and his mother’s well-groomed strelitzias were in full bloom.

“It’s cute,” Ienzo said. “Cozy.”

“I’ll give you “cozy.”” He laughed. “Alright. Prepare yourself.”

Ienzo sighed.

He put his key in the lock. Predictably, the door flew open before he could even twitch them. “Welcome home!” His mother said. “So glad you made it back in one piece.” She gave Riku a painfully tight hug. “You must be Ienzo. Oh, hello, dear, welcome to the islands.” Before Riku could stop her she’d swept him into a hug, too, and Riku saw the brief spasm of panic. “Sorry, I’m a hugger.”

Ienzo coughed a little. “Ah. Hello. Pleasure to meet you.”

“We’re so happy to have any friend of Riku’s.” She’d finally let go of him but was holding his hands tightly. “Dinner’s almost ready. You two must be starving after your long trip.”

“Sounds lovely,” Ienzo said dazedly. “Thanks so much.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “ Matsu! Your son’s back!”

“Watching the game?” Riku asked.

“ Glued. All afternoon.” She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you two get settled and I’ll call you when it’s ready?”

A tall, slender man--Riku’s father--came out of the room. He had a well-groomed mustache, his hair close cropped to his scalp. “Smooth ride?” he asked.

“Went off without a hitch,” Riku said. “Dad, this is Ienzo. Ienzo, this is my dad, Matsuda.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Ienzo said, offering his hand. Riku saw how hard and how firm his father took it and winced.

“You know when Riku said you were from another world I was imagining a little green guy, but you look pretty normal,” he said.

“Dad,” Riku said. “I told you about the One Sky thing.”

Ienzo laughed politely, a little stiffly. “I’m very much human.”

“Well I think that’s good. Can I get you something to drink? We have it all.”

“...Drink?”

“He means alcohol,” Riku said, rolling his eyes. “Dad, don’t make Ienzo drink if he doesn’t want to.”

“Er…” Ienzo clearly wasn’t sure what the right answer was.

“You know what, I’ll get you two a cassis.” He disappeared into the den, where the liquor was.

“You okay?” Riku asked. “I’m sorry they both grabbed you like that. We’re… feelers, here.”

Ienzo shook his head. “I’m sorry, this is all new to me.”

“It’s okay. I think they both understand. They’re just trying to be friendly.” Riku kicked himself both for not preparing Ienzo better and for not telling his parents to chill.  

Matsuda came back a minute later with two highballs of cassis orange. “Be careful with these,” he said, with a wink.

“Dad,” Riku said.

“Alright, alright, I’ll let you two get settled.”

Riku bobbed his head towards the garage door. “We’re up through here.”

“Does this have something to do with that long story?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

---

Ienzo followed Riku up a set of stairs to another door, which Riku unlocked. The drink was cold in his hand, and felt awkward to carry up. “Here we go,” he said.

It looked to be more of a studio apartment than a bedroom. There was an alcove opposite the door, which was just wide enough for a double bed. The alcove had a large window which faced the sea. Next to it was a tall dresser with a lamp. To Ienzo’s right was a small kitchenette, with a minifridge, a hot plate, a coffee maker, and a toaster oven. On the left was a sofa, which had been made up neatly with sheets and a few pillows. Near it was what looked to be a computer screen on a small stand, powered off, but with no accompanying console. The walls were a plain gray, and unadorned, and there were a few boxes labeled “RIKU--SAVE” shoved in one corner. The dark hardwood floors were clearly beautiful, but needed a good refinish. Everything smelled very clean, though there wasn’t anything that said anything about Riku as a person. “You have your own apartment,” Ienzo said.

“Ah--yeah, sort of.” Riku set down the duffle next to the couch. “I… used to have a bedroom in the main house, but then I disappeared, and my parents… went to grief counseling.” He turned red and couldn’t meet Ienzo’s eyes. “They were told it would help if they packed away my things, and they sold my furniture. They would’ve remade my room downstairs, but dad works from home now, so he kind of needs it as an office.” He cleared his throat. “This used to be my grandma’s apartment before she passed. They didn’t have the heart to rent it out, or anything.”

“Oh,” Ienzo said, very quietly.

“I like it, though,” he said. “Being close to them, but not too close. Having a sliver of independence.”

“I can see that.”

“We used to have an air mattress, but mice got to it. I hope the couch will be okay until we can get a new one.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” It was cooler in here, but not cool enough. Ienzo didn’t anticipate sleeping well anyway. He was still a bit shaky. He took a sip of the drink, found it went down easily.

“You don’t have to drink that,” Riku said.

“It’s tasty.”

He smiled a little. “He meant what he said when he said to be careful. He makes drinks strong.”

“Your parents. Do they know about us?”

“Yeah, I’m out,” Riku said. “Mom probably just didn’t want to push it.”

“And they’re okay with… us staying in the same room?” It made him blush just thinking about it, even if this was in the most innocent sense of the word.

Riku blushed too. “I know I said they’re suffocating me, but when I’m up here they try to give me privacy,” he said. “I don’t think they, uh, care what I do so long as I’m happy. And here. I’m an adult, after all.”

“Right. Understood.” Ienzo drank down more of the cocktail, partially because he was thirsty.

“...I hope you’re hungry. Mom cooks a lot , and I’m sure she’ll use you as an excuse to pull out all the stops. Show you islander cuisine and all that.”

He smiled a little. “Sounds lovely.”

A few moments later they were summoned. Riku’s house was similarly styled in bright colors, with a full living room. There was a shelf full of photos of Riku, and Ienzo couldn’t help his curiosity. “Oh, god, don’t,” Riku said quickly.

Ienzo smirked. “Look at you. Was this when you were a baby ? Look how fat your cheeks were.”

He turned redder than the drink in his hand. “I think she put these out specifically because you were coming.”

“I think it’s sweet.” He reached out and touched the frame in question. He felt a sudden stab of melancholy and wondered if there were any photos of him when he were little, if he’d have had this type of life if his parents hadn’t passed--

“Boys? Dinner’s ready.” Riku’s mother was slender and very beautiful; he looked more like her than his father. She brushed her hands off on her apron. Riku brought him through to the dining room.

The table was low to the ground, and there were no chairs, just small cushions. Most of the table was cluttered with lots and lots of small bowls of all sorts of things, some of which Ienzo could identify, some he couldn’t. He saw kimchi and poi, meats in some kind of sweet sauce, something that looked like dim sum. The mixture was eclectic but somehow it seemed to work, to make sense. And it all smelled delicious. He realized that, between the travel and being afraid to meet Riku’s parents, he was actually ravenous. “Oh no, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me,” Ienzo said.

“It was no trouble at all, dear,” she said.

“Mariko loves to cook,” his father said. “Besides, we’ll eat on it for the week.”

“Go ahead. Sit down.”

Ienzo did. It felt a little odd to be so low to the ground. “So you sort of take a little of what you want and use the same plate,” Riku told him.

There was also a pitcher of something pink that was passed around that he was also told was mildly alcoholic. Ienzo waited for the others to serve themselves before quickly taking at least a bite of everything onto his plate. But nobody ate. Instead, Riku’s mother and father both offered him one of their hands.

“They like to say a prayer first,” Riku said, a little embarrassed.

“Oh,” Ienzo said. “Sorry.”

Joined in an odd little circle, Matsuda bowed his head and the others followed, so Ienzo did too. “We’d like to give thanks to the gods for the meal we’re about to receive, and to give thanks for welcoming our son back safely home along with his new friend.” He said something in a language Ienzo could not understand, and Riku and Mariko both repeated it. “Alright, let’s eat.”

Everything was delicious and so interesting , not quite like anything he’d had before. He tried to remember the manners he’d been taught when he was young, but he noticed that all of them were even eating some of the dishes with their hands. “Everything is just wonderful,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Mariko said.

“...I like to pretend I’m something of a cook myself. Will you tell me a little bit about this?”

“Oh, don’t get her started,” Matsuda said.

Mariko told him all about islander cuisine and how it was prepared, down to the use of marinades, where their things were sourced, and on and on. Ienzo found it fascinating and wished he could write it down. “I’d be happy to share some of the recipes with you. Not all of it, though. Some of it’s secret.” She winked.

Ienzo wanted to keep eating, but he was already getting full and he’d been warned there was dessert. “I see.”

“What is it like where you’re from?” Matsuda asked.

“Riku’s kept it very hush-hush. Very mysterious,” Mariko said, approvingly.

“Oh… well, Radiant Garden isn’t all that special,” he said, thinking of how overwhelmed he’d felt on the island streets. Perhaps they would feel the same if they ever came to visit.

“Must be special enough if our boy’s going out of his way to see you,” his father said, though his tone was teasing.

“Matsu,” Mariko said. “Don’t embarrass the boy.”

Riku rolled his eyes a little. “Well,” Ienzo said. “For one, it’s quite a lot cooler there.” He told them a little bit about what the weather was like, about how the town was. He tried to not mention that Ansem had once been king, just that he was a scientist in the castle and that Ienzo had grown up there.

“A castle ,” Matsuda said, whistling. “Fancy.”

“Ah--not quite. Our world fell to darkness, quite like yours. So bits of it are in disrepair.” He didn’t mention Riku’s assistance there, not sure of the situation with his parents. “Coming here and seeing all these family homes has been quite refreshing.”

“So what is it you do?” Matsuda asked. “Do you go to school? Or work?”

Ienzo swallowed and took a sip of the pink drink. He drank so rarely that he feared he was a bit tipsy. “I’m a scientist, and a researcher,” he said slowly. “My main project lately has been restoration of the library’s collections.” A glamorous phrase for what he was actually doing.

“What is it you study?”

He blinked. “Well, historically, hearts. The metaphysical hearts in us all. But I’ve studied a fair share of lots of fields along the way.”

“Hearts. How romantic,” Mariko said.

“Ienzo’s work was actually instrumental in helping Kairi and I find Sora,” Riku said.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he murmured.

“Oh, don’t be modest, you helped bring him back to us. For that, you’ll always be welcome here,” his mother said.

Ienzo blushed and looked back down at his plate.

“Are you boys ready for dessert?”

Hours later, more stuffed with food than Ienzo could comprehend, Riku gently pried them from the table. Both of his parents kept asking all sorts of questions about Radiant Garden, about Ienzo, about how they’d met (this caused quite an awkward moment). Riku just said they’d met when he was looking for Sora and only got to know each other later. Ienzo was a bit drunk and a bit dehydrated and definitely tired.

“Mari, we should let the poor boys sleep before you keep them up all night,” Riku’s father said at last.

“Please at least let me help with the dishes,” Ienzo said. He could only imagine what it must look like in the kitchen with all this food.

“I absolutely will not,” Mariko said. “You’re a guest, and you’re exhausted. Go on, get settled. Get. ”

“Thank you,” he said softly, and followed Riku back to the apartment.

The room was mostly dark; Riku flicked on the lamp. “How are you holding up?”

“So full I could burst,” Ienzo said. “But that was… lovely.”

“I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable.”

“No, they didn’t. Not really. I’m…” How to put this without sounding pathetic. “I’ve never really… seen or taken part in such normal life.”

“No?”

“I was raised by five scientists in a lab. Sitting and having such an extensive home cooked meal was not a common occurrence.” He offered a smile. “Nor were either of the castles so homey.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t pity me,” Ienzo said gently. “That is just to say this all feels a bit foreign. You must be exhausted. You had a much longer day than I did.”

“The carbs don’t help,” he said.

“Is there… perhaps… some place I can shower?”

“Right--oh, of course, the bathroom’s through there. Do you need anything?”

“...Just a towel.” He dug into his duffle for his toiletries and pajamas.

Riku handed him one from a cabinet. “You can hang it on the door when you’re done.”

“...Thanks.”

After a cold, cold shower Ienzo felt a bit better. Riku had already changed and was sitting on his bed, braiding his hair. “If I don’t sleep with it like this it ends up a mess of knots.”

“...I see.” He identified the strangeness he was feeling--the odd intimacy of sleeping in someone else’s house, seeing them getting ready for something as mundane as bed.

“You wanna watch some TV?”

“I really am exhausted,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow?” Perhaps by then he’d feel curious.

He smiled. “Sure. Of course. Let me… let me know if you need any more pillows or blankets.”

“I sincerely think I won’t need more blankets,” Ienzo said. He sat down on the made-up soda. It was actually quite comfortable.

“Good night, Ienzo.”

“Good night, Riku.”

The light clicked off.

[ohmsservice]

Double Os Over Ice

Q hated Christmas.

No. Scrap that. He _loathed _Christmas.

“Fancy some punch, Sir?” R stood next to him in a Santa hat looking entirely too festive.

He didn’t want punch. Punch something maybe…

His smile was strained. Despite his feelings about the season he wasn’t about to take it out on his staff. “No thank you, R. Perhaps later,” he replied, returning his attention to his laptop.

“Oh by the way,” she said, smile encroaching those pink cheeks while she reached into the back pocket of her pants suit to hold aloft a red envelope.  “This arrived for you today.”

Q looked at the thing like it might be carrying a transmutable disease. “All scanned and checked out,” she said cheerily, thrusting it under his nose.

He took it tentatively. No one ever sent him post, let alone something resembling a Christmas card.

“Any word from 007?” she enquired innocently, sipping from her mug.

“Not a peep,” said Q, “it’s been nine bloody days. If he’s not dead already, I’ll kill him myself.”

He put the card next to his laptop when he heard the lilting voice of Eve pointing in his direction. “Aren’t you going to open it then?”

R and Q turned simultaneously. “Why, Miss Moneypenny. You look very Christmassy!”

Q rolled his eyes. “Surely M has something to say about you parading around Six wearing a tinsel scarf and…” he paused squinting at her hair. “Is that mistletoe?” Eve leaned forward to kiss R on the cheek. “Does that answer your question?” Eve said, grinning smugly. R was blushing, and grinning like a loon.

“Anyway, I just came down to deliver these,” she said, popping a bag of mince pies in R’s hand to distribute to the minion mass, “and to tell you to come to the bridge at 3pm.”

Q frowned. “Can’t. Busy.”

“Must. No argument. M’s given me carte blanche to boss you all around today.”

“Really?” R said, eyes bright and enthusiastic. “What’s the plan?”

“Just because it’s Christmas Eve…” Q grumbled.

“Precisely!” said Eve, with a brisk clap of her hands. “So hop to it, Q! No excuses. See you at 3pm!” she said with a curt tease, turning away with a twirl of her fingers in parting.

“You should just ask her out you know,” Q said quietly to R.

R sighed. “Way out of my league, Sir” she replied longingly. “Can’t wait to see what’s she’s got planned though!”

Q could. Q could wait until hell froze over. As if on cue and as though she knew he was thinking how to get out of the gathering, a message popped up on his screen.

Don’t be late Q. Remember. I’m an agent and M’s right hand.

A promise and a threat all rolled into one. Wonderful.

When 2pm rolled around, Q, who had been glancing with growing trepidation at the red envelope finally caved.

It was indeed a Christmas card, with a London postmark.

He took it out and stared. It had a photo of a kitten on the front, wearing a Santa hat looking like an anchovy wouldn’t melt in its mouth. The words “MEOWY CHRISTMAS!” printed along the bottom.

He opened it.

It turns out that Bond was capable of giving Q a headache even when not in the nearby vicinity.

“Equipment all present and accounted for. If you want it back, see you at the bridge by Six at 3pm.

Hugs and near misses, 007.”

Q calmly closed the card, feeling anything but. Oh he’d be at the bridge alright. The absolute nerve of the man…

The cold snap in London was hard and vicious enough to convince Q that climate change may be closer than even the experts thought. He wasn’t particularly fond of the cold, his thin layer of flesh doing little to protect his organs from its chilling bite. The inlet of water next to the river, because it was not especially deep, was completely frozen over. As Q and R made their way there at the designated time, Q glanced occasionally at his number one. “You know what’s going on, don’t you,” he stated. Her fake gasp told him all he needed to know.

“Really Sir! As if I’d keep secrets from you!”

“You may work with spies, R. Doesn’t mean you can lie like one,” he grumbled.

She was still beaming when they rounded the base of the bridge and Q was brought up short.

“Q!” shouted Eve, gesturing him over to where she stood amongst the Double Os who seemed to turn as one body to watch the approaching boffin. “So glad you could tear yourself away!” He squared his shoulders, determined not to buckle under the scrutiny of the intimidating bastards.

She thrust a starting pistol into his hands. “Would you mind doing the honours?” she asked, eyes twinkling. She made her way to the line of agents who’d in the intervening seconds organised themselves in a line standing on the edge of the inlet. She took position next to 004, Felicity Honour. 005 was there. And of course, 006 and 007. He just caught the end of whatever Trevelyan and Bond (the wanker) had been arguing about. As per usual.

“….you seem to forget, moy malen'kiy angliyskiy keks. I am Russian. I was born in this climate. It’s my home. You don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll see about that won’t we, Alec? Scotland isn’t exactly known for its balmy temperatures either,” retorted Bond.

“Focus boys! Three circuits of the pond and no cutting corners!” barked Eve. She looked over at Q who was standing looking dumbly at the pistol. “When you’re ready, Q!” she called out.

R nudged him. Oh well, he shrugged inwardly. He was outnumbered anyway. May as well go with the flow. He held the gun aloft and pulled the trigger.

“And may the best agent win!” shouted R above the cheers of the small gathering of MI6 staff who had turned up.

“What exactly is it that they do win?” enquired Q, secretly hoping Bond would fall flat on his arse and embarrass himself.

“Oh,” said R airily, watching as Eve and Honour tried to trip each other up. “Just dinner this evening with a Q-Branch staffer of their choice.”

Q looked mortified. “What the—?!” he spluttered. “I never agreed to that!”

R, ever the plainspeakinug associate, didn’t hesitate. “Of course you didn’t but we all voted on it and I voted for you by proxy.” He was about to argue when R put a finger against her lips and he found himself silencing.

“Those singles amongst us have sod all of a social life as it is. Time to let our hair down. Sir. Even if it’s just for one night. And it is Christmas after all.”

Q sighed. Well, he may be a miserable bastard at this time of year, but he did promise himself he wouldn’t take it out on the minions. He turned to watch the agents on their second lap of the pond. Eve, light and graceful on her feet marginally held the lead.

He’d just have to make sure that whichever agent did take the prize, didn’t abuse the privilege.

Because it’s Christmas, and miracles do sometimes happen, Alec beat all the other agents to the punch, but Eve, the host with the most, always found a way to ease the pain of an arsekicking by a fellow agent of their prideful colleagues. The small group of panting, sweaty Double Os were standing across the pond, about 15 feet away from the group of onlookers. Alec was disagreeing with Eve about something, while pointing towards what appeared to be Q’s position. Bond was standing with his arms folded, looking smug while Eve was evidently putting Alec in his place. And it was then, when Alec raised his tone, Q and R caught onto the nature of the conversation.

“….. said any _any _Q Branch staffer, Moneypenny.”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself then,” she said primly, glancing Q’s  way to give him fair warning of what was to come. “If he’s not comfortable, don’t be a bully about it, Trevelyan.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Q mumbled under his breath. Of course, there were more than 40 staff under his care, but 006 wouldn’t settle for anything less than the top dog.

“Time nip this in the bud,” he stated firmly before moving to march across the pond towards the group.

Bond had fixed his steel blue, hawk-eyed gaze on Q while Moneypenny and 006 continued to banter. Q was halfway across before he realised that perhaps the actual centre of the pond might not be the safest place to be. After all, the agents had skated their little race around the outer edge, where the ice was considerably thicker.

And Bond, ever vigilant, was moving towards the Quartermaster before the sheet of ice beneath his feet had even begun to crack.

It wasn’t especially deep water, 8-10 feet at most. But was enough to immerse Q completely. The shock of the cold hit his system so hard that his body went into a moment of paralysis that felt like an eternity. He was only vaguely aware of the muffled splash above him and strong hands grabbing his waist to shove him upwards. Numb to the core as he was, he barely felt another pair of hands - Trevelyan’s - reach into the water to take him by his armpits and drag him up to the surface and onto the ice.

The next thing he hears is Eve barking orders about Medical and hot showers and bugger it all to hell if he hasn’t gone and lost his glasses to the murky depths. Felicity hauls him to his feet and Q finds himself anchored between the solid forms of herself and 006, shuffling him quickly across the ice back towards the looming safety of River House. R is hot on his heels, he barely feels her hand on the small of his back through his sodding wet parka and jumper but it’s there, doing what she can to reassure.

The cold feels as though it is gripping his very heart and consciousness is slipping away. The last thing he senses once they hit terra firma is the sensation of being swept into 006’s arms and hears himself mumbling in quiet protest. Good God, he thought to himself as logical thought departed from his mind, I am never going to live this down…

The cocoon of warmth in which he work up some hours later felt like heaven. The memory of the cold biting his bones fading in the cosiness of the blankets. He felt something pop into his ear and was about to bat it away when he realised it was Dr Jones, Head of Medical, taking his temperature.

_BEEP! _went the device. “All looks fine. Core body temperature back to normal,” he said with calm reassurance.

“Lost my glasses,” Q heard himself mumble. It was only a few seconds later, when he felt a gun-calloused palm against his own and the solid feel of his frames being pressed into his palm. Q slid up the pillow and put on them on, clearing the haze to reveal 006 and 007 standing on with side of the bed, watching him. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt suddenly a little too hot.

“You rescued them,” he whispered. Bond shrugged. “Eve made me. Said you’re blind without them.”

“Speaking of Eve…” Q asked, looking around. “She’s gone to yours to grab some fresh clothes,” Bond stated. “Can’t have you parading about Six in a terry robe now can we? Half the staff might get the crazy idea that it’s Christmas…”

Q allowed himself a small laugh, more relief at the warmth than anything else. “Thank you. For saving my glasses. And pulling me out of a watery grave.”

“I was just quicker of the mark,” Bond said casually, looking at Trevelyan would kept his peace during the exchange. “If Alec hadn’t been so busy arguing with Eve about winning your company for dinner this evening…”

Q - feeling suddenly emboldened by his near brush with death (OK. Maybe a tad overdramatic but still…) - heard, not without a slight sense of disbelief, the next words to tumble from his mouth.

“Well. Technically 006 did win the race,” Q said thoughtfully. “Though you did ruin a nice suit in the process of saving my sorry arse, 007.” He paused. “Ergo, logic demands that I take you both out to dinner.”

The look the agents exchanged was borderline shocked but quickly recovered. “I think we’d both like that very much, Quartermaster…”

This may in fact be the understatement of the year, but dinner, was a revelation.

Between the strength of their mutual respect - and Q would even go so far to say love - combined with the needling banter he observed throughout the evening, he was left in absolutely no doubt that these men could survive anything in the world of espionage that life could throw at them.

Bond was on his third martini and Trevelyan on his fifth vodka when they redirected their attention towards Q, who up until that point had been more than happy to watch and enjoy their playful interactions. Now he found himself once again the object of a focus that would have been flattering for anyone else, but unnerving for him.

“I think it’s time we heard a few stories from the life and times of our esteemed Quartermaster,” said Bond, leaning back in his chair and unbuttoning his jacket.

Q fingered the stem of his wine glass, which Bond recognised as a slight tick. He had observed the same treatment of his favourite mug when Q was talking to M in person or via comms.

He cleared his throat. “Oh my life experience pales in comparison I’m afraid,” he said with a smile. “Careening down the sides of mountains, jumping from planes and rescuing damsels in distress is a far cry from what I can offer.”

And with those words, Alec saw his opening and made his move.

“You underestimate yourself Quartermaster. Personally, I find you quite fascinating.”

Q chastised himself inwardly at the rising, betraying blush. “I find myself quite fulfilled with my work and my cats.”

“You know, I think he’s attempting to feign dull to try and throw us off, Alec,” Bond’s smile was blatantly sensual. “Would you like to know what we see when we look at you, Q?”

Q tilted his head in curiosity. Such a statement could only mean that he’d been under observation for some time. And so engrossed had he been in making his mark on MI6, had completely failed to notice. A Quartermaster’s mind is put together differently from that of an agent after all. He could hardly be blamed for missing the signs.

“I’m not sure—“ Q began, shifting in his seat.

Bond ignored him, Alec giving his fellow agent an encouraging nod before he continued.

“People like Alec and I? We don’t have many people whom we can trust in the world. For obvious reasons. It’s come as second nature to trust each other, having been through so much together in the field. But aside from M, there is no one within the walls of MI6 than we trust more than you.”

“When I watch you, I see isolation. A safe space you have created around yourself that no-one is allowed to invade. You fear intimacy as much as you crave it.”

“We want to share the trust we have in each other with you, Q. Let us in.”

And Q? Q was tempted. There was no denying his interest and attraction to the two men… But… he knew. Understood himself too well.

“No.” Q stood and straightened his jacket. “Thank you for a lovely evening, agents, but I think here’s where we call it a night.”

He departed. And Bond or Trevelyan didn’t try and stop him.

“Worth a shot, James,” said Alec as they both watched their retreating Quartermaster’s back.

“Never say never, Alec,” said Bond. He wouldn’t be the agent he was today if he turned away from a challenge.

And he always did so enjoy a challenge.

Three Months Later…

“Vy absolyutnyy ublyudok, Alec!”

James was back from a mission in Warsaw not twelve hours, and despite its harrowing circumstances, exhaustion and a deep, dreamless state had won him over. He’d fallen in a comatose state, alone in bed, not long after arriving at Q’s flat and woken up ten minutes ago, to find himself tied firmly to the bed frame. Not only tied by knots that he had himself taught Alec, but tied with the stockings Q had bought him for his own birthday.

Across the room, Alec had Q pinned to the wall, large hands clasping a slender waist, one leg between Q’s while he was currently subjecting Q’s collarbone and chest to a savage onslaught like that to which a lion would the rapidly diminishing carcass of a wildebeest.

Now fully awake (in more ways than one), the effects of the mission were kicking back in his mind and he was desperate for some - ANY kind of release to soothe the comedown. Bond closed his eyes against the sight of the two of them locked against each other, opening them again at the sound of Q’s breathy, shuddering moan. His head was pitched to the side, held in place now by Alec’s hand buried in his hair while he ravaged his throat.

Alec turned his head towards James then, shameless grin plastered across his face, releasing Q and giving him a moment to catch his breath. “Really James,” he tutted, “has the mission taken so much out of you you’re not even going to try?”

And that was what did it. James wrenched his wrist hard, bruising his flesh and causing a sharp rush of pain but tearing the stocking in the process. Alec moved swiftly towards the bed before James could free his other hand. He had him pinned beneath the length of his body though wasn’t going down without a fight bucking angrily against him. “Get the fuck off me, Alec,” he growled.

“Ask nicely now James,” Alec said teasingly, wrestling the exhausted agent, just as another breathless moan sounded behind them causing them both to pause in their battle for dominance. Alec rolled off Bond and both men took in the sight of Q, completely focussed on his own pleasure, one hand caressing his scalp while the other moved with a beautiful, steady rhythm against his cock. His eyes closed, head thrown carelessly back against the wall, both agents just watched for a few seconds more before Bond yanked his other hand free and rolled off the bed. In a few quick strides he was in front of Q, grabbing his occupied hand and dragging him towards the bed. Alec had made space and kept to the side while Bond, completely aroused, climbed on top of Q and with fuelled determination and purpose ground their hips together hard and fast.

Their climax was quick and dirty and beyond satisfying. Bond glanced to the side, his smug comrade, looking very pleased with himself. Bond pulled Alec into a kiss while a sated Q watched.

“Beautiful, fucking Cossak,” grumbled Bond, falling to Q’s side and pulling the boffin close against him, burying his face in his hair, content and soothed.

Missions would drain him dry, leave him cold and empty, but this.

This.

Again and again, Q and Alec pulled him from the cold, murky depths and reminded him to simply breathe.

[milstrim]

Rise From the Ashes; Just to See You Again

Chapter 6: The Parker’s

The combination of sizzling and cheerful conversation greeted Tony and Pepper as they walked into the kitchen, and it loosened the knot that was always in his chest a little. The past couple of months had been complicated, and they still were, but hearing everyone laughing peacefully...it was good.

Bucky and Sam were cooking, they were really the only ones that could, while everyone else lounged around. Nat was sitting on the counter with a book in her lap, though she wasn't reading it. Instead, she kept conversation with Rhodey, who was sipping a coffee while sitting on a stool by her. Wanda and Vision sat at the table, both were reading, with Wanda flipping her pages every few minutes with a red glow. Steve and Sam were talking while the ladder flipped bacon and sausages. Bucky remained mostly quiet, as he usually did. He'd only come to stay with them a week ago after recovering in Wakanda, and had brought with him a host of new problems.

Rationally, he knew it wasn't Barnes who killed his parents, but he couldn't stop himself from tensing every time he was in a room with the man, from being defensive and untrusting. At least he was working on it.

Other than his own misgivings, there came the problem with the UN. Things were already rather tense, what with what happened in Lagos and the UN building, but at least it hadn't been worse. He didn't know what he'd have done if a fight had broken out.

"Morning Tony, morning Pepper," Steve greeted, raising his hand in welcome. Tony ignored him, walking past the super soldier to pour himself a cup of coffee. Steve fixed him with an amused look, keeping eye contact with him while Tony took a long gulp of his coffee and let out a long, drawn out, refreshed sigh.

"Morning, Capsicle," he finally responded, "You look refreshed. Have fun last night?"

Steve's glare this time was much less playful, making Tony smirk as he shoved back around him, giving him a pat on his chest. He snagged a piece of bacon as he went.

The billionaire took a seat at the table next to Pepper, who had pulled out her StarkPad and was currently tapping the screen busily. She took a sip of his coffee when he sat down, which he playfully stole back.

"Why're you working?" he complained, "Come on? I thought this was just an us week, I mean--"

"--It is, Tony, but I can't just abandon everything--"

"--Why not? There's no way--"

"--Because it's your company! I mean--"

"--Do you two ever  not  fight?" Rhodey interrupted as they talked over each other.

"I just don't get why she's working," Tony responded, much to Pepper's annoyance. She sighed and fixed him with a heavy glare, which he returned with an  adorable head tilt.

They managed to get along after that, sipping his coffee and eating when Steve passed him a plate of bacon and eggs. The Avengers ate their breakfast mostly silently, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was easy; calm.

Tony had finished his plate and was just about to head down to the lab when the elevator dinged. He froze in place, watching as the doors slid open and two kids slipped out in a hurried manner, followed by Clint and Laura.

He'd forgotten the Barton's were coming over for the week.

"HI, Legolas," he greeted casually, "And good morning to you, Mrs. Barton."

"Hurts, Stark. Right here," the archer responded, placing a hand on his youngest's head as his heart was obstructed by the baby carrier. Tony smiled faintly, remembering the bright red and flowery one he'd used to have.

"No one cares, Clint," Natasha said, appearing from behind him magically and moving to take Nate from Clint, who giggled at her adorably. She turned to Lila and Cooper, "How's everyone been?"

"Dad's teaching me archery!" Lila exclaimed, pretending to pull back a bow to demonstrate.

"I bet you're already better than him," Tony commented playfully, and Lila turned to look at him with big eyes, "Better attitude too, I'm sure."

"Hey!"

Tony held his hands up in mock surrender, "Just pointing out the truth, Katniss."

A few more jabs were exchanged before Pepper shot him a look that clearly said, 'Stop stirring up trouble and let everyone have their breakfast or you'll regret it.' He consented, sitting back down instead of hurrying down to his lab, though he did make himself another cup of coffee.

Sam served the Barton's their breakfast, and the kids scarfed down everything while talking animatedly with Natasha, who listened patiently, smiling as she complimented their drawings. They handed everyone a drawing of themselves, and he had to admit that it was really adorable.

It made him wonder if Penny would've liked the Avengers. How they would’ve gotten along.

They would’ve loved her.

"Tony, I need you to sign this," Pepper said, grabbing his attention. She handed him the StarkPad, which he signed without looking at it before passing it back.

"What was it?"

"The last document for the Expo. Everything should be finished being set up by tomorrow."

"Do we get to go to that, Dad?" Cooper asked, pulling on Clint's arm.

"That's kind of why we're here, buddy," Clint smiled.

"No one told me that!" he whined.

"Well maybe you should pay attention," taunted Lila. Cooper blew a raspberry at her, which somehow ended up with the two wrestling on the couch. Laura looked horrified about how her kids were acting, but no one minded the kids' antics. And no one noticed the elevator doors open.

"Y'know, you should really control your kids."

The room froze, the calm and easygoing atmosphere turning tense and cold in a moment as every head turned to look at Secretary Ross. He had his usual look on his face, somehow smug and disappointed at the same time, as he stood in the doorway. He was dressed in his usual suit, his hands behind his back. There was also another man that Tony recognized but couldn't remember the name of at the moment. He was tall, middle aged with dark brown hair that was peppered with silver strands.

Tony glanced at the ceiling, wondering why Friday hadn't told him that Ross was coming before he remembered that it was part of the new deal with the UN. In exchange for Bucky being with them, and for how Steve and Wanda had almost run off, they got to enter their floors without warning. Yeah, he was changing that.

The two uninvited men walked more into the room so that they were at the table where everyone was gathered.

"It's not like they're at an airport, Ross," Tony bit back, crossing his arms. He turned to the man he didn't recognize, "Who're you?"

The man smiled delightfully, his eyes crinkling, "I'm Thomas Williams, the ambassador to the UN," he explained, "We know you're holding that party next Wednesday, so we thought we'd check in, make sure everyone was good."

Despite how smiley this man was, and his cheery personality, Tony already couldn't stand him. He twitched angrily when he made eye contact with Williams.

"It's not a party," he almost spat, but Pepper put a hand on his arm soothingly, "Besides, everything's good here. Nothing illegal, as you can see, so if you'll be on your way we'll send you a nice card or something."

"Not so fast," Ross said, pulling a yellow envelope out of his jacket and handing it to Steve. The super soldier opened it, pulling out a file labeled 'classified' in bright red letters.

"Who's this? What's this about?" Steve asked, shifting through the papers he’d taken out. Tony moved closer to see what he was talking about.

There were multiple photos and newspaper clippings depicting a figure clad in red and a light blue. Other than the newspaper clippings, all the photos were rather blurry. Tony thought he recognized the person, but he wasn't completely sure. There was also flash drive included in the envelope, which he took out and placed on the table.

"That there is the new vigilante," Ross explained, "Her name is Spider-Girl, and she's been terrorizing the streets of New York."

"Terrorizing?" Tony repeated mockingly, finally recognizing her, "She rescues cats out of trees and spends half the day doing flips for kids in the park."

"She's in direct violation of the UN by being unregistered and she's using her powers illegally," Ross snapped back.

"And you want us to capture her? Is that really Avengers level?" Natasha asked coolly.

"Essentially, yes," Williams answered, "We need to ask her some questions, and she needs to face the law for her actions."

"She hasn't done anything," Tony protested.

"That's an order, Stark!" Ross called over his shoulder, already leaving with Williams trailing behind him, "You've got two months."

  Penny stuffed her suit in her bag and hurried out of her room, making sure to grab her phone from beside her bed. She groaned in exasperation when she saw it hadn't charged, so she grabbed the charger too. Stupid broken charger.

"Morning, May!" she called to her aunt, who was already dressed for work and eating some breakfast. Penny popped two pieces of bread in the toaster for her breakfast, grabbing the peanut butter from the shelf, hopping on the counter to reach it.

"Morning, sweetie. Ready for the weekend?"

"A hundred percent. I’m gonna hang out with Ned, get some homework done and stuff," she lied. May hummed and they sat in silence for a bit, Penny taking out her toast and sitting down at the table to eat.

"So," May started, "I got my schedule for next week, and I'm going to have to work on your birthday," she paused and Penny looked up at her in surprise, trying to keep the hurt out of her eyes, "I'm really sorry, honey. How about we just hang out tonight? I could go get some ice cream, and we could watch a movie?"

"Y-yeah, that sounds...that sounds good, May," she said hesitantly, forcing a smile, "We should get candles too."

"And put them on the ice cream?"

"Absolutely," Penny shoved the last of the toast into her mouth and quickly placed her plate in the dishwasher, "Love you, May! See you after school!"

"Be home by six!!"

And with that, Penny left, racing down the hall and jumping down the stairs three at a time. The elevator was broken, but she didn't mind, she wasn't even out of breath when she ran out of the building. The teen got on at the bus stop, managing to not miss it, which she was proud of, and walked the rest of the way to school once she got off, walking through the doors with ten minutes to spare.

Ned was waiting for her by their lockers, and she greeted him cheerfully.

"So are you coming to the Stark Expo?" he asked as she put her bag up.

"May said we couldn't go," she replied, and Ned deflated a little.

"You're not going? But--I mean, it's chill. It probably won't even be that cool anyway, so--"

"--I never said I wasn't going," she interrupted as he tried to downplay his disappointment and closing her locker. Ned looked at her in surprise.

"You're sneaking out?"

"I technically do it all the time," the teen said as they headed to class, "I'll just be doing something different from what I usually do."

He furrowed his eyebrows at her, but she refused to give in. She was going to the Expo and nobody could stop her.

Ned didn't question her again though, in fact, he seemed quite excited that she was coming. Neither of them had ever been, despite the fact that it had been held in New York before. It was mostly because it had been on her birthday, which Ned had always found kind of suspicious. He'd once asked her if she could be Penelope Stark in a hushed whisper as if it could  actually  be true, which she had found ridiculous but kind of funny. Like some play pretend daydream that would be fun to experience.

Technically, she had thought about it too, but never seriously. Being named Penny and having the same birthday as the dead child of a superhero was beyond farfetched and really only existed in that part of your mind that wished you were a fairy or that you were secretly the princess of some European country hidden away for her protection. Besides, her parents were dead.

She didn't really remember them, she'd been so young, but May and Ben had told her that her dad had died in a plane crash, and that her mom had died giving birth to her. She'd been shown pictures of the two of them together, Richard and Elizabeth Parker, which she'd looked at every so often, making her wish she could've met them,  really  met them.

"Hey nerds," MJ said, coming up to walk beside her, "What's this I hear about sneaking out?"

"We're just going to the Stark Expo," she replied. MJ had found out she was Spider-Woman last week, and she had quickly joined their friend group, which was probably the best thing to ever happen to her. Michelle was a professional liar and had already perfectly covered for her twice, "Wanna come?"

"I heard that the Avengers were actually mind controlled by government drones and are just going there because the UN told them to," She and Ned stared at her, "Of course I'll come."

"Uh, okay," Penny smiled, "We're just going to take the bus, so I'll text you when we're going later?"

"Sounds good."

And then she was gone, heading off to her own class while she and Ned walked into their own. Penny felt herself blushing as she sat down and put her binder on her desk.

"She's weird, right?" Ned asked.

"Yeah," she responded, "but really cool."

Ned hummed in agreement.

  "May?"

The woman looked up quickly at her name. She'd been going through some patient's papers at the front desk, and she guessed she'd zoned off. It wasn't really her fault, she was always nervous around Penny's birthday, had been since she was ten. The Stark Expo hadn't moved to New York until the girl was eleven, but Ben had finally told her the truth when she’d turned ten, after everything had turned into a nightmare.

He'd been her babysitter. He was just supposed to be her babysitter. The fury she'd felt when Penny had told her, crying and barely able to get the words out, the ways she'd wanted to torture that man. The ways she still did.

"What do we do?" May had asked Ben after Penny had finally falling asleep. They'd put her in their bed, sure that she wouldn't want to be alone, "I mean, we need to press charges right? He-he hurt her, and I'm  not  letting him get away with this."

She'd never forget the look on Ben's face. How sad he had looked, how disappointed and broken his expression had been before being split by a second of anger. He'd muttered a quiet yet heated, "Dammit, Richard," before looking at her, heartbroken.

"I don't think we can," he'd said.

"What do you mean!?" she'd whisper-yelled back at him, eyes narrowed in fury, "He can't get away with this! He deserves to rot in prison for the rest of his life! God, why they ever did away with the chair is a mystery to me!"

"Honey--"

"Don't 'honey' me, Benjamin! That good for nothing piece of shit  hurt  our niece! Our practically  daughter  and--"

"She's not our niece," he'd said, and she'd stopped in her tracks, mouth agape.

"What do you mean? Of course she is! She's Richard's daughter!" she'd protested, talking to Ben slowly as if her were a toddler, as if it was all too much for him.

And then he'd told her. Three horrible words, "She's Tony Stark's."

May hadn't accepted it at first. There was no way that Penny was the daughter of a superhero, the daughter of that  asshole  she'd seen on TV being reckless and throwing parties. Just last month Penny had shown her a video of Tony Stark peeing himself in the Iron Man suit. There was no way that her sweet little girl was that man's daughter. But Ben had explained, had shown her records and Richard's letter to Ben that was given to him after her brother-in-law had died.

"He kidnapped her?" she'd asked, horrified. Were they guilty of kidnapping!?

"Technically, yes," Ben had said, the words bitter on his lips as he'd adjusted his glasses, "I don't agree with Rich, but I trusted him. He said in his letter that Stark was unsafe, manipulative, and that they were just getting Penny out of the way."

"Why not just call CPS?"

"He's a billionaire, May. There's no way they would've taken her away, and besides, I don't think he just meant what Stark would do to her...I think he meant what was going to happen to Stark."

May had been silent for a moment, not moving even to wipe away the tears that had sat on her cheeks. She’d thought about what the man had been doing lately, how he’d been so reckless and awful on TV, how he’d been called to testify. And just a couple of years ago he’d been kidnapped. She couldn’t imagine what might have happened to Penny is she had still been with him.

"So Richard was involved in some shady shit, huh?" she'd finally said.

"Yeah."

"So now we're in some shady shit."

"Yeah. And if we press charges against Westcott, we could alert Tony Stark. You've seen what he's been up to, how unstable he's been. We can't take that chance."

"What're we going to do about Skip, though?"

"It should be enough that we know, there's no way he'll come back."

And he hadn't. May had never heard from him ever again after Ben talked to him. She'd seen him put his gun away afterwards though, and she'd guessed that Ben had really leaned into the whole, 'I'm a cop and I have a gun' thing.

From there, life had returned to normal, or as normal as it could be. Penny had been terrified of everything, she didn't even let Ben touch her. They'd kept her home from school for a couple of weeks, just letting her get comfortable in her own skin while she and Ben took extra steps to ensure Penny never be found. They threw away pictures of Richard and Elizabeth (who was apparently an old colleague who had died and not Penny’s mother), not wanting Penny to notice that they didn't look anything alike. They updated records and made sure everything was perfect looking, though nothing had really been out of place to being with.

They'd let Penny keep on with her Iron Man obsession (and later her Avengers obsession), but they'd never let her go to the Stark Expo, not that she'd really persisted that much in going. Usually, as long as they took her and Ned to Luna Park to ride the Cyclone and then the movies afterwards, they were usually fine. But it was different this year, Ben was dead, and Penny was about to be fifteen. She wouldn't be able to distract her as easily, but she couldn't let her get close to Stark, couldn't let him take her from her.

"May," her colleague called again, and May looked up to see her friend Reed, "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Why?"

"You look upset, May, and I called your name a good three times."

"Oh, sorry, just distracted. It's Penny's birthday next week, I just don't know what to get her. You never really know with teenagers," she lied, straightening her papers.

"Well, it's your lunch break, so you can think about it for thirty and then get back to work with no distractions."

May laughed a little, "Thanks, Reed. See you later."

"See you!"'

  "Have you seen anything yet?" Ned asked in her ear as she swung from one building to another. She's been patrolling for a couple of hours, so she had a couple of hours before she had to be home. Maybe she'd patrol again after she had dinner with May. It was Friday anway, it wasn't like she had to get up early for school tomorrow.

"No, but it's not like someone's going to get murdered on the street in broad daylight," she responded, stopping on a billboard to look around a bit. The traffic was pretty crazy, but it was always like that, so nothing was unusual, "I'm going to go to the outskirts of the city, see if anything's happening there."

"Okay. I'm just going to chill here," Ned said.

"Isn't that your job?"

"Duh, Guy in the Chair." She snorted and swung off of the building. She headed to the outskirts of the city, basically near the suburbs. It took her awhile to get there, but it was kind of nice just listening to Ned quiz her on Academic Decathlon while she flipped around. It was only around 4:30 when she got there, so she had plenty of time.

She searched around for a little bit, mostly just jumping from trees, which was a new experience. There weren't really a lot of trees, except for Central Park, but it wasn't like she was regularly hanging out there. She was pretty sure Liz lived around here, though, which made her blush as she swung around. Spider-Woman stayed around that area for about an hour before deciding it was a bust.

"Alright, I'm heading back, there's nothing happening here--"

A high pitched kind of reverberating shriek cut her off, ringing in her ears as she held onto a lamp in the middle of a golf course. She looked around wildly, unsure of where the alarming noise had come from until she saw smoke what looked like a mile away. It was tinged kind of blue, and it was bright, unlike any smoke she had ever seen.

"What was that?" she whispered, "What is  that?"

"I don't know," Ned answered, sounding rather excited as he looked at the smoke through a screen, "But we're going to find out! What are you waiting for, Penny?!"

"Oh, yeah!" and she headed off to where the smoke was trailing into the sky, disappointed to find herself having to run across the golf course, which was kind of embarrassing. She didn't run! She wasn't a running superhero, she swung!

The source of the blue smoke was surrounded by voices talking about weapons. She landed on a bridge over a ditch and clung upside down to the side opposite to the men, her lenses narrowing as she took the scene in. There were three men surround a van that looked to be full of oddly shaped weapons. Nice, this was exactly what she'd been looking for.

"Oh my God, Penny are you seeing this!!?" Ned whisper-yelled into her ear, but she didn't respond with anything other than a harsh shush.

"Man I wanted something lowkey. Like, why are you trying to upsell me, man?" one man complained, and she guessed he was the customer. The man who had been showing him a weapon returned to the van with some hurried words while the third man talked to the buyer lowly.

"Look, we're the only one selling these things, and they're gonna make up the whole market soon. We've got a huge deal tomorrow, selling hundreds of these things, you've got to cash in now while they're still here," he said, his voice low. A huge deal tomorrow, hundreds of alien weapons. She needed to find where that was.

She was just about to move closer when her phone rang, the rather loud ringtone she had set up for May breaking the heavy silence that had persisted until only a few moments ago. Immediately the two dealers reached for their guns and pointed them at the third man. Her heart skipped a beat.

"What the hell? Did you set us up?"

She heard the gun click, and it was like all logic flew out as she flipped over and landed on the ground. All eyes flicked to her as she put her hands up tentatively.

"Hey, woah woah woah, if you're going to shoot at someone shoot at me!"

"Alright," replied one man, pointing the gun at her and pulling the trigger. She was faster though, shooting a web that caught the bullet in its line of fire and slapping the gun to the side. The man looked at her in fear as she ran forward to get a punch in, she was blocked by a punch to the face by the man in the van. It hurt really bad, striking her square in the face and shocking her. She was bounced back and into the bridge's base, breaking the concrete.

"Penny! They're getting away!" Ned warned in her ear as she grasped her now aching head. She blinked dots out of her eyes as she looked up to see the van driving away, the back doors still swinging open.

"Dammit," she whispered, getting up and running after it. She shot a web at it, but rather than slowing the car down, it dragged her with it along the road which teared at her skin through her suit, "Ow! Ow, ow, ow, ow!  Fucking ow!!"

The man who had punched her earlier swung open the van doors, holding a gun that glowed purple in his hands. That didn't look good.

He aimed it at her, but never managed to hit her as the car swerved, causing him to lose his balance several times. Then the doors fell off, leaving her skidding on the road as the van drove off.

"You okay, Penny?" Ned asked as she got up.

"Yeah, just peachy. I'm just going to have to take a shortcut," she answered. Penny ran through a yard, leaping over fence after fence and trying her best to not break anything, which she apparently was not capable of. She probably cost thousands of dollars of damage as she tore through fences, broke roof tiles, and permanently fucked up a gutter.

"Thought you got a way from me, didn't you?" she panted as she climbed up on a roof, the van now in her sights again. It was going really fast, but she was close, "Ha, I've got you...right...where, I want you!"

She jumped off of the building, about to land on the van when her senses flared. She tried to turn on instinct, but she wasn't fast enough as metal claws encased her. Her heart jumped to her throat as she tried helplessly to tear at them, the ground growing farther and farther away.

Wings. He had wings. They were huge and skeletal, clearly more for support and direction, as there were some kind of generator in the middle that kept him afloat. He looked down and she froze for a terrifying second at the piercing green eyes that met her own. They were bright, yet lifeless.

She couldn't stop staring at the eyes until she was forced to. Her senses flared again, and suddenly she was falling, Ned screaming at her in her ears as she tried to right herself in air. Twisting and shooting helpless webs as the wind pushed past her.

"NO! No no no nononononono!!!!" she screamed, but she was silenced when she hit the water, the cold seeping into her as sank, her body aching from the force of colliding with the water. God, everything hurt. Ned was still talking in her ear, but he was harder to hear now. He was much clearer when she broke the surface, taking in huge, shuddering breaths and ripping her sopping mask off her face, "I'm alive, Ned. I'm alive."

"Oh thank, God," he sighed, and she could hear his chair creak as he leaned back in it.

"I can't believe I lost them," she said bitterly, looking around to find shore and beginning to swim to it. Ugh, her arms ached so much, "They always get away!"

"We've got a lead now, though!" Ned responded helpfully.

"Barely. We know they're selling a bunch of stuff, but we don't know when or where. We've got basically nothing."

"That Vulture guy, though. We might still be able to figure something out."

"Maybe," she muttered, "Shit. I'm not going to get home in time am I?"

"Nope."

Previous Part ///  Next Part

*Do not repost or tag as Starker*

[severelyimpossiblecrown]

Tricked, No Treat.

Today, I have emotion sickness. I’ve injected too much expectation again.  I thought I had learned some lessons from occasions past where I’m supposed to have no expectations at all.  It was my birthday weekend, and I just wanted to have fun. To feel special and wanted. Instead, I let one of the women I’ve obsessed over for years ruin another Halloween.

I’ve known her forever.  For the sake of this fun-and-not-at-all exercise in catharsis, we’ll call her Anna.  We’ve had our ups and downs.  I often wonder if she actually likes me and sees me as a person. After last night, I feel like she doesn’t.

We had planned to hang out on Halloween, which is the day after my birthday.

I thought this would be a sexy evening eventually.  I made those intentions plain.  I’m 36 now; I can’t mince words anymore.

We texted back and forth about how we were looking forward to the night. Anna said she was “excited to see me.”

To the millions of women reading this, why do y’all do this to us?  Gas us up when you don’t seem to like us that much?  Is attention and validation of making us crawl through the dirt worth burning the genuine people in your life?

I wore my orange skeleton Morphsuit to have a costume on despite the cold.  We were going to hop around the city with a couple of friends of hers. Graciously, my close friend decided to come along.

So we at least had a ride to get around Brooklyn.  We’ll call him Grant.  Thank god for him deciding to come along. Without him, I might’ve gone crazy or came out of my face to these people.  We met up with them at a bar in Bushwick. It was just Anna and one male friend.  My heart sank.  I knew what that meant from past experience.  This guy was probably one of her lovers and she had fronted on me about it because she didn’t want me to get upset.   

This friend of hers was a man she told me earlier in the week I didn’t have to “worry about because he’s gay” when I asked if I would be the third wheel. We’ll call him Jason.  I spent a fair amount of the night watching them visibly make out on the coke I ended up sharing with them.   

There were supposed to be more of her friends coming, but they stayed in the city at some secret Gothic Renaissance party.  So it was Grant driving, Anna, Jason, and me.  

We got a drink at the bar outside of which there was a cool mariachi band playing covers and hits.  Jason knew someone in the band, which is how he knew about the show.  Seeing live music took a bit of the edge of the rapidly growing and gnawing anxiety in my stomach about how the evening was going to go.

“Just stay calm. Getting mad isn’t going to work.”  I said to myself for the first of many times that night.   

Something that will come up a lot in this confessional story-thing is: I wish she would’ve told me several vital things well in advance like “you’re not fucking me on Halloween” and “I’m going to meet up with someone else after I chill with you.” You know, some real communication from some who say they see me and “adores” me.  I always find it funny how the ones who show the least love are always telling you how much they love you.  

I know what many of you are thinking.  “Anna doesn’t owe you her body, her time, or her love.”  Y’all are absolutely right.  Again, I’m the one who plunged the needle into my neck and shot all that juicy expectation into myself.  I read more into the signals I thought I was receiving. I’m the one who spent his own birthday running around to get the drugs for Halloween SO WE COULD ALL HAVE FUN.

All she had to say to me is, “you’re not fucking me on Halloween.”.

So the night progresses.  We leave the first bar in Bushwick and walk back to Grant’s car that was parked nearby.  On the way to the car Jason is all over Anna as they remark on the beautiful moon and sloppily make out.  I clenched my fists and remember Anna’s text about how I didn’t have to worry about Jason.  Of course I didn’t.  He was obviously one of her lovers and I came to a hard realization that I’m just a friend/source of attention to Anna and I always will be.  My anger rose sharply as I tried not to stare too jealously at the pair.    

We get into Grant’s truck to go a metal bar in southern Brooklyn.  I pulled out the cocaine I had on me to regain some confidence in myself and in the rest of the evening.  I share with the happy couple in the back and we have some small talk ranging from Grant and I’s experience in security, to my referencing how Anna used to treat me like garbage in our twenties, to tales of Jason’s sluttiness and how even though he fucked men, he loved fucking Russian girls like Anna.    My heart dropped even further into my stomach.  This was going to be a long night for me.         

After what seemed like a very long car ride to southern BK, we arrive at Lucky 13 Saloon and hang for a bit but didn’t stay long.  The vibe there was one of impatience, like folks were just here to figure out what was going on elsewhere as they got drinks.  We got a drink and largely stayed to ourselves talking.

Eventually, we leave to drop Jason off at the Atlantic Avenue train station as the trains shut down after 1 AM.  They continued to make out and be talkative from the backseat on the cocaine as we drive to the station.  Grant and I are making conversation with them while we exchanged knowing looks of “this night is some bullshit” to each other   We get to the station, and my assumption was that Anna would leave with Jason, given how the night had gone.  But to our surprise, she stayed in the car and asked if she could come to my house. Confused, I got out of the vehicle to switch seats with Jason as he went toward the station.

He turns to me and hugs me, thanks me for the coke, and tells me to “take care of her. I’m trying to FUCK her tomorrow.”

*sigh*

“I’m trying to fuck her tonight,” I said, offering some false confidence.

Giving me a slight smirk, he strolled off into the station.  Still shocked at the fact that Anna didn’t leave with Jason after all the PDA they showed all night, I figured I’d get into the backseat with Anna to start my own pushing up on her. 

The three of us spent the car ride back to my house talking as I rub my Morphsuited hand along her inner thigh and slide my left orange hand around her nice and tight ass.  She didn’t pull away or show any sign of dislike, so I thought maybe, just maybe, the night would go my way. 

WHAT A FUCKING FOOL I WAS.

We get back to my home, and Grant goes to the store for some beers.  I take Anna up to my apartment.  When we get inside, I walk right up to her and grab her by the waist lightly.

“I missed you so much. I’m so glad you came.” I speak, gathering the little bit of nerve I have left, beginning to come in for a kiss.

Anna gives a quizzical face and pulls away.

“Don’t go and start hitting on me now.” She says.

I did my best to conceal my tremendous disappointment and feelings of rejection and raced for something to say to alleviate the awkwardness of getting shut down.

“Aw. We can’t even cuddle?” I say, my heart breaking.

“No, that always leads to things,” she said.

It is here I will repeat yet again, bored reader, all she had to do is tell me, before Hallow-goddamn-ween, my favorite holiday, is “I’m not going to fuck you on Halloween.”

Instead, we were standing in my room awkwardly.

“See, now you hate me,” she says almost flippantly like she hadn’t known me for nearly a decade.

Grant walked back inside just then as my mind raced with questions.

“Why did she come back here then if I wasn’t tonight’s lover? Why not go home with Jason, who was one of her present lovers?  Why even invite me out at all to her adventure, making it seem like she wanted me to be a big part of it?”

Grant sat down, and we start to listen to music videos and drink Jamison. I tried very hard to stay calm and salvage the night.  We managed to have a good time, even having Anna sit closer to me on my couch.  At least things wouldn’t end too bad.  We started in on the remaining fishscale I had left.  My logic at that point was to get good and fucked up so I could at least appear to be having fun.

Part of me felt off about sharing my drugs with Anna, but I always try to be a good and hospitable host to my guests and I knew that I was just feeling petty at that moment.  During this time, I noticed that she was actively texting someone on her phone in between videos when she thought I wasn’t looking.  That was it.  That was why she didn’t go home with Jason.  She had someone else already lined up. 

I then felt the same sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach I had felt all night. The coke now spiraling through my body made my mood and level of annoyance spike, but I managed to maintain my composure.  

Grant is being the best sport in the world about all of this.  He’s heard many stories from me about Anna and was an impartial observer in this subtle game of power that Anna was winning easily.

I again cannot stress enough intrepid and obviously bored reader, that all she had to tell me, a day or even hours before this “date” that “she wasn’t going to fuck me on HALLOWEEN.”

Eventually, Anna tries to shoehorn in her intent to leave.  Saying she found out about another party. Stupidly, I ask if I can come, full well knowing I’m about to get fronted on.

“It’s private.” She says with a sly smile.

It all dawns on me then.  Anna was only killing time here/getting high on my drugs to get ready for the last stop of the night with whatever lover she had been waiting all night to hear from.

And she had heard. She got ready so quickly, eagerly awaiting her Uber, trying to remain jovial even though Grant and I both felt a certain type of way about what had just happened.

Inside my mind, I was screaming.

Outside of it, I was fidgety from all the coke I’d done tryin’ to keep any feelings of upset off my face.  Something I’ve never been good at being an emotional Caribbean-American raised by Puerto Rican women.  At the beginning of the night, my heart was thudding with excitement and was now thudding with cocaine, anger, and anxiety.

During one of my bathroom breaks, Anna leans over to Grant (who told me about this later) saying:

“I think Brian’s mad at me because I said I was going somewhere else. I’m just gonna leave.”

As she was saying this, I was in my bathroom talking myself down in the mirror from showing anger or extreme emotions toward her because I didn’t want to do what I had done in the past and explode for something not worth exploding over.  Washing my face and hands, I walked back to my bedroom.

We watched a video or two more when her car arrived downstairs.

“Will you walk me out?”  She asked; it almost sounded like a distant echo as the voices in my head started to laugh audibly at me.

I nodded and mutely put on my sneakers over my orange feet.  I didn’t even know why I wore that thing. Why did I do anything for this woman?

She happily says bye to Grant, who had been nothing but a good sport in helping me to entertain Anna as he watched me go through it internally. He accepts her thanks for driving her and Jason around.  We walk out of my place into the hallway, where Anna tries to make small talk about my Morphsuit and my ass as we leave my building.

“Oh, sure. Now you notice me. Like I haven’t been wearing this thing all fucking night.”  I thought, hands clenched.  I don’t remember if she saw them or not.  I imagine my body language wasn’t the best from her viewpoint.

I gave her queries about my suit short and terse answers.  She clearly knew she upset me and tried to do that weird thing some women do to preemptively calm a man down with lighthearted questions like there isn’t a goddamn two-ton elephant in the room.  

I repeat, stalwart reader, all Anna had to do in the WEEK leading up to this awkward ass debacle was say, “I’m not fucking you on Halloween.”

We get outside into the appropriately frigid night as her cab pulls up.  I’m inhaling deep breaths through my nose and out of my mouth to keep warm and also calm.  She saw this and turned to me and repeated the same thing she said earlier:

“See? Now you haaaate mee..don’t hate me!” she cooed in an attempt at soothing me.

“I don’t hate you. I just feel super rejected. You’re going to spend time with someone else you’d rather see.”  I mutter tiny like I hadn’t just turned 36.  

I wanted to ask her why she even bothered to invite me, but there was no time, and I didn’t want to pick a fight, no matter how the night had gone. My experiences with Anna had taught me that there isn’t any point anyway.  She is a free woman, and she was always going to do her.

Pity and impatience perhaps flash in her eyes and she hugs me.

“I’ll spend some personal time with you if you want.” She offered.

“You are always busy with your other lovers..” I said, barely making eye contact, hard lump in my throat , desperately trying to hold onto some last disparate shred of masculinity.

She laughed slightly and offered me a hug and two kisses on the mouth. With her black facemask on.  

If that wasn’t the perfect image to capture the night and our entire relationship, for that matter, I don’t know what is.  

She almost skipped off toward the cab across the street and hopped in, immediately getting on her phone.  Undoubtedly to tell her chosen lover that she’d ditched the loser that was trying to press up on her all night.  At least that is the story that I made up in my brain.

I trudged back up my stairs, gritting my teeth due to the coke and my frayed nerves, walked back into the crib, and immediately began punching myself in the forehead with my orange and black hand a couple of times.

Grant, who had been mainly a combination of amused and saddened for me by the evening and it’s events, interjected sharply.

“We’re NOT going to do that, sir.”

I take a deep breath and stop.  We then spent the next three hours or so breaking the night down so I could at least see if I was tripping for feeling like I had.  I’d go more into it, but it was really just commiseration, cocaine, and our long-running dialogue about why we keep loving women who expect us to dance in a tornado for them when they would never walk through light rain for us.

Lastly, I add a predictable ending, brave, and durable reader: I am aware that I did everything to myself.  Anna again, doesn’t owe me anything and didn’t have to give me anything that night.  I doped myself up with a heady fantasy that was never going to happen.  As Grant so astutely pointed out: 

“You should’ve known what it was as soon as you saw her kissing on ol’ boy”

I agree.  Probably would’ve skipped the the aggravation that came up later.  Precious reader, I am man enough to admit that I fucked up and essentially ran face first into a brick wall repeatedly.  This story comes off like I am mad at Anna, and I was, until I realized that everything that inspired my pissiness on Halloween is my fault.  I let pride and ego walk me right into a night of embarrassment.

I’ve known Anna for 9 years.  She’d done this kind of bait-and-switch thing before.  I was hoping this time, now that we’re older, I’d get some more courtesy or honesty. At least for my goddamn birthday.  Let me go and pull this shit on her birthday, and I’d be a fucking monster.  But I guess she still only sees me as her pet and not a person, which hurts most of all.

Especially when ALL SHE HAD TO DO WAS TELL ME THAT “I’M NOT FUCKING YOU ON HALLOWEEN.”