#As he’s eating Cassie’s lungs he’s like “Well I think this is going well. Still confused about spiciness in culinary arts vs in the bedroom

[cubikzoa]

My current favorite Hannibal crack theory is that he’s just a guy who misunderstood what having a “biting kink” entails, and everything spiraled from there. Now the FBI is after him for cannibalism and serial murder just because he wanted to switch things up on Grindr.

He’s like “I’m committing to the bit by roasting this human person to eat. Good for me tbh”

[temporalbystander]

Okay so... I'm not much of a theorist. I have watched Game theory for a bit, fell off when we hit the "let's apply realism to videogames" era. Got pissed at the "it's clearly NOT true but let's say it is anyway." Bits when film theory started. And then got dragged back in by the in depth dive he did with FNAF and other lore based games.

But, after some mindless scrolling reminding me of the disappointment of Monty fans (and some urges to write some NSFW Roxy stories...), I decided I'd give this a shot. Spoilers and theory under the cut.

Okay. Let's start at the beginning with Security Breach. We are introduced to Monty through story and context as one of the more aggressive animatronics. In game he lunges large distances, destroys machinery with ease and is most likely the strongest of the threats faced, outside of DJ music man.

Through the messages you can unlock we are told that Monty is Bonnie's replacement, that his claws were upgraded for him to play the bass and that his temper tantrums result in him destroying staff bots and wrecking his room. We are also told that he tends to skip shows to hang out in his own attraction instead. This, combined with Bonnie's last known location being Gator golf, sparked the theory that Monty decommissioned Bonnie. However given the revelation of Ruin saying Bonnie IS in Bonnie bowl, and seems to have been ended there, this is clearly not the case.

Speaking of Ruin. By now he's an animal, completely destroyed as he wanders around the pizza Plex, dragging himself along the ground, and launching himself at anything. He's also, surprisingly, still water proof despite the fact the entirety of his casing is gone. To those that don't like Monty? This was hilarious. To those who do? It was heartbreaking. His sense of self was completely gone. He gets fried by Cassie and that's it. He doesn't even appear in Help Wanted 2.

So what's my take on this? Well, going outside of the games and into the books, Monty didn't get angry until AFTER something called the storyteller was installed. What's the storyteller? As far as this theory is concerned it's the book version of Glitchtrap, or rather the virus making all the animatronics try to kill you. With this being the case, and with what's said in the books matching up with the messages in Security Breach. Monty didn't become rage filled until AFTER he joined the band, after he got his claws upgraded and all this being after Bonnie was decommissioned. Therefore his anger wasn't behind him attacking Bonnie, which he didn't do. So what was it?

Well let's compare him to the other affected animatronics. Chica scoffs down anything even remotely edible, requiring technicians to repeatedly clean out her gears, and Roxy locks herself in her room crying and lashes out verbally insulting anyone who gets in her way. Some have pointed out that these are all ways that someone can respond to grief over loss. However I think it's much simpler than that. These are all coping strategies, not healthy ones but they are.

Chica eats to calm down, Roxy lashes out verbally to hide her own self doubts, and Monty gets mad because at least with anger you can do something, you can attack and vent and feel alive. Hell, music man, sun and moon and even Freddy all have their own coping strategies going. DJ music man cranks the music loud, runs around and throws things. Both sides of the DCA cope by diving into their roles 200%. Sun goes happy and smiling trying to keep kids entertained and safe in one singular place while moon follows his job of making sure nobody stays awake regardless of how he comes across. He doesn't care if you're scared or insulted just go to sleep.

As for Freddy? This is more based on the books but he seems to cope in two ways. One he becomes more childish and two he becomes very protective, in the games he's willing to put himself at risk just to keep Gregory safe. Even the way he talks to Gregory in the games is more childlike then the way the other animatronics talk. The way Roxy talks to Freddy is more adult but even when talking to Vanessa Freddy doesn't seem mature. It's not until you go under the pizza Plex that Freddy seems to get more serious as the memories return to him.

But I've gotten off topic... Or have I? You see, this is a theory on WHY Monty seems to have gotten shafted but to explain that I have to explain what I think they're doing with him and, comparatively, what they're doing with all the other glamrocks. So let's move to Ruin shall we? Because, believe it or not, all the animatronics are STILL following their coping trends.

Chica is devouring food so much she has what remains of her mouth covered in cheese, garbage bags falling out of her stomach and ends up falling onto the cupcake assembly line before getting a forceful reboot and shutting down again. If you decide to reattach her voice box? She sparks up with the only word she says as "pizza!" Before shutting down again. Even her appearances in Help Wanted 2 revolve around her need to eat.

Monty, as I've stated earlier, copes with anger. In Ruin that devolved into a blind rage most likely throwing himself into any situation regardless of what it may do to him, hence why he went from dragging himself along the ground with his full casing, to being basically an endoskeleton lunging and biting at anything. He got tunnel vision and only seeks to destroy.

Prototype Freddy? Could actually be seen as still being childish and protective. When he catches you in Ruin he grabs you and tries to put you in the safety hatch where he has cake, he doesn't think of what might happen or how he appears he just tries to get you safe, unintentionally spearing you on his shattered chest plate in the process. In HW2 Freddy is oh so confident that you can help him because of course Fazbear entertainment would send someone qualified right? While also warning you that there may be some accidents should anything go wrong.

Roxy is where it gets interesting because, when Cassie first comes across her she's still trying to say she's beautiful. That she's special and her minigames in HW2 are all about trying to make her pretty while she gets angry at you for ignoring her and needs her walkie talkie to tell her how amazing she is once she's been shattered. But here's the thing, thanks to Gregory tearing out her eyes she's gotten another unhealthy coping strategy. Vengeance. Her entire demeanor changes and she charges at you full bore when her anger takes over. She's also gotten so confident getting around the pizza Plex that when she hears Gregory's voice she pounces through the double doors at full speed. She has a goal and that goal is getting her eyes back. Even when she eventually catches Cassie (canonically, all the other times you game over don't actually happen after all) she doesn't attack, she demands the return of her eyes and when Cassie gets scared she backs down. She realises she made a mistake and hurt someone she didn't mean to. She apologises. All this to say that, by giving herself a goal, Roxy managed to maintain her sense of self better than Chica and Monty when the orders to hunt Gregory left their system. They were all still suffering the main drawbacks, their coping strategies, but the worse part of the virus was gone. What happened between then and ruin they did to themselves.

So then. After all this. What's my thought on what they're doing with Monty? Why did he get screwed when Chica also suffered from a bad coping strategy that didn't improve? And, most importantly of all, what are they actually coping with?

Well, my thinking is simple. They had Monty cope by anger. They made him the most annoying animatronic to deal with (his glasses stopping you from stunning him, being the only animatronic to have a boss fight outside burntrap and even once dealt with he's still annoying because he's so low he can be missed easily and is ridiculously quick.) They framed him as the attacker of Bonnie and in Ruin they turned him into a rabid dogs there to terrify you until you get the satisfaction of electrocuting him. He was made to be the most hated animatronic through gameplay, story and design. And when he doesn't appear in Help Wanted 2 they wanted you to think "good riddance!"

Why? Because I bet they have a prequel planned for him. Something that shows his connection with Bonnie, his big brother attitude towards the kids on his golf course. Something that would connect him more with the teens. And through it all you're meant to be thinking "I'm watching you. I know what you're like. I know what you're capable of. Be wary Bonnie, he's after your job."

And then it would continue. You'd see his softer side cheering up some kids who just can't get the hang of golf. Scaring of some bullies by roaring at them. Having the time of his life on the solo stage. You'd smile, chuckle. Maybe even go. "Wow Monty? What happened to you? Why couldn't we do things like this with you in Help Wanted?" You'd slowly start to forget Security Breach and Ruin and just enjoy the time with the cool gator.

Then it would happen. There'd be whispers at first as they say Bonnie's gone missing and the shows been put on hold for a while. You'd look at Monty again only to see him worried and confused. Asking the staff what happened to his idol. Monty would be walking over the catwalks trying to remember what happened the last time Bonnie visited. Then he'd be told he'd be Bonnie's replacement. He'd resist, he loves his attraction, but he doesn't have a choice. The kids want to see the band perform after all.

So you'd see him get the upgrades, perform. See him get Bonnie's green room, hear the kids, and everyone else's, disappointment in him. Then you'd see him snap. See him tear down the posters of him and Bonnie before he trashes the rest of the room. See him destroy the staff bots that try to clean up. Then youd see him floating in the water. Twitching and sparking. And you'd say. "Oh god. What have I done?"

I think Monty is a lesson in judgement. That anger always comes from something else. Something deeper. And also that blind rage can turn you into something you aren't if you let it consume you. I think Monty is meant to be a tragic tale of someone who became a villain because he was misjudged until he couldn't take it anymore...

.... Oh. You're still reading? Oh yes. What do I think they are coping with. I did say I'd explain that as well didn't I? Well... Simply put? Being alive. The books have followed a trend of AI trying to become human. I think the glitch made the glamrocks sentient. Sure their AI was sophisticated before but they couldn't feel like they could when the glitch hit. Roxy realised she wasn't the best despite her programming saying she had to be so she was filled with self loathing. Chica was programmed as the fitness expert yet realised she doesn't have any concept of food or being full. Monty awoke feeling judged and got mad because it wasn't his fault. And Freddy? Well Freddy either got possessed by Mike early on and thus was saved by some of the existential crisis. OR his programming designating him the leader saw him recognising his friends having issues and thus he became naive to cope with the fact that everything was still okay and protective to try his best to help.

[liptonsbabe]

My dear [S.U]

Sam Uley x Fem! reader!

Summary: “Did you have a hard day? You can complain to me. Did something make you almost cry? It’s alright, look at me. Starting from now, think of three really good things: the warm air, the dazzling weather, and me outside your window.  I told you, you can see brightness only when it gets dark”

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, death, heart dissease and such. English not my mother language so pls let me know if something’s wrong

gif’s not mine

"Sorry to bother you, Chief," you said following the man's moves through your house. Charlie Swan was carrying a reclining chair with ease leaving it in the middle of the living room while you stood at the bottom of the stairs with your little four year old daughter in your arms. Cassie was exhausted. It had been a long plane ride and a bit more road travel, which knocked your little girl out as soon as you set foot in your new home in Forks. It was a long time since you had seen that place but of course you remembered Charlie Swan as kind as he had always been. Even when you were just starting to think about moving back to Forks he was the first to help you get a safe home for you and your daughter. You remembered looking up for Charlie's old phone number hoping it was still the same and when you dialed and heard the man's voice behind the phone you sighed in relief. At last life seemed to be smiling on you after a long time and Charlie was quick to offer to help you if you decided to return to town.

He told you about a house for sale next to his. The owner was elderly and preferred to live with one of her children and earn income from the house near the forest that could be bought by curious tourists so Charlie convinced her to sell you the house and at a lower price than she was originally asking because the house needed some repairs that he could do. So you thought no more about it and packed your things to return to Forks after the horrible years you had lived in Brownsville.

Charlie picked you up at the airport in his police cruiser and avoided turning on the siren cause Cassie was already half asleep in your arms when you got off the plane and he didn't want to disturb her, but Cassie had the strength to stay awake long enough to make him promise that next time he would turn on the siren as they drove around town.

The truth was that Charlie Swan was an angel. He arranged everything so you would have a quick return and even now he was bothering to get all your stuff out of the moving truck so you wouldn't have the worry of doing it later.

"Nonsense, I'm happy to do it. Besides, it's my day off."

"And that's why you shouldn't be doing all this. I know vacations for police officers are non-recurring."

"I'm the chief, I have certain privileges."

"Still."

"Well, I wasn't going to let you do this on your own" he replied, carrying the boxes with your and Cassie's clothes. He set them down on the kitchen island and leaned back against them to rest. You walked over and settling Cassie better in your arms you sat down in one of the chairs Charlie had given you "Billy and Jacob will be here in a little while to get all this settled so you can have your first night here without any problems."

"I still think it's too much. Stop spoiling me like this, Charlie, you even gave me part of your dining room!"

"Ah, it was nothing. Bella and I recently bought a new one and we didn't want to take it to the dump cause it still has some use. The table is made out of good wood and the chairs are freshly upholstered. Look at it, it suits perfectly!"

"That's not the point" you said, glancing sideways at the newly arranged dining room near the kitchen "The point is that you're doing a lot for me and it's not fair."

"Your father would have done the same for Bella if it had been about me" he replied reaching for a bottle of water from the installed cooler. A sudden tension appeared in the room as you both remembered what your father's life was like in Forks "Jackson was my best friend for a long time and when he died...I promised him that I would seek you out and support you as if you were my own and that is precisely what I am doing."

"You wouldn't have if I hadn't left and hadn't abandoned him. He died because of me"

"That's not true."

"He was left alone when I left. He died of grief"

"He died from the heart valve disease he had. Your father suffered it from a young age and even so, you had a right to look for your mother"

"I wish I hadn't" you murmured, cooing to Cassie who was beginning to get annoyed by the noise of your voices "I abandoned my father and didn't find anything worthwhile"

"Well, that doesn't matter anymore, stop tormenting yourself and thinking you killed your father. I was with him. He loved you and he died peacefully, remember him as the good man he was, child."

You sighed. Cassie went back to sleep peacefully

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I know it's not the same, but you have me now and I'd rather die than let you leave again, do you hear me?"

"Easy, I have no intention of doing that" you half smiled "I'm running away from the tracks I left in Brownsville, I have no desire to go back under any circumstances. What I'm worried about is that the tracks won't rub off and show the way to the one I'm hiding from"

Charlie clicked his tongue.

"That should be the least of your problems. I have a gun and I know how to use it. He'll have to deal with that first before he gets to you."

"Thanks, Charlie."

"Although, if Chief Swan is as good at shooting as he is at fishing then you'll have to learn how to handle a gun yourself, honey" a voice appeared from the doorway followed by a young man's laughter.  You looked up meeting the unmistakable face of Billy Black next to his son Jacob. Billy entered your house being pushed by Jacob leaving him next to Charlie as he rolled his eyes "Be a little more modest, buddy."

"There's nothing wrong with bragging once in a while."

"Yeah, but you do it all the time."

"Shut up."

"Make me"

Charlie got up from his spot lunging towards Billy who ina swift movement spun the wheels of his chair avoiding Charlie's attack thus beginning a chase through the house dodging the obstacles of boxes on the floor. Jacob laughed taking Charlie's place in front of you.

"I thought we were coming to help with the move, not to watch them play like preschoolers?"

"Me too. I think Cassie will get along with them."

"Your little girl will beat them up right away"

"Probably."

You giggled quietly avoiding waking Cassie as Charlie and Billy finished their game to go back to the truck and get the last boxes, then you could finally get everything settled at home. Jacob smiled, looking at you

"I'm Jacob. You may not remember me but..."

"Are you kidding? I used to give you the bottle."

"No you didn't."

"Of course i did! My dad used to visit your parents a lot and he used to take me with him. You were a newborn baby and I used to volunteer to help Sarah feed you. You were the worst baby ever. You cried too loudly and squeezed the bottle with your swollen gums. Then you'd throw the milk back and you used to get really messy. Your poop was the smelliest I could remember."

"Don't say that!" he replied, embarrassed "I see you do remember me."

"And Quill and Embry. Tell me, are they still the same old fools?"

"They haven't changed at all."

You laughed.

"Perfect."

"Ok, these are the last boxes" announced Charlie walking into the house carrying with him a small box with Cassie's toys. Billy came in behind with some boxes on his lap "I think now we can get everything organized and finishing in time for you to get some rest."

"I'll clean up the little girl's room" offered Jacob standing up "then I'll fill the closet and set up the bed so you can lay her down, you must be tired from carrying her around for so long. is that okay with you?" he asked you. You nodded

"Yes, thank you Jacob."

"You're welcome. Give me that" The boy took the boxes off his father's legs and picked up Charlie's, all with one arm and with the other he carried the folding base of the bed. You opened your eyes wide 

"Easy, big guy, when did you get so strong?"

"I don't know. It just... showed up" he replied disappearing up the stairs

"It showed up" said Charlie "Ah, I hope shows up something like that to me"

"Don’t hold your breath as that happens" Billy joked.

"I should do something for lunch" you said trying to stand up. You were going to put Cassie down on one of the couches and put some cushions around her, but Charlie won't let you. Billy agreed 

"None of that. We'll order something."

"But..."

"Nothing" interrupted Billy "We'll buy pizza"

"You guys really need to stop doing this" you reproached. Billy picked up his phone

"Ah, sorry, you had to say that earlier, I'm already on the call."

"You guys are unbelievable"

Charlie smiled

"We know. oh I'll get Bella, she hasn't said hello yet" Charlie walked out before you could say anything else and closed the door dismissing the moving truck. Billy smiled complicitly, placed the order, gave the address and left the cell phone on the kitchen bar

"Dinner is served."

"Thank you."

"They had children's menu, so I ordered it for Cassie. I hear their brownies are delicious. Maybe I'll steal it for myself."

"I'll keep it as a secret"

Billy nodded with a smile and as the food arrived you chatted animatedly about what had happened in your absence, he also told you things about your father and all the times they went fishing together before his death. You were enjoying Billy's stories when time began to pass and Charlie didn’t return with Bella as he promised. Jacob was finishing Cassie's room and when the pizza arrived he came downstairs immediately, asking about Charlie's whereabouts.

"He went to get Bella, but he hasn't come back yet."

"That's strange, his house is right next door."

"Maybe something came up for him at the station" Billy shrugged.

You  decided to wait for the Swans to eat, but seeing that they didn't show up Jacob offered to investigate what was going on when suddenly the door opened and a very worried Charlie Swan walked in wiping the sweat from his brow

"Bella’s missing."

"What?"

Jacob suddenly became alert and Billy remained static in his place. You felt a knot in your stomach. While riding in the police cruiser that morning, you had heard something about tourist disappearances and wild creatures killing people in the woods and you feared Bella might be in that kind of danger. You were never close, but you knew her and occasionally went out together to talk or share a movie night. You still hadn't seen her after the years you were away and the least you wanted was for something bad to happen to her.

"Did you talk to any of her friends?"

"She was with them during classes, but they lost track of her on her way here. I'll call the Cullens, maybe..."

"You didn't know?" asked Billy "The Cullens left Forks, Charlie."

"Where did they go?"

"We'll find her" encouraged Jacob "But we have to go out and look for her before dark."

"I'll go with you" you said "I'll take Cassie to her room and..."

"No, no, stay" Charlie asked you "I left a note for Bella at home in case she comes back she’ll know that she has to come here and wait for me. If she does, call me right away, please" you nodded

"I'll call Harry and ask him to join along with the boys" Billy said and wheeled away down the hallway holding the phone to his ear. Charlie and Jacob left and you decided to take Cassie to the room, go down to the kitchen and make some coffee for the Brigadiers and Bella. If she was alone in the woods and the night was catching up with her then she was going to need something hot to get her strength back. 

You hoped with all your heart that she was all right. For her, for Charlie.

.

.

.

Hours passed one after another with no sign of Bella. Your driveway was carpeted with people and police cruisers specially brought by Charlie to search for Bella. The entire town was scoured by officers from the early hours of the night, yet there was no trace of the chief's daughter. You decided to join the search taking the opportunity that Sue Clearwater was playing with Cassie - who was awakened by the ruckus of the patrol cars - asking if it was a good idea to search for her in the woods, but Harry refused.

"It's too dangerous, we don't know what might be among the trees. We can't risk losing any more people."

You were about to object his words when Jacob came up to you putting a hand on your shoulder telling you that he was right and that the forest was something not to be taken lightly. So you gave up, deciding to go back inside and refill the coffee pot when Jacob alerted Charlie that someone had found Bella.

A tall man walked in a straight line toward the Brigadiers where Billy and Harry watched him with restrained relief. He had a stocky frame and Bella unconscious in his arms seemed to weigh no more than a feather. His cropped black hair was messy and his lack of a shirt told you that the icy cold of the city didn't affect him at all

You knew him. His face was very familiar yet strange at the same time. You were back in Forks after a few years, but you knew that no one could change that much in that period of time.

Sam Uley was holding Bella and Charlie took her in his arms as he came out of the stupor and relief of having found his daughter. The Brigadiers sighed in unison and Billy thanked them all. You wanted to do something, to approach Charlie, to ask him if he needed help with Bella, but your eyes were caught in Sam’s. 

They were dark, wild, like the forest behind him. You remembered him perfectly. 

Before you left Forks you two were close friends and came to like each other as something more, but your leaving ended that and what you might have been up to that point.

You tried to look away, but then Sam's huge body began to shake, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground resting his hands on the dirt. Harry Clearwater reacted and approached him asking if he was okay.

"Tired" you heard him whisper causing you to shudder. Harry helped him up, whispered something in his ear and after taking one last look at you he disappeared into the woods. Harry walked back towards you.

"I thought the forest was dangerous"

"For us."

"What do you mean?"

Harry looked at you. Then he looked at his wife with Cassie in her arms standing at the doorway . He smiled.

"You'll find out soon, child"

[emilia3546]

Our Future - PoppyCas

Keiran's been left to babysit his little sister for a few hours, nothing could go wrong, or could it? Luckily Poppy is on hand to save him, getting her thinking about families, the future she wants to start with Casteel.

*****

"Your majesty!" Poppy whirled around at the shout, still not entirely accustomed to the title, but smiled warmly at the young wolven running towards her,

"What can I do for you, Laurie?" She asked, chuckling as he shifted to wolven form and back again, shaking his head to regain his bearings,

"Lord Contou asked me to find you,"

"Kieran? He'll laugh to hear you call him that," she chuckled,

"but he is, isn't he?"

"Technically, but I don't think he's ever used that official title, even since we made him advisor,"

"Oh, well, he said he needed your help with something, he didn't say what, but he's waiting at his parents' house."

"Thank you, Laurie, I'll head over there now, if you see him, let Cas know where I've gone." She held up a hand as Laurie made to run off again, "If you see him, don't go out of your way, he'll find us,"

"Yes, your majesty," he muttered, but smiled and waved at Poppy when he reached the edge of the garden, and Poppy resisted the urge to laugh as Laurie vanished. It wouldn't take long to get to Jasper and Kirha's house from here, but she did let out a sigh at the sight of the freshly-planted night-blooming roses, she'd come and check on them later this evening. There was something about Evaemon in the spring that had completely captured her heart, perhaps it was the way that the breeze ruffled through her hair, the scent of flowers floating all around her. Perhaps it was the way that her people smiled and waved when she passed them in the street, but perhaps it was simply the feeling of peace, of safety. She hardly noticed her feet moving, following the same path that she'd walked a thousand times now, at least until she found herself at the Contous' door. 

She let herself in, calling Kieran's name, but froze at the sight before her,

"I need your help," Poppy struggled to hold in a laugh at the sight of him holding his baby sister at arms-length, covered in what she hoped was baby food, surrounded by discarded toys. She blinked a few times in surprise, but quietly closed the door, and took the child from Kieran's arms,

"Oh, sweetie, what's he done to you?" She crooned, gently rocking her from side to side,

"Me? Look at what she's done!"

"She's two, Kieran, you're what, two-hundred?"

"Something like that," he muttered, and Poppy snorted with laughter, carrying the child through to the kitchen, carefully cleaning her up, and tickling her when she squirmed, so that she squealed in delight. Kieran sheepishly followed her, still complaining that babies were impossible, 

"Go clean up the living room," Poppy ordered, "I'll deal with her,"

"Thank you," she made a face when he kissed her cheek,

"You smell like baby vomit, go shower as well,"

"Not my fault," Kieran insisted, "I don't know babies, Netta was supposed to help, but she got delayed in Spessa's End,"

"Uh-huh," Poppy hummed, "Go clean up," she didn't wait to see if he obeyed before slipping out of the room, and disappearing up the stairs to find a change of clothes for the toddler now wriggling in her arms. "Shhh," she hushed, humming a tune quietly, trying to quieten her down, just long enough to get a clean set of clothes on before wriggling away and dodging Poppy's attempts to catch her. Poppy stopped chasing her, and cocked her head to the side, laughing as the little girl mimicked her, staring at her with those brilliant blue eyes, "Come here," Poppy held out her arms, laughing again when the child shook her head, 

"Don't want to," she giggled, 

"Come to Auntie Poppy," in that moment of hesitation Poppy lunged forwards and scooped her up, "Do you want to play in the garden?" In a heartbeat, she wasn't holding a child, but a wriggling wolven pup, and she set her down on the ground, laughing again as she raced round her feet, her tail wagging uncontrollably. Kieran was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, "We're going to play in the garden," Poppy explained, grinning at Kieran's shocked look,

"How did you catch her?" He whispered,

"Magic," Poppy chuckled, "You just need to learn to cope with children,"

"I can cope with children," he complained,

"Cas doesn't count," Poppy shot over her shoulder, following Kieran's sister into the garden.

"Hey!" She turned at her husband's voice, "I am not a child,"

"Go and prove it then, she's in the garden," Casteel and Kieran shared a look, but he finally shrugged and passed Poppy to reach the door to the garden. Her heart swelled at the way he immediately took to the task, letting the howling pup pounce on him, and bat at him with her paws. She leaned against the doorway, and ignored Kieran's knowing look,

"You want one," he teased,

"Shut up, we agreed to wait a while," 

"Tell him, if you want one now, just tell him, he's only waiting because you wanted a bit of time to learn to be Queen and to live peacefully first, if you've decided you're ready, just tell him."

"I don't know, maybe he wants time,"

"Maybe, but if you don't tell him you're ready, how can he decide if he is?" Poppy rolled her eyes, 

"Now who's asking questions," but Kieran was right, she did want one, she really wanted one, and she knew that Casteel did too, but the thought of it, of their child still frightened her a bit, but in a good way she supposed. She turned her attention back to where joy and contentment was practically radiating off her husband where he was now playing peekaboo with a mortal toddler. Her screams and squeals of delight melted Poppy's heart, and she was so absorbed with watching that she didn't notice the door behind them opening,

"Kieran roped you two in then, did he?" Kirha nudged her son's shoulder as she spoke, "I should have known better than to think he'd actually cope on his own,"

"Mom! I can cope,"

"Then why are Poppy and Casteel here?" Jasper teased, "We can't even go out for lunch without you needing help," Kieran narrowed his eyes and Poppy chuckled again,

"Lunch? You mean all the mess I walked into was just from about an hour?" Kieran grunted, trying to dismiss her attention, but all he managed was to confirm her question. 

"Mama!" Kirha grinned as her daughter practically leapt into her arms, "I've been playing with Auntie Poppy, and Uncle Cassy," Poppy snorted at the toddler attempt to pronounce Casteel's name, but politely refused Kirha's offer to stay for dinner, claiming that they'd promised to eat with Casteel's parents that evening, even if she was just trying to avoid adding any extra stress to her life.

*****

The night-blooming roses were absolutely beautiful, they'd taken perfectly, surrounding a pond that glowed silver in the moonlight. Poppy sighed to herself, running a hand through the cool water,

"C'mon, what's the matter?" She shrugged, still not quite sure how to explain her thoughts, "Poppy," Casteel gently turned her chin to face him, "You've been quiet all day, tell me what's on your mind,"

"I don't know," she muttered, "This is lovely," she gestured to the roses, to the rest of the gardens, "Our people are safe, happy,"

"And you're not?"

"No, I am, I just, it's like there's something else I want." She paused for a moment, trying to think about her next words, careful not to end up pushing Casteel into something he might not want yet, "Earlier, at the Contous' place, it just felt right, you know?"

"I do know," Casteel murmured, "You think you're ready?" Poppy nodded, 

"I am ready, I want a family, with you, I never really had a chance to think about what I wanted, I assumed I'd never be able to have children, to choose my life, and now we're safe, we have time, I want to. I chose you, and now I want to choose our family." Casteel didn't speak, simply smiled, both dimples appearing, and leaned forward, until his and Poppy's noses were almost touching, 

"I want to choose a family too," Poppy's heart leapt when Casteel closed the gap between them, pulling her in by her waist, a hand diving into her hair as he slanted his mouth over hers. Poppy blindly grasped at his shirt, clinging on as she met him move for move, and sighed when he finally pulled back and tucked her into his side, "We should probably get started then," he murmured, chuckling at the way Poppy squirmed slightly at the suggestion, but grinned, and practically dragged him back to their bedroom.

[clairenatural]

look at you, strawberry blond

destiel, 1.8k. pining, fluff, growing up together, etc! minor character/parental death, vague mention of John’s A+ Parenting. based on the mitski song  (this is a repost because the first one got deleted)

I love everybody because I love you

Castiel first learns what love is when he’s eight years old and Gabriel, sixteen, is grumbling about driving an hour out of his way to find his girlfriend the rare chocolates she likes for Valentine’s day.

“Why?” he asks his older brother, and Gabriel sighs, melodramatic as always.

“That’s love, little bro. Remembering the little things and then putting in the time to make it happen.”

Cas thinks about when he told Dean his parents don’t let him eat candy. He thinks about how Dean has given him half his Kit Kat bar every day for the last year.

He thinks about the time he scraped his knee falling off the jungle gym and Dean spent the rest of recess picking dandelions to make him feel better. Yellow is his favorite color.

“Oh.”

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Cassie. Love is about sacrifice, and commitment--” he goes on, but by the time Michael cuts him off, yelling from his office that you’ve only been dating for two months, Gabriel, stop preaching to Castiel, Cas has already sprinted up the stairs to his bedroom.

A broken piggy bank, $1.50 in pocket change, and several pleas to Gabriel later, and Castiel tucks a king-sized Kit Kat into Dean’s valentine box.

 --------------------------------------

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

It’s eight years later, one summer in high school, when Castiel realizes that there’s a difference between loving and being in love, and that he is, in fact, in love with his best friend.

He realizes this as he watches Dean walk away, sandals discarded and unnecessary in the soft grass, back to the picnic tables to get them both more fruit punch. It’s the annual junior class picnic, the official welcome to being upperclassmen, and the August sun casts a warm glow over Dean’s freckles, and Castiel knows.

Two seconds later, he watches Dean nearly get hit by an errant frisbee and completely forget his punch mission in lieu of playfully tackling its thrower, Benny Lafitte. He watches Lisa Braden, giggly and glowing and perfect as always, yelp as she’s almost caught in the crossfire, and Dean winks at her as he releases Benny.

He swallows thickly and turns his attention back to the patch of grass they’d been laying in, flattened where Dean had been just a few moments before. He wishes he hadn’t come to this particular realization.

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape I looked over it and I ached

--------------------------------------

I love everybody because I love you I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

Castiel goes to college in Chicago and pretends like the two-hour drive between them doesn’t mean anything. And it doesn’t, until Dean’s father gets a job back in Kansas halfway through his freshman year. Dean goes with him even though he’s an adult because the alternative is letting Sam deal with John alone, so Castiel spends most of that summer in Lawrence, dodging both his friends in the big city and his family back in Pontiac. He tells them all that he’s studying Kansas’ role in the Civil War, assisting in research back at the University, but he and Dean spend two months going on road trips with Sam.

His sophomore year John dies and Castiel flies back for the weekend, explaining his sudden departure as a family emergency and getting an extension on two papers. Dean holds his hand at the funeral but won’t look him in the eyes for two hours after, even as he refuses to leave Castiel’s side.

The boys move in with Bobby but that summer Dean shows up in Chicago, explanations lined up about not worrying about Sam anymore and wanting to see what about the city made Cas keep coming back. Castiel gets an internship and pretends like that was the plan all along. He quietly cancels his plane tickets to South Dakota.

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape I picture it, soft, and I ache

--------------------------------------

Reach out the car window, trying to hold the wind You tell me you love her; I give you a grin

Dean stays in Chicago. He moves into Castiel’s empty room when his original roommate moves out, he finds work at an auto shop, and he starts taking mechanic classes at a community college. Castiel isn’t sure why—he doesn’t want to ask. Afraid to look the gift horse in the mouth and risk having his happiness bitten off.

Then Dean starts talking about a girl. Then Castiel meets the girl, Cassie Robinson, and it all makes sense.  

He pretends it doesn’t sting every time Dean brings her up, that the way his face lights up doesn’t burn, that he doesn’t feel physically ill the first time he meets her.

By the time Dean tells him he’s in love, gushing about Cassie in a way eerily reminiscent of Gabriel twelve years earlier, it’s turned into a dull ache that Castiel has mostly contained in the back of his chest. They’re on their way to Cassie’s apartment, the first stop on their way to a cabin spring break of their junior year, and the ache is suddenly threatening to break through his ribcage.

But the sun is warm on his cheek, and the radio is playing a soft summer soundtrack, so Castiel allows Dean’s happiness to wash over him long enough to forget who—or, more importantly, who isn’t—causing it. He grins at his best friend before turning his gaze back out the passenger window of the Impala.

Oh all I ever wanted was a life in your shape So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines, Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

--------------------------------------

Look at you, strawberry blond

Dean and Cassie break up, and Dean drinks for a month, but Castiel getting into Stanford for grad school distracts him just long enough to go back to normal (a normal that does not involve thinking about how Dean nearly kissed him when they were both drunk the night he got his acceptance).

This new normal involves staring graduation in the face, and California beyond that, and moving out of his Chicago apartment somewhere in this middle, which also involves coming to terms with moving away from Dean.

Until Sam gets his own acceptance to Stanford a few months later. Then Dean starts sending him links to two-bedroom apartments, and using “we” when talking about the move, and looks just as confused as Castiel when he asks about it.

“Well, yeah. I mean, with you gone, and now Sam—You thought you were going by yourself?”

And even though Castiel vaguely thinks this is a bad idea, and living with his best friend who he’s been in love with for his entire memory had been hard enough for the two years they’d been doing it, he can’t say no. Because every time he gets up the nerve to say something Dean calls him over and shoves his laptop into Castiel’s face, talking about hiking trails and flower fields and front lawns and dogs, and that quells any doubt he had.

They move to Palo Alto, into a townhouse with a lawn and a communal garden. Dean adopts a golden retriever.

Fields rolling on, I love it when you call my name

--------------------------------------

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm? Watching your arm

Two months into Castiel’s first year of graduate school they have a picnic, taking advantage of the lingering warmth of the California fall. Sam is off in the field playing with Zeppelin, obviously having used the ‘come meet my brother’s dog’ excuse to invite the pretty blonde woman (Jess?) chasing the golden with him. Dean is rambling about Star Trek and Castiel is paying half attention, the majority of his focus on the reading in front of him because professors don’t consider picnics an extension-worthy excuse.

He’s just started to get invested when he hears a yelp and looks up to see Dean Winchester, his best friend, most trusted confidant and the possible love of his life, swatting a bumblebee. Cas gasps, reading forgotten, and lunges across the picnic blanket to grab Dean’s wrist. “Dean.” He chastises, and Dean gives him a look.

“It’s a bee, Cas.”

“It’s a bumblebee, which are essential—”

“To our ecosystem, yeah, but it’s pretty essential to me that it doesn’t sting me.”

“It won’t sting you if you don’t swat at it.”

“You didn’t see the look on it, man. It meant business.”

“Bees are attracted to sugar. You probably just smell good.”

Dean grins. “You calling me sweet, Cas?”

And, well, no. He isn’t. He’s talking about the empty pie tin next to Dean. But the words make him realize just how close they are, how far he’d moved into Dean’s space in his efforts to stop his hand, how the force of the movement had pushed Dean almost back onto his elbows.

He opens his mouth to respond the way he usually does to Dean’s cavalier flirting, but the words don’t leave his mouth—which is, somehow, he swears, closer to Dean’s than it was a second ago. Just as Castiel is preparing to push back, clear his throat, and add this moment onto a growing list of almost-but-not-quite moments stretching back years, Dean sucks in a breath and closes the gap.

Castiel reacts before his brain can fully comprehend what’s going on, bypassing any shock entirely and kissing Dean back immediately. He lets go of his wrist, instead bringing his hand to the side of Dean’s face, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. Dean pushes himself back up and wraps an arm around Castiel’s waist, pulling him essentially into his lap, and then they’re kissing, and Dean smells like summer and tastes like apple pie, and Castiel suddenly understands more than ever why bees are always buzzing around him.

It feels like a lifetime until it’s over, until they’re just staring at each other and out of breath, both scared to say anything and break the magic they’d accidentally created. The silence is only broken by a shout from across the grass, followed shortly by a tennis ball that nearly misses them, followed by 65 pounds of golden retriever that does not miss them and nearly topples Castiel in his pursuit of the ball. And then Sam comes running after the dog, still shouting—apologies, this time—and then there’s Jess, laughing hysterically, and then Castiel has to scramble out of the way because Zeppelin has made a U-turn, interpreting the whole commotion as a game of keep-away.

Dean meets his eye above the chaos and grins, and the sunlight hits his dirty blonde hair, and it’s so breathtaking Castiel almost forgets to smile back.

I love it when you look my way.

[rebellconquerer]

48, bucky/sarah

#48: “You make me want things I can’t have.”

“Boys, if one of you trips and dies I am not cleaning it up!” Sarah yells, glaring at her children as they chase James across the yard.

It had been a scorcher of a day, 103 degrees in the shade, and she had gotten tired of the pathetic little looks Cassie was giving her every time he complained about the heat, so she had brought out the swimsuits and the ancient slip and slide that lived in their attic. It had been a hit with her children.

If she is also appreciating the sight of James running around with them in swim trunks and a wet, now translucent, white t-shirt well… that’s between her and God.

With the summer sun finally about to set, Sarah looks back on a day well spent as she lounges in the shade. AJ lets out another whoop and she looks over to see her oldest hanging off James’s neck, probably halfway to strangling him.

“AJ! If you kill him, who will let you climb them?” she yells as James rather dramatically falls to his knees.

“Uncle Sam!” AJ responds as his legs swing around James’s hip and he tries to push himself almost up onto his shoulder. James is laughing rather loudly, a sound that she knows is rare enough, so she figures he’s probably okay with death by child.

“Try again, little urchin. You got bony everything.” Sam says from where he’s laying close enough to the spray of cool water, shades still on his face, as he holds the little battery-powered fan to his chest.

She rolls her eyes, letting her head drop back against the lawn chair, appreciating the sounds of her children happy and healthy and playful. She should probably get up and start packing up the toys and remnants of lunch before they lose the last bit of evening light, but she finds she’s a little too comfortable for that.

“How are they still going after a full day of running around?” Sam mutters bitterly.

“Super-serum, right? That’s how you explained it to me,” Sarah chuckles.

“Yeah, but what’s their excuse?” Sam says pointing at her children.

“Summer break has a way of making them power through everything.” She shrugs.

Sam huffs and is silent for a minute before she hears the rustle of his clothes as he stands and heads back to the porch.

“Where you going?”

“Evening calls for music. You know, it’s supposed to soothe the savage beast or something.” he winks at her, gesturing over his shoulder.

A moment later she hears the intro chords to an old Sam Cooke song. God, her brother could be so predictable sometimes.

“How about something from this decade?!” James calls out, light and cheeky. She can’t help opening her eyes to watch as he chases AJ through the sprinklers, holding Cass under his arm as he does.

The grin that splits her face is almost painful. She could not have imagined this scene a year ago, hell even six months ago. She tries not to let it get to her too much, how good James looks, happy and playful, wrapped around her babies. But it is hard. Her heart squeezes so hard in her chest it feels like it’s pushing the air from her lungs.

If you ever change your mind

About leaving me behind

“You really wanna be throwing stones in your ancient ass glass house?” Sam asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Uncle Sam said a bad word!” AJ shrieks as James finally manages to grab him, all of them falling down in a tangle of limbs and bony knees.

“Yes, he did!” James pants out, finally not moving.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot Bucky. And you’re about to be eaten by mosquitoes. See what your damn super serum can do against Louisiana’s finest.” Sam grumbles good-naturedly, starting to pack up the pieces of bread, cheese and meats that did not make into the earlier sandwiches.

The mention of mosquitoes seems to finally kick start her children again.

I know I laughed when you left

But now I know I only hurt myself.

“Oh jeez. Mosquitoes suck. Race you back inside!” AJ yells at Cass as he takes off towards the back door.

“Alexander Simpson Jr. I know you must have lost your ever-loving mind to be running through my house.” She says sharply before they are even at the porch steps. That brings AJ to a slow trot, sheepish smile on his face.

“No, mom,” he mutters, moving past her. “I’m just going to go bathe,” he finishes demurely.

She hums unconvinced as they grab their towels and head inside to the sound of Sam failing to hide his snicker.

“I’ll go make sure they don’t drip too badly up the stairs,” he says lightly, rubbing his hand over AJ’s head.

I’ll give you jewellery and money too

That ain't all, all I’ll do for you.

She watches them go then looks out at her yard, where James is still lying where he fell, a small smile curling his lips. She finds herself going to him, unable to resist the picture he makes, like a moth to a flame. His eyes are closed when she gets to him and she can’t help the delicate smile she feels curving her own lips. She pokes his side with her barefoot.

“You alive soldier?”

“I think this is it for me Ms Sarah, tell ‘em I was brave at the end,” he mutters, old Brooklyn accent thick as he wraps a hand lightly around her ankle, preventing her from poking him again.

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Up and at ‘em before we really do get eaten by the mosquitoes. As super as your serum may be, you are still a white boy at the end of Louisiana. They will eat you alive.” A smile splits his face a moment before his eyes pop open, the blue almost grey in the fading evening light.

He gets to his feet quickly, but as she turns to move away, he grabs her waist, spinning her into him and swaying them gently to the familiar rhythm. It startles a laugh from her, light and airy.

“You’re in a mood,” she whispers as he takes her hand, holding it to his chest as they move.

“You know I’ll always be your slave, till I’m buried, buried in my grave-” he sings along with the song.

She settles easily into his arms, trying to ignore how right and good it feels to be this close to him. They’ve only been doing this, whatever it is, for a few weeks and it already feels like she can’t remember a time before she could look over and see the soft curve of his mouth slide into a gentle smile as he stares back at her.

It’s dangerous how quickly the feelings she has for him have gotten heavy and comfortable, settling deep in her chest.

‘You make me want things I can’t have,’ is what she thinks as they continue to sway softly. The words are on the tip of her tongue and she can’t help but wonder what his response to them would be. She looks up at him, deciding to be brave. Deciding to say the words to him.

She takes a deep breath. “You ma-”

“God! I leave you out here for 2 minutes and you two are all over each other. Seriously, I’m gonna turn the hose on you.” Sam grumbles.

Sarah can feel the rumble of James’s laugh in her own chest with how close she is wrapped up in him.

“Don’t be jealous, Sam. You can dance with me too!” James says, stepping away from her and ending their moment.

“Ain’t no one want your pasty ass, Barnes,” Sam laughs.

“See this is your problem, Samuel. Always with the insults.” James responds.

She watches him walk towards Sam, the two of them trading insults like children and breathes through the weight of the emotion on her chest. She lets the moment pass as she follows them inside, Sam Cooke still crooning out the end of this song.

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it all home to me

[pleasejustfuckinghugme]

Forever

episode two pt. one (word count: 1,195)

jacobs!oc x fezco

warnings: language, sexual references, probably some typos

Nancy never got a car like her brother. Now, you may think that’s really fucked up because, yeah, they’re twins, but Nancy didn’t want a car. She wanted a bike. On the twins’ sixteenth birthday, Nate pulled up to the school in his brand new, fucking ginormous silver truck, and trailing behind him was Nancy on a fucking bike. I asked her, “Why the hell did Nate get a car and not you?” And she just shrugged her shoulders, locking her shiny yellow bicycle to the rack, “Bikes are just more fun.”

“I need a new fucking bike,” Nancy mumbled to herself as she rolled her ride up to the side of the school. After she secured the rusting yellow bike to the rack, she let out a puff of air and brushed out her white pleated tennis skirt. Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, she made her way into the school.

“Nancy!” a voice called, causing her to whip around. “Thank God you’re alive!” Maddy teased, pulling the girl against her. 

Nancy giggled as the two continued walking. “Yeah, sorry I had to leave early the other night.”

Maddy’s eyes grew as she looked at her friend, “Bitch, you disappeared for the rest of the weekend! Remind me to never let you drink again.”

Nancy scoffed, rolling her eyes before she noticed BB and Cassie up ahead of them. As her and Maddy caught up to them, Rue passed the four, holding hands with another girl. She was tall, almost as pale as paper, and her blonde hair faded into a light pink. Nancy gave them a small wave, but neither noticed as they sauntered by.

“Oh shit! That’s the girl that tried to commit suicide at Mckay’s,” BB exclaimed.

“Wait, what?” Cassie and Maddy, asked simultaneously as Nancy gave the girl a shocked look. “Oh yeah, I forgot you guys both was fuckin,” BB slurred, causing Maddy to stop walking abruptly. 

She threw her head back and groaned in exasperation, “Why does everybody think we fucked?”

“Come on,” Nancy giggled, pulling her friend along as the four continued to walk down the hall.

“Yeah, at least you didn’t disappear,” Cassie chimed in, giving a pointed look to Nancy.

“Shut up,” Nancy scoffed. “I was sick!”

BB and Cassie giggled, “No one heard from you for a whole day,” Cassie teased.

“Look, maybe alcohol just isn’t for me,” Nancy defended herself.

“Yeah, alcohol is not good for me,” Maddy agreed.

“So you did fuck him,” BB grinned, turning to the girl.

“Honestly, I think I blacked out,” Maddy replied.

“For real,” the other three girls looked at her with concern.

Cassie said her name softly as Nancy pulled her into a quick hug.

“Hello,” Kat interrupted, joining the girls.

“Oh look, it’s our new sexpert,” BB announced, and Maddy and Cassie went to hug her as the four girls cheered, giggling.

Nancy found herself quite lonely during the first few days of school. Now that Kat had lost her virginity, Nancy felt as if there was a pressure on her now. And as Maddy complained about Nate being a dick, Cassie gushed about Mckay, and Kat caught the eye of the boy across the cafeteria, Nancy began to wonder if maybe something was wrong with her. 

But boys were not the only thing that plagued her mind. There was Rue too. As she watched Rue giggle with the new girl across the cafeteria, it looked as if the two had been friends for years. Nancy felt stupid for longing for Rue, but God, she missed her so much. Their late night bike rides where they would blast old rock music, screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Their sleepovers where they would vent about all the shit going on in their lives and then raid the pantry for snacks to eat as they binged Love Island. Nancy had tried many times to reach out to Rue, and every time she either heard nothing back or Rue was already with Jules. She understood though, she never reached out to Rue while she was in rehab, and Rue had no obligation to hang out with her. Still, there was a pain in Nancy’s chest when she thought about it.

So when Rue popped up behind her as she grabbed her bike, she was surprised to say the least.

“Hey,” the curly-haired girl chirped, grabbing her shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

A smile began to form on Nancy’s face, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Rue chuckled, shifting her feet. “You said we needed to hang out the other day before the party.” It was a statement, but the words seemed to come out like a question.

Nancy nodded, “Of course.”

“I was thinking we could hang tonight? Catch up?”

“Sure! Yeah,” Nancy gushed. Excitement bubbled in her chest. Before this, she was sure that Rue didn’t want to hang out with her, really. That she was just being polite the other night before the party.

“Alright,” Rue smirked. She glanced behind Nancy, looking at someone. “Well, I’ll text you where, okay?” she called, hopping on her bike.

“Sounds good,” Nancy smiled.

Nancy began to lose hope at 9:30, but when it was almost 11:00, she was sure that Rue had just forgotten about her. Sighing, she picked herself off of the couch, where she had been watching reruns of The Bachelor, and shuffled upstairs to her room. Nate had never come home, so the house was quiet as Nancy changed into her pajamas and got ready for bed. Just as she was climbing into bed, she heard her phone buzz on her nightstand. Her brows furrowed when there was just an address in the message, then her phone pinged again.

Rue B: meet me here. i’ve got some stuff up then we can go get some burgers or something. 

Nancy sent a quick thumbs up, before climbing out of bed and throwing on some sneakers and a raincoat. She hurried down the stairs and opened up the door.

“Hey, where you headed?” her dad called after her.

“I’m just going out to eat with a friend,” she replied, pausing to look at her dad at the top of the steps.

“Alright, be careful in that rain, kid.”

She nodded, smiling stiffly, and turned to leave.

The rain that fell around her felt almost refreshing, and excitement built in her chest as she drew closer to her destination. It had been a fucking long time since her and Rue had hung out.

When Nancy pulled up to an apartment complex, she was confused. But she had checked the address, and she was in the right spot. Not wanting to stand out in the rain, she propped up her bike and found the door. Ringing the bell, she heard yelling before the door swung open.

She was about to ask for Rue, but when she saw who stood in front of her, her voice caught in her throat and her stomach did somersaults.

The ginger’s eyes furrowed as he looked at the girl who was in front of him. 

“The hell are you doin’ here?”

[elisaphoenix13]

Friendly Comforts

For @funkylittlebidiot for reaching the top role of my Mama Bear discord server! Hope it's to your liking!

Cassie and William were at the coffee table in the living room of the lake house lazily building a house of cards while everyone else lazed about in their own way. Most of the kids were up in their own rooms playing or watching tv, but they decided to stay downstairs. Stephen was in the kitchen washing dishes, and Tony was dozing on the couch behind William with baby Lucy sleeping on his chest. One was drooling and the other was snoring softly, but it was nothing like the way Quill snored.

Cassie was still used to Tony's snoring though. He did raise her for five years, and the lake house was home for her. It held bittersweet memories and of course some fun ones as well. Like the time Tony was having a really good day and helped the girls plant the vegetable garden at the side of the house. He fortunately had quite a few good days, but the bad days still won over in quantity. Getting out of bed had been hard for him, so Cassie took it upon herself to make things easier for him. If Tony slept in, Cassie would go into his room and get Diana out of her crib (or her bed when she was older) and make her breakfast and take care of her until Tony was ready to face the day.

There had been a couple of days that were so bad he had stayed in bed all day. Fortunately those were days when Cassie was old enough to cook for them with the stove and Diana was easily occupied with her coloring books or the tv.

"Was this all ever too much for you?" William suddenly asks after placing a card on top of the ones that Cassie stacked against each other. The house continued to stand.

"Hmm...no. I don't think so. When I was still living with my mom and Paxton, it was always quiet there. Then my dad became Ant-Man and things were more exciting...then we moved to the tower. I had a lot more fun there because there was always something going on. I can tell you that Mom has sighed exactly four hundred and sixty-seven times before the snap." Cassie smiles.

"You kept count?" William asks in surprise. "What's he at now?"

"Oh, pfft. I don't know. With all of the Avengers and seven kids, he sighs so much that I lost count."

Stephen sighs from the kitchen. "Cassie, please stop counting how often I sigh."

Both teens smile and the girl looks back at the house of cards and stacks another pair of cards. They work on the fragile structure in silence up until William slowly starts to place the last card they need to complete it. Before he even gets close, the table rattles from the force of a thump from upstairs and both of them sigh with exasperation when the cards go tumbling down onto the coffee table and some onto the floor around them.

"Ugh...I really should know better to do something like that when my parents are around." Cassie says and makes a face as she starts to clean up the cards.

"Want to play a board game instead?" William asks and Cassie nods.

"How about…" She gets up and walks over to the bookshelf stacked with board games. "Connect Four?"

William nods and Cassie grabs the game off of the shelf and takes it over to the coffee table and sits back down. While William puts the plastic pieces together, Cassie seperates the colored plastic coins and pushes one of the piles over to him. They play the game quietly, occasionally pulling the bottom to the side to let the coins clatter to the table to start another game, and Stephen eventually brings snacks over to them. Strawberries and cream for William, and Cheez-Its for Cassie each in their seperate bowls.

"Thanks Mom." William says softly and Stephen smiles and pats his head.

"You're welcome."

Cassie smiles. "Hey Will...you want to see something funny?"

"What?"

She grins and leans closer to William to tap Tony's shoulder and he grunts and bats her hand away. He was definitely away though...just not completely and that was exactly where Cassie needed him. She had discovered this funny little tidbit while she lived here with him and Diana and every once in a while she would do this to get a laugh.

"Tony?" Cassie says softly.

"Huh? What?" The engineer mumbles but keeps his eyes closed.

"Mom wanted me to tell you that he's pregnant. With triplets."

Stephen chokes on the tea he was drinking from and looks at Cassie in bewilderment but she just smiles and holds her finger up.

"Tha's great." Tony mutters and waves at her. "Just tell him to keep them in for a couple of years."

Stephen wipes his mouth. "I can't decide whether to be happy that he accepts that so easily or concerned. There are a few things wrong with that conversation." He shakes his head and sits on the other couch to watch tv as the teens go back to their game.

"I'm surprised you're not trying to take Lucy." Cassie says and Stephen sighs heavily.

"There has been a recent discovery that she is the biggest daddy's girl. I did all of the work and she wants him." He says the last part with an expression like he ate something sour and Cassie laughs.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later. She's his Valerie."

Stephen snorts and turns his attention back to the tv, and after about half an hour, Friday alerts them that Valerie had woken up from her nap. William volunteers to go get her, and gets up and goes up to the master bedroom when Stephen nods, and he smiles when he sees the toddler sitting up in her crib and rubbing her eyes. When Valerie sees him approach the crib, she stands up and holds out her arms for him, yawning as William takes her out of her crib.

"Have a good nap?"

"Uh-huh."

"Want to help me kick Cassie's butt in Connect Four and share my snack?" He smiles when she nods again and takes her down to the living room where he sits back down and sets Valerie in his lap. "I have a partner now." He grins to Cassie.

"Well your partner is more interested in your snack right now." The other teen giggles.

Sure enough, Valerie was picking up one of William's strawberries and scooping up some whipped cream with it. He shrugs and they start a new game that the toddler watches quietly as she munches on her snack, until she points at a column with her other hand.

"There." She says.

"Oh. Good eye." William praises as he drops his coin into the slot for the win and Cassie pouts.

"She's too good at this game." She says and the beam that adorned Valerie's face had the teens and Stephen melting.

It wasn't even a lie either. Valerie knew how the game was played and knew how to win, and she had easily kicked her siblings butts without them letting her win. It was one game they could actually play with her and not have to stretch out to their planned loss because she was that good at it.

A hitch of breath draws William's and Cassie's attention, and Stephen lunges forward when he sees Tony's fingers curling toward his palm. His arm was acting up again and he hadn't even moved before he let out a pained gasp.

"Oh…god. Someone...fuck... someone take Lulu." He winces and Cassie immediately crawls around the coffee table to take the infant.

"Tony, try to relax." Stephen says gently as he uses his magic to try and help with the pain.

"I'll go get Papa." Cassie says as she stands with Lucy held to her shoulder.

Stephen nods and Cassie heads up the stairs to get Quill, and William cleans up their game with Valerie's help. While Tony's episodes were rare, Valerie understood what was happening so seeing her father in pain didn't scare her as much as it used to. It still bothered her of course, but she knew Mommy and Uncle Quill would help him feel better, and so she usually went to play with one of her siblings whenever it happened.

"Can you help carry our snacks up to my room? We can watch a movie." William asks Valerie.

"Yes." She says and picks up the bowl of strawberries with both hands and slowly climbs the stairs.

William grabs the bowl of whipped cream and Cassie's Cheez-Its and follows Valerie, and they barely move out if the way fast enough when Quill comes tearing around the corner from his room and down the stairs. He shouts an apology over his shoulder at them as he joins Stephen at Tony's side, and William catches a glimpse of a white and blue light coming from the celestial's hands before turning the corner to go to his room. He finds Cassie standing in the middle of the hallway holding Lucy and he motions to his bedroom door with one of the bowls.

"We're going to watch a movie in my room. Wanna join?" He asks and Cassie nods, following the two as she gently rocks Lucy.

Thankfully the infant was in a good mood and not screaming about being taken away from Tony, but they both knew that wouldn't last long. The three get settled on William's bed and place the bowls in front of them so Valerie can get to the whipped cream.

"Friday? Turn on a Disney movie please? Surprise us." William asks.

His tv turns on and Sleeping Beauty pops up next and they watch it quietly until Stephen comes up about twenty minutes later.

"Is he okay?" Cassie asks.

"He'll be fine. Just needs a few minutes." Stephen smiles. "I'll take Lucy now."

"Sure." She says and hands Lucy over to him.

"Valerie? Are you okay here with your brother and Cassie?" Stephen asks.

"Uh-huh." The little girl nods and Stephen kisses the top of her head before leaving the bedroom.

"You better eat those before my brother catches a whiff of them." William tells Cassie as he points to the bowl of crackers.

"He can pry them from my cold, dead fingers." She says with a laugh as she picks up the bowl to eat her Cheez-Its.

Another twenty minutes of the movie pass in silence with the exception of crunching from Cassie and munching from Valerie and William.

"Hey...do you ever get tired of doing things?" William asks and stammers when Cassie looks at him in alarm. "I-I mean you help with Diana a lot and sometimes you help cook dinner for everyone, and I know you do a lot for your parents."

Cassie shrugs. "Sure. Every once in a while. But I just tell my parents I need a day for myself and they either order takeout or Dad makes dinner. They take care of me and protect me and it's the least I can do." Cassie chews on another small handful of crackers before continuing. "I love spending time with Diana, but she knows that sometimes I need to spend time with people my own age and she understands that."

"I wonder if me and Thomas would even be here if you weren't so nice." William says quietly. "This family has been the best thing that ever happened to us and for once we don't have to hide our powers or who we are. I feel safe here...and I want to call Stephen and Tony, Mom and Dad, because they feel like that to me. I don't want to lose any of this."

Cassie smiles and looks back at the tv. "I'm sure you've figured it out but you're stuck with us. Mom would have a conniption if you were unhappy in any way and he would do anything to fix that."

"Yeah... we're definitely putting that together." William nods. "Dad too."

"Pfft," Cassie snorts. "If anyone tried anything, he would sue them of everything they own. Even just for looking at you funny...but he's just extra like that."

William laughs and accepts the last strawberry that Valerie offers up to him and scoops up the rest of the whipped cream with it. A breeze blows against their faces a few seconds later and Cassie gasps when she finds the rest of her Cheez-Its gone and Thomas sitting on the bed and munching loudly.

"Hey!"

"I could smell them from my room." He says around his mouthful and the other two teens make a face.

"First, rude. You can just ask. Second, gross. Close your mouth." Cassie gripes.

"Thomas! I told you not to run in the house!" Stephen calls from downstairs and Thomas's eyes widen.

"How did he know?"

"Mama knows everything." Valerie says and William and Cassie point at her.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter two: you’re all i’ve got tonight

“i don't care if you hurt me some more, i don't care if you even the score. you can knock me and i don't care, and you can mock me and i don't care, and you can rock me just about anywhere, it's alright.” -”you’re all i’ve got tonight”, the cars

Bill wasn't necessarily cruel to her, albeit not from how Sam saw her parents and the way in which they communicated with one another during the mornings when she was growing up, and given she hardly saw him during the week except in the mornings and in the evening; however he seemed on the verge of cruel to Matilda and Cassandra. The first morning Sam spent the night there at the house, following Marla's departure and her realization that she was alone there in Lake Elsinore, she sauntered into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a bite of breakfast prior to their leaving for school and Bill about to head off somewhere outside of the house—and he never said where he was headed either—no sooner had she sat down in the chair when Mattie stopped her.

“We eat in the dining room,” she told her in a flat tone of voice.

“Really? When I was growing up here in Elsinore and then up in Reno, my parents and I always had breakfast in the kitchen before school.” Mattie shook her head at that. Sam frowned but she figured it was for the best regardless of what she dealt with as a kid. She picked up her coffee and her bowl of cereal and took her spot there near the end of the table in the next room over.

“I sit there,” Mattie told her, still in a flat voice. She moved over one. “Cassie sits there.”

Careful not to let her see her rolling her eyes, Sam took her spot right across the table from her. Soon Cassie came in the room, already completely dressed for the day. Indeed, Mattie was fully dressed herself. They merely sat there as well with their hands in their laps, while Sam had one hand on her spoon and another hand on her cup of coffee, still in her pajamas and with her hair unbrushed. They sat there and watched her.

Within time, Bill stepped in the room with two bowls of what Sam initially believed to be cereal and he set them down before them. She looked over at the tops of their bowls, at the plain oatmeal inside. It wasn't even oatmeal, just porridge.

The times in which she had oatmeal at her parents' house, Ruben always sprinkled some brown sugar or fresh blueberries on the top. But that was plain porridge as far as she could tell. Moreover, all three of them moved in robotic fashion, especially those two girls. They moved like clockwork to the dining room table there downstairs and they even ate their porridge in unison, to the point it made Sam squirm in her seat.

Even with her parents' marriage about to crumble apart four hundred miles away, all of her memories of the mornings before school consisted of having breakfast and watching cartoons, especially when she was their age. They were tiny adults as far as she could tell, but even as an adult herself, she knew they were lodged in a whole other world different from her. She drank down the rest of her soy milk.

“Don't you want to like—put some sugar on those oats, or something?” Sam wondered aloud.

“Why?” he asked.

“Plain oats in a bowl of water can't be very appetizing. When I was a kid, and on the mornings I had oatmeal, my dad always jazzed it up with brown sugar or fruit because he knew that there's no way it can be good for a kid.”

“But they are. These oats are inexpensive, but sugar is—forget it with brown sugar. I had to bust out a whole five dollars for a bag of that stuff just to satisfy your request for a cup of coffee. Same with the soy milk. I always look out for good deals, even with indulgences such as that. No way I'm wasting fruit on that, either. Cutting it up into pieces and then disposing of the rinds and the cores like that when they could be put to good use? Forget it.” She frowned at that. It seemed so strange to her; she remembered that Joey was rather thrifty himself, but he always managed to find a way to make things enjoyable with her. They had a strong bond to boot as well.

“How's the coffee?” Bill curtly asked her.

“Delicious. Nice and warm.” But then again, it missed something. The kiss of cream was perfect for her, but it lacked something within. She took another sip to wash down the soy milk and the rest of the cereal, and she stopped right in her tracks when Mattie and Cassie took another bite of porridge in unison. It made her shudder right in her seat, and she picked up her cup so she could go into the other room.

“Where are you going?” Bill asked her, still in a brusque tone of voice.

“I'm just—I'm just—” She could hardly speak.

“No, you sit at the table and finish your coffee. First off, it was expensive, as was that bottle of cream in there. The bag of coffee was five bucks, and the cream was two.” Sam almost burst out laughing at that; there was her answer to that. “Second, there's that nice carpet in the living room—you're not spilling coffee on that.”

“I won't?” she said with a raise of her eyebrow. He folded his arms across his chest at that and she stayed still there. All the times she had stood up for herself, and when Lars told her to do so that one time given the nature of her very name. She climbed off of the chair and she walked towards the kitchen doorway, when he stepped right before her, still with his arms folded across his chest.

“You're a rebellious little thing, aren't you?”

“Bill, this isn't school,” she scoffed as she adjusted one of the straps of her camisole. He shook his head at that.

“Not in front of the girls, please,” he told her without moving a muscle.

“They're just tiny adults!” she pointed out with a gesture back to the two little girls at the table, both of whom still moved in robotic fashion. “Look at them!”

“They're children,” he insisted and he never raised his voice for a second.

“They don't act like children,” she argued.

“Sit down,” he commanded, and he never flinched for a moment when he said that.

“Why?”

“Sit down.”

“No.”

“Sit down or I take your coffee.”

“Take it then,” she scoffed and she handed him the cup, and she stormed past him into the kitchen. She needn't drink down that cheap coffee, anyways. She needed to get away from those creepy children.

“You splurge on those type of crackers again, I'm locking you in your room,” he called after her, to which she whirled around and gaped at him.

“What?” She couldn't resist chuckling at that.

“Yes. I am locking in your room if you splurge on cheese crackers like that again.”

“I got those for them!” she insisted, “and what do you—” She laughed at that. “What the hell do you even mean by 'splurge'? They were like a buck fifty! Not even that! They were like seventy five cents each.” And he shook his head.

“By the way, you owe me a new glass.”

“By the way, how 'bout you buy your own damn glass,” she retorted, and he lunged for her right then. He never grabbed her but he did stop her right in her tracks by his mere presence.

“Don't you dare curse at me again, young lady, or I'm really locking you in your room. You're never leaving this house if you curse at me again.”

“Like you would,” she persisted. “Like you would do such a thing to your precious star student.”

“I would,” he persisted himself, and with a cold look on his face. She trembled a bit, much like when she scolded at Aurora back on New Year's Eve. The sole exception was that she didn't have the safety net of the telephone and a restaurant in Ithaca around her.

“I most certainly would,” he repeated her. She sighed through her nose, and then she realized where she had moved to: they may as well have been in arm's reach.

“By the way, I should tell you that I have friends nearby who might to want to come over at some point,” she said in a single breath.

“In fact I might as well just do it now,” he replied to that.

“Why?” she demanded, but he never replied to her. “Why, Bill? Why?”

Instead, he almost bumped her with his chest from his standing so close right before her. She staggered back. He kept on moving closer to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted all manner of recyclables stashed away in the corner of the laundry room. The man did not throw anything away.

“Why!” she yelped.

“Get upstairs now. Or I'm tying you up while I'm at it.” Sam fixed her straps once more.

“Do you want to see your precious friends again? Get upstairs.” He downed the rest of her coffee right then and there. He held the cup right before his chest even though Sam could clearly see on his face that he hated it. Fuming, she stalked back upstairs to the loft.

“Fucking sack of shit,” she said aloud as she closed the door right behind her; the joke would be on him, anyways, because the door opened into the room. She returned to the dresser on the other side of the room, right next to her bed, and she picked up her hair brush. The way in which her hair moved through the bristles made her think of Rapunzel.

If her hair grew long enough, to well past her waist, she could in fact hone her in at any given moment in the future. She need not dye her hair blonde, however, but she could in fact behave like Rapunzel. She pictured Testament outside, down on the lawn, and with Joey right before them as well, complete with the guitar before his body. He sang to her to let down her hair: given the very nature of his voice, she knew she could hear him from afar, from thirty feet off of the ground.

She stood there before the dresser when the warm summer breeze blew in through the window next to her.

The very start of August, almost time for the Santa Ana winds, or the Diablo winds as they were referred to up in the northern half of the state, when things were dry as a set of bones and easily set on fire despite the cold piercing feeling of it all. She returned to the thought of Joey, her prince who had come to save her from the tower, from the house upon the windy moors.

She turned her head again and she wondered if Bill would in fact seal her door shut at any given moment. It felt beyond reason, especially given he fretted about buying a bag of crackers for one of his own children: there was no way he would do such a thing, not with her being his supposed star student, unless he was genuinely cruel at heart.

She brushed her hair once more before she turned to the door once again and propped it open.

No way he could do it now: she was alone up there anyway. She left it open as she took her spot at the desk and began on a brand new drawing for herself.

That very thought of Joey down on the grass, with Testament right behind him. Or rather, she figured she would draw Joey solo.

She was near the Los Angeles area again. Somehow, she had to make her way there, and it wasn't until she and Chuck ran into each other at the supermarket when she made a mental note to ask him and Tiffany to take her to an art shop when they swung by the house in the next week. She also made a note to call up Marla again when things became quiet again at the house.

But things remained rather quiet downstairs all the while, such that she had no clue as to whether the girls left for school already and Bill had left the house as well. She waited until the winds picked up some more before she headed on back downstairs to the kitchen for some more cheap coffee.

Regardless of it being cheap, she brewed herself a new cup with a little kiss of cream. She yearned to have coffee with Joey again, and she yearned to have coffee with Alex at some point. So much more to that boy than she had originally assumed before, and she was about to see more of him when the time came. Something behind that cool demeanor and she wished to see it as she stood at the kitchen sink and she sipped on her cup.

Every day since Sam saw Chuck at the supermarket, and given school had already started despite the very heart of summer, for the whole five days a week, she always took to the desk in her room. Whenever she opened her drawer for one of her pencils, she always saw that piece of rice paper at the very bottom. Every so often, and careful not to damage the delicate nature of the paper, she slipped it out of the bottom for a better look at Alex's signature and his handwriting.

Almost three years she had had this piece of paper with her and it felt like a whole eternity ago back to the time Cliff was alive.

When she could make her way up to the San Francisco Bay Area to visit that field again, just to get a sense of his presence, to feel the mere memory of it all again even with his body incinerated and cast about that grass, was a whole other question. Metallica themselves were still up there, as far as she knew anyway. Meanwhile, she had no real means of driving up there, and she held out the hope that something would crop up and serve as her ticket out of there.

At one point, on Friday afternoon, she had considered calling up Marla again to find out if she had landed something at the school. But then again, if she did, then Bill would have said something to her about money. But then again, he kept the whole thing to himself. In the meantime, she wondered what she could wear that night when they came to pick her up the next week. Indeed, she wondered how they would even come to the house as well, given Bill dismissed the whole thing on that first morning.

She hoped to see Chuck again at some point between that day and the next Friday as she made her way down the block to the supermarket again for another sandwich and some better coffee. She had her own money to herself but she could see how Bill fretted about that sort of thing.

Every time she broke even with a dollar, she pocketed the change. There had to be something more to the house, however: if there were all manner of old books there, there had to be something more, like an empty jar given how much he worried about money and ridding of things. Or so she figured if that first morning was anything to go by.

When she returned to the house and she made her way back upstairs, she thought about that night in the following week. She recalled that Bill never replied to her suggestion that friends could come over when they so felt like it, and thus she could only assume that he disallowed it.

Or perhaps he did allow it, however he never said anything, much like how he never said anything about what carried importance such as money. She set down her things and then doubled back down the stairs for the cordless phone, and she returned once more up the stairs for Chuck's number. She sat down at her desk and she dialed it; at the same time, she had no idea if he was even home back up in the Bay Area.

And yet, it didn't even ring once.

“Hello, hello?”

“Hey, Chuck, it's Sam.”

“Oh, hey! I was just thinking 'bout you, um—hang on a second—”

“Sure, sure.”

He disappeared and in his wake, a hissing noise emerged on his end, such that it made her move the phone back from her ear.

“Yeah, just like that,” he said in the background, and someone behind him chuckled. He returned to the phone right then. “Sorry—I'm making chorizo for Alex, Greg, and Louie right now. Complete with homemade tortillas, too.”

“Oh, my god, that sounds so delicious.”

Someone behind him said something.

“It's Miss Samantha,” he told them.

“Hi, Sam!” Greg shouted in the background.

“Hey, Sam!” Louie chimed in.

“Hi, Samantha!” Alex followed suit in that big voice.

“They all say 'hi'.”

“Hi, fellas!” she said, and she couldn't resist the smile on her face.

“Hi, fellas,” he echoed her, and they both laughed out loud. There was a metallic clink and then he returned to her again. “Anyways, how's it going?”

“Um—listen about the Death Angel show next week—you guys might hell of a time getting here.”

“Why's that?”

“Um—are they right behind you?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you guys keep a secret?”

“I can.” He turned his attention to the three of them again. “Can you guys keep a secret between all of you?”

“I can,” said Alex.

“Yeah, I can, too.” The sound of Louie's voice made her think of what he told her about Zelda in the hotel room. The secret was out of the bag as well, and she wondered if Louie even could keep a secret as dire as that from someone, anyone, especially if that someone was Joey.

“I'll try to,” Greg confessed.

“D'you get all that?” Chuck asked her.

“Yeah.”

“Wish we had like a speaker or something to hook the phone up to,” she heard Greg say, and Louie laughed out loud at that.

“Okay, so. It's not complicated, but my counselor—whom I came out here with for my senior project—apparently—kinda—sorta—married me.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. When Marla and I came out here earlier this week, he made me sign some things, and they were like concealed so I couldn't see what they were, and apparently they were nuptial papers.”

“Oh, my god—is he even allowed to do that?”

“What is it?” Greg inquired from the background.

“When she and Marla came out here the other day, her counselor made her sign some papers and they were apparently for marriage. Like he duped her into it.”

“Is that even legal?” she heard Alex ask him.

“I dunno,” Chuck confessed, “doesn't sound legal.” And then he returned to her. “So what does have to do with the show?”

“He is so—cheap and controlling.”

“The dude's a control freak,” he told them.

“Total control freak,” she corrected him.

“Total control freak,” he echoed her.

“He actually threatened to bar me in my room!” she exclaimed.

“He actually threatened—wait, what?”

“Yeah! He threatened to seal me in my room if I spend money on certain things.”

“The guy actually threatened to lock her in her room if she even so much as spends money,” he relayed back to them.

“What the actual fuck,” Louie blurted out.

“Yeah, I don't get it, either,” she confessed. “I tried to stand up to him—”

“She tried to stand up to him,” he relayed it back to them.

“—and he like bullied me into submission. Like—literally backed me into a corner.”

“Just totally backed her into a corner.”

“God,” one of them muttered in the background.

“I kind of worry about you guys coming over here, to be perfectly honest.” She sighed through her nose and bowed her head a little bit. It was the truth: she didn't know if they could in fact break through to him, that is if they could. There was another metallic clink, followed by another loud hiss of the chorizo in the frying pan, and then it went away.

“Off the heat, boys,” Chuck told them, and then he returned to the phone again. “You said he's cheap, too?”

“Like, really cheap,” she replied. “I spent a dollar fifty on a couple of little bags of crackers for his two daughters and he yelled at me for that.”

Silence on their end.

“Chuck?” she asked him. “Are you there?”

“Sam, I will swim in that lake and burrow under the house if I have to,” he vowed.

“No, don't do that,” she told him. “Don't, Chuck. Please don't.”

“No, he's gonna be dealing with a guy who rides big bikes in his spare time,” he continued.

“Most badass—” Alex cleared his throat and then he leaned in closer to the phone. “Chuck is the most badass Native American since Sitting Bull. Mark my words, Samantha.”

“Uh, yeah, what he said,” Chuck quipped. “That sick bastard's not going to want to mess with me. I'm sure he wouldn't mess with Joey, either. Mr. Hockey Player. Hockey player who knows how to fight dirty.”

The mention of Joey's name made her close her eyes. She had only been away from New York for less than a week and yet she missed him so much, as if he had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.

“Sam?” he asked her.

“I'm still here.”

“By the way, why does she wanna swear us to secrecy?” Greg called from the background.

“Yeah, why are we sworn to secrecy about it?” Chuck asked her.

“I don't want Joey to worry about it,” she told him.

“She doesn't want Joey to worry about her.”

“He should probably know about that sort of thing, though,” Louie pointed out from behind him. “You know, her being his girl and everything.”

“I don't know, to be honest,” Sam confessed, and she had to stop herself from laughing at that sentiment. “I'd rather he'd just miss me.”

“D'you hear that absolute statement, Lou?” Chuck asked with a bit of a snicker.

“I did, yeah.” Sam thought about Louie, and she knew that she had to call up Zelda at some point as well. Marla did advise her to call either of them in any instance whatsoever.

“Besides, Joey has enough to worry about, I would think,” she pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, he definitely does,” Chuck answered to that, “Anthrax are in the studio right now. Or—no. They went on tour—just yesterday, actually. Brand new tour, too! But—it would make sense, though. But—you want us to keep it all under wraps, though. So we gotta honor that wish.”

“Yeah, I won't tell a soul,” Alex promised from the background, and she remembered that he didn't really have anyone to talk to about that sort of thing anyway.

“I still want to come along to the show, though,” she insisted. “You know, I wanna see Death Angel, and I wanna see you guys, though.”

“She still wants to come along with me and Tiff to the show,” Chuck echoed her. “By the way, you coming with us, Alex?”

“Yeah, I might as well. Don't really have anything better to do at the moment except sit on my butt and read.”

“Don't blame her,” Greg said, “I don't blame her one bit. I'm coming along, too.”

“I don't, either!” Chuck proclaimed. “She wants to get away from that mother fucker and out of that damn house.” He then returned to her. “We'll figure out how to get you out of there,” he promised her.

“I can always do a Rapunzel sort of thing,” she suggested, “like let down a rope of sorts and climb out the window.”

He laughed out loud at that. A big hearty laugh that made her smile in response.

“I dunno if push will come to shove in that instance, but we'll figure something out, though.”

“Enjoy that chorizo, by the way!” she declared; ever so faintly, she heard the front door open.

“Oh, they are,” Chuck assured her, “especially Alex. A little too well, might I add.”

“This is damn good, though,” Alex insisted in a muffled voice.

“Before I go,” Sam started again, “you mentioned Anthrax are doing a brand new tour and a new album soon?”

“Yeah! Uh—State of Euphoria, I think it's called.”

“I like that,” she told him, and she smiled again, that time out of a time gone by her. “When's it coming out?”

“September, I think? I'll have to ask Charlie the next time I see him.”

“Anyways, I gotta go,” she told him.

“Okay—we'll come and get you Friday night. Don't know how but we're gonna do it, though.”

“Gonna get you away from that pig,” Alex called from the background.

“What he said!” Chuck said again. “You be careful until then, little Sammich.”

“Yeah, you guys have a good weekend.”

They hung up at the same time, and it was right then, she had no clue what was about to go down that weekend. She sighed through her nose as the silence fell over the bottom floor. The door propped open and she couldn't hear anything what was going on down there. She stood to her feet but she lingered there by the chair. She listened closely to the silence from downstairs.

It was tempting. It was tempting to walk out of her room and listen to what was being said down there, in the softest of voices.

And she bought into the temptation to an extent.

She stood within the doorway and she turned her head to the side to better hear them. All the shows she had gone to in the past never damaged her ears as much as the silence from downstairs, silence penetrated only by the intermittent soft voices of two small girls. The noise never damaged her ears, anyway, given she always wore ear plugs.

Careful not to make any more noise, she crept over to the top of the stairs and she stood there with her back to the wall. Mattie and Cassie's voices echoed up the first stairwell from downstairs. She wished to see what they were doing there at the very bottom floor. But she had no idea as to how to do such a thing without jarring them for even one second.

She closed her eyes and she pictured Chuck, Alex, Greg, and Louie in a small warm kitchen up in the Bay Area somewhere, all congregated around a small table and with plates of fresh spicy chorizo and homemade flour tortillas rested upon their laps. So simple, and yet she wondered how those little girls down below would react to it.

She thought about Alex and his cold stone face, the way he was so mature despite his youthful age and the gray streak on his head only added to it. She was able to crack through to him a bit, but these two girls felt like a challenge, especially with Bill never too far away from there as well.

Sam thought about her first weekend there, given they had started school so early.

Then she heard one of the two girls mutter, “Amen.”

She opened her eyes at the sound of that. They had come home and whispered a lengthy prayer. She never saw a cross anywhere in that house.

Alex's parents may have been non traditional Jewish but he wore a yarmulke and a Star of David once in a while: they probably celebrated Hanukkah and Rosh Hashanah to boot, too. But to hear that word only brought up more questions about this little family here before her.

The front door opened again.

“Hello, father,” one of them said in a flat voice. If it was Sam and Ruben, she would've been overjoyed to see him at the front door.

“Hello, girls,” Bill greeted them; his voice floated up such that if Sam moved a little closer to the railing down below, he probably would have seen her. But she moved forward a little bit, and she made out the sight of his blond hair near the front door. “Did you say your prayers?”

“Yes.”

“Did you read your scripture?”

There was that one instance during Anthrax's tour of New York City the year before, that morning where those women who walked by her and Zelda and they called their music Satanic as they kept on walking. Indeed, come the next Friday, she was about to see a band called Death Angel with three guys from a band called Testament; the only thing to make it even more potent was to have Exodus there with them as well. She squirmed in her spot there on the stairs and her stomach turned at that thought.

“Have you done your homework yet?”

Sam frowned at that.

“They're elementary school age,” she muttered. “Why would they have homework?”

One of the girls said something that she couldn't hear.

“Well, remember, the Lord is always on your side, especially on the bus rides to the school.”

And then it dawned on her. They started school so early because they went to a religious private one rather than a public, and ultimately free, one. No wonder he was so stingy with money!

She began to wonder if Marla had said anything to the people at the school about his still being on the payroll. If she did, then he would be removed from it.

And then he would lose his money and his sole income as far as she knew. Therein lay his reason for why he was so cheap. It worried him so that he was willing to become cruel to Sam herself. The whole thought made her heart hammer inside of her chest, and yet she couldn't speak to him about that sort of thing. He forbade her from speaking about it.

Instead, she ducked back into her room and she clasped her hands to her head. She didn't know what to say right then, either, and Chuck, Alex, Greg, and Louie already had it out for the guy, too, after his threat to seal her away in her room. Add to this, she knew that there was no way she could feel okay with his being cruel to her, either.

All she could do was wait out the weekend and maintain an appearance to herself. If something happened at the school, surely it would remain a secret as well.

“Miss Shelley?” he called from the second floor, such that it jarred her, and she dropped the cordless phone. She scooped it up and she stuck it under her mattress.

“Are you home?”

“Yes!” she called back.

“Okay, good. I need you to make dinner tonight.”

She surfaced from the room right then, and he stood there at the landing beneath her.

“What would you like?” she asked him.

“I found some really good deals on pasta—there's a couple of boxes awaiting you in the kitchen. And then just some sauce.”

“Okay! Sounds easy enough.”

He nodded but he never smiled at her.

The whole entire time she made dinner, she thought of Chuck in that kitchen up north. She considered tossing in a little bit of spices into the vodka sauce to liven it up a bit, but the one spice she found in the cupboard above the stove was cinnamon. Indeed, as she made up that pan of sauce, she took the jar down from the rack and she unscrewed the lid.

Not true ground cinnamon, but the very aroma of it reminded her of Cliff. How she yearned to have a cup of Mexican hot chocolate again, and how she wished to see him again.

Soon, dinner was ready and she served the plates to Mattie and Cassie, both of whom awaited her with their hands in their laps. After her realization, she felt a little more sympathetic towards them as she set the plates before them both.

They never thanked her but they picked up their forks and ate in unison once she and Bill took their seats in silence. He glanced up at her with a thoughtful look on his face.

“This is quite good,” he told her with his hand up by his mouth. “Excellent, actually. It needs a little salt, but it's good, though.”

Neither of the girls said anything but they did help her clear the table afterwards. Later, she turned in for the night with a new perspective on it all.

But at the same time, she needed to get away from that house. Away from the tightness of it all, especially since they were probably of the crowd that saw Testament and Anthrax as the music of Lucifer herself.

On Sunday morning, the three of them left for church, and even though Bill offered her to attend along with them, she turned it down given she didn't believe in the same things they did, either. Instead, she took her seat there at her desk with the cordless in hand and she dialed Marla's number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Marla.”

“Oh, hey, Sam! How's it going?”

“Alright, I guess. I ran into Chuck the other day—he, Tiff, Alex, and Greg are all gonna take me to see Death Angel down in L.A. this Friday.”

“Cool! Um, listen—I wasn't able to get a job at the school, as of yet. I got put on a waiting list for something, though, and Bel got me an interview at the glass studio she works at. Commutes to Albany are tough but I think I can do it, though. But I was able to tell Mrs. Robinson, mine and Bel's old counselor, about Bill still being listed on the payroll. She told me that's going to be rectified at the end of the month, like they have to send out the final check in two weeks and then he gets a notice on the fourth week.”

“Listen, about that—”

“Oh?”

“Apparently Bill's daughters go to a private religious school. He literally doesn't say shit about this sort of thing with me, but my guess is it's a bit pricey. Those payroll checks were the only way he's able to send them off there.”

“Oh, shit,” Marla blurted out.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he's gonna have to do something else, though. After the way he treated you and me both, and after he legitimately threatened to lock you in your room!”

“How'd you find out about—” Sam stopped. And she closed her eyes. “Louie,” she muttered with her head tilted back away from the phone, and she returned it to her ear.

“Sam, you can't let him get under your skin like that!”

“I feel kinda bad about it, though.”

“He'll figure something out, though. If he was able to maintain a spot on payroll this whole entire time after he got fired, he can figure something out for him and his girls.”

“They're creepy, by the way,” Sam confessed.

“They are? How so?”

“First off, they don't behave like little girls. They sit quietly at the dining room table before breakfast and dinner, like they don't even talk to each other. And they eat simultaneously, too, like completely in sync with each other. It's really weird, like unsettling, I want to say. Everything is really strict here—like really strict. Alex grew up in a bit of a sheltered household, but I doubt it was anything like this. It's all because of the whole faith thing and also because of the whole money issue, too. I imagine that getting worse when he gets kicked off of the payroll for good, too.”

“Ew.” Marla shuddered on her end. “Besides, how're the boys even gonna come and get you on Friday night? Because I remember how that place is laid out. There's no way around it.”

“I have no clue. Chuck even told me he has no idea. But—you know.” Sam rolled her eyes at what she was about to tell her. “I have faith in those guys, though.”

Marla giggled at that.

“Yeah, I have faith that they're gonna have faith in themselves.”

Marla laughed some more at that. It was good to hear her laugh again, even if it was for a few moments.

Over the course of that week, Sam made more art for herself, until Friday night came about. She had set aside her nice black blouse, the same top she wore when she saw Testament and Stormtroopers of Death both the first time around, and her black jeans, which had gotten rather low slung with the passage of time so they accentuated the curvature of her hips and ultimately her body. Testament themselves were going to be all that she had that night as well: the best she could do was sneak out of the house and meet up with Chuck and Tiffany at the property past the house.

The sun began to hang low over the tree line and the haze from the Los Angeles area not too far away from there.

Bill and the girls were downstairs doing some kind of study with their Bibles, which meant she had to use the back door to get out of there. But even if she used the back door, she still had to go past the living room and within their line of sight. No makeup on her face lest he question her for a second, but she had to time it right.

She reached the second landing of the stairs and Bill said something to the girls. A rustling noise and she knew that he had stood up.

“Shit,” she muttered. They were waiting for her outside—she didn't even have to look out the window in order to know that they awaited her—and yet she had no way out of there without a bit of inquiry. Sam returned to the loft on the third floor so as to gather her bearings and rethink things.

The front door then opened. Bill said something.

“Is Sam here?”

Greg!

Sam gasped and she hurried down the first flight of stairs at that moment.

“I'm—here to see her?” he replied; she reached that top landing where she spotted Bill before the doorway with his hands pressed to his hips. Greg looked so funny there in the doorway with him, that long beautiful dark hair down over his chest and the little stubble of a mustache over his upper lip, and his slender body wrapped in a black T shirt and low slung black jeans.

Like a dark version of Jesus himself.

“Well, she has a lot of work to do, son,” Bill sneered at him.

“No, no, it's okay, Bill!” Sam called out to him from the landing. He turned his attention to her with a finger pointed up to her.

“You have a lot of work to do, young lady—get back up there.” Greg widened his eyes at that.

“Well, I can take a break, can't I?” Sam pointed out. Bill shut the door right on Greg's face, to which followed a loud “ow! That was right on my nose!”

“Get back in your room,” he ordered.

“Don't slam the door on his face!” she yelled as she stormed back upstairs to the loft. She shook her head as she made her way to the window. Out there, on the block right behind the house as it ran along the lake's edge, she spotted Greg as he walked on back to the low two door hatch back royal blue car over there. Chuck awaited him on the outside of the car. From a distance, she watched Greg shake his head.

“Damn,” he declared as he rubbed his nose. “Got me good, too!”

“Well, fuck,” Chuck said.

“Well, we've got to get her out of there somehow,” she heard Alex tell them from the back seat; even from upstairs and a distance, she could hear his big loud voice. “Show's about to start in like an hour.”

“What!” Chuck was stunned at that.

“Yeah, dude! It's seven fifteen!”

“Shit!”

“Hey, there she is!” Tiffany called from the passenger seat. Chuck and Greg turned to the window and Sam waved both arms at them.

“Gotta get her out of there,” she heard Chuck tell them. There was a pause as she looked on at him, just like Rapunzel. If only there was a way in which she could tell him that the way out was through the back door, and she was close to it as well. Greg said something, which was then followed by another pause.

“Hang on, I got an idea,” she heard Chuck tell them. “Greg, come with me—this is gonna get us killed but it's gonna get her out of there, though.” He got off of the side of the car and the two of them walked along the road, along the lake's edge. Sam knitted her eyebrows together as she watched Chuck and Greg all the way to the back of the house.

“Wait here,” Chuck said to Greg, and he turned his attention to her. “Meet him here at the back door.”

She nodded her head at that, and she doubled back to the door with her purse over her shoulder.

Another knock on the front door.

“Who is that now?” Bill grumbled as Sam reached the second stairwell again. When his back was turned to her, she hurried down the next flight of stairs to the very bottom. He opened the door only to see Chuck right there, dressed in heavy black leather and with a red and white feather attached to one side of his head.

“Peek a boo!” Chuck lunged for him.

“JEEZ!”

Sam made a run for it right there to the back door. Right in her line of sight. Greg awaited her out there.

She jiggled the door handle. Locked!

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, but then she turned her attention back to the front door right as Bill shut it. She ducked into the kitchen and the window there over there sink. Greg nodded at her from outside. She opened the window and, with one foot on the sink basin and her other foot right out the window, she climbed through. She poked her head out, followed by her arm.

“Greg!” she called out to him and he hurried over to help her out.

“You got me?” she asked him as he took her hand and set a hand on her knee.

“Yeah. You got it?”

“I think so—” It was a struggle given she almost slipped on the sink basin but she managed to take her other foot through the window. She climbed out through the kitchen window and she landed onto Greg's slender little body. They fell on the grass in unison, and he groaned at the feeling.

“You okay?” she asked him as she lifted herself up into a push up position.

“Yeah.” He gasped for air and he gazed up at her with a goofy grin on his face.

“Hey, Sam hill,” he greeted her, and that brought a laugh out of her.

“Sam hill, is that what you called her?” Chuck laughed along from the side of the house.

“What in the sam hill is going on 'round here?” she laughed as well. She helped Greg to his feet and then she led him out of the back yard and into the street. The three of them ran back to the car right as the setting sun touched the tree line on the far side of the lake.

“Let's get you the hell out of here,” Chuck advised her as he took the keys out of his pocket. Sam reached the passenger door behind Tiffany and she poked her head into the back window where Alex awaited them.

“Alex?” He leaned forward and greeted her with a big toothy grin.

“Hey—” He froze right in his tracks with those deep eyes wide with fear despite the sun.

“What's the matter?”

“What's wrong, Alex?” Tiffany wondered aloud.

He pursed his lips together and held still, and then he bowed his head a bit.

“Very slowly—look—over—there,” he said through gritted teeth and without moving a muscle. Sam turned her attention to across the edge of the lake to the back door of the house, where Bill stood there with his hands pressed to his hips.

“Get in the car!” Greg shouted. “Get in! Get in!”

Alex scooted over and Tiffany leaned the seat forward for Sam and Greg.

“We gotta go,” Chuck declared as he climbed into the driver's seat, “—we gotta go—we gotta go—we gotta go!”

He fired up the car and they lunged forward down the street, only to find it was a cul de sac.

“What the hell!” Alex declared, but they were quick to make the turn around in there, all past the small houses there at the end.

“Hang on, everyone—” Chuck called back as Alex, Sam, and Greg leaned to the side with the turning. But then they doubled back down the street as fast as they could to the next block over. They kept on going until they past the supermarket. Out of breath, Sam leaned back in her seat.

“We out of sight?” Tiffany asked him.

“I think so,” Chuck assured her as they proceeded on to the heart of town. “Didn't look like he can get very far, either.”

“No, there's no way he's getting very far,” Sam added from the safety of the back seat and from in between Alex and Greg.

“That was intense,” Greg admitted.

“Very much so,” Sam added. “I wanna thank you guys, though. I couldn't be happier to be here right now. You guys are all I've got right now tonight.”

“Yeah, we get to hang out for real now!” Alex said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, yes, it's all fun and games now from here on out!” Chuck declared as he reached for something in the center console. “Little pre show ritual, ladies—and gentlemen. Some Motorhead to set the mood!”

She pictured Marla running down the street in Manhattan to those fast drums on that first song “Overkill”. They drove along fast to it, especially once they reached the freeway and began towards the heart of Los Angeles against the sunset. She nestled down in between Alex and Greg all the while: add to this, not only did her parents not know about it, but Joey didn't, either. And it was right at that moment, as the wind fluttered through their hair and Lemmy's growl sliced through the noise of the road underneath them, that she realized she had become a true bad girl.

[vikingpoteto]

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 6 on AO3

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Relationships:  (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all.

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Normalcy.

Tim doesn’t quite know what that concept entails. Once, it meant taking care of himself in a big house, making sure no one knew how much time he actually spent alone. Another time, it meant solving problems, training hard and answering questions, juggling a double life. Then, leading a team of people who trusted him and whom he failed time and time again. Finally, for a brief period of time, normalcy was running against time to solve an impossible puzzle and being a triple agent.

And now… now he isn’t sure anymore.

It’s a sunny Saturday morning when he wakes up and squints at the window. He wonders how beaten he must’ve been to forget to close the blinds. He scratches his belly and sniffles because less than a few hours ago Ivy freaking bombed a warehouse with allergenic pollen, which was really uncool of her. She didn’t even bother to give them a heads up. She did apologize and gave them an antidote before they parted ways, but… still. Tim wonders if it was less effective on him because… you know.

He lifts his shirt enough to check on the scar. It’s healing well, in spite of everything. He doesn’t bother changing out of his sleeping clothes before going upstairs. Judging by the sun outside, it can’t be later than 11 am, which means…

Ah, yes. Just like he expected: normalcy now means getting out of bed late in the weekend and being greeted by the strong scent of tea, because Jason is a heathen. When Tim stumbles his way to the kitchen, he finds the now familiar sight of Jason in his favorite green hoodie, a mug of tea in his hand, and his nose buried in a heavy looking novel.

“Morning,” Tim mumbles, already searching the cabinets for coffee.

“Food,” Jason orders in lieu of a greeting.

Tim mouths the word food while pulling a face, but obediently grabs a piece of toast from the table. Bickering with Jason over mundane things is part of his routine now, but there are certain things the older boy is absolutely inflexible about. Part of normalcy now means knowing Jason will leave food for Tim and fighting him on whether he wants to eat is pointless. Tim bites into the toast as he prepares his coffee.

“Ivy’s thing worked for you?” Jason asks without raising his gaze from his book.

“Hm-hum,” Tim nods. He’s still sniffling, but it’s true that he felt instantaneous relief when he swallowed the antidote last night. “You good too?”

“Yeah. Still, I can’t believe you just took it when she handed it to you,” Jason puts down his book and glares at Tim.

Tim sits on the counter and shrugs. “If she wanted to kill us, she could’ve left us coughing our lungs out like the rest of the guys in the warehouse.”

“You have trust issues in the most fucked up way, kid.”

“Hey, I happen to trust people who deserve trust,” Tim protests. “It’s not like I would take something from the Penguin. Ivy is pretty chill if you’re not littering or dumping waste in rivers.”

“You have a crush on her or something?” Jason teases.

Tim rolls his eyes but focuses on chewing his toast rather than giving him an answer. Jason takes that as he wants, and snickers, like the idiot he is.

This is normalcy now. Having breakfast in the old kitchen and talking about mundane crap - or at least mundane for them - and it feels… Odd. Tim can’t quite explain it. It isn’t like eating alone in Drake manor. It isn’t like making a mess in Titans Tower - the closest place he ever had to a home - because even there he felt like he had to set an example somehow, to keep everyone in check. It isn’t like awkwardly joining Alfred in the morning, still feeling like Bruce only thought he had to adopt him considering the circumstances.

All in all, this new normalcy doesn’t feel like any Tim had felt before. He doesn’t dislike it.

“I’m probably going to finish the adjustments to your computer system today,” Tim informs him. “I can’t believe we’re finally leaving the stone age.”

“Shut up,” Jason tosses another piece of toast at him. “Also you can stop calling it mine. I hate it and I don’t know how to use it after everything you did to it. The computer is all yours.”

Tim catches the toast and grins around his first bite. “Ooh, look at me, I’m Red Hood, I’m tough and scary, but technology is cursed, Alan Turing was a witch-”

Jason stands. Tim is sure he’s about to either mess up his hair or put Tim in a headlock until he begs for forgiveness, even though he can see the hint of a smile twisting Jason’s lips upwards. Before a wrestling match starts, however, Jason freezes.

“Do you hear that?” he whispers.

Tim listens. He can hear nothing other than distant sirens. Burnley isn’t one of the worst districts in Gotham, but they’re too close to Crime Alley. These streets don’t get a lot of traffic. Not this early in the day, anyway.

Rather than explaining himself, Jason visibly shifts into Red Hood: his shoulders square up and he sets his jaw in a challenging scowl.

“Someone just parked on our driveway.”

Tim’s eyes widen. Could it be that they’ve been found out already? He made sure that the henchmen they got were too distracted by Ivy to notice them, but perhaps he had missed something. Part of him wants to go upstairs and grab his staff - even if that would be a stupid thing to do because he can’t exactly fight Dick into forgetting he lied to him.

Tim follows Jason to the entrance as he is, in his stupid oversized Superboy sweater and with toast crumbles all over his pants. He hadn’t even had his coffee. He peeks through the boards on the window and his stomach drops.

“It isn’t Dick,” he says. “It’s worse.”

Jason reads the worry in Tim’s eyes and lets out a curse. Technically, all the doors to the house are sealed. The only entrance is a block away and it leads to the basement/Red Hood bunker. Jason, however, seems to forget that and grabs the door handle angrily. Tim cringes when he hears the sound of frail wood being ripped because it means Jason’s strength is out of control - which means he’s getting near pit rage.

“How the fuck did you find us?” he barks from the porch.

Barbara Gordon is still adjusting herself in her wheelchair. The icy glare she gives Jason shows that she isn’t impressed by his fury.

Foreseeing disaster, Tim rushes out to put himself between Jason and Barbara. “It’s fine, let me talk to her!”

Jason glares at him. Although there’s a prominent vein pulsing on his brow and there’s definitely a hint of green in his eyes, he grits his teeth and stops. Tim sighs in relief before turning to Babs:

“Damian saw us, didn’t he?” he asks.

“What the hell does the brat have to do with this?” Jason hisses.

“Logic,” Tim shrugs. “I’ve been taking care of our digital trail. If Babs knows about us, it means one of the heroes under her watch saw us. Cass is in Hong Kong. Steph and Dick would’ve confronted us right away. The only option left is Damian.”

Jason groans and his eyes have mostly returned to their usual shade of brown. Tim had somehow annoyed him into calming down, which is a skill he’s getting better at every day. Tim smiles a little.

“Well,” Barbara says, her voice sharp. “You thought no one was going to notice two extra vigilantes running around?”

“Not forever, no,” Tim admits, trying to sound apologetic. "We wanted to be left on our own for as long as we could, though. We don’t need external interference.”

At that, Barbara looks scandalized. “Absolutely wrong. Get me a freaking ramp or get down here, Timothy, I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”

Jason lets out an annoyed huff, to which Tim glares at him. He has no business getting mad at Barbara for threatening them when he promises to beat Tim up at least three times a day. Five, if it’s not a school day.

“Why don’t we postpone the violence,” Tim suggests, his eyes not leaving Jason’s, “and just… have a chat? Inside? Jason just made tea.”

An annoyed grunt is all the response Jason gives him before making his way back inside.  He doesn’t slam the door behind him, which is as good as a yes. Tim rolls his eyes before climbing down the steps to help Barbara up the porch.

“By the way, how did you find our address?” he asks.

“Tim, please,” she huffs. “After I saw the footage from Damian’s bodycam, all I had to do was track your online footprint. You think I couldn’t notice the upgrades you’ve been making?”

That’s fair, and Tim should’ve predicted that possibility. Granted, if no one had seen them, Barbara wouldn’t know there was something to track.

He pushes her wheelchair to the living room where Jason is waiting for them. The older boy is sitting on their crappy couch with his knees spread out and his fingers steepled. It would’ve been an impressive crime lord pose to welcome someone if his green hoodie wasn’t sprinkled with toast crumbs.

Not that Barbara is that easy to intimidate.

“So what the hell happened?” She demands. “You left that night and went to meet the guy that almost killed you and two of your brothers?”

That stings. Barbara wasn’t there that night. Tim wonders if things would’ve been any different if she had been. Would she have listened to his theory or just called him crazy as Dick and Cassie had?

Well. All in all, he knew Barbara would always be there for Dick first. He never blamed her for that, because her partnership with Dick was far deeper than any impact Tim could’ve made in her life. He takes a seat by Jason’s side, farther from her.

“Damian also tried to kill me,” Tim reminds her. “And Dick fired me right after Jason offered me a job. Between the attempted murder and no job, and the same but with a gig...”

She takes off her glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“That freaking idiot,” she mutters to herself. Then, raising her gaze to meet Tim’s: “He didn’t mean to fire you.”

Tim clenches his teeth. “It sure seemed like it when I woke up and saw Damian wearing my old costume,” he snaps.

He feels Jason whipping his head towards him, and he curses himself. He had never revealed the gritty details of his dismissal for a reason. He reminds himself that Dick gave him Robin and it was his right to take it away, he has no reason to be this angry. That only serves to make him more bitter, though.

“I’m not saying Dick wasn’t stupid,” Barbara continues, her brow furrowing. “I already had some words with him about it. It doesn’t mean it was okay for you to just vanish for months, Tim. And then you’re back and you don’t talk to anyone. Not even Steph? Me?”

“Oh, fuck right off,” Jason snaps.

Barbara goes stiff. Tim groans, because now he has to push his anger further away to be able to stop the two of them. Before he can say anything, Jason continues:

“You’re talking as if I fucking kidnapped him. You know damn well how capable he is,” he barks. “The kid made a choice. I swear to fuck, everyone‘s a critic…”

Barbara opens her mouth but closes it again without saying anything. She presses her lips into a tight line. It isn’t often you see Oracle at a loss for words. For the first time, she looks at Jason without any animosity, her thoughts bare in her eyes. Unlike the boys, Barbara doesn’t play games. She doesn’t hide her emotions on purpose. The longing in her eyes is almost palpable, as though she’s seeing a dear relative she lost a long time ago, and she can’t reach them.

“What are you two thinking?” She asks. “What are you doing?”

“What we do best,” Tim says simply. “Vigilante work.”

“You told Dick you retired,” Barbara points out. “Then you ghosted him. He keeps waiting for you to come back.”

“He likes to do that,” Jason says. Now his voice is barely a whisper. “He says he’ll be there if you need him. Who says we need him, though?”

Barbara hesitates. “I told… Never mind. Just… I’m glad you’re back, Tim. And I’m glad you’re not dead again, Jason.”

Tim smiles. Jason looks like he wants to glance around to make sure she’s not talking to someone else. When it becomes clear she isn’t, he somehow looks even more uncomfortable.

“So,” he starts. “What now?”

“We fight for Tim’s custody, obviously,” Barbara smiles.

The peaceful moment ends when Tim and Jason start protesting out loud over one another. Barbara giggles at the cacophony of half-words, something along the lines of fuck off, not a child get your own damn kid responsible for myself-

“I’m joking!” She shouts to be heard over their complaints. “Jesus, you boys get riled up so easily.”

“I’m not a boy,” Tim and Jason say at the same time.

They glare at each other. Barbara rolls her eyes.

“Now,” she continues as though they didn’t interrupt her, “let me see your work, Tim. I’m going to give you guys a free upgrade.”

“Like hell you are,” Jason says. “How do we know you’re not spying on us for Dick?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Funny. I thought you two were fighting rogues, not Batman. Why would Dick want to spy on you?”

“Because he’s a meddler and he doesn’t trust me,” Jason states as though it’s a fact.

“To be fair, you did try to kill Tim. And Damian. And Dick,” she retorts. Before Jason can say anything back, she raises a hand to ask for patience. “It doesn’t matter to me, though. Barbara Gordon is Dick Grayson’s best friend and partner. Oracle, however, is an ally to anyone trying to protect Gotham. I’ll help you two like I help Batman, the Birds of Prey, and even Batgirl.”

Jason frowns. “I thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong.”

“Well,” Tim scratches his own nape, feeling suddenly guilty. “Actually… there might be a new Batgirl in town.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it!” Tim says. “I swear it just slipped my mind with everything else I had to report!”

Jason looks like he wants to grab a cushion and smother Tim to death. Before he can do as much, Barbara clears her throat loudly and says:

“Anyway… Support. I don’t talk about the vigilantes under my watch. Not to Batgirl. Not to Batman.”

Jason crosses his arms and leans back against the couch, his brow furrowed. Tim fights the urge to pat away the crumbs from his hoodie and waits patiently. Technically, this is Jason’s operation and he’s the one calling the shots. Tim has his own opinions, but in the end, a sidekick is supposed to follow orders.

Then Jason turns to Tim. “Replacement?”

He… does he want Tim’s opinion?

“I trust Barbara,” Tim says without hesitation. “And having Oracle’s help is going to be a game-changer.”

Jason considers that for a moment. It’s clear that he isn’t happy about the conclusions he’s drawing but, in the end, he sighs in defeat.

“Fine,” Jason says. “But if you tattle about what we’re doing, you’re gonna regret it.”

“Why, gee, Jason, how kind of you to allow me to help you guys,” Barbara snaps.

The two of them start bickering, but Tim tunes them out for a moment. It isn’t like Bruce and Dick never asked him for his opinion. They did. A lot. He simply hadn’t expected Jason to do the same. And so openly too. Bruce liked to pretend Tim’s input was but a piece to a puzzle he was assembling by himself. It seems like Jason isn’t above taking Tim’s words at face value and explicitly showing that he was part of the decision making.

It’s… nice. Not quite like being a sidekick, but not like having a whole team depending on him alone. Tim decides he likes this.

“Alright, alright, enough,” he says, standing up. “Come on, Babs, let me show you our office. Do you want some tea?”

“Anything but Earl Grey,” she says, allowing Tim to push her wheelchair towards the kitchen. “Don’t tell Alfred.”

“Wha… Does that make me the cook?” Jason complains.

Tim gives him a pointed look. “Do you wanna help her with the computer instead?”

Jason starts grumbling and cursing under his breath, but he still starts looking for something in the cupboards.

Unlike the Batcave, the secret entrance to the basement isn’t very fancy: just a couple of tiles that can be removed and a ladder. Tim helps Barbara out of her chair and she climbs down on her own. He has to admire her core strength. A little juggling with the folded chair later, he joins her and helps her to the seat again.

As soon as she’s comfortable, rather than rolling straight to the computer, she wraps her arms around Tim a little tighter. Surprised, but not much, he hugs her back.

“I missed you,” she whispers. “I’m so, so glad you’re back.”

Tim squeezes her. He always loved Barbara’s hugs. He doesn’t say anything, though, because he doesn’t think he can. There’s a knot in his throat stopping any sound from coming out. He tightens the embrace a little more and hopes she knows what he means without him needing to say anything.

Barbara pulls back first, her expression somber. “Jason looks better.”

“He is,” Tim assures.

“Still… I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do,” Tim says and there’s not a hint of doubt in his voice. “I… I guess I understand why he did what he did. And Jason is a hero too, Babs. I didn’t forget that, even if some of you did.”

She presses her lips into a tight line and at first, Tim thinks it’s due to the implied accusation. Then something clicks, and he thinks it must’ve been because he referred to the Batfamily as ‘some of you’. For a while, he refused to think of himself as an outsider - he was Timothy Wayne after all - but, at some point, it seems like he started accepting he might not be one of them anymore. It still stings.

However, he also realizes he can live with that. Maybe it’s because of how easy it’d been to get used to Jason, to this new normalcy that feels truly normal after so little time. Tim may have left, but it isn’t Red Robin and them. It’s us and them. And, if everything goes according to his plans, they’re soon going to be at least on the same side.

For now, it’s enough.

There was a time in Tim’s life when he didn’t mind making small talk. His mother drilled into his head that he was supposed to be pleasant and polite and that there’d be consequences if he embarrassed his father in front of his associates. Timothy could lose a whole week of his allowance for chewing with his mouth open during a business dinner. It was more about the inconvenience of being scolded than the punishment, really, but Tim learned pretty fast that being sociable and polite was easier.

It’s been a long time, though. Tim’s lost his touch. Or so it feels when he’s unable to shake off one of his annoying classmates.

“...and then you could totally join us this weekend for the tennis tournament,” she says.

Tim refrains from sighing. He thought all of his classmates had been warned not to mingle with that Drake kid. Even if he was Bruce Wayne’s newest charity case, he slept through most of the classes and talked back to the teachers. Unfortunately, Laney Gonzalez didn’t get the memo.

“I don’t think I should,” Tim says tiredly. “I’m not great at any sports, really.”

“Pff, like I’d believe you!” Laney chuckles and latches onto his arm, squeezing his biceps. “You think we can’t tell how muscular you are under this hideous uniform?”

For fuck’s sake. “No, really,” he tries again, gently prying his arm away with an awkward chuckle. “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

Go to school, Tim, Jason said. You need an education, Tim. Why doesn’t Jason get an education? Then he could hang back after class, even though there are better things to do because Laney freaking Gonzalez decided it was a good idea to make friends with the weird kid. Tim’s attempts to reach the gates seem to go unnoticed by the girl.

“Come on, Tim,” she insists. “You never join us when we do class stuff. It’ll be fun. You don’t have to play or anything, just… hang out a bit?”

What is a polite way to say I’d rather get into a fistfight with Killer Croc , Tim wonders?

He’s about to make up a family emergency - is she going to notice that his phone didn’t buzz at all? - when he notices a small commotion near the exit. A group of students is eyeing the street curiously, and even the ones leaving are taking another glance at… something. Worried, he lets Laney’s speech about friendships in high school fly over his head, and he moves a bit faster. If something big happened while he was in history class, he’s going to freaking kill…

Jason.

Tim stops dead on his tracks because the thing his fellow schoolmates keep glancing at is none other than Jason Todd himself in all of his glory. He’s leaning against the biggest motorcycle Tim had ever seen and wearing his favorite black leather jacket. Tim is already considering the fastest way to kill himself even before Jason’s face splits into a wicked grin and he opens his arms.

“Timbers! Fancy seeing you here!” He says, no , shouts.

Kids in and out of the schoolyard follow Jason’s gaze and find Tim burying his face in his hands.

“Uh…” Laney is now keeping her distance for once. “You know him?”

Tim is already stomping towards Jason.

“What are you doing here?” He hisses.

Still smiling, Jason hands him a yellow helmet. “Picking you up. Not happy to see me?”

“What if Dick sees you?” Tim protests.

Behind him, someone gasps. Tim turns around and curses when he realizes Laney followed him and thought it was okay to listen to a private conversation.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I should’ve noticed it! For the record, I wasn’t hitting on you, if that’s why you kept refusing. I really just want to be friends.”

Jason looks vaguely amused.

Tim frowns. “What?”

“That’s your boyfriend, I assume?”

“No!” Tim hears himself shouting. “He’s my brother!”

Laney has dark skin, but Tim still notices the way her cheeks go a shade darker. “Oh gosh, is that right? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you had any brothers other than Dick and Damian!”

Tim wants to die so bad.

“Actually,” Jason says, voice soft, dropping an arm around Tim’s shoulders, “I’m a bit of a family secret, so don’t go tweeting Vicki Vale about it, will you? We’ll know if you babble.”

Scratch that. He doesn’t want to die. He wants to kill Jason.

Laney nods hurriedly and makes a hushed promise to keep the secret. She mumbles something about texting Tim later - Tim is sure that she doesn’t have his number - and half-jogs away from them, her ponytail bobbing behind her. Well, that takes care of that. Laney Gonzalez is probably never going to speak to him again.

He turns around and punches Jason’s arm. “What the fuck was that?”

“I have a lead on that case from last night,” Jason hops on the bike. “Get on, loser, we’re going crime fighting.”

“We had a plan. You think Dick won’t notice you’re picking me up from school?” Tim complains. He’s already climbing the bike behind Jason, though.

“Tim, what did I tell you about plans again?”

Tim sighs as he puts the helmet on. He rests his forehead against Jason’s back as though he doesn’t even have the strength to sit up straight anymore. Make a plan. The plan goes wrong. Throw it away.

“Besides, Barbara knows. The Gremlin knows. It’s just a matter of time before we have Bitchard and Brat Girl on our asses.”

He starts the bike before Tim is ready, but Tim makes a point of looping his arms around his waist and swallowing a startled yelp when they go from zero to very fast.

It isn’t until they’re several blocks away from Gotham Academy that Tim fully understands what he’d just done. He told a random classmate he had an extra brother. He told her Jason was his brother. He briefly considers letting go of Jason’s waist and letting himself fall into the asphalt.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself. “I’m sorry.”

Jason eyes back briefly before turning his attention back to the street. Between the helmet and the speed, Tim didn’t catch even a glance of his expression, but he can picture it just fine. It’s been barely three weeks since they started living together, but this is normal for him now. He knows Jason’s mildly intrigued face just as well as his own.

“For what?” Jason asks.

“For saying you’re my brother. I panicked.”

Again, he remembers the early days at Wayne manor. Bruce had sworn off adoptions and Tim could only stay after he promised that wouldn’t be an issue.  Hell, Tim tried to keep his word even after his dad died, and yet…

Jason mumbles something that gets lost over the wind.

“What?”

“I said whatever, man!” Jason snaps. “I don’t think adoption expires after death. Technically we are brothers.”

Tim doesn’t say anything. He should know better than to keep making the same mistake.

But isn’t going after Jason a recurrent mistake in itself anyway?

“It’s better like this, to be honest,” Jason says. “It’d be weird to be living with a random minor, I guess.”

It’s basically an automatic response at this point: “You’re two years older than me.”

“I’m legally an adult. You’re not,” Jason reminds him.

“You’re legally dead, actually,” Tim points.

Jason barks out a burst of laughter. “Look at you, Timmy, saying such mean things. Am I a bad influence on you?”

“Now, that tone is creepy. Drop it or I’ll make us crash. You know I have no regard for my own safety.”

Tim is definitely doing that talking without thinking thing again.

“Ugh, don’t I know it,” Jason groans. “Should’ve considered that before taking a fucking kamikaze as my partner.”

Tim perks up. “Hey…!”

“You’re not allowed to name yourself Kamikaze,” Jason cuts him off. “First, that would probably be racist, and second, because you’re not naming yourself after suicidal pilots. You chose Red Robin. No takesie backsies.”

“Fine, mom,” Tim pouts.

Jason speeds up and Tim takes that as his cue to pretend the purr of the engine is too loud for them to talk.

For once in his life, Tim decides to really throw the plan away and see where this goes. This is just his new routine and Tim is nothing if not adaptable.

The case should be simple enough: someone had destroyed an underground casino and killed the bosses responsible for keeping the place running. All of the workers had been spared. They would consider it an everyday case if the same thing hadn’t happened again somewhere near the Narrows. The two places didn’t have anything in common other than the business they ran - gambling, prostitution… the works.

Tim spent hours thinking of a personal motive and so far he had discarded personal vendetta and random coincidence. The methods didn’t match one of the rogues they knew and, although he didn’t say it out loud, Tim feared they had another Red Hood like vigilante in their hands.

When Red Hood and Red Robin come out that night, they’re following one of Hood’s hunches.

“I still think I could’ve done this alone,” Red mumbles.

“I still think I could’ve done this alone,” Hood mocks in a high-pitched voice.

Red Robin glares at him and, even in the dirty dark alley, Hood doesn’t miss it. He sighs.

“Do you trust Oracle or not?” He sighs.

“Of course I do,” the boy mumbles. “Still, it would be more efficient…”

“To split up and have each of us cover a place. We’ve been over this. Oracle said she’d make sure the other place is closed for the night. If I’m right - and I usually am - our guy is gonna attack here.”

Red rolls his eyes but decides not to argue any further. He’s pretty sure this is punishment for forcing Hood to accept Oracle’s help, by keeping him close and refusing to let him do part of the job alone. Alas. Let Hood be petty for now. He’ll learn soon enough that having Oracle backing you up is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

However, now that he thinks about it, Red Robin hasn’t done anything big alone since his debut. Patrolling and stopping random muggins is one thing, but the attack on Black Mask’s warehouses? The bust of the big drug traffic operation at the harbor? This odd murder case? In all of these high profile cases, Hood demanded that he and Red Robin attacked together.

He makes a mental note to think about the possible meaning of that later. Right now he has to focus on finding suspicious activity, which is surprisingly hard. Once they’re at the strategic point Red Robin picked and getting set for the stakeout, Hood seems to have similar thoughts, because he comments:

“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, huh?”

Red sighs. “We’re not breaking into their office. We can’t risk spooking the murderer.”

The older boy shrugs and they settle down to wait.

This is a part of the job Red Robin was oddly fond of. There’s something about just sitting on a roof and waiting that is calming to him. He loved the adventure and solving mysteries and fighting bad guys and the thrill. That being said, there was something satisfying about taking your time and waiting to act. Just them too high up to be seen, the only witnesses being the cold night air and the certainty that they’re doing something good and saving innocents.

Tim wondered if it was fucked up of him to love this so much. He’s been in contact with the ugliest parts of humanity since he was a little boy, after all. After Cissie retired, he thought about it a lot. Like Cissie, he didn’t have special powers. He was just another boy that got himself into a crazy situation. Why couldn’t he be just another civilian, unaware of Gotham’s nightlife? Enjoy school, as Jason wanted him to? Live a long life, maybe die of old age?

Tim likes to think that the fact that he loves this so much means that he was made for this life.

“What do you think we’re facing tonight?” He asks.

Red Hood starts talking and Red Robin listens to him. Unlike Tim, Jason is all about instinct and passion. Whereas Tim collects clues and puts together theories, Jason understands the reasoning behind them and comes up with hunches that Tim couldn’t dream of. Red Robin loves to hear his hypothesis because it’s almost like having a book read out loud to you, and an enjoyable one at that.

He’s almost satisfied, all things considered.

Hood suddenly stops talking. As fast as lightning, he reaches into his holster and, before Red Robin even thinks of stopping him, Red Hood stands and points his gun at something - no, someone - right behind them. He pulls the trigger.

Red Robin opens his mouth in horror, but, rather than a lifeless body dropping to the ground he watches the invader dodge the bullet as though it’s nothing, almost gracefully. He reaches for his staff, but the invader is already running towards them again and Hood is getting about to take another shot. The invader’s cape flies behind them, dropping from their head and revealing... a familiar face.

Hood’s finger is already on the trigger and Red realizes this time she’ll have no time to dodge. Without thinking twice, he jumps between Red Hood and the woman.

“ TIMOTHY !” Hood barks, pointing the gun upwards.

“I know her!” Red Robin shouts at one of them. Maybe at both of them. “I know her! She’s my friend!”

The woman’s stopped as well. She’s looking at them with her head tilted to the side. Without minding Hood behind him, Red Robin faces her and takes in her appearance. She’s still bald. Still rocking all the scars - maybe she even has new ones? - and she’s still dressed like a grunge-rock singer from the late 90’s. He’d recognize her anywhere.

“Pru?” He confirms. “Prudence Wood?”

Her shoulders relax when she hears his voice. She reaches for something in her pocket - Hood gets tense again behind him - but all she grabs is a piece of paper. It’s crumpled and a bit dirty, as though she’s been walking around with it in her pocket for a while.

Without hesitation, Red takes it from her unresisting fingers and reads the words someone - presumably Pru herself - had hurriedly scribbled:

I knew this would get your attention, the paper says, I’m here to warn you. The Head of the Demon is coming after you.

And, just like that, Tim’s frail normalcy is gone.

[sonicgetsrawed]

If She’s Just a Friend, Why Am I Jealous?

Combining two prompts! Gang meets Cass, jealous Hugo cause he thinks she’s flirting! Enjoy!

If looks could kill she’d be dead already, if looks could kill he wouldn’t have to work out if Varian’s looks of adoration ran deeper than just that. But he wasn’t so lucky, instead taking up the rear of the group and glaring daggers in the back of the woman’s head. She had an arm slung around Varian, face close to his as she told whatever story she was on about now. He narrowed his eyes further as Varian let out a loud laugh, leaning into her touch. If they got any closer he’d lose his damn mind. Their cheeks were both flushed pink due to the alcohol they consumed, Nuru and Yong opted to stay at the campsite, and normally he’d be just as intoxicated but he couldn’t so much as look at a drink without one or the other getting on his nerves. He was a third wheel and he hated every second of it.

“Cass.” Varian called, dissolving into a fit of giggles as he returned Cassandra’s embrace. He was leaning heavily on her, having drank a considerable amount more than Cassandra. “Cass, tell me again-“ more giggles, this time accompanied by a little snort. “Tell me again, how you handed King Trevor his ass?”

Cassandra leaned closer, Hugo’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He knew realistically he had nothing to worry about, Cassandra was just a friend, at least that’s what Varian had said. He didn’t want to seem overly protective either, their relationship was still fairly new. Still he couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that wormed its way inside his heart. He trusted Varian, he did, but he didn’t know if he could trust Cassandra. He didn’t know her motives, what did she gain from spending time with them, what did she want from Varian, did she truly hope to mend their relationship? Why would she? From what he was told, they hadn’t ever been terribly close.

“So, there I was-“ Cassandra’s voice tore him from his thoughts, the tips of his ears turning red with anger. She was too damn close now, their noses were practically touching. He’d seen enough, he marched forward forcing his way in between the two, pulling Varian protectively to his side.

“That’s hilarious, Cassie, but we should be going.” Hugo ignored the way Cassandra crossed her arms, eyes narrowing into slits, as she gestured one hand to the empty street around them.

“We are literally on our way back to camp.” Cassandra huffed. It was true they had left the tavern a while ago, although it had been slow moving through the town as Varian and Cassandra stumbled about, still telling their stories. Unfortunately, Cassandra would be traveling with them for another few days. Everyone seemed to love her, she integrated herself nicely into the group. She was street savvy, smart as hell, not afraid to fight when necessary, she was essentially a better him. If she decided to stay with them, would they even need him?

Varian broke him out of his intense staring contest he hadn’t even realized he was having with Cassandra, gently poking his nose. “Yeah, we’re staying together, silly.” Varian’s eyes were slightly glassy, glazed over from the too many pints of alcohol he had in trying to keep up with Cassandra. He exploded in another fit of giggles, now leaning against Hugo’s chest, looking up with a stupid grin on his face.

Maybe it was the possessive part of him, but he leaned down, capturing Varian’s lips in a brief kiss, his green eyes clashing with Cassandra’s as he did so. She was unfazed, simply raising an eyebrow. Part of him wished she had said something, done something, anything that he’d be able to prove his worth. Varian hummed contently against him, a small smile forming through the kiss. He blinked when Cassandra smiled as well, turning around as if to give them a moment of privacy. He broke the kiss then, Varian letting out a small whimper of protest at the loss of contact. Hugo ran a hand through Varian’s hair, smoothing the strands back so he could place another soft kiss to his forehead. “We really should get back to camp.”

Varian nodded, even through the haze the alcohol had caused he could see nothing but love in those bright blue eyes. He swallowed thickly, quickly averting his eyes. He didn’t deserve that love, not when he knew his inevitable betrayal was just around the corner. Still, he took Varian’s hand tightly in his, leading him away from the town. The trip back to the campsite was relatively quiet, Varian and Cassandra’s chatter occasionally filled the air. Hugo let it, focused solely on the dark haired woman. They had been told everything about her, her brief friendship with Varian, her betrayal, how they forgave her, and now how she was on her own journey. It was quite the tale, and yet she was just a person. He could easily slit her throat if he wanted to, there was nothing special about, and yet they still forgave her. Maybe if she could be forgiven so could he.

The fire crackled in front of them. Nuru had stayed up a bit to talk, Yong already having been in bed, and now it was just the three of them, well more like two, Varian was sound asleep, head resting in his lap. Cassandra sat next to them, eyes focused on the fire as she took a sip from her canteen. He tried not to stare, she certainly was a beautiful woman, it made his insides twist, it was no wonder Varian had fallen for her once upon a time. Her eyes snapped to his suddenly, any air he had in his lungs effectively gone. “He really cares about you.”

He turned his attention to Varian’s slumbering form, a soft smile gracing his lips. He quickly turned it into a frown, he had barely come to terms with his feelings about Varian, he wasn’t going to be vulnerable in front of a complete stranger. He stuck up his nose, poking the fire with an abandoned stick. “He cares about a lot of people. Doesn’t make me special.”

Cassandra snorted, wiping some stray water from her lips. “You’re right. You’re not special.” She rose an eyebrow as if challenging him to contradict her, and he rolled his eyes. This time she scoffed, shaking her head. “Wow, you really are dense aren’t you?”

Hugo scoffed this time, throwing the stick into the fire and instantly regretting it now that he had nothing to distract himself from this conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you’re hiding something.” The fire glinted off her eyes dangerously, making her look every bit the villain he’d heard so much about. He couldn’t look away, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t. Suddenly, she burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh, you should’ve seen your face!”

He blinked rapidly, the sudden mood change not helping him understand where the hell this conversation was going. “I-“

Cassandra slapped her knee, taking a deep breath to fend off the rest of the laughter. “I’m just messing with you. Lighten up, kid.” He jerked away as she ruffled his hair. “You are special because Varian loves you. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Don’t take that for granted.”

Hugo nodded numbly, trying not to let the guilt eat him up from the inside out. “I won’t.” The words were as sweet as a lie could get, he was lying to her, to himself, to Varian.

They must’ve sounded convincing to Cassandra at least, because she rose from her seat with a hum of confirmation. She cast him one last glance over her shoulder. “In all seriousness, if you even think about hurting Varian, I’ll gut you like a fish. Have a good night!”

She disappeared inside her tent before he could respond, it didn’t matter anyways he didn’t have a response for her.

“I’m glad to see you’re getting along.” Hugo jumped around the sound of Varian’s voice, letting out a string of curses under his breath. Varian just chuckled, reaching up to cup his face.

“That’s her getting along with someone?” He leaned into Varian’s touch, placing his hand over his.

“Cass expresses love through threats.” Varian laughed, the sound softer than normal, his eyes slightly less cloudy.

“No wonder you two get along so well.” It came out harsher than he expected, the bitter tone of jealousy tainting the words.

This only made Varian laugh harder. “You’re jealous? Of Cassie?” It was more a statement than a question, his eyes glinting in amusement.

“I am not.” Hugo hissed, keeping his voice low so the others didn’t wake up.

“You don’t have to be. I love you.” Hugo’s heart stopped, breath hitching harshly in his chest. He had not just said those words. He couldn’t have. No one loved him, not like that. He certainly didn’t love Varian, he couldn’t, not when he would betray him. He didn’t respond, didn’t protest, didn’t have the opportunity to, Varian’s eyes had already closed again, a stupid grin on his sleeping face. He gently moved the loose strands of Varian’s hair out of his face, leaning down to place a soft kiss against his lips. Tomorrow he’d end things, he needed to, he couldn’t keep leading him on. But for now he’d savor this quiet moment. He’d savor it for the rest of his life.

[xplrsquad7137]

How I Met Your Mother-

Colby Brock × Reader

Chapter Twelve is here...

Chapter Thirteen: Anniversary

Word Count 1,975

Warnings: Fluff and Smut

_____________________________________

Today, it is Y/n and I's anniversary of the day that we first met. I have something special planned for her so I asked Sam to take our daughter for the day.

"Hey, beautiful! Are you excited to see uncle Sam today?!"

Our daughter "Yeah! Is uncle Corey and uncle Jake going to be there?"

"I'm not sure, babes..they might be."

Our daughter "Okay"

….

Y/n does our daughters hair and puts her in cute clothing before we take her to Sam's house (the traphouse). I am making sure the plans are still in order so that everything goes perfectly.

Y/n "Our little girl is ready!" She comes out of the room and I see my two girls all dolled up. O/D/N is in a pink dress with sandals on and her hair is curled and has a little pink bow. Y/n is in one of my favorite dresses that she owns: a long white, strapless dress. 

"Look at my girls!! You both look absolutely stunning."

Our daughter "Thank you daddy!"

Y/n "thanks babe, you look great too like damn!" I am in a fitted outfit that isn't quite a suite but it is very formal.

"Thank you, baby. O/D/N, go downstairs and get ready to go okay?"

Our daughter "Okay!" She walks downstairs and does as she is told. I look down at my wife who is beaming up at me. Her smile is so pure and filled with joy and love. I cup her cheeks and into my hands and I place a soft kiss to her lips.

"Are you ready for today, baby girl."

Y/n "mhm. What are we doing?"

"Don't you worry, you're going to love it. Let's go drop her off at Sam's so we can get this party started!" She laughs and takes my hand in hers.

….

As soon as we pull up to the house, O/D/N gets out of the car and runs to Sam who was waiting for her from the porch.

Sam "HEY!! There's my goddaughter!!"

Our daughter "UNCLE SAM!" She leaps and Sam catches her in his arms. Y/n and I get out of the car for a few moments to say hi and give him hugs.

"Thank you again brother for taking her."

Sam "No problem Colby, you look beautiful Y/n!"

Y/n "Thank you Sam!" 

Sam "You guys go have fun, I got her."

"Alright, love you."

Y/n "Love you Sam!"

Sam "I love you guys too, see you tonight."

_____________________________

Y/n hasn't stopped smiling all day, she woke up with a smile and she will have one all day. I don't let go of her thigh the entire ride.

Y/n "wait...is this.."

"The Vidcon stadium where we met? Yes it is, baby!" The stadium has twinkle lights all around and there is a huge projector for a movie tonight. 

Y/n "Aw babe are you serious!?" 

"Yeah, come on, let's go check it out." 

I take her hand in mine and we enter the stadium. The whole place is filled with photos of us throughout our eight years of being together. Some while we were dating, some with our friends and family. But my favorites are photos from our proposal and our wedding and then her maternity photoshoot. Y/n's eyes fill up with happy tears and so are mine. 

Y/n "I...I am speechless!"

"Wait til the end baby!" We walk until we get to where we bumped into each other and that is where I put the pictures of the day our daughter was born. She holds my hand tighter and starts to cry harder as do I. 

Y/n "Colbyy...she was so tiny!"

"I know...now she is so big."

Y/n "this...this is where we bumped into each other, isn't it?"

"Yeah babe." 

Y/n "I didn't think that you remembered that."

"Of course I remember it! Baby, the day I met you, I gained the world. How could I forget any detail of the day I met the love of my life?!" She jumps into my arms and kisses me passionately. I kiss her until I can't catch my breath and I put her down.

"I love you so much."

Y/n "I love you more Colby!"

"Come on, it's getting dark out, let's go see your second surprise." She takes my hand and I lead her out the door to the soundstage. There is a projector and it says Today Is The Day We All Knew…

Y/n "We?" I look down at her and smile. I push play and our friend's faces pop up on the screen.

Sam "Hey Y/n! I asked Colby to be the first one out of our friend group to say how much you mean to all of us. I don't know if Colby has ever told you this but before we met you, he had the biggest crush on you! Like the biggest crush. When I told him that you were going to be at Vidcon, he got so nervous it was adorable! After he met you, he pulled me to the side and he was like….I think I just met my person. I knew personally that you two were going to click immediately and I am so glad that you guys did. When I met you, I remember thinking holy shit this girl is awesome!" He laughs in the video and we laugh along. "But in all seriousness, I love you so so much. You don't just mean the world to Colby, you mean the world to me as well so..I hope that you have enjoyed this little surprise so far. Love you guys!" Y/n looks up at me while I am holding her in my arms and she has tears in her eyes.

Y/n "Babeee that was so sweet!"

"It's not over."

Corey "Yooo...it's my favorite couple!! I know everything that Colby has in store for you today so I hope you are ready! I just wanted to say how amazing you are and how much I love you Y/n. You make one of my closest friends the happiest man in the entire world every single day and for that, I thank you. On this day, a year ago...my brother's life changed for the better well...all of our lives changed for the better because now we have you. Happy anniversary guys, I love you." All of our friends: Jake and Tara, Kat and Cassie, Kevin and Aryia, Mike etc did a video for my wife and I. It was very emotional and sweet and it truly meant the world to the both of us. By the end of it, we are both a crying mess.

Y/n "Well now that my makeup is ruined, what's next!" I laugh and kiss her whole face.

"Well...now we go outside."

Y/n "Outside?"

"Mhm…" I guide her outside and there is a picnic dinner on the grass in front of the main projector. There are twinkle lights all around and there are pillows and blankets. I see her jaw drop in amazement.

Y/n "Baby...it's beautiful!!"

"Not as beautiful as you baby girl." 

….

After we are done eating, I get ready to turn on the screen and her eyes light up. It is a compilation of all of the videos we have been in together since day one. Eight years full of footage of us dating, getting engaged, our wedding, everything in between, our announcement of being pregnant and our daughters birthing video and of course everything else leading up to our most recent uploads. 

Y/n "I thought that I was done crying but I thought wrong!" She laughed through the tears and I pulled her into my arms. We watch the whole footage and soak in every ounce of memory that we have together. 

"Did you love it, baby?"

Y/n "Of course I love it baby! That was so special, I...I am speechless!" 

"I am glad, we have been together for a long time.."

Y/n "A long time but we will be together forever!"

"Amen to that babe, forever and always!"

….

I took her back to our house for the last surprise. Once we got to the front door, I picked her up bridal style and lead her to the bedroom. There was rose peddles on the bed and candles just waiting to be lit.

Y/n "...how did you do this without me knowing?!"

"I did it quickly before we left. Remember when I said that I forgot my drink? Yeah well that's when I did the peddles."

Y/n "oooo you're clever." 

"Mhm.." I lean into her and she kisses my lips. She allows my tongue entrance and our tongues dance in perfect harmony. I can feel her need for me so I lift her up by her hips and place her on the bed. 

Y/n "Colby-"

"I know baby girl. I'm going to make you feel so good, I promise." Her head leans back into the pillows when I take off her underwear so that I have full entrance. "Oh baby you are soaked already." I don't give her enough time to answer me before I swipe my entire tongue over her whole pussy. Her taste is so sweet, like pure fucking honey. I moan the harder she grinds on my fance. 

Y/n "Fuck Colby please don't stop!"

"Mmm-never." After a few seconds, I add two fingers into her core. She likes it when I keep my rings on so of course, they stay on. I can feel her legs shake around my shoulders and her pussy starts to throb around my fingers. 

Y/n "I-I'ma cum!"

"Cum on my face, baby girl." Not long after, she cums and I lick up every drop of her. She is a moaning mess when I hover over her and kiss her lips. She can taste herself on my lips and moans.

Y/n "Mmm I do taste good."

"See, I told you. You always taste so good for me baby." She tries to move so that she can pleasure me but I stop her, "uh uh, baby. Tonight is about you."

Y/n "It's also about you Colby…"

"I know but I just want it to be about you tonight, you pleasured me all day the other night. Now come here." I move her so that she is laying on her stomach. She cums quicker in this position. 

"Are you ready for me baby?"

Y/n "mhm..please.." I lunge into her in one quick motion, she is so wet for me that it went in so easily. The feeling of her tight pussy around my big cock is enough for me to cum in seconds.

"Fuck baby…. Your pussy feels so good."

Y/n "yeah? Is my pussy making your cock feel good baby?"

"Yeah-FUCK!" She starts to grind her hips into me, making me breathless. She screams my name and cums for the second time. I cum shortly after. 

She moves positions and is ready for round three. 

…

Round three was long and sexy. We both marked up each other's bodies with scratches and love bites. We were in desperate need for a shower but we have to pick up our daughter from Sam's. We throw on loose clothing because we are both fairly sore and head out the door.

"Did you enjoy our anniversary baby?"

Y/n "The best anniversary every babe. I loved every second of it. I love you so much, Colby."

"I love you more, angel. When we get home, shower and round four?"

She smirks at me, "You're on."

_____________________________________

@moriartysringtone7137 @multistanimagines @cutiecolbsss @kid-that-likes-to-xplr @azurebrock @taradummy

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Please, obligatory "hunger games au" please?

[Technically a Catching Fire AU, since I didn’t actually want to write all the protagonists killing each other, but the concept is the same.]

When the announcement of the Quarter Quell comes, past Hunger Games champions to be reaped all over again, Rachel thinks Oh.  Thinks, they were always going to find a way to get rid of me.

She cheated, after all.  Broke the Games, ensuring two winners instead of just one.  The poison passing between her lips and Marco’s.  The defiant dare: that the Capitol could have two survivors, or it could have none.  She and Marco sobbed out their love as they clung to each other later that day, and it’s been enough to keep them alive until now.  But it was never going to last.

When she tells Marco this, he laughs.  “It’s not just us, though.  Think about it.”  He ticks them off on his fingers as he goes. “Erek sabotaged the Arena itself to win.  James was one of the figureheads of the District 6 protest.  Ax is too well-liked by too many important people.  Even your boy Tobias smuggled all of those Avoxes out of the Capitol — no, don’t try to deny it, it’s not like I don’t know.”

“So it’s not just us people are rallying behind,” Rachel says.  “We’re not the only troublemakers.”

Marco winks at her.  “You are the rallying point, my dear.  I’m just your adorable side piece.”

“If it had to happen again, better that it do so while you’re still young and strong and pretty,” Alloran intones.  He’s looking over Ax and Estrid, unamused as always.  “Better yet, Aximili, you could’ve kept your mouth shut and we wouldn’t be here at all.”

Ax shrugs.  He’s one of dozen surviving male champions from District 4, so it’s just bad luck that he’s got an honorable streak he can’t seem to shake.  Ax is pretty sure that if his own name had been called then Alloran would’ve volunteered in his place, which is why he’d volunteered for Alloran.

“We’re both out of practice,” Estrid says.  “I’ve been in biotech labs for most of the last thirteen years, and Ax’s been getting fat entertaining the upper crust—”

“Do not speak about things you do not understand,” Alloran says flatly, and Estrid shuts up.

Ax keeps his expression pleasantly neutral.  He’s very good at it, by now.  “She has a point,” he says.  “We’re both past our prime.”

“Not as far past as I am.”  Alloran narrows his eyes at Ax, almost certainly still angry about Ax not letting him go die in the Games.  Alloran might have been a butcher in the Arena in his own time, but he’s seventy-six years old.

Ax lifts his chin.  “Tell us what you would have us do, mentor.”

“Go on, start making friends,” Nora says quietly, looking over the lunch room.  “It’s high time you got to work on your strategy.  Rachel’s no good at alliances — just look at that kid Karen she helped through half the last games.  So it’s all on you.”

Marco makes no move to go join anyone.  “We shouldn’t delude ourselves about my chances.  Last time, I was up against mostly half-starved kids, and I still would’ve died if Rachel hadn’t carried me through, sometimes literally.  Now?” he says.  “Twenty-three warriors.  Every single one of them a card-carrying baby-killer.  My scintillating wit and charm aren’t going to be enough this time.”

“So you have no strategy at all, then.”  Nora only says it because she knows it’s not true.  She knows his mind; she sponsored him in his own Games, and then they co-sponsored eight other kids.  Hell, after what happened to his parents, and hers, each of them is the closest thing the other one has left to family.

“Probably for the best if my strategy doesn’t depend on trusting any of these people,” Marco counters.

“Not even the District 10 girl?”

“What, Cassie?  Just because she cries over ‘em after she kills them doesn’t mean she’s not still a killer.  I don’t trust her any more than David.”

Nora smiles grimly.  “In that case, you’re probably trusting David too much.”  David won 10 years back by luring several tributes into deadly traps with promises of or requests for aid, and then ripping apart their bodies even after they were long dead.  The first kill he’d made had been the 12-year-old girl from his own district, who’d given him some of her food and then been too weak to resist as he held her face-down in the mud until she’d stopped struggling.

“Maybe I’ll go cower behind one of the Careers, see if that’ll keep me alive,” Marco says.  “Big Jake, for one.”  Jake Berenson of District 2 is from a long bloodline of Career tributes, one that has turned out more champions per dead child than any other.  He’s well-liked, well-fed, and strong enough to kill barehanded.

“Erek King,” Nora suggests.  “You know, the District 3 boy?  He doesn’t look like much, but he probably won’t turn on you.”

Marco snorts.  “He’s only a pacifist until you back him into a corner.  Just like the rest of us.”

“Hold the lift!” someone calls, and Cassie lunges forward to punch the door-open button.  Both District 12 tributes slide into the elevator with her, panting slightly.  They’re no longer on fire, she’s glad to see.

“Thanks,” Rachel says.  She and Marco are still holding hands, as always, but up close it looks like Rachel is holding Marco upright by their shared grip.

Marco barely lets the doors close before leaning heavily into Rachel’s arm and kicking off one of his shoes.  It clatters loudly across the floor, and Cassie realizes it has an almost eight-inch heel — their stylist’s trick to make Marco taller than Rachel.  Marco lowers himself to the floor, standing on his own now, and yanks at the other shoe.  It catches on the hem of his robe, and with a hiss of annoyance he rips that off too, revealing that he wears nothing underneath.

Cassie turns away, feeling her face flush.

“What, like you’ve never seen a naked man before?” Rachel asks, laughing.  “You were at the opening ceremony, you saw what Ax was — and wasn’t — wearing.���

Yes, and Cassie had felt sick to her stomach watching the way the crowd ogled him, a piece of meat that they couldn’t wait to devour.

“Come now, my love, you know style’s all part of the strategy, for that one especially,” Marco says to Rachel.  He’s not wrong: if Ax can play the crowd well enough, the sponsors might even be able to get him another version of that scythe-thing he favors.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not crass, sweetheart.”  Rachel grins at him.  “Kind of like stripping down in an elevator to try and shock the baby tribute.”

“Doubt I interest her, my darling,” Marco says, “seeing as I’m not a muttation.”  He laughs and adds, “not yet, anyway.”

Cassie realizes she still hasn’t said a word.  Not about the nudity, not about the taunting reference to her own victory, earned when she nursed an injured muttation back to life and taught it to kill for her.  And what’s she supposed to say?  One of these two will kill her, likely as not, before the week is out.

The best that Tobias can say about his own interview is that he manages not to let anything show on his face.  He does his best to answer the questions — about District 11, about his feather-patterned costume, about what he thinks Crayak has planned for the games ahead — in ways that are unremarkable and inoffensive.  He and Melissa both won, eight years apart, with the same strategy: they’re small and lithe and easily underestimated, but they’re also able to flit through the trees well overhead of their fellow tributes without being spotted until it’s too late.  Now, the advantage of surprise is gone with the broadcast of his last Games, and the advantage of agility disappeared with the bottom half of his right leg after infection set in.  He’s going to die.  But he wants to die with dignity, he told Melissa last night, even though he knows that probably won’t be possible.

Rachel and Marco both have it easy during the interview process.  All Marco has to do is tell the story of Rachel first trying on her flaming dress, and how beautiful she’d looked to his eyes even while waiting for her hair to catch on fire.  The audience is eating it up, laughing and cheering even as many of them sob openly throughout.  Rachel’s so stunning in her wedding dress, even as it crumbles to ash around her, that it’s easy to fall in love with her through Marco’s eyes.  When she promises to protect what is hers, staring fiercely into the camera with clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, half the Capitol falls in love with Marco all over again.

Cassie’s interview is still the most interesting, in that she gets six words into a protest speech about the treatment of the outer districts before her mic cuts off and a “technical malfunction” shuts down the conversation.  Jake’s is exactly what you’d expect from a Career, lots of shrugging and mumbling and letting his bulk speak for itself, while Ax’s causes no less than fourteen rapturous fainting spells as various audience members are overcome with the power of their love for him.

All in all, Tobias is pretty sure he fades into the mass of tributes — Collette in her wheelchair, Loren who smirks under opaque glasses, Taylor whose beauty remains undiminished by her three prosthetic limbs — whom everyone has written off as unlikely to win.  It’s probably for the best, Tobias assumes.  If it comes down to that, he’ll be just like the rebels and sponsors: fighting tooth and nail to keep Rachel alive.

Rachel buries her face against Marco’s neck, dark hair and blond tangling together.  “I think…” she breathes against his skin, too soft for the microphones to detect.  “I think maybe we can trust the Ellimist.”

She feels his jaw tighten where they’re pressed together.  Marco’s the cynic who dances them away from the worst of the traps; she’s the optimist too stubborn to know when she’s been beat.  They make a good team.  She owes her life to his inspired decision to declare his love for her on live TV just as much as he owes her for the trick with the berries.

“He’s one of the Gamemakers,” Marco hisses.  “Fuck that.”

Rachel shakes her head just a little.  “He showed me…  I can’t explain it, not here.  Just— Do you think you can trust me?”

“Always.”  Marco sounds like he means it, because he’s skilled like that.  “Always.”

Ax does his best to breathe, in the seconds between their ascent into the Arena and the gong signifying the land mines’ deactivation that will release them from their pressure pads to begin the Games.  He’s a warrior, the servant of his district and his family.  He has volunteered twice now, once in Arbron’s place, once in Alloran’s.  Let it be done.

Across the way, he sees that even as Rachel rises into position she’s already making some busy motion with both hands close to her chest.  Ax can’t see clearly what she’s doing, but he sees Tobias’s eyes go wide in alarm.

Tobias frantically shakes his head, but Rachel ignores him.  She scans the lines of tributes until she finds her target.  When she does, her smile grows vicious.  Her right hand flashes out as she throws an object full-force at David’s face.

It’s her belt buckle, Ax realizes.  A nearly-useless weapon, small and blunt.  But does the job.  When it smacks David squarely in the cheek it throws him off balance.  Enough that he staggers back two steps — straight off the pressure pad, ten seconds before the gong.

Wha-BOOM!

The concussion of the land mine triggering breezes against Ax’s face nearly twenty yards away.  And just like that, the 75th Hunger Games begin.

The instant the gong sounds, Marco is off and running.  Headed for Rachel.  She whips around when she hears his approach, sliding into a defensive stance, but she relaxes by millimeters when she sees that it’s him.

Without any discussion, she and Marco and Tobias fall into a loose phalanx, facing outward with makeshift weapons in hand.  All Marco’s managed to grab so far is a piece of the platform he was on, but improvised weapons have always been his specialty.  He’s yanking and twisting sharp edges into place like this is yet another chunk of District 12 fence ripped from its posts, when something whistles over his head.

He ducks, almost too late.  Taylor’s knife flies past, embedding itself in the backpack that Rachel holds up to shield herself.  Rachel yanks the knife loose and flips it around in her hand.  Beside her, Tobias holds a stick like a club, staring around wildly.

Taylor’s second knife never leaves her hand.  Instead she dives forward, headed for Marco’s throat —

Shink.

Taylor coughs hot blood onto Marco’s face.  The steel that killed her yanks loose from her body as Ax pulls his blade back into his hand.  

It’s almost faster than Marco’s eyes can follow.  The chain it’s on whips behind him, then snaps outward again.  This time the scythe-thing takes a girl’s hand clean off at the wrist.  Again Ax snaps it back to himself, coiled and at the ready faster than thought.

Marco sees Rachel go pale as she registers the kusarigama in Ax’s hand.  It’s like a chain mace with a bladed head, a machete attached to the end of a bullwhip.  Not the kind of thing that one finds at a corner store in Panem.  The kind of thing that the Gamemakers must have placed here, after having seen the way that Ax wields one like it’s an extra limb.  The kind of thing they must have put down deliberately, if they wanted him to win.

“We have to go!” Tobias shouts.

Marco gestures for him to lead the way.  There’s no use sticking around to get slaughtered at the Cornucopia, and especially no use risking Rachel.  The three of them take off at a steady run, leaving Ax’s graceful slaughter in their wake.

Jake kills a muttation just as it is sneaking up on Marco and Tobias.  This makes no sense, Marco concludes, but there’s no time to question it.  

Marco takes a thrown hatchet to the shoulder protecting Rachel, because that’s all he can do.  He tells himself that he isn’t hurt when she hisses angrily that there’s no one left to impress so he can just stop with the lover-boy act now.

Ax kills the District 3 tribute who nearly killed Marco, but then refuses to kill Marco even as he’s lying wounded on the ground.  

They don’t seem to understand, Marco wants to shout, that he’s not important.  Rachel — beautiful Rachel, strong fierce tough Rachel, Rachel who can launch a thousand ships with the power of her bravery — is the important one.  Marco’s just the clever little schemer who showed the Capitol who she is, just set dressing in her story.

The Games… don’t work the way they’re supposed to.  Six tributes die of smoke inhalation.  One drowns.  There are four murders, and then no more.  The remaining thirteen, and then twelve, and then eleven, keep allying with each other.  Crayak’s direct intervention, or maybe the Ellimist’s, whittles their numbers, but the survivors keep drawing in tighter and helping one another.  And if everyone is allied, no one is killing.

“So what’s it going to be, then?” Jake asks.  He glances around at all of them, but his eyes meet Ax’s and hold there.  Ax stares steadily back.

There’s a wary sort of camaraderie there, and Cassie knows its source.  In a way, these two are just the same.  Each one is his family’s second chance at a champion.  They are seconds sons, both of whom watched older brothers volunteer and be shipped off to the Arena.  Both of whom watched their brothers’ state-sponsored murder in full technicolor on 20-foot screens.  Both of whom volunteered in their turn.  Career tributes, yes, but the sort of Careers who lack all delusions of glory or honor.

“Let’s do it.”  Rachel speaks first.  She’s the first pick in her own family.  First of three.  And Cassie chills to think of the things that Rachel has already proven willing to do, in order to prevent her little sisters’ entering the Arena.

“You know I’m with you,” Tobias says, smiling sadly at Rachel.  She smiles back, brushing the back of her hand over his.

Those two are cousins, if the Capitol propaganda is to be believed, but Cassie wasn’t born yesterday.  Marco and Rachel are very good at playing the game behind the game — so good, in fact, that they’re engaged to be married and claim to have a kid on the way — but up close, they’re also very obviously playing, their flirtation only a game to them.  It’s Tobias and Rachel who look at each other with real affection, with real desperation.  But their story didn’t advance the cause, and so the Capitol took advantage of a passing resemblance — blond hair, long limbs — for its own ends.

“No offense,” Marco says, in a tone that guarantees he’s about to cause offense, “but why would we ever believe you people?  Some of us who didn’t grow up on three servings of meat a day bought by past kids’ victories need proof that you Careers aren’t just going to turn on us.”

“You have no reason to trust us,” Jake says.  “None of us has any reason to trust any of the others.  But I will tell you this much: the Capitol needs us to hate and fear each other, or else this whole sick enterprise cannot continue.  You can all do what you want, but I’m going to choose to believe that maybe, just maybe, everyone else here wants to go down defying the Capitol rather than continuing to play puppet for their entertainment.”

Ax plants the end of his kusarigama against the ground, expression hard with determination.  “You tell us what to do, and I will follow.”

“Yeah.”  Rachel laughs, tossing her head back.  “What he said.  Let’s start kicking the asses of some people whose asses actually deserve to be kicked for once.”

They’re hiding in District 13.  Turns out that’s still a thing.  Marco got away from the Gamemakers; Nora did not.  Marco surprises himself with how much he misses her, like maybe he did care about her after all.  It’s too late now, though.  The next time he sees her, she’ll be brainwashed and mind-controlled, if she’s even still alive.

“Hi, there.”  Cassie sits down next to Marco at one of the long cafeteria tables.  She turns to follow the direction of his gaze.

Rachel’s sitting across the room, leaning close to talk to Tobias.  The two of them hold hands across the table, able to be affectionate in front of witnesses for the first time in their lives.  Rachel doesn’t seem to realize, caught up in conversation as she is, how easy she is to love.  She doesn’t know the effect she has, and maybe that’s part of her power.  She wasn’t lying when she said she only volunteered to save Jordan, and she’s not lying now when she promises to save all of Panem.

“For you it’s real, isn’t it?” Cassie asks quietly.  “She has no idea, and neither did I at first… but you really are in love with her.”

Marco laughs, tempted to deny it.  But what would be the point?  “Isn’t everyone?”

[thran-duils]

You’re Now Mine (Chap 13)

Title:: You’re Now Mine (Part 13) Summary: I’ve decided to continue the drabble request into a series.

“FULFILLING A REQUEST FOR @lets-personofinterestontumbir! – “COULD YOU DO A DRABBLE FOR THE PERSEPHONE AU I DON’T KNOW IF YOU’VE SEEN ONCE UPON A TIME BUT THE EPISODE 1X07 REMINDED ME A LOT OF THIS STORY WHEN THE EVIL QUEEN RIPPED OUT THE HUNTSMEN’S HEART IF YOU COULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT IT WOULD BE AWESOME. THANK YOU.” “ Words: 2,087 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Dark AF, Emotional/Mental abuse, smut. FOR THIS CHAP: Major character death, angst

Chapter 12 || Chap 14 || Masterpost || Persephone series || Fanfic masterpost

Placing your silverware down, you stated, “Lucifer, I don’t know if that is smart.”

“If what is?”

“Facing Am… your aunt.”

Raising his eyebrows, Lucifer inquired, “And pray tell me why not?”

“She… she’s powerful.”

Lucifer cocked his head, giving you an indignant look. “And what do you think I am?”

Swallowing, you tried to figure out the best way to phrase it. “Didn’t you have help last time? You might get hurt.”

Sighing annoyed, Lucifer said, “That is exactly what the Hand of God is for, princess.”

“But –”

“Now, don’t you go worrying your pretty little head about me,” Lucifer spoke over your protest. “I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve… such as more than one Hand of God to wield at a time.” You gave him a confused look and he smirked, “Please don’t tell me you think your inept friends could possibly the only ones to locate one.”

You wondered where he had found one and what it was. You knew better than to directly ask this and instead asked, “So… you’re just going to take theirs too?”

“Take? Absolutely. As you know the Winchesters as stubborn as they are, I am going to need to pry that thing from their dead, cold hands. They won’t give it up willingly.” The color drained from your face and he chided, “Princess, I just told you I was going to kill them. Keep up will you?”

Your mind raced, thinking of all the awful things he would do to them.

“Let me go with.”

Lucifer scoffed, shaking his head. “You must be joking.”

“No. Please. Let me go with,” you pleaded. “I can convince them to give it over willingly. So you don’t have to kill them.”

He chuckled darkly, “Oh, so you want to go with to protect them?” He leaned in and you held his stare. “What makes you think even if they give it willingly, I won’t kill them anyway?”

Mouth dry, you started, “Well… I figure if you are able to take it without trouble, there is no need—”

“No need? I still have a score to settle with them. Or have you forgotten?”

“Would that not settle the score?” you tried.

“No.”

“But, why would you kill them when you could count on them to keep the monsters in line? Monsters deaths surely have an influence on what is going on with Purgatory, no? You are working with Heaven now and you have hell under your control. Another realm seems like a lot to put on your plate. Them killing and keeping the numbers down keeps the monsters in hiding and on the run from hunters so they won’t ever be an issue for you.”

Lucifer chided, “You are grasping at straws, Princess. I don’t care about Purgatory or their monsters. They’ve always stuck to themselves.”

“Except Eve. Or the Leviathan.”

“Well, that was the Winchesters and Cassie’s fault. And trust me, that still eats away at him. Seems keeping them around causes those mishaps which makes things like Purgatory which normally aren’t a problem become a problem.”

Trying again, you said, “But what if God shows up. He’s obviously got something planned for the boys. Won’t you at least humor me?”

“If my dad cared, he would have showed up by now. And considering I just let you out of time out after you were so inconsiderately rude…”

“I know. I’m sorry,” you said desperately. “But please. The bigger picture here. Think about why your father made them in the first place. They could be an asset depending on what he wants from them. He has to show up some time.”

Lucifer was silent, his eyes boring into you. The seconds crawled, you waiting for his answer.

Slowly a smirk tugged at his lips and you did not like the cruel gleam in his eye. “You know, you may turn out to be helpful. I don’t think they are going to do this without tricks. It would disappoint me honestly if they didn’t go out without a fight.” His eyes flicked down to your plate. “Are you finished? Dean is praying again.”

Swallowing sharply, you nodded.

Leaning in, he ordered you, “Stay right by my side, be my little peach, and when this is done, we can go topside. Get some fresh air.”

Traveling with an angel never got easy, the tightness in your chest and feeling like your essence was being squeezed taut. You gasped loudly when you landed, trying to draw breath back into your lungs. Lucifer’s arm was tight around your waist, his touch grounding you. Your fingers dug into his chest, trying to relax against him.

It took a few seconds for you to recognize the heat around you. Your eyes moved to the flames licking around your legs.

“Shit.” Dean’s voice drew your attention.

Lucifer tutted, his hand holding you at the small of your back. “Hmm. Remember what I told you, princess. It seems staying close is your best option.” To Dean, Sam and Crowley, he stated, “I’m sorry. Your prayer implied I would be joining the team, but I’m just not feeling the warm and fuzzy here.” To you, he asked, “Do you feel welcomed?”

You shook your head and he smirked.

Sam and Dean looked between each other, worried.

“Oh… wow. There it is.” You followed Lucifer’s gaze and saw a horn partially covered by a cloth near Crowley. That must be the Hand of God the boys had found. “Powered up by dad himself. That bad boy plus me, that oughta take her out alright.” He beamed down at you, giving you a little shake. “Let’s get to it, right?”

To the boys, he gestured down at the holy fire. “Douse the flames.”

The boys did not budge, and you furrowed your brow. The more they refused to speak and move made you all the more antsy about what kind of trap they had thought they were setting for Lucifer. He was right, you knew they would not give it up without a fight.

You felt Lucifer tense and your heart race began to pick up. He could not harm them from in here but that did not stop you from worrying.

“Or don’t…?” he said slowly, his fingers digging into your back ever so.

Sam and Dean exchanged another look, swallowing sharply. Sam shook his head at Dean ever so slightly. Dean’s gaze was back on you, calculating.

“Dean,” Sam warned from behind him.

Lucifer cocked his head, “What’s the hold up, fellas?” He took notice of the pew beside Dean, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Dean saw him and moved to try to block it, but it was too late. “Looks like there’s something slightly drawn there, Dean-o. You mind sharing with the class?” Dean refused to speak, and Lucifer surmised, “Something you had planned to, I don’t know, hurt me with?” He chortled, his free hand coming up to touch your jawline lightly. “I don’t think you were expecting her though. Threw a little wrench in your plan, didn’t it? Hmm, bringing you along did prove extremely helpful, even if it was not in the way we thought it was going to be. My perfect little helper.”

His eyes flashed back to Dean, amusement gone instantaneously. He growled, “I am done with these games, boys. Hand over the weapon. Whaddaya say? Or we can wait for the warding to fail and I’ll take it.”

The silence in the room was deafening as Dean and Lucifer stared each other down. Lucifer’s grip laxed and you looked at him curiously. “I know I said stay right by my side, but would you give me a step back, princess?”

You did as he asked, nervousness clawing away at your insides, unsure of what he was planning.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley said defeated before his essence was sucked out of him, traveling right into Lucifer. You leaned back frightened watching it disappear into his mouth before his head slumped forward and he was silent.

Stepping closer again, you touched his arm, staring at his face. “Lucifer?” you whispered.

“Y/N. Step back,” Sam said moving closer to the fire.

“And go where?” you snapped at him and he recoiled at your tone. Sighing angrily, you said, “He brought me to help convince you two to give it to him willingly. Do you not think that would have been the smarter course of action?”

“We were trying to get Cas to kick him out so we could put him back in the cage!” Dean told you firmly.

“Well, that went swimmingly,” you responded irritated. “Good job.”

Dean looked offended and Sam said, “We had to try, Y/N.”

Shaking his head in annoyance, Dean turned away from you, looking back at Crowley. He walked closer to the bench Crowley had fallen back onto.

Rowena appeared from the hall near the back of the room and exclaimed, “Exorcise him, will you? Get my son out of that vessel and back into his own! Can’t you people ever do anything right?”

Ignoring the insult, Dean and Sam set to work to exorcise Crowley from Castiel’s vessel. Sam began reciting the exorcism spell, Castiel’s body beginning to jerk in response. Dean threw the holy water at him over the fire; the water sizzled, causing Castiel’s body to flinch on top of the jerking. Your stomach twisted, seeing an exorcism being performed on him. His body was seizing.

It worked though, relatively quickly. Crowley was thrown back into his own body and he told you guys that Lucifer’s hold on Castiel was too strong to break through. Your dismay was cut short by Rowena furiously pointing out that the flames were dying down and she disappeared, leaving the group of you.

Typical, you thought to yourself.

“Ah, my patience is so thin, you cannot even imagine,” Lucifer sneered, straightening back up again. He noticed the flames were gone and threw a glance at you. There was a glint in his eye, as if he was daring you to run now that you were able to. You stayed put nervously.

His attention back on the boys, he said, “You know, I could have been your warrior.”

Sam acted quickly, spinning to run back towards the horn but it flew off the bench past him right into Lucifer’s awaiting hand.

“Well,” Crowley murmured before disappearing.

Like mother like son.

“It’s just like Crowley to leave right when the party is getting started,” Lucifer commented. He gestured at Sam and Dean, “Have a seat.” They were both thrown back onto the benches behind them, stuck fast. Fear creeped as Lucifer stalked towards them, a predator playing with his prey.

“As much as I get a giggle out of you two – and I do,” Lucifer said with a scornful tone. “There comes a time when every relationship has run its course. So…”

Time slowed as you watched him raise his hand and clench his fist, dread slamming into you, the breath frozen in your lungs.

Immediately, Sam and Dean grunted loudly, looking to be in excruciating pain. The veins in their necks strained against skin, their teeth grinding against the torment Lucifer was inflicting upon them.

“No!” you exclaimed loudly, forcing yourself to rush to Lucifer’s side terrified. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“I never said anything of the sort,” Lucifer replied dryly, his eyes burning into the boys. He cranked his fist and they shouted in agony, their shouts reverberating up your spine.

You reached up trying to pull his arm down to no avail. He was too strong. “Lucifer! Please!”

He refused to look at you, turning his fist sharply again and their grunts turned to weak gasps. The life began leaving their bodies. You watched horrified as they slumped slowly, eyes fluttering. Sam made eye contact with you, despair in his eyes. Your chest heaved as a sob escaped watching their chins dip to their chests, them not moving anymore.

Lucifer sighed, straightening up, his arm coming back down to his side, your own hands still holding on limply.

“Well,” he drawled, “That was satisfactory.”

Frozen to the spot, tears ran down your face looking at your friends. He had killed them.

Suddenly Lucifer grabbed your arm, anxiousness in his tone, “We need to go. Now.”

You barely felt him tug you to him, your eyes not leaving Dean and Sam before the world went dark as Lucifer propelled the two of you with a strong burst of his wings.

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @splendidcas, @klaineaholic, @letsthedogpackandthecats, @alexastacio, @winchesterforever12 @seirensou @tacos-and-trenchcoats @the-amaranthine @marisayouass @afanofmanystuffs @greenappleeyes @misscherryberry-blog @too-lazy-for-this-world @musicalraven07 @xxslytherinprincessxx @thebookisbtr @wayward-hell @silverbulletsandredsigils @perseusandmedusa @aditimukul @xxmizzlexx @icarus-fell-in-spring @kristendanwayne @morbid-apricots @mishapanicmeow @roonyxx @willowing-love @mishascupcake @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @jenabean75 @the-girl-with-metal-wings @daddys-gamer-kitten

[dothwrites]

15.05 coda--nothing means anything anymore

15.05 coda--Dean/Castiel

I had someone once who made every day mean something. And now...I am lost...And nothing means anything anymore.--Ranata Suzuki

---

How are we supposed to fight God?

The question sits like a stone in the pit of his stomach. It’s with him when he showers, when he dabs antiseptic around the cuts on his side, when he eases into a shirt and into his bed. It sits on his chest, it lurks in his mind, it rises in his throat. It’s what he breathes, what he sees. Inescapable. Total. 

It’s...They were done. 

They were done. 

The walls press in around him. He’s never thought that the bunker was suffocating, but here it is, 4 am and he can’t breathe because the walls are closing in around him. He thinks that if he was in the middle of the Grand Canyon, it still wouldn’t be enough. These aren’t real walls, they’re Chuck’s fingers, squeezing around his and Sam’s neck until finally--

Michael was right, the bastard. Chuck just writes drafts and discards them, he’d said, and goddammit all, he was right. What had that been? Some weird crossover? 

Dean’s never...Even at the darkest point, even when the Apocalypse was looming, even when he was losing pieces of himself to the Mark, even when the Darkness was pressing around him, even when he was waking up with splitting headaches because Michael was screaming inside his head--There had always been a plan. There had always been some other action to take, something to do, something to fight. There had been something. But now...The gerbil wheel goes faster and faster and there’s no way off and there’s nothing, there’s nothing--

It takes him a second to realize that he’s hyperventilating, breath turning the pillow damp. His teeth bite into the pillow, fingers tear at the sheets. He needs...he needs...

He screams into his pillow, a muffled, broken sound that rips his throat raw. It tears out from his lungs, from his heart, but it doesn’t help, it can’t help--Everyone they lost along the way--Dad, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Kevin, Charlie, Jack...Mom...It was nothing. It was nothing but Chuck getting bored. His whole life and it’s been nothing but fucking God having a hard-on for watching him break until there’s nothing left to shatter. 

Well, the fucker might get his wish. Because right now...There’s nothing left. 

It’s not a conscious decision to reach for his phone. It’s not a conscious decision to press the name that he’s been avoiding for weeks, the name that he’s tried to forget. 

For weeks he’s avoided calling Cas. For weeks he hasn’t texted him. He knows that Sam’s called him--he’d be stupid to miss the furtive, guilty looks, or the way that Sam shoves his phone in his back pocket whenever Dean enters a room. But Dean’s kept himself separate, apart. He changes the subject whenever Sam asks why Cas isn’t texting him back or why all his calls go straight to voicemail. 

He still hasn’t told Sam about that night. The finality in Cas’ words. The resignation in his eyes, the resolution in his steps. He’d seen that same look in Cassie’s eyes, in Lisa’s. It was the look of someone when they said goodbye and meant it. He’d known then, when Cas tilted his head and the ghost of what might have been a smile crossed his face, that that was it. Cas was gone. 

And Dean had respected that, he had. He put his head down and kept on, and it had been fine. It had been fine. He and Sam would keep on doing what they were doing, and he would find new weird jerkies to eat, and it would have been fine. 

But then, Chuck, and Lilith and...Dean can’t breathe, he can’t get any air into his lungs, nothing means anything anymore. He’s drowning, he’s falling, and he can’t tell it to Sam because Sam’s just barely hanging on, and he can’t tell it to Cas, because Cas is...Cas had...

The phone rings. Once. Twice. 

---

In his dreams, Cas picks up the phone. Cas answers in that stiff way that he always does, with the weird pause that gives him away as something not originally of this world. In Dean’s fantasies, Cas answers because he can feel the force of Dean’s desperation, his need, and even though he’s angry, he listens. 

In his dreams, Dean tells Cas everything. He apologizes and Cas listens. In his dreams, Dean is a better person, one who can admit when he’s wrong. In his dreams, Dean apologizes and Cas listens, and at the end, Cas says I’ll be there as soon as I can. 

In his dreams, Cas agrees to come back, says that he’ll see Dean in a few hours, and before they hang up, Dean says I love you, easy as anything, and Cas pauses for a second, before he answers back, smile in his voice, Of course, I love you too. 

In his dreams, Cas answers and the gerbil wheel stops, if only for a second.

---

Four times. Five. 

Voicemail. 

After two weeks, hearing Cas’ voice is a sucker punch, even if it’s only the same, irritated voicemail that he’s had for years. Dean closes his eyes and bites back a sob and it’s only when he hears the discordant beep of the recorder that he realizes that he got lost in the soft growl of Cas’ voice. 

And now it’s his chance to speak and he doesn’t...There are no words. There’s nothing that can...

“Hey. It’s me. Um. Dean. I uh, I guess you already got Sam’s message. About Chuck and Lilith and...” 

The weight of the night crashes on his shoulders, as subtle as an oncoming locomotive, and Dean’s voice wavers. Suddenly, there are too many words and they pour out of him. It’s unstoppable, blood gushing out of an artery and Dean sits in his room, breath ragged in his throat and pours his soul into an answering machine. 

“I don’t know what to do. I just...I don’t know what to do and I can’t...Sam’s trying to be hopeful but I just can’t...Lilith says that it always ends the same way for him, one of us killing the other, and I don’t know how we can stop it, I don’t know how we can even think of fighting...fighting God, fuck, I don’t...” Dean’s voice breaks in the middle, awful as the time he broke his arm when he was fourteen on a poltergeist hunt. “I’m scared Cas, I’m really scared and I need...I want...I need you to come back. I can’t do this by myself, I can’t...I need you here. Please.” 

He listens to the silence on the other end. The jagged sound of his own breathing fills the room, along with the wet rustle of snot in his nose. He’s crying, Dean realizes with some detachment, big, soppy fat tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Please. I know...I know that I fucked up, I know that, I know that I don’t have any right to ask you for anything but I’m asking anyway--please. Please come back.”

At that, Dean hangs up before he can say anything else stupid, before he can humiliate himself anymore. He places the phone down on the mattress and wastes a few minutes staring at it. 

---

In his dreams, Cas calls back. He calls Dean like he always does, with that split-second of surprise that Dean picked up. Dean can always hear the smile in Cas’ voice when he says hello and he never told Cas how much he cherished that little nugget of warmth in his chest. In his dreams, Cas calls back and Dean asks him to come back. Dean asks him to stay. 

In his dreams, Cas calls back and Dean asks him to stay and Cas says Of course.

In his dreams, Dean says I miss you and Cas says, I missed you too. 

In his dreams, Cas calls back, and Cas stays.

---

Dean stares at his phone until his eyes fuzz out. He stares at the phone until exhaustion and gravity take over and his eyes droop closed. He falls into a restless, fitful sleep and dreams of the clacking of typewriter keys. He dreams of ash, and death, and loss, of never-ending wheels, and a slowly constricting noose. He wakes with the taste of blood in his mouth. 

---

Cas doesn’t call back.

So it goes.

---

Our parting was like a stalemate. Neither of us won. Yet both of us lost. And worse still...that unshakeable feeling that nothing was ever really finished.--Ranata Suzuki

[antihero-writings]

What They Want to Believe Ch1--Tangled Varian and Quirin Fic (Full Chapter!)

Title: What They Want to Believe

Synopsis: Quirin has to find out what Varian did eventually.

(For all those who like Varian’s canon redemption, but who are looking for some more could-be-canon angst.)

Notes:

I know this idea has probably been done by someone, or perhaps many others...but I have yet to read them, and I've really wanted to write a Varian fic for a while, and this was something I thought would be really fun to expand upon (and I've really enjoyed writing it so far)!!

This chapter is supposed to take place immediately after S3 E1-2: Rapunzel's Return.

Chapter 1:

Varian breathes deep. The city air smells sweet. Sweeter now than it ever had. He forgot how much he missed the smell of flowers, and cupcakes, and new shoes.

“It’s lovely out here, isn’t it?” Rapunzel voices his thoughts, smiling at him.

“Beats being in a cell, I’ll give you that.” Varian tries to joke, to fight the lump rising in his throat. “Anything beats Andrew’s all-natural scent, that’s for sure.”

She tries to smile too.

He looks away. He isn’t quite sure how to act around her now. She had forgiven him; they’d saved the kingdom together, even. She hadn’t sent him back to his cell afterwards…not that they’d talked about it.

Should he pretend like it never happened? That he’s always been just another law-abiding citizen, just the alchemist in Old Corona, that kid who caused a lot of little—well, sometimes big—unintentional mishaps… not the villain who tried to overthrow the kingdom…even if it’s not true?

Or should they confront it, admit that he spent the last year in a cell, because he’d done terrible things—that he’d try to kill her, her friends and family?

But if they confronted it, admitted it…what would happen? Would that remind her of all the reasons not to trust him, all the reasons she should throw him back into that cell after all?

Something moves in the corner of his eye, and he turns to see Old Lady Crowley fluffing out a sheet, giving him the evil eye all the while.

She does that to everyone, he tells the thing that pangs inside him.

As they continue their stroll through the city streets, Varian notices she isn’t the only one with less-than-cordial looks for him.

Feldspar slams his door when they walk by.

…Maybe he had a shoe-related emergency?

There’s a woman who ducks into an alley with her baby, a kid who gasps and gets out of the way.

He turns again, and Monty is at their side. He is the first to actually speak;

“You know, you’ve got some nerve to show your face around here.”

Rapunzel taps her foot impatiently. “Well excuuuse me for wanting to—!”

“No—though I’ll admit it’s a shocker—not you;” he brandishes his frosting-clad spatula from her to Varian, “him.”—the alleged ‘him’s eyes widen—“Since when are you two all cookies-and-cream again? Didn’t he try to kill you?”

“‘Kill’ is a strong word,” Rapunzel tries to laugh, looking away, her smile twisting a little.

“What word would use for it?” he folds his arms over his chest.

“Umm…” Rapunzel flicks the frosting her off her dress. “Not ‘kill’ that’s for sure...More like uhh…” She turns to the alchemist, and he doesn’t dare return her gaze, for fear of what he’ll find there.

“I was just trying to save my dad—”

“So you didn’t send a monster into the city?” A woman calls.

“Uh, well,” he rubs the back of his neck, “that was more of a diversion really—”

“A diversion so you could kidnap the Queen!” this is the first raised voice, raised fist, coming from behind him.

He turns to see they’ve accumulated something of a crowd.

“Yeah!” another voice speaks from behind them, “How can you let someone like him still walk free?! People have been killed for less!”

“Hey, listen!” Rapunzel steps in front of him, “He may have made some misguided decisions, but he’s not some monster! We all make mistakes sometimes!”

“He may not be a monster, but what do you call the thing he sent into the city?!”

“And how do you explain the automatons?!”

“Or how he stole the sun flower!”

“From the royal vault no less!”

“Or how he hurt the captain?!”

“It could have been much worse!”

“What if he had killed someone?!”

“He needs to be punished!”

“Locked up!”

“He’s a traitor!”

“Yeah, a traitor!”

“Traitor!”

“Traitor!”

“Traitor!”

“Traitor!”

The accusations blend together into some sick smoothie of sound, a dull ringing fault-line.

The clouds are rolling in too grey, too fast. His whole world is turning monochrome.

“I can’t believe you let him go, after everything he did to you.” Eugene crosses his arms, glaring at him like he’s the wrong size nose on a wanted poster.

“Eugene!” Varian tries to move towards him, to plead with him, but he bumps into Lance, whose arms are folded, face set.

“Where do you think you’re going, little man?”

“I just—”

I need to think. I need to figure this out. To do something. I need to get out of here. I need to find my dad.

“Tch, you know, if it were me,” Cassandra leans against a building, her face half hidden in shadow—Where is she now? Why didn’t she come back with them?— “I’d leave him to rot with the rest of the criminals.”

“No, Cassie…”

—Something is wrong, something is wrong, they just don’t want to tell me—

But, worse than all this, another voice breaks through the throng.

“Varian…is all this true?”

And this voice doesn’t shout. Doesn’t accuse. Doesn’t scorn. It isn’t even angry, just…disappointed. So very disappointed.

“Dad…” the word falls pitifully to the stones, like a child who dropped his ice cream, and I will make you proud rings through his head like a death knell.

At first Varian doesn’t turn to face him, just stands there, staring at the ground, trying to formulate words that will explain what happened, without neutralizing his ‘I’m so proud of you’ that he had given earlier. But words aren’t like numbers, they don’t follow rules, they twist and writhe, and never do what they’re told. So he just stands there, words failing him, mouth hanging open like a creaky door.

Then he does lift his head, and Quirin isn’t incased in amber. He’s alive, out, and safe, but Varian almost selfishly wishes he was still in the amber, because then he wouldn’t have to bear this look in his father’s eyes, the look that makes him want to shrivel up like a worm in the sun.

Rapunzel. He has to get back to Rapunzel. Rapunzel won’t judge him. Won’t say he needs to be punished. She forgave him. She’ll explain everything to them. Rapunzel, Rapunzel give me your strength. Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your defense.

Having lost her in the crowd, he casts his gaze, like a fishing line, from one side to the other. He gets a bite; his eyes land upon her, between Xavier and a Pete, her back turned.

He runs to her.

“Rapunzel!” he calls, reaching out.

But the moment he touches her, a stain starts to spread along her hair, like it’s a squid he scared. But the ink spill doesn’t stop; like the best of plagues, it keeps spreading, until she’s nothing but a blotch on the world.

As the golden strands dim to black they break their bonds, becoming a living thing with tentacles and a bone to pick with the pirates who dared cross its waters.

She turns to him, and the ink has stained her gaze too; her eyes are nothing but caverns in the surface of her face now; a layer of the sea no one dares enter, for there are things with teeth down there.

“R-Rapunzel?” his voice isn’t so sure-footed, isn’t so certain it’s the right name.

She takes a step forward, her bare foot against the stones, and he takes a step back in this dance, because she doesn’t look like she’s going to defend him, in fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d think she was going to attack him too—

“Wither and decay” her voice is not the bright, not gentle, not kind. “End this destiny”

“Rapunzel—It’s me!” and now his voice is sure, pleading.

He continues backing up, trying to get away, but he’s bumps into a wall of people, and when he looks up at their leering faces, he sees that their eyes are black too.

That sends him recoiling back into the center of the circle with the moon-struck sundrop, who continues chanting;

“Break these Earthly chains”

She doesn’t belong to the sun anymore. She’s a thing of moon and shadow.

On “chains” her blackened hair, of its own accord, snaps around his arms and torso like he’s the offending ship, and it’ll bend him till he breaks.

“Rapunzel! Please!” he shouts, “It’s me, Varian! I-I’m your friend!” but the last three words are cracking gasps, because something is infecting his lungs; something very cold is reaching into the center of his chest, a living emptiness, sucking away, feeding off, all the light and life in him. His chest is stinging, aching, burning—

“And set the spirit free.”

This is more than just heartache. Decay is eating at his body, corroding it away like acid.

And the alchemist can do nothing but watch as the black eats him alive; his lungs collapsing in on themselves, like his breath was built on sand—(but it feels like he’s breathing too much)—gripping his heart, digging in like needles—(but it feels like it’s beating too fast)—wrapping around his hands, his feet and unraveling them into strings of lifeless flesh.

He reaches out with breathless voice and lifeless hands to the only person whose voice never raised throughout this affair, who never insulted him, whose gaze has not been doused in moonless night, the one for whom all this was done:

“Dad! Dad help me!” The words are swallowed by the black in his throat.

Quirin turns away.

And as it devours him—

There’s a ceiling above him, a bed below him, a nightlight made of glowing tubes beside him.

He’s still alive—a little too alive; sitting bolt upright in bed, breath heavy and gasping on his chest, sweat dripping down his face, beneath his clothes, as if he really was in some epic sea battle, still able to taste the end of those last words on awake lips.

It takes a moment for reality to tie its strings around him, pull him back to the ground again, for his breath to deepen, and his mind to clear. For him to realize that this is, in fact, his room, not a city road, or a cell, and he is a fourteen-year-old-boy again; an alchemist, a son, a friend, a kid…not a villain, a criminal, or a prisoner. Not anymore.

He grimaces, bringing his knees up and hugging them, burying his face in them, like he always did when these sorts of things plagued him in his cell, and he had no dad to run to. He has his dad back to run to now…but he can’t go to him, not anymore, not about this.

Maybe he isn’t anymore, but he was once; all the things the dreamified versions of his friends accused him of were true. …And his half awake brain wonders if they really thought those things, beneath it all.

He had hoped, if and when he was free from prison, and better yet, forgiven, that he would be free of these villainous dreams too.

Ruddiger chitters from the bed beside him, pawing at his hand.

He must have hoped the nightmares would stop too.

“I’m okay, Ruddiger,” he says softly. “I just—”

Is he?

Because it isn’t over. Not really. Not enough.

He had his father back, yes. He was out of prison. Yes. And Rapunzel had forgiven him, and, as, it seemed, did the rest of her gang—(“Where’s Cass?” He’d asked once all the kingdom-saving was over, and he’d scanned the group, and found an empty slot in the lineup. Eugene said they’d tell him later, when everything was more settled…and Varian didn’t much like the sound of that)—Yes. But that didn’t mean everyone else did.

It didn’t mean the King and Queen did. When their memories were restored, what would they think? What would they do when they saw the kid who kidnapped the Queen, tried to kill their citizens and princess, who they’d locked up, running about? What could he say?

Oh, hi, remember me? You know, the kid who kidnapped you and threatened your daughter? The one who sent a monster and a bunch of automatons to cause havoc to your kingdom, and endanger the lives of your subjects? Yeah, that’s me. It’s all good now. Would you like a cookie?

They didn’t come into the kingdom, or the dungeon, often, so they weren’t liable to notice right away when their memories did return…but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. And when they did…what if they didn’t believe Rapunzel, or him? What if they sent him back to that cell? Would he have to spend the rest of his days sitting with Andrew and his equally-all-natural-scented cronies? Would he grow up with three walls and some bars for a teacher? Never to use alchemy again, never to see his dad again, never to eat a good meal, or smell the flowers, or kiss a girl…

And then there was the question using the back of his mind as a chew toy: What will dad think?

Varian would do everything in his power to hide it—sweep the subject under beds and rugs and opportunely-placed cabinets—but he was bound to clean up eventually.

And… what would Quirin do then? Would he look at him as he had in the dream? Would he take back the ‘I’m proud of you’ that Varian did all those horrible things just to hear? Would he hate him? Punish him? Kick him out? Send him back to that cell himself?

Of course he will. How could he ever be proud of you after he learns everything you’ve done? His mind taunts.

He had said as much to Rapunzel. “If he knew all the things I’d done, well he’d be ashamed.”

With nothing but walls, bars, and a bunch of separatists for company, he had rehearsed the words he’d say to her so many times in his head. It started with ‘I don’t need your help Princess!’ to ‘Rapunzel I…Well, it doesn’t matter.’ then ‘I…I didn’t mean it, you know that, right?’ then after a few more drafts it became something full of tears and—‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Rapunzel…I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t mean to hurt anybody…I just wanted to make my dad proud, but I know he won’t be anymore, I know he won’t, I know, I’m such an idiot, I know, I know—‘ And finally it was what he had actually said—with his heart hammering in his throat.

Her acceptance of his words, of him, had been sheer relief. Saving the kingdom never felt so good.

Yet at the same time, that idea that Quirin would be ashamed hadn’t changed just because Rapunzel had forgiven him. Just because his father was out of the amber, and Varian was out of prison, didn’t mean everything he’d done to get his father out, everything that had got him into prison, was erased. He was still going to learn all the things his screw-up-of-a-son did.

It was bad enough when his experiments failed. When Dad walked in to see acid steaming on the walls, and burns on his son’s forearms. He knew how all-too-often his dad was a having a perfectly pleasant, normal, non-stress-inducing day, when he heard explosions coming from his son’s room.

And having to tell him was almost always worse. Having to tell him how he may or may not have set the Goslicks prized chicken on fire, and well needless to say it wasn’t going to be so prized anymore… How they’d have to stay with friends for three to five days, because the gas steaming from the lab wasn’t exactly the intended effect...Or why the town’s water supply mysteriously found itself pink and tasting of croissants…Standing there with his insides writhing, awaiting his punishment, or simply having to live with the look of disappointment on his face, was always worse than how it felt to actually make the mistake.

This was more than a few accidental side effects. This was something he did on purpose. Something he actually deserved to be punished for, not just with a reprimand, or a time out, or spanking from his father, but with actual prison time from the king.

Which would be worse? Dad finding out somehow…or the thought of having to tell him himself?

How would that even go anyways?

“Well dad, while you were in the amber I…did some stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, stuff…” and he’d cough the next few words into his sleeve “crimes, acts of treason...whatever you wanna call it. You know that sundrop flower everyone always talks about? I may or may not have uhh borrowed it.”

“Borrowed?”

“Borrowed, stolen, let’s not go into semantics here.”

“Wait,” he’d wave his hands and put one on his forehead, “You’re not actually telling me you stole from the king—” And he’d stand, all menacing.

“Yeah, you might wanna stay sitting down for this,”—Varian would look away, backing up, rubbing the back of his neck nervously—“it’s a long story, and not exactly the standing-up kind.”

“Varian—” He wouldn’t sit down, in fact he’d keep marching towards him.

“I-I thought it would help you b-break out of the amber.”Varian would stumble in both words and action, and the thought of meeting his eyes would be pure torture. “I-I thought I could if I could just get my hands on the sundrop I could—”—and he’s speaking too fast, too loud now— “I could…I-I thought…I just…”—and then, the next second too slow, too soft—“I thought…” And then the words would trail off, excuses falling limp and lifeless in his mouth as the truth caught up with him.

Even in his rehearsal he couldn’t finish the idea. Couldn’t let his father get a word in edgewise, because if he did…

Either option sounded like an evil mastermind’s best torture plan. Yeah, no matter how many times Quirin taught him it was best to tell the truth, he would never bring himself to say that to him.

His father’s pride was all that mattered, the thought of losing it…

He throws his legs over the side of the bed, letting the static in his eyes scatter before standing. He glances out the window at the navy sky injected with orange, but morningless still.

He grabs his goggles and apron, Ruddiger at his his heels as he heads downstairs to his lab, doing what he always does when he stressed…well, when he’s in any mood really: alchemy.

It was strange to see this place without the amber. It golden tower had become a permanent decoration, a reminder of how alchemy had failed him, how he had failed his father… a sort of dark promise.

He and Rapunzel hit reset…yet he couldn’t return to how things were before the storm so easily as she could.

He pulls on his gloves and goggles, his thoughts still churning.

When Dad found out…would he send him back to prison? The people of Corona could shout all they wanted, but they didn’t have the authority to send him back there.

But his dad…He could punish him, could turn him in. Varian forgot what it was, but he had once taken one of Quirin’s things and tried to experiment on it…and he quite clearly remembered sitting outside in the rain without dinner that night. What would he do when he learned he’d kidnapped the Queen, sent a monster after the citizens, and automatons after his friends? Dads should punish their kids when they steal cookies, much less kidnap queens and threaten princesses. They should teach their kids to rescue princesses from towers, and damsels in distress, without accepting so much as a kiss as payment, and always abide by, and uphold, the law.

His eyes fall upon a book on his desk.

It was funny really. Varian loved the tales of Flynn Rider; this hero who always defeated the villains and saved the day.

And here he was, the bad guy. Just like the ones who Flynn had to use his wit and sword skills to defeat.

The baddies’ motives always seemed so ridiculous in the past; taking over the world, leveling cities for the sake of scorned love, destroying kingdoms for the sake of a grudge…

The beaker he’s holding slips from his grasp. Ruddiger catches it with his tail before it hits the ground.

“Thanks buddy,” he takes it back from him.

He holds up the beaker his reflection distorted in the glass.

The villain.

The word burns like bile at the back of his brain.

The thought of his dad seeing him like that, not just with disappointment in his eyes, but as a criminal, a traitor, a villain, for all the things he did to save him…

“Varian—”

Varian gasps, fumbling again, but this time he manages to catch it, “Dad! Hey!” he sets the beaker down, turning to him, “Hi! It’s good—good to see you! Good morning!”

Quirin smiles as he walks into the lab, yawning and stretching. “I feel like I’ve been asleep for years.”

“Well, to be fair, you, uhh, almost have.” Varian pulls his goggles onto his head.

“How long was I out for, again?”

“Uhh…ehh I don’t know, I mean, it’s all kind of a blur—”

—He tries not to think of tallymarks on prison walls—

His father grunts in response, walking around the lab, looking at all the writings on these walls. The same ones left over from all those months long ago—those months when he would do anything to get him out—collecting dust, and the new ones for the Saporians. Varian sidesteps over to the worst ones, hiding them behind his back.

“You discover any new elements while I was out?” he asks, half-jokingly.

“Oh…uhh…” he rubs the back of his neck, chuckling nervously, “N-Nah. I was kinda…uhh…preoccupied…”

Quirin’s expression shifts, the smile fading. He steps up to his son—who stares at him, and for a second, something fearful in Varian wonders if he’s onto him—but then Quirin leans forward and wraps him into a bone-cracking hug.

Varian’s eyes widen in surprise, but he lifts his arms and returns the gesture, squeezing tightly, smiling.

This was the thing he missed most; not the smell of flowers and cupcakes, not good food, or alchemy, not even Rapunzel’s everlasting smiles….his dad’s hugs.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” Quirin sighs, “That must have been very difficult for you,” Quirin murmurs into his ear, “having to make it all on your own.”—Varian’s eyes widen again, but this time it doesn’t turn into a smile— “I’m so sorry you had to go through that…And I’m so proud that you made it through.” He brushes his hand through his hair.

When he releases him, Varian looks from his father to ground, smiling sheepishly, brushing the hair from his eyes, unsure what to say.

“I’m here if you ever want to talk about anything.”

“Oh—Yeah—Thanks—Well—”

“Of course—” Quirin clarifies, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m just saying, I’m here if you ever do.”

“Thanks.” He tries to smile.

There’s an awkward pause, then Quirin turns to leave, “I’ll let you get back to it—”

“Wait, dad,” Varian grabs his arm, “I was thinking…maybe we could spend some time together today? You know, like a father-son-day…thing?”

“I’d love to, Varian,” he puts his hand on his cheek, “but…as I have been, uhh, out of commission, for a long time, I really must get back to my duties. You know, become reacquainted with the town and what’s going on.”

“Oh…Oh! Yeah, right, of course. Psh,” he waves his hand, “It wasn’t that big a deal anyways.”

“You’re welcome to come along, if you like.”

Varian contemplates it. From experience these sorts of trips around town were pretty boring; mostly discussing how well crops were growing, and if anybody needed help repairing their house and whatnot, and Varian’s alchemical solutions were more often than not brushed aside...But he does want to spend time with his dad, not to mention the fact that there would probably be a number of things in town still in need of repairing, whose circumstances Varian wouldn’t exactly want explained to his dad…

“Sure, I’d love to.”

“Wonderful.” He smiles.

“I’ll meet you out there in just a minute.”

Quirin nods, making his way up the stairs.

Varian turns to clean up his work station but does so too quickly, accidentally knocking the beaker to the ground at last, it shattering with a puff of blue smoke, the contents spilling out, his hand hanging uselessly in the air, reaching towards it.

Ruddiger bounds over to it to help clean up. After they finish, the raccoon sits on his back legs, cocking his head to the side, chittering worriedly.

“It’s okay, buddy.” He smiles.

The Raccoon still looks worried.

“I’m okay.”

…Is he?