#Shaun let him live for like five seconds

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Learning Curves: Butchie Yost x angel!gn!afab!reader

Warnings: innocence kink, daddy kink for like five seconds, fingering, PinV, small handjob, mini Butchie outbursts

A/N: you already know I had to write this one literally enjoyed writing all of it

Taggies: @blurrymango @bosinclairz

Butchie Yost was not the type of man you thought your father would have you watch over. His life was beyond a mess and he had already had a Guardian Angel. Well it was the whole family’s Angel, but right now that Angel, John, was watching over the youngest Yost in the family who was Butchie’s son, Shaun. Which meant you were sent down to watch over Butchie since he didn’t live with the rest of the Yost’s. Also Cissy and Mitch seemed to have gotten their marital problems sorted just a little bit when you showed up so there was no reason those two needed Angels themselves. John could only help Butchie out so much, he stopped his addiction but there were.. other things he needed worked on.

Butchie sits on his dingy couch itching and sighing. You sit next to him quiet, waiting for him to say something cause you hardly ever know what to say to him. You hate stressing him out cause then he starts freaking out and yelling, saying things he doesn’t mean.

“I-uh never asked you why you’re here.” Butchie breaks the silence. You look at him.

“Father said, ‘Watch over Butchie Yost.’” You reply, Butchie tilts his head from side to side.

“Yeah but why me? I mean I’m a lowlife druggie. There ain’t hope for me.” The blond scoffs. You furrow your brows.

“Because John can’t watch over you all of the time. He’s watching Shaun, Cissy, and Mitch Yost. You don’t live with them. There is hope for you Butchie Yost. There’s hope for the whole family. Why do you think John stopped your drug addiction?”

Butchie plays with his hands and shrugs.

“I’m here to take care of you. You’re more important than you think.”

“Guess if you keep sayin’ it I ought to start believin it yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You watch as Butchie gets up and follow him closely behind. He stops you though and looks at you up and down.

“You don’t have to follow me everywhere.”

You furrow your brows. “Father said, ‘Watch over Butchie Yost.’”

“Yeah well Butchie Yost needs space. Why don’t we..” the blond looks around for a second and lets put a gasp, he walks over to his laptop and opens it up.

“Can look up whatever you want while I’m gone. I’ll be back.” He sits you down in the chair at his dining room table. “I promise. It’ll be a bit later though okay?”

You nod your head and watch as he leaves his motel room.

-

Butchie rushes into the surf shop, hoping, praying Kai is there. When he enters a sigh of relief leaves his mouth and he comes up to her.

“I need your help.” Butchie says to the small woman. She furrows her brows.

“Don’t you have an Angel to help you?” She teases, Butchie rolls his eyes.

“It’s about them.” His face reads pissed off, but Butchie is more worried than anything.

“Okay… what about them?” Kai goes out from the other side of the counter to restock some wetsuits. Butchie seems to follow close behind her and fumbled with his hands, sighing and grunting to himself. Struggling to get his words out and to Kai. “Can’t help you if you’re not talking.” She snorts.

“I know! But you know how I get! Fuckin’ bitch. Goddamn!” Butchie snaps, causing Kai to jump. “Sorry.” He mumbles after a deep breath.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

The bell rings on top of the door making Butchie sigh as Kai goes behind the counter. He watches as she helps a costumer out with a surfboard, soon after another other costumer comes in. Butchie rolls his eyes and gets lost in his thoughts instead of getting frustrated with the amount of people that just showed up.

Why the hell did you have to show up? Talking to him following him everywhere? There was something different about you compared to John. You had a little more intelligence about certain things and didn’t take everyone so literally. At least, not all of the time.

You made his life better it felt so wrong to fall in love with such an innocent person like you. John may have gotten him out of the mud but you kept him from jumping back in and getting stuck. You make him laugh and enjoy life so much more.

Kai touches Butchie’s shoulder and smiles down at him. “You ready?”

He nods and starts to explain everything. From how you talk to the way you present yourself to the things you do for him.

“So you’re in love with them?”

Butchie rolls his eyes.

“Hey, I’m asking so I can help. Don’t be an ass.” Kai playfully pushes Butchie making him relax and smile.

“Yeah, I am.” The surfer admits. “I just don’t knows what to do about it. I don’t wanna say something and they’re only answering the way I want them to answer.”

Kai pats his shoulder and sighs, thinking deeply.

“Just, ask them not to parrot, if they parrot when you ask them not to then don’t ask them. If they don’t, ask them. That’ll be your honest answer.”

Butchie nods.

“Thank you Kai, means a lot.”

-

Your brows furrow as you look closer at the screen. Carefully listening to what the couple are moaning about.

Lots of slapping and sounds of pleasure leave the laptop. You watch as the man thrusts his hips into the woman.

Maybe Butchie could teach you about this.

You shrug to yourself.

“Yeah, yeah you like that?”

“Mhm!!”

“Slut.” He slaps the woman. You squint.

“Slut.” You repeat.

“God daddy! Fuck me harder!”

“God daddy! Fuck me harder!”

The motel door opens and you look up seeing Butchie with some grocery bags, the sun’s already gone down outside and you watch as he kicks the door shut. His brows furrow at you.

“The hell are you watchin?” He asks, you look at the screen and read the title.

“Daddy takes my virginity.” Then look back at Butchie. “Was in your search history.”

A small disappointed sigh leaves his mouth, the pornographic moans continue until he shuts the laptop himself.

You get up and follow Butchie’s movements, putting away the small amount of groceries he has. “Did you have fun?” You ask.

“Sure.”

“Good. I had fun too. You have lots to do on your laptop.” You smile, waiting for Butchie’s approval.

“Yeah I can see that. Probably should’ve deleted my search history before I let you on there.” Butchie shakes his head and pulls out a beer popping it open and taking a sip.

“Why? I learned a lot. There’s stuff I wanna try with you.”

Butchie chokes, you rush over to him and rub his back. He gives you a confused look. “Like what?”

“Well, I wanna try whatever they were trying on the computer. I liked the noises it intrigued me. I wanna be the woman though.” You explain, walking over to the bed.

God Butchie’s never been more nervous in his life. He wants you so badly but you didn’t even know what sex was. He couldn’t teach you, but the thought of another man doing it because he would infuriated him more than anything.

“Butchie I gotta tell you something else.”

You’re facing away from the man you watch over. Never feeling like this before you huff to yourself a few times not knowing how to deal with this pit in your stomach.

“You know how people on those shows will kiss and stuff?” You ask.

“Yeah..”

“I want that. But I don’t know what that is. I never usually want anything. Everything I’ve done, well.. I’ve done it for you. But stuff is changing and what if my father is saying we should be together, since I’m having this urge. I don’t know maybe you think it’s stupid-“

“No, I don’t. It’s not. I think what you want is uh perfect, it’s perfect cause I fuck- want it too.” Butchie walks over to you nervously. “You want a relationship. You’re always watchin’ stuff on it. I- goddamnit, I notice when I wake up in the middle of the night you’re always watching rom coms and I can’t promise our relationship would be like that but I want somethin’. I can’t stand looking at you all the time or being near you and not being able to kiss you! Fuck!” Butchie’s shoulders tense up as he crosses his arms, you turn to look at him and smile like a dumb dog.

“Really?!”

“Yes.”

“We should kiss, oh! We should do it like they do it in the movies! Ask for rain.” You’re already dragging Butchie outside.

“God it should be raining right now?”

You smile and as soon as the door opens the rain has started. You take the blond surfer to the middle of the motel lot and wipe your now sopping hair from your eyes.

You’re smiling widely at him.

The moment couldn’t be anymore perfect, as he holds your face in his hands and leans down. His chapped lips meet yours, your hands hold his face as you deepen the kiss. When you two let go he’s sharing the same smile you are. You can see it in the street lights. You hug him tightly.

“I love Butchie Yost!” Your voice echos around the buildings.

“I love you too.” He whispers.

“Now can we recreate what they were doing in the videos I was watching earlier?” You ask, he nods, this time he’s dragging you back inside.

The rain doesn’t let up for a second, as you two start undressing.

“Are you sure you want this?” Butchie asks, you nod quickly. Butchie takes a deep breath and sits you on the bed, your legs are spread out and he sits next to you.

“You can do this yourself sometimes if you want. I’m just gonna show you with my hand for right now.”

Your face reads completely vulnerable yet understanding. He dips his fingers down and over your clit. Something stretches you slightly inside making you gasp. It curls, your brows furrow as you look at Butchie. You’ve never seen him so focused before.

“You want another one?” He asks, continuing to curl his index finger. You nod.

“Y-yeah!” Your voice is breathy. He smiles and kisses your cheek gently. Butchie adds another finger. You let out a squeak, grabbing onto Butchie’s wrist and look at him with desperate eyes.

Everything feels tingly and good.

“You wanna keep going? You want me to stretch your cunt out?”

“Cunt?!” You whine.

“Yeah, that’s what this is. It’s what I’m fingering it’s your tight little cunt.”

His finger move faster and you let out loud mewls. His chapped lips kiss across your jaw.

“Oooh, Butchie it it it. It’s tight! Feels so good!”

Your jaw is slack, but you turn and he starts to play with your tongue with his. Your body forces itself against his hand, you cry into his mouth. Body shaking. You orgasm, squirting into his palm. You grip his wrist harder and pant into his mouth.

He backs up, sliding his fingers easily out of you then licks his hand clean.

He then grabs you, hugs you tightly and doesn’t let go.

“Daddy, fuck me.” You mumble. He stares at you and lets out a laugh.

“O-okay, just, don’t call me that okay?”

You smile and kiss him to confirm you understand. “This is my cock. God I hate the way I said that.” He cringes. “Anyway, it’ll goes inside of you. I just gotta.”

Butchie spits in his hand and wraps it around his cock, pumping it a few times. You watch, repeating his actions you move his hand away and gently grip his cock, pumping him up and down. A small groan leaves his throat. You smile and kiss his cheek, the same as he did to you.

“Slut.” You mimic earlier, Butchie’s cock twitches in your palm.

“Fuck. We can try that another time yeah? Why don’t you let me fuck you now.”

Butchie looks at you sweetly and moves your hand away then lays you back against his pillows.

You keep your legs spread and smile below the man. He kisses you lips.

“You ready? I’m gonna go slow alright?”

“Sounds good Butchie.”

The head of his cock slides up and down and a small jolt of pleasure runs up you.

“Just rubbing your clit. I’ll show you how to masturbate later okay?”

“Okay.”

Slowly his cock slides into your. Your cunt stretches open and you let out a loud moan, gripping onto Butchie’s arms that lay on both sides of your head. He smiles down at you. “Just tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

It takes a few moments but eventually it stops hurting as badly. “I’m ready.”

The surfer nods and pulls his hips back before thrusting forward with a loud grunt. Already the bed croaks and you squeal as his cock repeatedly stretches you out. Butchie’s arms bend down so he’s closer to your face. He moans softly into your mouth as he kisses you.

Your hips roll into him and Butchie seems to feel it since he lets go and looks at you.

“Good job. You’re gettin’ the hang of it.” He kisses you again, groaning as your cunt tightens at his statement. “You like that? You like praise?”

“Yes… yes Butchie!“ Your voice cracks.

“Good, cause you always do so good for me. God, fuck you’re a good listener.” Butchie’s hips stutter for a second and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. He continues fucking into you and you feel your stomach heating up again and tingling. Your eyes get big and roll back.

“Butchie! Butch- I-it’s feeling like before!”

Butchie kisses your neck lightly.

“You gonna cum for me? That’s what the feeling is. You’re gonna-fuck you’re gonna orgasm. You like that feeling?”

You nod your head, biting down in your lip. He fucks into you a few more times and you let out a loud squeal, legs shaking, you try and curl up and away from Butchie but he’s quick to grab you and ground you. Butchie pulls out and jerks himself off, you watch dazed, letting out soft mumbles of nothing.

He lets out a loud groan and white stuff spurts out everywhere onto you and you watch as his hips buck hard into his hand and smile gently up at him.

Butchie pants and looks into your eyes, he grabs you and your body jolts, still in the aftermath of your orgasm.

“You feel good?” He asks, concern fills his voice. You nod your head and cuddle into Butchie. He rubs your back and both of you lay there without a care in the world, listening as the rain patters outside.

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 2a

*Warning Adult Content*

Kitten - Part 1

- Knox -

It has taken years for Knox to learn how to manage his temper.

Sadly, thanks to Finn's reckless actions tonight, he is now seconds away from strangling some poor boy to death.

When the boy's frightened brown eyes flutter shut and his arms go limp at his sides, Knox curses under his breath.

He's gone too damn far.

Again.

He releases his vice-like grip from around the boy's throat, allowing him to fall to his knees and gasp for air.

A million thoughts cross Knox's clouded mind at that moment.

How the hell did this suburban ass kid get mixed up with a Jackal?

And what was Finn even doing on this side of town?

That little shithead is such a magnet for trouble.

Tonight's shootout resulted in the death of one of their own and Knox is partly responsible for it.

"Sam said he'll be in here in five minutes."

Cole approaches Knox slowly, his eyes darting between him and the crying boy at his feet.

"Why do you want to take the kid back to the clubhouse? It'll be easier to put a bullet in him now and vanish."

Ignoring Cole, Knox squats to be level with the boy.

He's covered in blood and is quivering from shock and adrenaline.

Fat tears run down his freckled cheek, and his bottom lip is trembling so fast Knox is afraid it may very well fall off.

The boy can't be as innocent as he looks.

If he were, he wouldn't have gotten caught up with a one percenter.

"Did you know from the jump that your boyfriend was a member of The Jackals, or were you recently made aware?" Knox asks calmly, but the boy still doesn't respond.

"Listen, kid. The sooner you talk to me, the sooner I'll let you go."

"Shaun wasn't my b-boyfriend."

"Huh? So you can speak."

"Fuck you."

Knox chuckles when the boy meets his eyes, this time sporting a scowl on his face.

"Tell me your name."

"Everett."

"How long have you and Shaun been hanging out, Everett?"

"A few weeks."

"Did you know he belonged to The Jackals MC?" Knox repeats, studying Everett's every move.

"I've seen them chew up and spit out folks even more fragile than you. They're extremely dangerous bastards."

As if Knox can actually talk smack and pass judgment on others.

The Fallen Angels, his MC and second family, are no better than The Jackals.

Both clubs lie, cheat, steal and kill for money and power.

The only difference between the two is that The Fallen Angels don't poison the land that they live on.

They actually take care of and give back to their community.

Knox's proudest moment was when he helped Finn get off the streets and get clean almost five years ago.

Had he not done that, perhaps Shaun would still be alive and The Fallen Angels' decade long rivalry with The Jackals wouldn't be escalating towards an all-out war.

So much for helping the needy.

"We've only been hanging out for a few weeks," says Everett. "What we had... it was just a stupid fling. I always knew he was a biker but he never talked about his club with me or even what his position was. I swear that's all I know."

Dragging a calloused hand down his face, Knox sighs.

"Let me tell you something important that you should know about me, Everett. I can't stand a liar."

"W-what do you mean? I'm not lying..."

Knox snatches Everett up from the ground to dig into his pockets.

The boy is smart enough not to put up a fight.

What Knox finds is a wallet, a cell phone,and a small USB.

He tosses everything back except for the USB and phone.

Everett's face pales and his eyes go wide.

Knox growls when he speaks again.

"If it was just a stupid fucking fling, then how do you explain this?" Knox holds the USB high.

"After I made it inside the club to survey the damage, I saw him pass this to you. His lips were running before he died. Word for word, I want to know what he told you. Lie to me and there'll be consequences, kid."

Everett blinks back fresh tears.

"I-I don't know why he gave that to me, okay? He didn't tell me what was on it, just told me to destroy it and run. He didn't want the cops to get a hold of it, so I took it. That's literally it. Can I please go home now?"

"Sam is here," Cole announces after a black industrial van pulls into the alley and screeches to a halt.

"Do you want me to take the kid, Knox?"

"No. Just ride my bike back to the clubhouse."

Knox drags Everett towards the van and shoves him into the back.

Stretched out on one of the bench seats is a bruised and battered Finn.

Sitting opposite of him is a newly patched-in member whose name Knox has long forgotten.

"Sit with Finn. We need this bench."

The young man obliges, knowing better than to talk back.

After Knox and Everett take their seats, the driver speeds off into the night.

"Do you realize how badly you fucked us tonight?" Knox snaps at Finn, kicking him in the shoulder.

He howls in response and sits up straight.

"When I got the call that you were down here getting your ass handed to you, I had to cut the Pindell deal short and race over to see what new mess you made."

Finn rolls his tired eyes.

"I'm a grown ass man, Knox. You don't have to come rescue me every time I get into a fight. God, I'm so fucking sick of the members calling on you to rat me out like you're my God-damn father every time I make a mistake..."

Knox leaps forward to backhand Finn across his swollen face, knocking him onto the floor.

Everett gasps while the other member remains still.

This isn't the first time, and it surely won't be the last time, that Finn has forgotten his place and stepped out of line with a high-ranking member.

He's a firecracker with no filter,but he's also extremely loyal and hardworking.

The only reason why Knox hasn't killed him yet is because he genuinely cares about Finn.

Most days, he's the only person in the world who does.

"Mind your tone when you speak to me," Knox snarls. "I understand you're still riding high off getting your second kill tonight,but it'll do you some good not to forget your place. You'd still be out on the streets fucked up with a dirty needle plunged in your arm had I not intervened when I did, so show me some fucking respect."

Silence fills the inside of the van.

Finn slowly gets off the floor to retake his seat, his head bowed and ego shattered.

He mutters a quiet apology to Knox and neither speaks another word until after they pass through the gates of the clubhouse.

[thegooddoctorheadcanonsarchive]

Shaun @ Doctor Melendez

[shieldedreams]

never again (s.c.)

summary ⇾ shaun had been missing for weeks and katy was nowhere to be found. one day, he shows up at your door with katy and tells you his name isn’t shaun. it’s actually xu shang-chi. details ⇾ 3,182 words / xu shang-chi x reader + katy being the ultimate shipper of you two / 🌸☔️kinda angsty in the beginning but fluff ending because it’s me / timeline is set after the movie sequence! notes ⇾ idk why i had this idea in my mind after watching shang-chi so... 🤐

[!] things get a bit handsy towards the end but nothing explicit!

shaun had been missing for weeks and katy was nowhere to be found. it drove you near insane to think that they were merely hallucinations. was your relationship with shaun a simulation? did you make up katy as well? no one knew where they were, katy’s family had no clue and shaun said he didn’t have a family. no records of a shaun xu. you began to grief over someone you pondered whether he was real; if your love was real, if all those memories you shared with him was real.

one day, he shows up at your door with katy and tells you his name isn’t shaun. it’s actually xu shang-chi.

initially, past the worry and relief that flooded your veins, you found it funny. it had to be joke, it just has to be. especially when katy was next to him but... she wasn’t laughing, not even smiling. neither was shaun... or shang-chi.

you remember it like it was a frenzy biting your every nerve. a delirious blur that made your head spin at what they were telling you. it sounded comical but the seriousness dripping from their every syllable, the bags around their eyes and the evidence to back up their claims made it seem like you would be the crazy one if you didn’t think it was true.

dragons? evil monsters that almost sucked their souls? a village that shaun–shang-chi’s mom used to live in and how it almost got destroyed by his father which you didn’t even know was still alive at that point of his story when all he told you was he had no family... and that he also has a sister who dropkicked his ass in an underground battle stadium?

it could’ve been five, ten, fifteen minutes that you had stayed silent when they were finished telling you their story. even going as far as showing you the ten rings they talked about and not for a second did you doubt them. as crazy as shau–shang-chi and katy’s stories get, they have never lied to you. not since the day all of you met, not since the day shaun–the man you knew as shaun promised to never break your heart.

in your silence came anger. it hit you that the promise of him never breaking your heart... happened weeks ago, and you didn’t even process it because you were worried sick. thinking something happened to him, that he was in danger, that katy was roped in and had gotten hurt–or worse, dead. he disappeared without a trace but katy was with him and you didn’t even know? that was a lot to take in, even for someone as understanding as you.

shang-chi and katy waited patiently, anxiously watching as you stand from the sofa opposite them. they half-expected you to fling a chair at their faces but... none of that. that was scarier. your silence, the slow nods and the deep breaths; as if your mind and body were digesting all the information they had just poured out to you.

carefully, you tug both of them to stand from their seats and nudge them into a hug. a small group hug. for a fleeting moment, all hope is restored. in the next, you scare the living life out of them when you hold onto their hands to guide them... out of your house. they only realise it when you shake their hands off just as you stand by the entrance of your home. opening the door and nudging them out.

shang-chi swiftly spins around, reaching for your hand just as you push him out.

he watches as you gaze down at your hands together. he grips tighter, refusing to let go even if he knows it hurts–but he can’t let you go like this. his eyes trail up to your face as you think of what to do, what to say... but slowly, like a time bomb that ticked off, both of them watch as the facade you had put up started crumbling when the tears pooling in your eyes start to fall. it... hadn’t occurred to them that while they were risking their lives to save the world, they shattered another. 

you pull your hand from shang-chi’s grip and close the door on them.

the air around them is thick, the silence engulfs them dauntingly. katy knows this is a dangerous territory to chart around and that her being here might be detrimental to your relationship with shang-chi but she knows she had to be here with him. throughout your relationship with shang-chi, not once were you jealous of katy’s friendship with him. you even made it a point to get katy involved because you knew how much katy meant to him and that, that right there... you don’t get that every day, shaun. recognise that. it was a given that when you date shang-chi, you’d get katy; a two-for-one deal, really.

the hurt in your eyes that katy saw? indescribable. it was a cross between being absolutely torn but... somewhat relieved that they were alive, that they were safe. she could see it in your eyes when shang-chi spoke to you. it was just... a lot for someone to take–heck, katy wouldn’t know what she’d do if she was in your shoes. so the fact that both of them didn’t get a chair to the face was a god damn miracle.

katy carefully turns to look at shang-chi who looks like the world had burned down around him. his hand reaches for the doorknob, knowing very well he’s more than capable to rip it open but katy’s sensible enough to put a stop to it.

she places a hand on his wrist, shaking her head when shang-chi turns to look at her with weary eyes.

“d-don’t. she’s not ready...” his jaw stiffens, hand gripping onto the doorknob tighter, it almost sounds like it’s about to snap.

“shang-chi, no. we should go.”

“i’m not leaving her again!”

“she thought we were dead.”

shang-chi snaps his head to katy, eyes softening. he doesn’t say anything, only staring at her until she sighs and gives in to explain.

“...my grandma said that she came to my house a few days after we left. she checked our workplace, asked our colleagues, went to the police station, went everywhere.” katy sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “she even came by every other day to reassure my grandma that we would be safe but my grandma said it was obvious she didn’t know what was going on either.”

“it was only when my brother asked if she thought we were dead, she said she’ll only believe it if she finds our bodies. he said even though she didn’t stop searching for us, you could tell that thought alone ate her alive.”

“she’s scared, shang-chi. no matter how much she cares about you, about me, we scared her into thinking we could’ve just disappeared and died. we can’t expect her to suddenly welcome us with open arms even if that’s what we want.”

shang-chi lets his hand slip from the door, his voice trembling, “so what do we do?”

katy swallows, shrugging, “we give her time.”

he turns to look at her, “...and what if she never wants to see me again?”

she playfully hits his shoulder, "i’ll never forgive you. the two of you were supposed to give me grandkids so i can be the cool aunt.”

shang-chi manages to scoff a chuckle, even when katy knows he’s probably hurting. for as long as katy can remember being friends with shang-chi, he has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you... that being said, katy knows knows love when she sees it and it’s apparent in your eyes. time is of the essence and... katy hopes with time you’ll let shang-chi in.

//

shang-chi knew that this might’ve been too soon. it’s only been five days since he returned since he showed up at your door but he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. he’ll be honest... he did follow you wherever he could. he was desperate to see you even when you didn’t want to see him. to shang-chi... that was enough. the piece of heaven he’ll get. the reason why he fought so hard to keep the world safe was because that meant you’d be safe.

the courage he built up to approach you when you’re at the convenience store or walking down the sidewalk, going to that coffee shop he used to go with you... all diminishes whenever he “accidentally” locks eyes with you amongst the sea of people. for a split second, that flash of happiness embedded in your eyes shows shang-chi he’s home but the pain that morphs onto your features soon after turns him into stone as he watches you flee.

but you can’t run away forever. not when you still look at him like that. not when he knows damn well that’s his sweater.

he doesn’t know what to expect when you open the door but he does know that he’s left stunned when he’s face to face with you. dragons, soul-suckers, none of that held the power you did in rendering him speechless. the familiar scent of your body wash wafts into his senses; the messy bun and oversized t-shirt lining your thighs... the fact he can count the lashes on your eyes as he stares at you... he almost forgets to breathe.

“hi,” he manages with a crooked smile, hands behind his back as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

his heart stops when you part your lips in attempt to pronounce: “sha...”

he clears his throat, pronouncing it for you to follow: “s-shang-chi,”

knowing it’s a lot to take in, along with the possibility you’ve butchered his name, it feels so foreign to call someone you used to call something else: “shang... chi,”

he nods with a small smile etching on his face, a sparkle of hope twinkling in his eyes the more he looks at you. it’s as if nothing ever happened while he was away. you hate how warm he makes you feel; so safe. like the world would be burning down and he’d be there to make sure you would be alright.

“can i come in?”

“what do you want?” he hates how your voice shakes, trembling in his presence. the sight of your pupils avoiding him as you hug yourself tighter–all he wants to do is wrap his arms around you and apologise, beg for your forgiveness, win you back again. he wants to be gentle but something in his heart kicks off and he can’t hold himself back. all the pent up emotions, the mere thought of losing you just as he’s lost the people he fought alongside to save the world... that was the final straw in his moments of silence away from you.

“what do i want?” he asks back, clearly rhetorical when he doesn’t wait for your response, “you know what i want, y/n.” he licks his lips, taking a step forward and it stops him when you shift backwards. the look on his face makes your heart ache; how pained he looked, how apologetic he was but you were hurting, too. “y-you know what i want, you do.”

it was ironically cruel; the answer itself was asking the question.

“i thought i did,” your voice is soft, yet every single word punctures his gut, “but as it seems i didn’t even know your real name until five days ago so i don’t know anything anymore. i don’t know you–”

“don’t say that!” he’s breaking the boundaries, he can’t help but step into your space as his hands grip onto your upper arms with such urgency your heart nearly flies out of your chest. willingly landing into his hands again; so vulnerable, laid bare in his grip. 

shang-chi takes advantage of your silence, leaning his forehead down onto yours when your eyes flutter shut with a sharp inhale. the familiarity of your love, your presence, welcoming him home without words as your arms unfold and grip onto the sides of his shirt. 

“you know me,” he whispers, lips brushing over yours gingerly. “the idiot that spilled coffee all over you but you still looked at me like a miracle. the real me. you know me...” 

your eyes peel open and his fiery gaze makes you feel okay again. the nights of sleeping alone, wondering if he was alive–diminished, just by gazing into his eyes. he’s tempted to kiss away the tears welling up in your eyes but he holds back for now, taking in every second he can be this close to you. 

“you still do...” he murmurs, searching for the answer in your eyes.

“you’re not being fair, shau–”you quickly correct yourself and he feels your body stiffening from the slip of tongue”–shang-chi, see what i mean?” you shift back to cover your face in your hands, trying to shove the tears back in that seem to spill. shang-chi reels you in before you can create a bigger distance between the pair of you. a hand of his circling your lower back while the other cups the side of your head.

“i was so lost,” you mumble into your hands, ragged breathing and almost suffocating in your own tears until shang-chi pries your hands from your face. he wordlessly pulls you into his arms, pressing you to his chest as you cry, arms snapping around his waist to keep him close; a firm reminder that–”i-i’m here, i’m not going anywhere. i’m not leaving you again.”

shang-chi repeats the mantra, continues the affirmation and comfort until you calm down. he’s able to lure you into your home, closing the door behind him as he does. a few beats go by and he’s making tea for you in the kitchen. after, he delicately removes the cup from your hands to stand between your legs, surprised you allow him to.

he watches as you fiddle with his hands on your lap, quietly processing everything. he bites the inside of his cheek, trying to dip his head down to get a glance at your face. when he does, he’s able to breathe right again when you don’t turn away.

“can i ask you something?” shang-chi asks carefully. you nod, drawing random shapes on the back of his hands.

“are you upset that katy was with me?”

you shake your head, giving his hands a small squeeze, “i was more relieved knowing that you probably had someone you trust with you.”

he knows you didn’t mean it that way but he needs you to know.

“i trust you, y/n. i trust you with my whole life–”he moves a hand from your grip, pillowing it against your cheek to tilt your head up to look at him”–but it was too dangerous. i wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

he waits, allowing you to respond at your own pace. the feeling of watching you lean into his touch with that smile lining your lips sets shang-chi’s heart off to the heavens.

“katy probably forced herself in, didn’t she?”

he chuckles, “you know her. she’s more stubborn than i am.”

“i’ll say,” you scoff a laugh, shaking your head as you lower your head again.

the hilarity subsides as shang-chi makes this move to kneel down before you. both of his hands brush over your ankles. at the change of angle and him looking up to you, your brows knit together in confusion but the adoration you had for this man made your heart bloom with joy.

“shau–i mean, shang-chi,” your hands are on his shoulders, trying to tug him up but he shakes his head, remaining at his position.

“i know i can’t possibly imagine how i made you feel when i left without a word and... i don’t expect you to forgive me so soon but i’ll work for your forgiveness,” he presses his cheek to one of your calves, “please.”

shang-chi feels his insides churning just waiting for your reply. he knows that... if you decide to shut him out, he can’t blame you... but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t shatter him. your hands move from his shoulders to cup his face, your thumbs brushing the under of his eyes. he leans into your touch and sighs when you bend down to kiss his lips softly.

he rises up, pressing into the kiss as you surrender against his lips. your hands, shifting to wrap around his neck as he melts perfectly in your embrace. his hands move lower, caressing your skin, dipping into the places that make you sigh and mewl into his ears like the praise from heaven. ringing into his ears, a reminder, a chant that this love between the two of you still burned brightly; warmly... safely together.

before things could escalate further, you press your palms to his chest to ease him back. he’s panting along with you, hot breaths intertwined with the want, the need surfacing but you have to get this off your chest first.

“if you leave again without telling me, i’m far scarier than any soul-sucking monsters,”

shang-chi smiles, pulling you closer towards him with a hand on your back until there’s barely any gap between your bodies, “never again.”

((there’s a knock on the door that stirs you from lulling to sleep in shang-chi’s arms. he watches as you glance at him and he only shrugs, indicating he came alone. you carefully move from his grasp, patting down his shirt on you to line your thighs. he sits up on the sofa, keeping his eyes on you as you open the door.

your heart swells when katy stands there like a lost puppy, holding a cake out as an apology. looking down, it’s a chocolate cake through a transparent box wrapped in a pink ribbon; the red icing spelling out: i’m sorry. please love me again.

katy’s breath hitches when you take the cake from her and disappear to the kitchen. her eyes widen when she spots shang-chi on the sofa, him shrugging again when she mouths does she hate me? when you stand before her once more, katy half-expects you to slam the door at her face but what you do next... confirms to katy there’s no way in hell she’ll let shang-chi let you go.

your hands reach out to her, gently pulling her into a hug. she enters willingly, already about to cry but when you whisper a soft: “thank you for coming home safely,” katy starts sobbing like a baby holding onto you.

all shang-chi could do was watch; watch as his two favorite, most important people reunite together as one again.

//

“you said you were gonna come by tomorrow,” katy huffs, swatting shang-chi’s head over yours. you remain tucked in shang-chi’s arms as one of your hands played with katy’s free hand (you know, the one she didn’t just promptly swing at shang-chi with). 

when shang-chi looks over you to katy, well, here they go.

“speak for yourself! you were gonna come here by yourself without me anyway!”

“you came here first without me!”

“you bought her a cake!”

“i have nothing else to offer!”

the bickering doesn’t stop there when they start to threaten to kick each other’s asses. one with a bow and arrow, one with ten rings. despite the fact you still can’t hear the movie playing in front of you, you wouldn’t trade this for anything else in the world–neither will they.))

[marvelmaniac2000]

The Bondage (SMUT) (Shang Chi x Reader)

Storyline: It’s your one year anniversary with your boyfriend and Shaun decides to go all out because you are the queen of his world.

(This timeline takes place a few years before the ten rings and his father finding him in San Francisco etc. I just thought it would be different to use his other name for once)

Side Note: there's a imessage sequence I put in here, I tried editing it as Shang Chi sending the reader a picture in imessage but it wasn't working so I had to upload the picture separately from the imessage conversation ugh...

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED - BONDAGE, DADDY KINK, SEXUAL LANGUAGE, UNPROTECTED SEX, MILD PROFANITY,

Please excuse any misspelled words or grammar I tried to proof read before posting this but I didn't give a fuck about rereading at some point because I was up late writing this and really wanted this posted LOL

Characters: Shaun x reader

Today was your anniversary with Shaun and you barely could stand still throughout your shift at work. You stood behind the cash register and mindlessly watched a stark industries commercial in the bookstore’s lobby. You constantly checked the time on your phone ready to punch out. “Five more minutes” you murmured and tucked your phone in your back pocket.

“Hey (Y/N) it’s been painfully slow today. You can go ahead and clock out early if you like.” your manager suggested.

“You sure? If you need someone to close I can stay” you allured.

“Nah we can take care of it from here, go and enjoy the rest of your night” your manager waved their hand off to persuade you. You couldn’t believe how such a coincidence this was for you, seems like everything was working in your favor. You quickly gather your things and say your goodbyes to everyone for the night. The cold night air hits your warm face as you truck along the sidewalk freezing in your jacket. Your phone vibrates and you immediately check it.

Your imagination begins to run wild in your head as you walk your way home. You couldn’t think of not one session where Shaun hasn’t satisfied you. Every dick session your boyfriend gave you left you shaking. You couldn’t help but wonder how spectacular this evening was going to be. You arrive at your apartment and open the door to a dimly lighted living room with candles placed around the floor. There were rose pedals laying on the floor trailing to your bedroom. You smile and pick up the folded note on the floor.

“Happy Anniversary. Keep following the path of love” is read in beautiful written cursive print. You sat the note down and continued to follow the trail into the bedroom to find the corners of the room covered with candles and a big bouquet of flowers on the nightstand.

“You think I’m too cheap to do all of this huh?” Shaun appeared with nothing on but a towel. “Honestly I didn’t expect you to do all of this just for a one year anniversary” you implied. “I thought I would try to be romantic for once” he shrugged his shoulders.

“I don't mean to brag but I think I did pretty damn good”

“trust me you out did yourself” you close the space between you two and raised on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. He deepens the kiss by licking your bottom lip for entrance into your mouth. You widen your kiss to let his tongue explore every part of your tongue. You moan into the kiss and bury your hands in his soft hair. You broke the kiss for a quick second to unravel your jacket off. Shaun impatiently ripped your white blouse and began kissing and leaving hickeys on your exposed neck. You lean your head to the side to give him more access to your sweet spot. “You ready to try something new tonight” he whispered in your ear.

“Whatever you want daddy” you purred. You just wanted more of him in any way possible.

“I want you to strip down to just your panties and lay down on the bed” he instructed. You obediently do as you’re told and eagerly wondered what he had up his sleeve. He pulled the night stand drawer open and came out with black bondage material. Your face began to flush with excitement knowing where this was headed.

“I didn’t know you were into this type of stuff,” you said. Shaun climbed on top of you, tied your wrist to each bed post. He gripped your chin and looked dead into your eyes.

“I didn’t know I was either until I meant you. Now I love fucking you anyway possible.” You bit your lip without a response. He kissed you passionately on the lips and put his fingers in your panties. “If you are a good girl I will untie your hands. But you have to prove it first” he pressed his fingers on your clit and stroked it in slow deliberate motions. Your legs bend around his waist wanting to grip him more. You moan in frustration from the teasing. Shaun’s eyes never left yours as he felt your pussy become even more wetter from his fingers.

“Please Shaun this is torture” you begged.

“I’m just getting started baby” he pushed his two fingers into your entrance and slowly began pumping them in and out. You cry out his name and lock your legs around him. He lowered his lips around your right nipple and sucked your breast while fingering you at the same time. Your hands squirm eagerly wanting to wrap them around his head. Your lower body pulsates with pleasure having no outage but to squirm at his touch. His pace quickened while pushing his fingers further in to graze your walls with sensation. He gave your other breast the same treatment, swirling his hot wet tongue around your nipple and sucking it. You whimper nonstop and rock your hips to his fingers wanting more. He abruptly stopped and sucked his fingers clean of your juice while looking into your eyes.

“Do you want more?” he whispered into your ear before nibbling it. You mercifully nob your head.

He smirks and lowers his head level down between your legs. He slowly pulls your panties off and pushes your legs far apart. Without anymore teasing he flick his tongue right on the edge of your pussy lips. You whimper and try to close your legs from the sensation. He placed his hands around your thighs to keep you from squirming. He devoured your pussy in his mouth and watched you arch your back in pleasure. His tongue ravished the deep wetness of your entrance. You close your eyes and throw your head back enjoying every pleasurable moment. He licked your clit in circular motions and kissed and sucked his way into your pussy.

“Oh daddy” you arched your back and cried out his name once more. Shaun hearing you call out his name made him want to fuck you relentlessly. He stopped licking all your juices and gave your inner thigh a peck before peeling off his towel and positioned himself back on top of you. Your pussy was throbbing but it still wanted the main thing. You wanted him deep inside you and his toned arms wrapped around your body. You felt his big hard member in the inner part of your thigh. Your pussy began to throb again remembering the sensation of his dick inside of your wet pussy.

“I’m not letting your wrists go just yet” he raised your legs up and put them on top of his shoulders. You begged him to put it in. Shaun slowly pushed his hard dick into your tight wet pussy. He matched your eye contact wanting to watch your face as he entered inside his pussy.

“You like when daddy fuck you?” he seductively spoke and kissed your leg on his shoulder. You couldn’t even respond from the pleasure you felt finally having him inside you. He continued to stroke slowly in and out of you while keeping eye contact. You bite your lip trying to handle torture of his pace. He placed your legs back down around his waist and quickened his pace. His pace grew animalistic as he watched the sight of your breasts begin to bounce and the sight of your hands submissively tied up.

“Shaun..” you breathlessly moaned out as his quick deep strokes hit your spot repeatedly. Shaun moaned into your ear as you begged out his name. He grip your ass cheek and tongue kiss you still fucking you passionately. Your pussy began to tighten around his dick and you felt yourself about to burst. Shaun reached his hand upward to untie both your wrists and guided you into doggy position.

Without warning he continued to push himself back inside you and fucked you senseless from the back. The sound of skin slapping against each other and your moans filled the bedroom. You feel drops of cum slide down your leg as your insides tighten. your grip on the pillow begins to tighten as your orgasm releases all over your body. Shaun still fucking you senseless released his seed inside and gave your ass a smack before pulling out of you. Shang Chi laid down next to you and pulled the cover up around you. You laid your head on his chest feeling his diaphragm rise and fall.

“I love you'' you whisper before closing your eyes. “I love you too” he whispered while gazing at a small black box placed in a hidden spot for your surprise.

[caranfindel]

Take these broken wings and learn to fly (15.20 coda)

het, but Wincest-compatible | about 2300 words | PG-13 for language | characters: sam winchester, sam’s blurry wife |

Julia has been widowed (God, what an awful word, widowed) for three years when she meets Sam. It’s a work-based friendship at first. She’s kind of lonely and sad, he’s kind of lonely and sad, and they gravitate toward each other. And then one evening they’re at a bar, the last ones left from an after-work happy hour, both of them drinking more than they should, and she thinks he’s kind and thoughtful and smart and he may be 10 years older than me but he’s still hot as hell and I enjoy being with him and I look forward to seeing him and maybe I should just… and she kisses him. He’s shocked; shocked enough to confirm that he wasn’t just hanging around hoping to make it out of the friendzone. And then he’s holding her face in his hands and he’s kissing her too.

It’s good. They’re good together. It’s not the earth-shattering, all-encompassing romance she had with Shaun. Julia knows she’ll never have anything like that again. Most people don’t even get one soulmate in their lives; no one gets two. And she knows Sam doesn’t have that same desperate love that Shaun had for her; she knows she’ll never have his whole heart. (She knows the woman he intended to marry was killed in a fire, she knows another woman he loved went back to her ex. She doesn’t know which of these women still owns that last piece of Sam’s heart.) But she loves Sam, and he loves her, and they get married.

(The sex is amazing. Sometimes he’s gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s afraid he’ll break her, and other times he’s fierce and passionate and almost tries to break her, and she loves both ends of the spectrum.)

She suggests they melt down her old wedding band to make a new one. It was an heirloom from her grandmother, a plain wide band of yellow gold that she loves, that she thought she’d wear for the rest of her life. But Shaun is the one who put it on her finger the first time. It doesn’t seem right to ask Sam to accept it now. A new band from the old gold seems like a good compromise. No, Sam says, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I know a way we can make it ours. He has the inside of the band engraved with the same symbol he wears tattooed over his heart, and makes her promise to never take it off. Bad luck, he says.

He’s such a contradiction. Scary smart, but as superstitious as an Appalachian grandmother. Calm and unflappable, but with a weirdly hyperactive startle reflex. Kind and empathetic, but capable of extreme violence when pushed to his limits (seriously, don’t walk your drunk ass up to Sam Winchester’s wife and lay hands on her, and don’t get mouthy when she tells you to back off) and just really, frighteningly skilled at that violence.

(A little frightening and also very sexy. Julia’s always had a thing for the hero type.)

They both have nightmares. One night Julia watches Shaun’s face melting under his gear and wakes with a cry of horror. Sam holds her as she tearfully describes living on the knife edge of constant fear that comes with loving someone whose job is literally running into burning buildings. I know, he says, over and over, even though he can’t possibly know. The irony of their first loves both dying in flames is not lost on her, but it’s not like his college girlfriend was a firefighter. It’s not like he watched her go to work every day and prayed she’d make it home alive.

Julia’s pregnancy is a wonderful surprise. She and Shaun had tried for over a year before she was widowed, and she just didn’t count on it happening with Sam. They agree not to name the baby after anyone they’ve lost. Let’s not name him after our pain, she says, and Sam is okay with that. (Or he isn’t. But ever since she showed him the positive pregnancy test, she’s known she could ask him for anything. She’s known he would rip out his heart and serve it on a platter if she asked for it.)

But they haven’t decided on a name yet when her water breaks four weeks early. When their perfect baby boy is born at 12:10 a.m., the nurse announces the date and time and Sam looks up at her in shock and blinks away happy tears and says it’s the 24th. It’s my brother’s birthday. Julia is flying high on endorphins; she loves this baby and she loves this man and she even loves his dead brother she never got to meet, and she says it’s got to be a sign; let’s name him Dean.

She takes off her wedding ring, just this once, to have Dean’s birthdate engraved on the inside. Sam does the same with his own ring. He insists they go to a jeweler who will engrave while they wait, rather than leaving the rings there. She waves a hand at her lumpy postpartum body. You afraid someone’s gonna make a move on all this if you don’t keep a ring on it?

He laughs at her and says you’re onto me, even though he’s the one who needs to be locked away, still with that long lean runner’s body and the amazing shoulders and the goddamn dimples. I just don’t like us being without them, he says. He is a sweet, sentimental fool and she adores him. He bends down to kiss her, carefully maneuvering the baby he’s wearing in a sling, and Julia looks at this man and this baby and this life she didn’t think she was get to have and knows she’s happier than she has any right to be. And she’s relieved when Sam slips the ring back onto her finger, this ring imbued with the men she loves, so maybe he’s not the only sentimental fool.

(One thing she loves about Sam is that he understands why she feels guilty that Shaun didn’t get to share this life with her.)

In July they light a little candle for Dean’s six-month birthday. When Julia wakes the next morning, Sam’s side of the bed is empty and cold. She finds him cuddling their sleeping baby in the living room. I got up to give him a bottle, Sam says. I guess I just fell asleep out here. His red-rimmed eyes and empty coffee mug suggest he didn’t actually sleep at all, but, well. They’re both battling their own private demons. If a night cradling the baby gives Sam some peace for whatever reason, she’s glad of it.

Sam’s fierce love for their child takes her by surprise. If Julia has 90% of his heart, his son has 110%. He parents with a vengeance, is the only way she can think of to describe it. Like he’s making up for something. She doesn’t feel slighted, but it’s impossible to ignore that ever since Dean was born, Sam’s prime objective has been to make sure the boy is happy and safe. Everything else comes second.

(When she notices Sam has been carefully marking his tattoo symbol onto Dean’s clothing, hidden near seams and always in a color that almost matches the fabric, she decides not to say anything. He gets a little funny about his superstitions sometimes.)

Sam desperately wants Dean to have a sibling, and they try for another one, but it doesn’t happen. Julia reminds him that they’re lucky to have even one child. That having a sibling is not a lifetime guarantee of companionship and love. She should know, after all, since Stephanie cut her off after she married that asshole Scientologist and decided she couldn’t have a relationship with anyone who wasn’t also in their stupid cult.

Dean has plenty of friends and tons of activities, which Sam encourages with an almost religious fervor, but he never pulls away from his parents. They have so much in common, Sam and his son. Instead of rebelling as a teenager, Dean seems to grow even closer to his father. They spend hours together, paging through the ancient books in Sam’s study (she hates them, they smell musty and make her sneeze) or driving in the old Chevrolet. They even travel together sometimes, visiting those friends of Sam’s that live up north somewhere. Julia met them at the wedding and they were perfectly nice, thrilled to death that she and Sam had found each other. But she always feels like an outsider when they’re around, like they’re part of something she’ll never understand. So much history, with Sam and the brother she never got to meet. They absolutely dote on Dean though, and he seems to love them too, so the boys’ trip to Sioux Falls becomes an annual event.

(Dean is 14 years old when he comes home from one of these trips with his own version of the tattoo.)

When Julia is diagnosed with cancer, Dean is 16 years old. Sam does his best to ensure life goes on as normal for their son but somehow never neglects Julia’s needs. He throws himself into research and is always on top of the latest treatment, always at her elbow with the top internet-recommended remedy for her side effects, making sure both she and Dean have everything they want and need, all the attention and support they can tolerate. She doesn’t know when, or if, Sam actually sleeps. When she feels up for it, he arranges experiences for the three of them. A week lying on the beach, a weekend in New York City, a night in the mountains looking at the stars. When we look back on this time, he says, I don’t want us to only remember how much it sucked. I want us all to have good memories too.

(She doesn’t know why he’s concerned about her memories. There’s a good chance she won’t have much time to enjoy them. But it’s good for Dean. She doesn’t want this to ruin Dean’s childhood.)

Sam insists Dean go away to college as planned. Julia agrees, although she’s kind of surprised he’s willing to let the boy out of his sight. Aren’t you going to miss him? she asks.

So much, he answers. But this isn’t about me, and what I need. It’s about him. They drive Dean to school in the ancient Chevrolet. Supposedly because the trunk has room for all of his stuff, but Julia is pretty sure it’s just one last sentimental road trip in the old thing before Sam retires it. When they pick Dean up at the end of the school year, it’s in her SUV. Dean promises his father, more than once, that he’ll restore the Chevy someday.

Five years after Julia’s diagnosis, she’s sitting in the doctor’s office learning that her last remission was her last remission. There are no more options. She has months, not years. Sam clutches her hand and nods, once, as if to say I should have known this would happen; I should have expected something like this. Then he takes her home.

It’s a blessing in a way, he says late that night, after a little too much to drink. Knowing what’s coming. Having time to say goodbye. You don’t always get that. And yes, she knows this as well as anybody does.

Sam has always been supportive of her choice not to contact Stephanie, but one day he says Jules, I promise I’ll never bring it up again. It’s just that I don’t want you to have any regrets. I don’t want you miss the opportunity to say things that you’ll wish you’d said. Julia isn’t sure Steph will speak to her. She’s not even sure she’ll have the same phone number — they haven’t spoken since Dad’s funeral, a year after she was widowed — but she makes the call. And Steph answers. And cries. And comes to visit, where she hugs and cries some more. Sam watches it all with a sad smile for a while, then disappears into the garage to sit in the old Chevy.

When Julia takes her last conscious breaths, Dean is holding one hand and Sam is holding the other. She squeezes her son’s hand and thinks I love you, dear boy, and I’m sorry I have to leave you. She squeezes her husband’s hand and thinks thank you for giving me this, thank you for taking care of me, thank you for loving me and letting me love you. Then she closes her eyes and lets the soft, warm darkness take over.

And then. Then she wakes to a cool breeze and the sound of chirping birds. She’s standing at a lake she recognizes. It’s Shaun’s favorite fishing spot. And Shaun is there, waiting for her. And everything is okay.

Sam does show up eventually. Julia’s sitting on the porch of the cabin with Shaun, enjoying the perpetual nice day (sometimes a spring morning, sometimes a fall afternoon, but always nice) when she hears the familiar rumble. It cant be, she thinks. It can’t be that old car. But it is.

I’m glad you found someone with good taste in cars, Shaun says, as Sam unfolds himself from the driver’s seat. He looks exactly as he did the day she met him; no glasses, only a little grey at his temples. Still tall and strong and beautiful. She runs to meet him and embraces him as Shaun watches from the porch.

You found Shaun, Sam says. I’m so happy for you, Jules. I really am. He doesn’t seem to have any intention of joining her (their) Heaven permanently, but he doesn’t seem to have anyone else with him either. Where is the dead girlfriend? How is this fair?

They talk about Dean, and Julia’s heart swells with pride over her strong, smart, kind, brave son. He’s like you, she says. He’s just like you.

Sam shrugs. He’s a Winchester.

But what about you? she says. You’re not — you’re not alone here, are you?

Nah, he says. I’m good. I promise.

(Eventually Julia meets the first Dean, and she understands.)

===

I know a lot of people have mocked Sam's blurry wife, but I actually have grown to love the concept. Because it means she can be anything we want her to be. And yeah, initially I liked the idea of her being Dr. Cara, or Eileen. But now I don't think that would happen. I think Sam would have to start fresh to have that kind of relationship. And I also like the idea of Sam's wife having her own soulmate somewhere, waiting for her, so she's not a huge part of Sam and Dean's shared Heaven. I mean, they're gonna visit, obviously. And then they'll go home to their soulmates.

The title is from "Blackbird" by the Beatles.

[your-turn-to-role]

Feralness of the NPCs? If you like.

this one took me a bit longer, because as critrolestats calculated a couple months ago, across both campaigns, matt has over a thousand npcs, and we'd be here all year if i had to rank all of them 😂

but in my attempt to brainstorm all significant npcs from both campaigns (though i'm sure i'm forgetting someone i'm gonna immediately remember as soon as i post this), i've got gilmore, allura, kima, jarett, kaylie, cassandra, kynan, artagan, kiri, essek, dairon, orly, yeza, and pumat sol, so i can do those guys!

(not including villains, figures we don't know much personal about like the bright queen, or guest pcs, because they're still technically pcs. also not splitting by campaign because allura and artagan appear in both)

1 - kaylie motherfucking shorthalt. i adore her so much, and she is feral as fuck. granted, she's highly competent feral, she's good enough at the flute to challenge scanlan, and good enough at the violin to be a professional fiddler (which, i reiterate, takes so much dedication to learn), and aes adan/the meat man definitely didn't become as powerful as he did all because of scanlan. but also, is a thief and a conman and will 100% get in a bar fight with just about anyone, absolutely unafraid to speak her mind, and her approach to meeting her father for the first time was to work out all her grudges by trying to kill him with a knife. see also - her epilogue was deciding to finish the schooling she dropped out of, but at a really fancy academy so she could prove she's better than all the rich kids, just really rub it in their faces. i so wish i could have seen it.

2 - kima will fight you. kima will fight anyone. i don't know why all the short girls in cr are so feral, but like literally all of them are just pure feral condensed into three feet of girl, i love them. kima is no different, except she has a dragon god on her side and also is very gay and she's great

3 - artagan. now, feral in large part constitutes an unwillingness or inability to play by the rules of a functioning society, and that's all artagan's about. show him a rule and he will run the other direction until he feels safe and then come back invisibly and use that rule to fuck with people. he has the chaos part down too, and i was almost gonna put him in first place. however, feral also implies something of a willingness for violence, and artagan doesn't really have that? like he does to an extent, but in the words of mr matthew mercer, "even the nicest of fey are weird and have their dark sides". and as far as fey go, artagan has been shown to care about people a lot more than he's ever wished them harm. like he's still feral, because he's an archfey and the entire feywild is feral. but like... relatively tame feral. give the boy a pen and some paper and he'll leave you alone.

4 - kiri. she's adorable, and is baby, but is also a bird with a knife whose catchphrase has more or less become "go fuck yourself!". i love her.

5 - orly's pretty chill. but also, let's be real, there's a limit to how non-feral a tortle sailor and tattoo artist with bagpipes fused into his shell can be. also is just generally down for whatever illegal antics the m9 feel like getting up to

6 - cassandra. i debated for a while about putting her higher, because there's definitely an argument to be made for that, but you do have to take into consideration how well put together and fancy she is at nearly all times. however. cassandra at no more than maybe 13 was the only person to not get caught in the briarwood attack, rescued her brother from the dungeon where they were torturing him and keeping the bodies of her other siblings, guided him out, got nearly murdered, and lived in a whitestone full of zombies and villains and vampire mind control for five years. she's feral under the surface, she's had to be

7 - jarett. god i love jarett, i forgot about him last time someone asked me my fave c1 npcs but he's the best. anyway, captain of their guard, good at fighting, terrible liar, Definitely Has Never Dealt Drugs Before, will go kill a dragon with you. but like, as long as you're paying him. he's doing this for money, not just out of base feral instinct. Probably Needs A Break.

8 - dairon taught beau and earned her respect somehow, so you know they're at least a little feral. but also, widely respected expositor of the cobalt soul, competent spy, and at least moderately capable of keeping beau in line, so that knocks down their feralness level a fair bit

9 - essek is a fancy boy, and definitely is beholden to a lot of rules. the whole floating thing shows that, like, he's pretty damn far from feral for most of the time he's in rosohna. but i debated who was higher between all the wizards for a while, and i think just because essek is (or at least was) neutral evil and is so driven by his hunger for knowledge and to explore the darker parts of dunamancy, that does push him up the feral scale a little bit. there's very little essek wouldn't do when it comes to discovering secrets. (also, you know, his entire job as the shadowhand, we've seen involves some fucked up stuff, so he's far from squeamish or naive in that sense)

10 - allura is a wizard and a politician and a fancy person and generally rather chill. but as far as the wizards go, wins second most feral because she's been an adventurer. she took down thordak the first time. casually reminisces about how weird all adventuring groups are when vox machina are like licking the weird powder they found in the necromancer dungeon and mentions she was like that too. girl's seen some shit

11 - pumat is not an adventurer, and has no wish to be, and on the whole, is not feral at all. but also, pumat swole.

12 - kynan, wants to be feral? and then was, kinda, for a bit, and then severely regretted it. has had his moments, but on the whole is a Soft Boy

13 - gilmore. we're definitely getting to the definitively Not Feral end of the scale now. i mean, points for crushing a man to death with his mind, also points for "if you could find a way for me to become a dragon, that would be sexy". but gilmore is extremely concerned at all times with putting on that charming and excited mask, he puts a lot of value on his image and practically nothing will get him to tarnish it (even when thordak nearly killed him and he was still barely hanging on, he tried to use prestidigitation to make himself look better, like... those walls run deep). is also just a really genuinely nice person, cares a lot about people, is very empathetic, and again, refuses to show negative emotion if it will hurt someone else in any way. it's hard to imagine shaun gilmore as feral in any way, and if he did get close to that, it wouldn't be in front of other people

14 - yeza. now, points for the slightly mad scientist vibe yeza's got going on, it seems to be veth's type. but also, veth has 100% of the feral in this relationship and they both know it

[eatdrinkandraisealittlehell]

if you love the winchester brothers, please allow me to introduce you to another pair of brothers you’ll love: the hardy boys (just give me a chance and keep reading please!).

hello! so i’m a relatively quiet SPN fan blog over here, but i just wanted to make this little informative post for anyone who might be willing to try some retro vibes and check out my other favorite brothers, frank and joe. (note: i didn’t bother editing any of these screenshots/gifs so i apologize for the quality; it’s 70s film in case you couldn’t tell.)

i’m going to keep it short and sweet: you love that codependent, i-need-only-you-by-my-side, i’d-die-for-him-in-a-heartbeat, rescuing-victims-and-taking-out-villains kind of brother soulmate vibes? then this is another good show for you. allow me to demonstrate in gifs.

you want two brothers scheming like madmen to stop the bad guy? we got that. frank and joe are absolutely feral. they’re unhinged. in one episode, they’re being harassed by literal black magic voodoo doctors, mad scientist laser engineers, and the local police force and they laugh. they just stand there and laugh and stare into each other’s eyes and make jokes as though their actual lives aren’t being threatened and they’re not in danger of being murdered at any second. they look evil in the face and they don’t even get angsty about it. they just laugh, like, who cares. we’re together and that’s all that matters. bring on the pins and dolls, you petty bitches. it’s sundown and we’re ready. this is every episode.

personal space? never heard of her. a complete stranger to us. they’re this close in every scene. i’m not even kidding. frank has the whole living room to sit in and he chooses to perch on the arm of joe’s chair so their arms touch. i really think that if they didn’t get within three inches of one another every five minutes they’d just...lose all will to live or something.

please for the love of god, look at how they look at each other. they’re literally just talking about where to find an office in this building and it’s like this is my favorite person in the whole world and i love seeing him smile. i love him. i love him. like, it’s almost blinding to watch this scene honestly.

oh, you enjoy the protective big brother(tm) flavor? we got it. and protective little brother too if you like the taste of that.

standing up to anyone no matter how powerful? always having each other’s backs? yep that’s here too. (spoiler) they become fbi agents in season 3 and (spoiler again) nobody at the fbi can control them. they’re impossible to rein in. one of them makes up his mind and the other one’s just like, ok, guess we’re gonna disobey literally everyone in charge and die together today, that’s cool with me. let me just grab my jacket.

this gif is basically the whole series in two seconds--driving out to somewhere new “with just enough gas and water to make it to the next town,” knowing they’re probably going to run into trouble somewhere along the way and perfectly happy about it. (and if you didn’t recognize him, joe is played by none other than shaun cassidy, real-life world-famous guitar-strumming pop star of the decade known for being one of the cutest people alive, which he displayed well in his role as joe.)

oh? and their dad? wonderful, splendid, we love him. a single father with a lot on his plate, he raised his sons with all the material and emotional support they needed. their relationship with him as adults is very strong and healthy and basically he’s just, like, the best dad on television ever. no parental issues here, ladies and gents; everyone’s good.

and the best part? as of right now they’re all available to watch for free on youtube. so you don’t even have to pay anything to enjoy them. if you like nice little mystery/adventures stories, you have a thing for good powerful brother vibes, and you can look past some of the quirks and secondhand embarrassments of 1970s family television, please try it out! i’ve loved them since before i started watching supernatural and i want others to love them too!!

but just so you know, in the first season, every other episode is a nancy drew episode without the hardy boys--they’re cute too but if you’re not interested you can just skip every other one until season 2.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Sixteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: A very special shoutout to @anonymouscosmos for all of their encouragement and support! You are a god among insects. I’d also like to thank the discord chat for enduring my nonsense, as ever. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore and detailed descriptions of previous abuse. Stay safe!]

Her head had been blown open, or at least it felt that way. The explosion was so close to her face that her helmet had just peeled off like it was made out of shrapnel-laden papier-mâché.

  Sergeant Shaun 'Lucky' Cathan was flat on his back hardly a foot away from her, pinned under the weight of the debris that was slowly crushing his armor. 

  She couldn't move. Her arms and legs wouldn't respond. That blow to the head had been nearly fatal. She was trapped on her stomach, inches from him.

  "Backhand-" Cathan choked, his voice wet. His gauntlet fumbled for her own, large metal fingers gripping her hand. "End of the line for me, eh Handy?"

  She gurgled something, trying to talk. One eye still worked. Barely. It felt like it was full of glass every time she forced herself to blink. It was too dark to see much anyway, even if she squinted. Her head throbbed with the beat of her heart. 

  "Save--your strength, Vega." Cathan instructed. 

  She wasn't sure what strength he was even talking about. Her armor felt like it had collapsed down on her spine. "Sir-" Vega managed to say. "S'been an honor-"

  "Don't give me that-- shit , Vega." Cathan chuckled. "I was just another dog of war. You'll get out of this. Go back to that man of yours, have a few kids, live your life." He coughed, wheezing, "my time is up, Handy."

  "No, no I'm-" Backhand tried to pull him closer, tried to get upright. Pain jolted down her back and legs and she halted, trembling. "I c-can't leave you here, Sarge." She groaned, knowing deep down that it was futile but refusing to give up .

  Cathan's grip tightened briefly. "It's alright, Handy." Her CO murmured. "It's alright. Make sure Tabitha has me buried on American soil. Or chuck my ashes in the harbor, yeah? Piss off all those Cambridge fucks." He chuckled.

  Backhand nodded as best as she could, the tears stinging painfully against the flayed skin of her face. "I will. Promise."

  The rubble overhead creaked and groaned, dust falling down on top of them. "Won't be long now." Cathan mused faintly, "Not long at all…"

  …

  Danse struggled to sit up and roll Vega onto her back. His own injuries faded to the background of his mind as she laid unresponsive, blood slowly pooling in the dirt beneath her left side. Her mouth opened and closed in a spasm; her eyes had rolled back in her skull and her fingers twitched erratically. 

  Have to hold pressure. Stop the bleeding. Danse numbly pressed his shaking hands down on her side just below her ribs, his body suddenly awash in a cold sweat as he realized just how much blood she was losing. He could almost hear Haylen rambling about the arteries, internal bleeding, penetrating damage, Worwick and Brach and Dawes and Keane and Danse felt like he was going to be sick. 

  "H... Haylen! " He yelled desperately. It was the only thing he could think to do.

  Then, against all odds, startling the everliving daylights out of him, Vega sat up . " Oh , you fuckin' asshole! " She hollered at Maxson around Danse's body while the paladin scrambled to attempt to stem the flow of fresh blood that her motion sent spurting out. "You really fuckin' shot me?! You're the worst kind of dick! " 

  Danse was flabbergasted. Her state was clearly compromised, how was she even conscious-

  "Fuck!" Vega growled in pain, dropping her forehead to rest on Danse's chest. "Oh fuck, fuck fuck you, you told me Danse was fuckin' dead, you liar! You expect me to just stand by and let you kill him in front of me?!" She continued to rant at Maxson, her voice muffled somewhat by Danse's shirt. "You dumb fuckin' prick, you stupid fuckin' dipshit motherfuck son of a cockass! This ain't exactly my first time gettin' fuckin' shot, you fuckin' fuck!"

  Danse realized that Arthur hadn't said a damn thing, possibly just as bewildered and awestruck by Elizabeth's impressive grasp of blue-streaked vernacular as he himself was.

  "Paladin Brandis, if I may…?" Haylen's voice was almost inaudible over Backhand's continued snarling. Danse jerked his attention away from Elizabeth, trying to blink the sweat out of his eyes in order to determine the field scribe's location.

  "Scribe, get the hell back behind the line!" Maxson barked. 

  Heavy footfalls heralded the arrival of Rhys and Haylen, the knight using his power armor like a shield to protect the scribe as if they were out in the field. Haylen was suddenly there , on her knees in the gravel next to Danse and Elizabeth. The paladin's eyes were now blinded with tears of gratitude and he huffed out a breath. "Danse, I'll get to you in a second." Haylen said softly, patting his hand. "Let me have her, okay?"

  "Haylen, I…" the large man didn't know what to say, his words failing him. He clutched pitifully at the scribe's hands, sure that he was gripping too tight.

  "I've got her, Danse. It's okay." Scribe Haylen soothed.

  "Yeah Danse, s'okay." Backhand said blearily, "s'Haylen, she's great. We love Haylen." Her head lolled back like it was too heavy for her to hold up. "Haylen made sure I got to eat and stuff."

  " What? " Danse rasped. 

  "The tactics Elder Maxson used during her incarceration…" Haylen trailed off, grimacing and then continuing in an undertone, "I made sure Rhys smuggled in something for her when he brought Brandis' meals."

  "Vega, Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry." Danse apologized needlessly, resting his forehead against Elizabeth's as he supported her neck. "I didn't think anything would happen to you. I...I didn't think in general, I guess." He admitted.

  Vega smiled . "Hey, I'd say whatever shit I went through was a pretty decent tradeoff for finding out that you didn't bite it after all." She slurred. "Missed you."

  " Christ , Vega." Danse muttered in dismay, fighting to untie her hands. Haylen took over after a moment, the scribe's fingers infinitely more steady than his own.

  "I need a Stim and a bloodpack!" Haylen announced after examining Vega's abdomen, looking up worriedly. 

  Not a soul moved. The only sound was the noise of Maxson wriggling in the grip of the armored knight who finally had him secured. "Listen to the scribe!" Brandis shouted to the mute crowd. "You have a sister bleeding in front of you and you would be still and silent? Where are the brave, compassionate soldiers I once knew? Knights! Scribes! Are you not Brotherhood?"

  Two aspirants finally elbowed their way through the throng, making a wide berth around Maxson. One of them bore a large canvas bag. "Good, good work. Drop it here." Haylen instructed, unrolling her field kit. "Can I get a scribe with steady hands and another knight for the opposite side?" She called. 

  A knight thundered past Maxson, the man throwing Danse of all people a haphazard salute before he took up his post at the other end of the group. Maxson practically seethed with rage. "Knight, how dare you salute that--that thing! "

  "That thing is still Paladin Danse of the Brotherhood of Steel, Maxson." Brandis growled. "He won the trial fair and square."

  "I will not allow it to live!" Maxson shrieked hysterically, struggling against the iron hold of the knight bear-hugging him. "I don't care how many of you I have to take down, Danse dies today! "

  "Maxson!" Brandis chided. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound insane! Think about what you're saying before you do something you'll regret!"

  "Not before he dies! "

  "Which would you rather be known as, Maxson? The abuser or the synth fucker?" Maxson froze at the sound of Danse's voice. The burly paladin shot the elder a bloodied sneer, his head tilted to the side at an almost arrogant angle. "After all, you got fucked by a synth." What the hell was he saying? Danse felt unhinged , words flippant, his tired limbs barely cooperating as he forced himself up on his knees and then to his feet. "You let a synth fuck you, Arthur." 

  " Abomination -"

  "You ordered a synth to fuck you." Danse reminded him, voice grating as his words came faster. "Demanded it to fuck you. Abused it. Threatened it with a certain death mission if it didn't. Then gave it that mission anyway." Danse rubbed at some crusted blood beneath his blackened right eye, grimacing. "Does it make it better if you didn't know I was a synth? Because then , you have to justify the reality that you molested a soldier in a compromised emotional state utilizing your privileged position of authority. Can you accept that , Maxson?"

  "You...Maxson, is this true?" Brandis asked incredulously.

  "That thing is clearly lying!" Maxson scoffed, looking around at the spellbound crowd like he expected everyone to agree with him. "Dammit, I am the elder -"

  "Did you hope that I would die out here, Arthur? Or did you assume that I would come crawling back to the Capital Wasteland after my inevitable failure in the Commonwealth?" Danse cut him off bitterly. "Did you think I would be easier to break once I had lost everything , Maxson?"

  "He always fights with Danse!" A tiny squire chimed in. Danse hadn't realised that Maxson had Ingram summon the damn children to watch their trial. "We heard them fight!"

  "Silence, brat! " Maxson screamed, his face purpling with fury. "I am the elder of this chapter, last of the Maxson line, and I will be given the respect I deserve! "

  "Cade's records can verify my story!" Danse shouted hoarsely for everyone to hear, his shoulders heaving with emotion. "Every time we engaged, I did not escape unscathed. Nearly every injury was documented. The dates will align with high-stress situations, and I'll stake my life on there being a long stretch of shit mood during the absence of your preferred punching bag, Elder! "

  " Liar! "

  "Abuser!" Danse yelled in reply, "murderer! You killed Cutler, through your biased orders! You killed Knight Astlin, Scribe Farris, Knight Varham! You killed my brothers and sisters!" Danse's fists clenched tight enough to ache. "And for what, Arthur? For a synth? Or for a man that had no interest in you? Either way, I refuse to accept their blood on my hands, Maxson!"

  " You killed them and you know it!" Maxson shrieked, kicking his legs desperately. "All you had to do was obey me, Danse! Was your pride worth their lives?"

  "There was once a time in my life where I would have done damn near anything you asked of me." His anger petering out, all Danse felt now was weary and bruised. "I loved the Brotherhood, Maxson. I still do. But the path we have taken under your leadership is heinous."

  "Don't you dare to lecture me about devotion, you mechanical mockery! " Maxson retorted.

  "This body may be synthetic, but my heart and mind…" Danse paused, saluting once more. " Those belong to the Brotherhood, Maxson. To my brothers and sisters in arms. Nothing can change that. Not even the knowledge of my true identity."

  "That's what you think!" Arthur flailed in the knight's grip, trying in vain to escape. No doubt so he could pitch himself at the paladin one final time.

  "Elder Maxson, through your words and through your deeds, I deem you unfit to lead our chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel at this point in time." Brandis announced abruptly. "As the senior ranking officer, I, Paladin Brandis, will function as the interim elder until we receive proper instructions from our superiors." He removed his helmet, staring down at Arthur sternly. 

  The young man was quite the pitiful sight, bedraggled from trying to beat Danse within an inch of his life as well as from his struggling afterwards. He still looked mad enough to kill, those blue eyes almost crackling with pent-up fury. "You planned this, didn't you?!" His paranoia on full display, Maxson made no attempt to maintain any sort of composure. "Just how many synths have infiltrated our chapter? Well Brandis?! "

  "Arthur, that's enough ." The senior paladin said in reply, his tone measured. "Don't make an even bigger fool of yourself. Bow out while you still have some dignity." He sighed. "Perhaps the stress of this campaign has been too heavy of a burden to bear for you. I sympathize, but I cannot permit you to carry on in this manner, Maxson." Brandis raised his eyes, scanning the crowd. "Cade! Knight-Captain Cade, please see to Maxson. He is obviously unwell."

  …

  Vega flickered in and out of consciousness. The weeks of abuse culminating in this final (though inadvertent) attempt to end her seemed to have nearly been successful. She only barely remembered Haylen treating her wound, mumbling out an apology to the younger woman for leaning so much weight on her. She caught snippets of Danse and Maxson shouting at each other, bits of the trauma that Danse had endured coming tumbling out and making Vega wish that she wasn't half-dead so she could at least flip Maxson off.

  " Rest , Vega ." Haylen had ordered. " You need rest ."

  And really, who was Backhand to refuse? 

  When next she opened her eyes, she was greeted by a canvas ceiling overhead. Vega squinted a little at the brightness of it. How long have I been out for?

  "Welcome back, General." That familiar voice snapped her out of her staring contest with the tent above her and she rolled her head to the side, unable to help her smile at the sight of Danse. Still a little bruised and banged-up, but alive . 

  Tears streaked down her cheeks and Backhand wished that she could have stopped them, sniffling loudly and covering her face.

  "General Vega, there's no need for that." The paladin chided her softly. Something bumped against her knuckles and she realized after a second that Danse was attempting to give her glasses back. 

  Vega accepted the glasses mutely, grabbed Danse's hand and used his arm as leverage to pull herself up off the cot. 

  "Wait, Elizabeth you-" The paladin began to protest, rising to his feet to stop her. Her legs nearly gave out but Danse managed to steady her, one large hand splayed on the small of her back. "You shouldn't be upright yet, Vega." He scolded.

  I missed you. I thought you were dead. The words tangled up in her mouth and instead Backhand mumbled, "I thought I missed you." Danse's brows furrowed in confusion and she hurried to correct herself, "I mean--I...I thought you were dead!"

  "I needed some time to regroup. Straighten my head out. Heal." The paladin explained quietly. "The O'Brians nursed me back to health."

  "What happened , though?"

  "What happened to you , Vega?" Danse asked instead, gripping her elbows carefully to keep her upright. 

  Backhand shrugged weakly. "Maxson thought I knew you were a synth."

  " I didn't even know I was a synth." Danse huffed, thick eyebrows raising once again. "How on earth would you have known?"

  "Maybe he was going on a witch hunt, trying to get me to confess even though I wasn't guilty of anything." She closed her eyes as she mumbled, "I missed you."

  "I thought of you every day." Danse replied bluntly. Her head shot up and she stared at him, watching as a flush crept up his neck. "I er, I...I am not good at these sorts of things," he admitted. "But it's true. I thought of you and...and of your son. Of the life you should have had. When Preston tracked me down, we realized that something must have gone wrong. So I...came back." 

  Oh . She hated the disappointed pit that yawned open in her stomach. She should have known that he wasn't thinking of her in the same way that she had thought of him. 

  Backhand rested her forehead on his chest, willing her tears to abate. "We need to get them out of the Institute." She said thickly. "All of them. Anyone that will come, Danse."

  "I think you and I should speak to Pal-- Elder Brandis. He has expressed interest in working with the Minutemen." Danse sighed heavily, then continued, "I cannot recommend that we work exclusively with the Brotherhood. There are years of prejudice that have been beaten into these men and women. The allowance of my presence is a show of good faith, but I don't know if I trust the rank and file to storm the Institute without turning it into a massacre." He gave her a wry smile. "I cannot blame them. Even knowing what I am now, it's going to take me some time to remove my knee-jerk reaction."

  "There's always something else to do." She wasn't trying to complain , but God she was tired .

  His facial hair brushed against her forehead, scraping the skin lightly. "I know. What was it you said in the Glowing Sea? 'A run ashore'?" He queried while giving her forearms a gentle squeeze, as if to comfort her.

  "I thought you were dead." She hadn't meant to say it again, watching his eyes go dark and kicking herself for bringing it back up.

  "I suppose I was, for a time." Danse murmured, his expression troubled.

  "I... please don't do that to me again." Vega begged. Her hands fisted in his fatigues, wrinkling the worn fabric. "This is going to sound really dumb and really selfish, but please . Don't."

  "When you thought I was dead, did you..." Danse hesitated. "I mean, did you really miss me? I'm not even...well, I'm not a..." He cast his eyes around, narrowing them like he was physically searching for the word he wanted to use. "Human." He finally managed to say, the admission obviously paining him. "I'm a freak of nature, Vega. A perversion of science and an example of where mankind has gone wrong--"

  "Danse." Backhand cupped his jaw, her palms smoothing over the bristle of his stubble as she coaxed him to look at her. "No offense, but you cannot be this stupid."

  "What do you mean?" The paladin asked, his confusion endearingly evident. "I'm not...how am I being…?"

  Backhand blinked. Maybe he could be that stupid. "You're probably the most human person I've ever met, Danse. The way you care about your squadron, the way you've helped me...look, I wasn't upset about you being a synth, I was upset about you being dead ."

  "Oh." Danse breathed. "Really? You... really? Me being a synth wasn't…?" His words kept faltering, uncertainty shining through with every hitch. 

  " You , Danse. I cried about you being gone ."

  "Elizabeth…" 

  "So don't you dare scare me like that ever again, got it?" Backhand leaned forward, boldly pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

  "I--yes. Understood, Knight. Uh, General." Danse stammered, his fingers absently touching the spot she had kissed. "W-We should...go speak to Elder Brandis. If you believe you can walk a short distance? I know better than to ask you to stay put and be patient."

  "Permit me the usage of your arm to keep me upright and yes, we can absolutely go."

  ...

  Please don't do that to me again .

  She had missed him, she said. She had mourned him, even. Cried over him. Danse's head was spinning.

  How could that even be possible? How could she...he was a machine . 

  No time left to consider such weighty problems, unfortunately, as he found that far too soon the two of them were approaching what had formerly been Maxson's quarters and now served as Brandis' war room.

  "Ad Victoriam, Paladin Danse and General Vega!" Elder Brandis greeted them warmly with a loose salute, gesturing around the war table afterwards. "Kells, Cade, Ingram, Quinlan, Doctor Li, I trust you all need no introductions?"

  The briefing was, as they usually were, tedious. Nothing brief about it, if he was being brutally honest. Vega held her ground though, which was all he really needed.

  "You boys aren't tyrants or fuckin' warlords. Not while I have any sort of say in the matter." She said sharply. "If you want Minutemen support, we are working as a team and the Minutemen have uninhibited access to all information as it is gathered. That means we'll need Quinlan's full cooperation." She held up a hand, staving off Quinlan's outburst. " Only in regards to the Institute. We don't want your super-secret Spec Ops sealed Brotherhood case files, so don't get those boxers in a bunch." Cade snorted and Proctor Quinlan looked absolutely scandalized, even as he grudgingly nodded. 

  "Now, General, this is all well and good but what does the Brotherhood get out of this bargain?" Kells asked pointedly. "As far as I can see, we're the integral piece in this plan."

  "' As far as you can see ' is an apt phrase, Lancer-Captain Kells." Backhand's tone was cool. This was General Vega for certain, the woman who had whipped the Minutemen back into shape. "Because what you can't see are the rest of my operations. The Minutemen aren't the only force I have at my disposal, just the most obvious." She leaned in a little, her eyes cold as ice behind the lenses of her glasses. "Do you really want to test me on my home turf, Kells? After everything that's happened?"

  "Not testing you, General Vega." The lancer-captain clarified, "simply identifying what seems to be an imbalance in the negotiations."

  "I got you Doctor Li." Vega retorted. "Without her, your Liberty Prime would still be a pile of junk. I've gotten your scribes tons of information to sift through, I've done everything the former elder asked of me."

  "Lancer-Captain Kells, if I might also interject?" Danse asked hesitantly, cringing on the inside as everyone turned to look at him like they had forgotten he was even there. Kells inclined his head after a moment. "Sir, we cannot be so quick to discredit our position. Due to our aerial location, we will be within the perfect striking distance to any sort of localized, above-ground assault."

  "I am more than aware of our position, Paladin . But that does not negate the fact that we have a much larger stake in this than anyone else-"

  "Larger than the locals who have been getting body-snatched for years?" Vega cut him off. "Let's not forget that myself and your new elder were starved and tortured for weeks , while the rest of you sat around and twiddled your thumbs out of fear and respect." She spat. "Don't fuckin' come to me with your scale-tipping bullshit . It took a synth to make you all sack up, and I don't intend to let you forget that." The woman straightened up, looking grim. "I'm not giving you anything else. You can either work with us, or you can keep pitching yourself against the Institute until they've all slipped away and you're left with nothing but an empty facility and unanswered questions."

  "She's right." Doctor Li affirmed tersely. "They won't just wait around to be pummeled. This isn't the Enclave. The board of directors will do everything in their power to avoid you and waste your resources at the same time."

  "We cannot afford to entrench ourselves in a drawn-out assault, Kells." Brandis reasoned. "When we strike, we have to do it decisively. Give it everything we've got and cut off the head."

  Kells nodded, seeming satisfied. "Understood, Elder Brandis. I meant no disrespect, General Vega."

  "None taken. I'm still recovering from getting the shit kicked out of me, so my manners aren't up to par quite yet." Vega rested her elbows on the table, steepled fingers tapping her chin. "I won't take anything from you that you're unable to give, Lancer-Captain Kells. If I can avoid using the BoS altogether, I will." She murmured, tilting her head. "I need to get in touch with some people before I can offer anything concrete, but once Lieutenant Garvey knows I'm alive I'm sure the rest will learn fast. We'll rally and plan accordingly." 

  "Well then, what are we waiting for?" Ingram asked eagerly. "C'mon Vega, let's head to the comm deck and get things squared away!"

  "Excellent plan. You two are dismissed." Brandis agreed, making a shooing gesture at the two women. Once they had departed, he turned his attention to Cade. "Do you have faith in our medical capabilities, Knight-Captain?" 

  Cade nodded. "We had been planning to attack them head on anyways, Brandis. If we're truly going in a little less 'shock and awe', we may actually tip more towards over-prepared."

  "I'm not certain how useful their teleporter will be to us once we get inside. I'm sure they'll lock it down with great expedience. However there is another possible egress." Quinlan spread the old blueprint out on the war table, fingers indicating a small service tunnel. "Now, if their measurements are accurate, power armored troops will not fit in this tunnel. But unarmored individuals most certainly will. This includes any…" he hesitated, like he was preparing himself to say it, "... refugees , or non-hostile denizens." 

  Quinlan referring to synths as anything but had Danse's head spinning. Vega was an absolute marvel .

  "It will be heavily guarded." Doctor Li warned. "They like to pretend that there's only one way in or out. Their precious molecular relay ."

  "Danse, I think you ought to take point when it comes to securing this tunnel." Kells remarked, making the paladin straighten up. "We won't be able to gauge our level of involvement until we have a full muster from Vega, but I'd like a senior-ranked soldier in the mix. And I know how much you enjoy being boots on the ground." The older man offered Danse a thin smile.

  Danse was so moved he needed to take a moment, finally choking out a ' yes sir ' with his hand over his heart. That Kells, even after all the years of growing to despise synths, would trust him with such a task-!

  Perhaps they did stand a chance, after all.

Part Seventeen

[mollymauk-teafleak]

love is something you build

Please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3! 

And huge love to @minky-for-short for coming up with this amazing AU <3

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Vex has had it rough, to put it mildly.

She's trying to make a fresh start after finally breaking away from Saundor. She has a new job, she's living with her brother and his new boyfriend, she's trying her best to be a good mother to her son, no matter who his father was.

But it's not until she walks into de Rolo's Toyshop that she really feels her life start again.

--------

Halfway home, Vex’ahlia had to admit that she’d maybe been wrong not to call her brother for a ride home from work on a bitter winter night.

There were snowflakes melting through her thin coat, feeling an awful lot less beautiful when they were turning to icy sludge down her spine. Her fingers felt numb no matter how many times she flexed them inside her pockets, she was worried they’d snap off at the joints if she tried it again. Her ears were beginning to ache, their tips bright red with only her hair between them and the cold, and her boots were developing bone cold puddles inside.

She should have called Vax’ildan. He’d told her to, before she’d left for the bakery that morning, calling after her as she headed out of the door, not wanting to linger and spoil his and Shaun’s quiet breakfast together. Vex knew they wouldn’t have minded but, even after living with them for nearly six months now, she still sometimes felt like an intruder. Like a smudge on the surface of the wonderful life Vax had worked so hard to build for himself.

He didn’t need his sad, broken sister haunting every moment, reminding them of darker times.

She imagined him and Shaun sat on the sofa together, Vax doing that thing where he twined their legs together, insisting he was cold when the both of them knew he just wanted to be close to his husband, neither of them paying a blind bit of attention to whatever was on the TV. As much as it made her nose wrinkle, she imagined Shaun stealing kisses just because he could, choosing to let her mind linger more on how he’d look at her brother like there was nothing else in the world. Just the way she’d always thought he deserved to be looked at, completely as himself.

And then she imagined the high, shrill cry shattering their moment, bringing Vax to his feet so hurriedly, she could see him falling flat on his face if he wasn’t careful. Raven, jolted from his nap and crying because he’d woken up alone and that terrified him.

Vex felt her steps double in pace, as much as she could without risking her neck on the icy sidewalk, as much as she could get her aching feet to accelerate after a long day standing behind the counter at the bakery. Her arms felt that aching absence they got sometimes, the need to have her son’s warm, comforting weight in them.

She did hate being away from him on these long hours, even if it gave her brother a chance at date night without needing to check on her every five minutes or include her. Even if it did give her these trickling feelings of freedom in the form of her paychecks and having somewhere to be each day, this confirmation that her life and its purpose really were hers to decide again. Saundor was far away, she was beyond his reach.

Six months on, Vex caught herself actually believing that sometimes.

She was getting used to being in the city, as intimidatingly different as it was from Byroden and Syngorn, worlds away from Saundor’s isolated forests. It was loud and complicated and detached but that was strangely comforting. Vex could move through the streets and the endless people, never worrying that one would know her face or her past. There were always other people’s voices around her, other lives continuing on at their own hurried paces like river currents just passing her by, she never felt isolated the way she’d been feeling for so long.

Vex could understand why Vax had come here after escaping their father. And why he’d known it would be the perfect place to bring her to get back on her feet after she’d pulled herself from a similar mire, even if it took her longer and she made more mistakes along the way.

She wrinkled her nose, feeling a stab of guilt. She wouldn’t think of her son as a mistake, even by association. He was the only thing that saved it all from being a complete and total waste. And she could understand better than anyone how you couldn’t help who your father was.

One thing she still wasn’t used to was how things in the city could change so quickly. Like how you could be on your way home from work, tired and cold and ready for sleep you knew would still be a long time coming when you got home, and suddenly there would be a shop on the corner than you hadn’t seen before, lights so unconscionably bright at this hour that you had to squint. So bright that you stopped in your tracks for a reason you wouldn’t be able to remember later.

Vex couldn’t be certain of what she was seeing for a few long moments, it didn’t make enough sense at first. The shop on the corner didn’t look at all like it belonged in the city. In fact, it looked like someone had made a collage of the block, choosing for some unknowable reason to paste a scrap of some idyllic countryside storybook village amongst the grey concrete. The roof was painted red, so was the door, the windows were the kind of antique looking leaded glass that bubbled slightly in places to warp the warm, cosy scene within. For some reason, the snow didn’t seem like such an uncomfortable inconvenience when it was frosting the shop’s slanted roof and gathering like a fluffy scarf under it’s windows and dusting the exquisitely painted sign that hung on an honest to goodness iron bar so it swung in the winter flurries.

de Rolo’s Handmade Toys.

Vex exhaled as a thought struck her, her breath turning to a faint whiteness in the air. She felt her paycheck against her chest, heavier than the slim envelope tucked into her inside pocket should have been. Most of it would go to Vax and Shaun, fully against their will as they’d asked for absolutely nothing in return for her living with them. But Vex couldn’t forget the weeks and weeks just after she’d left Saundor, when all she’d been able to do was lie on the bed in the spare room- the bed she’d recently allowed herself to think of as her own- and stare at the wall while her son cried beyond the door, his uncles comforting him and doing what she didn’t have the strength to. She couldn’t forget the meals Vax had brought her that she hadn’t been able to eat, the hours he’d spent sitting in the chair next to the bed and eventually when she was able, lying beside her, telling stories and chatting complete nonsense about whatever entered his mind just so the silence wouldn’t drive her mad. She couldn’t forget those mornings when he’d so patiently coaxed her up, helped her sit down in the shower fully clothed to let the water sluice the dirt off her skin and done her braid for her so neatly afterwards.

So much was foggy and piecemeal about those months but Vex would not forget those kindnesses. And she wasn’t going to let them pass unrepaid.

But there would be some left over, even if Vex would gladly have given it all over to Vax and Shaun, they’d more than earned it, but there was only so much she could stuff into the register at Shaun’s shop without being caught. It felt so freeing to have even that small amount in her bag, knowing no one would be asking her what she did with it or asking her to justify why she was allowed it. To have the freedom to buy something just because she could.

And she knew exactly what she wanted.

Of course there was a bell to ring out a cheery, brassy note as she pushed the door back. The inside was every bit as idyllic, if a little empty. There was no one else browsing the shelves, full of toys neatly organised into sections. There was an array of intricately painted wooden soldiers standing to attention, there was a zoo’s worth of hand sewn plush animals dominating one wall, a well stocked garage of intensely detailed vehicle models of all shapes and sizes and types. There were hand carved ships that looked ready to set sail in some child’s bathtub, miniature animals that were so lifelike Vex could picture them moving the instant her eyes left them. There were dollhouses ready for occupation, a circus set, rainbow kites hanging from the walls, jack in the boxes ready to spring, dolls beaming prettily up at her. There were even wooden swords and a tiny archery set that would have delighted her younger self.

It was like stepping into a child’s dream.

Vex hoped the emptiness was down to the lateness of the hour. Toys like this just deserved to belong to happy children and with Winter’s Crest approaching, she hoped they’d all find homes.

She was a little startled to see there was no one behind the counter either. Was there a closed sign she’d missed? But all the lights were on and the door had opened with its zealous announcement…

From a back room she could hear a saw going, grating through some material with a metallic rasp that somewhat dampened the illusion of having walked into a traditional Winter’s Crest poem. But it stopped, something that sounded wooden clattering off the floor, and footsteps in her direction. Vex forced her shoulders back from the tense, anxious set they tried to rise into, made her fingers unclench from the fists they wanted to make.

She was getting better at not immediately assuming every stranger was a threat to her but there would always be that first, sickening instant before catching herself. She told herself at least it was an improvement from being terrified to go outside just because there would be faces she didn’t know.

The man who stepped out of the back room so fit the name on the sign, so fit the whole aesthetic of the shop, that there was no doubt who he was. He was owlish, a snowy owl to be precise, with thick glasses (that on second glance were actually several lenses on some clever hinge) and hair that was feathery and stark white. He wore a thick leather apron, deep nicks and grooves all over it showing its wear, a simple collared shirt underneath like he’d been trying to dress like a shop owner but had gotten lost.

And when he saw her, he smiled as bright as the lights in his window.

“Good evening. Sorry, I’ll just be a moment…”

“If you’re busy, I can come back another time,” Vex said quickly, as he sat an actual hand saw on the counter by the register.

“No, please, you have my full attention,” he promised, wiping his hands off on his apron. She noticed he had a bandage wrapped around his thumb and old burn scars across his knuckles, “It’s my fault for getting distracted back there again. I keep forgetting it’s only me here and I can’t just spend all my time in the workshop.”

Vex smiled, though it was ever so slightly awkward to be the only customer in the shop. She wasn’t even fully certain what she wanted. Coming in here was starting to feel a little like a mad impulse born out of exhaustion and too much sugar.

“So...you are de Rolo?” Vex tilted her head.

“I am,” he smiled again, “Percy de Rolo. Just Percy is fine though.”

“Percy,” she nodded, not offering her name in return. She’d spent far too long with Saundor to give that up on a whim, no matter how far she stood from Shademurk right now.

It didn’t seem to bother Percy de Rolo in the slightest, he only looked at the snow caking her cheap work shoes and staining the bottom of her trousers, “The weather’s only gotten worse, hm? Here, have some tea.”

Vex opened her mouth, about to insist that he needn’t go to such trouble, but he’d already crossed to a small antique serving cart at the other end of the counter, where a pot was steaming invitingly and sugar and cream were neatly arranged around a sign that invited Please help yourself! in a neat, looping script. And she was thirsty, after all. The bakery had been busy today, there hadn’t been time for her break. As long as he wasn’t going to any extra trouble…

“Thanks,” she sighed gratefully as she accepted the mug, wrapping her bitten fingers around it’s warmth.

“Think nothing of it,” Percy folded his arms, “It is there as an apology mostly, for when I inevitably keep my customers waiting while I mess with something in the back.”

“What were you making?” Vex asked curiously, her eyes travelling over the shelves of handmade toys.

“Something new actually,” Percy’s voice flooded with enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up behind the thick lenses of his glasses, “I’ve been working on a new double bracketed hinge design for better articulation and more lifelike movement while keeping them invisible which is hard because often you’re sacrificing delicacy for ease of movement but with this one I was trying to see if…um…”

His face flushed and he bit down on his lip like he was physically stopping the words from coming, “Sorry. You don’t need me prattling on, what was it you came in for?”

Vex felt a smile tugging at her own lips but she held it back, fearing he’d take it as mockery. She just loved it when people who were very passionate about something talked about it. Vax did with the balance of different throwing knives, Shaun did it with magic and fine wines. Vex could have done it about her arrows or woodland animals, if thinking about those things didn’t still ache inside.

“I want to buy a Winter’s Crest gift for my son, actually.”

“Wonderful,” Percy inclined his head, sounding suddenly businesslike, “How old is he?”

“He’s only six months,” Vex explained, picturing him in her mind as she spoke, as her voice softened. The thick, black hair and dark skin that was all her’s, the round cheeks and pudgy little hands and feet and full stomach she was so grateful to see on him. The bright eyes and enormous, sharply pointed ears that weren’t hers but looked beautiful on him all the same. He was so small and yet so much bigger than he had been, growing faster than she felt she could keep up with sometimes. Becoming his own person so quickly.

“He’s only little but I wanted to get him something that he’d grow up with,” she continued, before the sadness settled into her throat and cut off her words, “Something he’d always have and keep even when he’s older and done playing with it.”

Percy smiled at that, “That’s the best gift we can give children, isn’t it? Happy memories.”

If there was a tinge of sadness to his voice, he’d moved on to the shelves before Vex would properly place it.

“So, what are his interests? Does he like animals, cars, boats? Things that make noise, things he can pull along…”

“He does like animals,” Vex smiled, thinking of how Raven would sit and watch the birds out of the window on a morning, reaching up his hands like he could grab them, how he’d stare with dark eyes wide and delighted at every dog that passed them on the street, how he’d only fall asleep if he was resting against Trinket’s side, “Um...forest animals, especially.”

Percy turned away from his menagerie of plush animals, looking at her with a sudden curiosity, “Oh really?”

Vex stiffened, taken aback by the surprise in his voice, like there was a joke he wasn’t sharing, “Yes. Bears and foxes and badgers and the like.”

But he was smiling that smile again, the one that lifted his wan face and made him look like an actual toymaker from a storybook.

“I think you were meant to come in here tonight, madam. I’ve got just the thing for you.”

Vex waited until he’d dived back into his workshop before wrinkling her nose. Madam? She’d never been madam to anyone, even after Syldor had claimed them. This certainly was a strange man she was dealing with.

When he returned, when she saw what was in his hands, she reclassified that. Percy de Rolo wasn’t simply strange. There had to be some magic about him.

“Here. It’s exactly what I was just working on when you came in!”

It was a bear. A perfectly carved, exquisitely life-like wooden bear with bright, intelligent eyes of dark glass and realistically painted fur that shone with lacquer. As Percy moved it, the limbs seemed to take on a life of their own, swinging and swaying with such natural looking movements it was as if the bear cub were sitting contentedly in the crook of his arm all by itself. A double bracketed hinge for better articulation and more lifelike movement, Vex thought, completely awed.

It was a perfect wooden recreation of the young bear she’d left sleeping on her bed back at home. A perfect little Trinket to protect her Raven.

“It’s…” Vex shook her head, no word seeming like it would be enough, “It’s perfect. It’s exactly what he’d love.”

Percy beamed, smiling as only an expert who’d shown just how much they excelled in their field could smile, “Wonderful! I do love when things fit together nicely. I’ll wrap him for you right away…”

“How much?” Vex asked, doing some wary maths in her head. So much work had gone into that bear, so much skill, multiple gold piece’s worth…

“Oh,” Percy blinked as if the thought had never crossed his mind, “Well...really, it’s not a finished product. This is just the prototype after all, I was testing the hinge design and there’s still some amendments I could make. Why don’t you just have it?”

Vex looked at him, alarmed, “Oh, I can’t. I can’t give you nothing in return for something so beautiful.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be,” Percy chuckled, some colour dusting his pale cheeks ever so slightly, “You’d be paying with a promise.”

“A...promise?” Vex asked warily.

“Call it market research. If you take this, you’d need to come back and tell me exactly what your son thought of it so I can improve the design. That’s what prototypes are for, of course.”

Vex relaxed, “Oh. I see.”

Promises weren’t something she made easily. She’d been caught by them before, lost years of her life to the wrong ones. But to this sincere man who spent his life making things to bring children happy memories, she didn’t see too much harm in that.

She found herself smiling, “Of course I can do that. It seems like a fair exchange.”

“Thank you,” Percy inclined his head, “You would be doing me a huge favour.”

Sure, Vex thought bemusedly. But it had been so long since she was given any sort of kindness by a stranger and the warm feeling it gave her was hard to let go of, like turning away from a fire when you were so cold.

Percy wrapped as skillfully as he seemed to do everything else. By the time he handed it to her, it looked so perfect that the idea of being able to give it to her son made her lower lip threaten to wobble.

“Thank you,” she said instead, holding it close to her chest, meaning it as sincerely as she could ever remember meaning anything.

The way Percy looked at her made her think he could guess at some of the thoughts behind her eyes. Whether he’d read it in her work attire, her worn down shoes, the fact that she’d mentioned a son but no partner or just the look on her face, she found herself not caring. For some reason, as long as she was in this shop it was like she was somewhere her walls and defences weren’t needed.

“It’s my pleasure to help you, madam,” Percy smiled softly, watching her to the door, “I look forward to seeing you again.”

Vex paused before going back out into the night, taking a moment to meet his eyes properly.

“Me too. And you can call me Vex'ahlia.”

[quicksiilver]

In My Father’s Eyes

A new series!

Summary:  An amateur New York City artist in her freshman year of college is journeying through life alone without a mother or father.  At nineteen she’s been through more than anyone older than forty could say.  Passionate about her art and her best friend, she finds one late night at work begins the story of her path to becoming the savior of many worlds.  Unexpected news of her family strikes her hard, but a new potential love interest with shared life experience eases the pain.

Part One: The Artist

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I’ve been writing this for some time now.. It’s not on any specific timeline, but if I had to place it it’d be as if Infinity War and Endgame never happened.  First time I’m posting a fic! Enjoy!

It was midnight on Saturday in New York City.  The bar I worked in religiously was getting ready to shut down for the night, the second bartender and my best friend Shaun and I getting started on our closing tasks.  We were on a street corner in the heart of Manhattan and we were always slammed, but tonight was unusually quiet.

Squatting down behind the bar I started stacking clean cups as Shaun wiped down the counter top.

“Pretty weird tonight, huh?” He asked.  Glancing to him and his shaggy blonde hair I nodded.

“In my years of working here I’ve never seen a night like this,” I sighed standing to my feet hurrying around the bar to turn off our lit up ‘open’ sign in the window.  Just as I got to it two men came in the door letting it violently swing shut behind them.  Slowly lowering my hand from the light switch Shaun gave me a sarcastic pout making me smile.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Shaun greeted them happily, setting up coasters in front of their chairs.  Both men had disciplined looks upon their faces as they spoke to one another.  The dark haired man with odd glasses on his face gave Shaun a subtle wave as they took off their coats and sat down.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Shaun nodded and took a step back.  I met him behind the bar and we both went into the kitchen.

“Just when I thought we’d be outta here kinda early tonight,” I groaned rubbing my hands over my eyes, “I’ve got such a busy day tomorrow, and it’s my only day off this week.”

“I got them, don’t worry,” Shaun shrugged his shoulders, “Why don’t you head out of here, shut off that sign and go home?” He turned to start scooping some ice into a bucket to take out to the men, and shot me a look over his shoulder raising an eyebrow.  I just watched him for a second before shaking my head.

“Are you sure?” I asked sweetly, feeling a tad guilty.

“Yeah,” He said with a smile, “I know you’ve got school stuff to deal with.  I got them,” He said again playfully, making it more clear to me.  I gave him a nod and a smile.  He returned it and then went to work taking the ice out to the guys ready to take their order.  Peeking around the corner of the kitchen I looked at the guys curiously.  They looked important and spoke secretively to one another, nearly on each others laps but not in a gay way.  One was dark and brooding, and the other seemed jockey and poised.  Neither were dressed as if they were people of importance, but they sure gave off the vibe they were.  The man in the glasses glanced up at me.  We held eye contact for only a moment before I felt a chill down my spine and the urge to turn away.  When I looked back Shaun was making their drinks and caught a look at me.

“Rachel,” He said sternly with a smile, “Go home,” He said at a whisper.  Sighing, I smiled, and uncomfortably made my way around the men at the bar to finish cleaning the place up.  I went around the place stacking the chairs on top the tables, making sure our menus were in the right places and switched off the sign in the window feeling eyes on me every now and then.  As I came around the counter for the last time so I could clock out at the monitor on the bar, I made eye contact with the other man and slightly stumbled over my feet.  He had soft eyes, and dirty blonde hair that fell perfectly on his head.  He had a polite poise to him, yet gave off a strong energy of raw man.  He was gorgeous.  His eyes were familiar, however, as if I had seen them before.  When I finished at the monitor I gave Shaun a quick hug, grabbed my keys and took myself home.

Midnight streets of the city used to scare me as a kid.  My friends used to tell me stories in school of homeless people who would turn into zombies once the clocks hit twelve, or how dangerous things get, especially once it’s dark out.  The stories would scare me so bad I ended up sleeping in my mom’s bed most of my childhood.  It was just her and I growing up, the two of us in a crappy apartment here in Manhattan.  She had me when she was young, only nineteen years old, but she made it work when she wasn’t in any trouble.  I adored her and loved her more than anything.  As a young child before I was in school we spent a lot of time outside walking the streets of the city or playing in Central Park.  Walking around the trees with flowers on them was my favorite place to be.  I can remember spring time and how we would go collect the flowers and put them around the apartment.  Sometimes we would lay down on the grass looking up into the sky and she’d pick petals off the flowers setting them on my nose or forehead.  She’d tell me stories, mainly fairytales, of far away places and magical beings.  I was obsessed with her rendition of The Little Mermaid.

She was great to me, we were best friends, but at the end of the day she was terribly messed up.  As soon as I was old enough to walk to and from school alone I would come home and she’d be passed out either on the couch or our bed.  Alcohol was her choice of poison.  The first time I found her I was seven years old.  I can remember putting a blanket on her and kissing her cheek saying goodnight as I went on to do my homework and eat Cheetos for dinner.

Around eleven it was mainly me in the apartment.  My mom went through a constant cycle of getting sober, then falling back in, then getting sober again.  I did my best to help her through it all while getting myself through middle school.  She had a job, she was a waitress at a diner for many years and it was her working there that gave me some experience for the bar.  The other women who worked there never seemed to mind if I sat there for hours waiting for my mom to finish a shift.  They would check up on me, bring me mac and cheese and sometimes desserts if I drew them a few nice pictures on the paper placemats.

When I was thirteen I started doing anything to make a buck.  Seeing an empty fridge and my mom struggling to pay our bills really forced me to grow up, fast.  I was taking out garbage for the tenants in our building for three dollars a bag, and babysitting anyone for five dollars an hour.  I tried to sell some of my moms drinks she had in our fridge, but I quickly learned that wasn’t a great idea.  I was a brand new teenager experiencing change alone when I should’ve had my mother there to help me.

By sixteen she was dragging.  It had become visibly clear to me that I no longer had a mother and that I was taking care of her instead of her taking care of me.  I got my full time job at the bar on the corner cleaning dishes, and she was stealing some of my money.  Confronting her about it was never an answer, and if I did she would break down.

I was seventeen when she died, and it broke me.  To grow up and watch someone you love fall apart in front of your eyes is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.  Walking into your home after a night of work to your mother on your kitchen floor.  She was thirty-six.  She didn’t get to see me graduate high school, she wasn’t here to watch me get accepted into a community college here in Manhattan, and she won’t be here for anything else.

Now at nineteen, the age she had me, I work full time at the bar doing everything.  I’m in my second semester of college studying art, something I’ve always loved, and I’m keeping myself on my feet in the apartment.  I swore to myself that day two years ago that I would never pick up a drink, and that will forever be something I stand by.

Pushing the building's gate open, I fought to close it because of how rusty it was and jiggled my keys around searching for the one for the front door.  I got myself inside and then started up the stairs taking them two at a time to reach the third floor.  I could hear music coming from my neighbors and a strong smell of marijuana which never fazed me, that's been normal since I can remember.

I locked my door behind me with my key and then slid the safety lock shut.  Kicking my shoes off at the door I took a deep breath and tossed my keys onto the table by the door.  I made my way into the living room, turned on the tiny tv and then turned into the kitchen to search the fridge for something to eat.

Settling for leftover cold pasta, I tore off the lid of the Tupperware and flopped onto my ancient couch.

The New York City news was going on about its upcoming spring festivals and I couldn’t help but feel excited for them.  I normally kept to myself now, but the few friends I have were into a lot of the things I was.  Shaun, who‘s my age, goes to the same school and is an English major, and two of our other friends, Jessica and Elliot, are art majors with me.  They’re a year older than Shaun and I.  All three of them still live home with their parents, and they’re all well informed with my situation and have been nothing but supportive.  This time of year we loved going out to parks and spending time in between our classes outside.  I couldn’t wait to be out in a green, grassy area drawing one of my friends as they posed for me.

My eyes were falling in love with the shots of flowers the news was showing that when my phone rang I didn’t even look away.

“Hello?” I answered distractedly.

“Rach!” It was Shaun.

“Hey, you seem a little too happy.”

“You know those two guys?  That came in?” He spoke quickly.

“Yes,” I answered and shoved two cold noodles into my mouth.

“They were... well I’m pretty sure that they were those guys?  You know the ones that did the whole thing?” He fumbled on every last word.

“Shaun... what!” I laughed audibly, adjusting myself in my seat.

“Avengers! Rach! Avengers!” Shaun shouted and I froze.  Avengers was a word the public hadn’t heard in years, at least me since I was in school.  New York City nearly went to shit years prior, but thanks to them we managed to bounce back, and even the last time they were big in the news the city could’ve been wiped out again.  I was thankful to still have my mom around during that time, and that none of my friends' families were affected.  It still amazed me we lived in a world where these people were real.

“Shaun... what?” I repeated my words in disbelief.

“Rachel, I swear.  The guy with the short dark hair and glasses? Tony Stark.  Iron Man,” He paused and I could hear a door shut and keys jingle.  He was just now leaving the bar, “And the other guy? Captain America!” He said proud of himself.  An image of the blonde guy at the bar popped into my brain and I nearly choked on a noodle.

“You good?” Shaun asked as I coughed.

“Yeah,” I said quietly once I could speak, “I’m just... holy crap!” My stomach did a flip.  Kids in school would brag about meeting an Avenger, some would even go as far as to pretend they had powers themselves and that they were one of them.  Shaun was a huge Avengers fan.  It was never in my lucky stars to meet an Avenger and I just so happened to be in the presence of two of them tonight.

“Ya know, I knew they seemed important,” I said shaking my head looking back to my tv screen, “Did you see the way they were talking?  Do you think something is going on?” I asked Shaun who gave me a simple answer back.

“Who knows, anything could happen.”

“True, remember the attack a few years ago? Who saw that coming,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m sure Cap did,” Shaun said confidently.  I could hear the smug smile on his face.

“Shaun, do you love the man?” I asked, both of us laughing.

“Maybe I do!” He scoffed, “Something the matter with that?”

“Not at all,” I said, “Get home safely please.  Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Of course we can,” He said.

“Okay,” I smiled then felt butterflies in my stomach once I remembered the men at the bar, “We saw Avengers!” I nearly screeched and Shaun laughed.  We cheered a bit more before saying goodnight and hanging up.

I cleaned up my spot in the living room heading into my bedroom.  Pulling my work clothes off of me, I tossed them to the floor beside a laundry basket that was nearing its limit, and walked into the bathroom meeting my reflection in the mirror.  My tired blue eyes were staring back.  Rubbing my fingers under them a few times I groaned at how dark the circles looked against my pale skin.  Turning on and leaning over the sink, I scooped some cold water in my hands and splashed it over my face looking back up into the mirror.

There was a long day ahead of me tomorrow.  Two projects are due next week by Friday and tomorrow is my only day off from working down at the bar.

I reached for a hair tie on the counter and pulled my dark hair into a bun on top of my head with a sigh.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face properly I turned back into my room, pulled a sweatshirt over my head and rolled onto my mattress burying myself in all the pillows I had come to collect over my nineteen years of life and fell asleep.

Thunder shook my apartment and I jolted awake, springing straight up in bed.  Lighting as bright as day struck the sky and soon after was another clap of dangerously loud thunder.  Muffled voices came from the living room, and after another rumble of thunder the voices turned into screams.

“Mama?” I called out, feeling my stomach start to flip.  I could hear her scream again as if she was shouting to someone else inside with her.  Swinging my legs over the side of the bed I jumped to the floor, my purple nightgown hanging below my knees.  My nails and toenails were painted pink and I had a temporary tattoo of Blues Clues on my arm.  My room continued the shake and the lightning kept striking.  I heard the wind outside pick up, the whistling coming through the windows.  Peeking out of one of them all I could see was the darkness of the sky and the tops of a few buildings, but no rain.  I wasn’t tall enough to see down to the ground yet.

“Mama?” I called out again, a bit louder this time getting closer to the closed door.

“Rachel,” She shouted, “Go to sleep!” Her voice was broken, she sounded like she was in trouble.  My stomach flipped again and I felt my heartbeat pick up.  If she was in trouble I wasn’t going to go back to sleep.  She taught me that if I was ever in trouble that I should call 911 and answer their questions.  I knew all of my information and everything about my mom.  I lifted a hand and turned the doorknob.  The phone was on the counter in the kitchen.  The bedroom door creaked open slowly and I looked out into the living room but didn’t see anything.  Taking two more steps out I found the phone on the counter with my eyes and felt proud.  I was going to make it.  As I was running for it, I looked toward the front door and saw my mom sitting on the floor against the door with her hands and legs locked up in a metal band that looked like they were shaped like snakes.  She was crying and she looked like she was hurt, she was bleeding on her face and her arms.  I slowed my running.

“Mama?” I pouted reaching a hand toward her.  The room fell silent and it seemed as if the entire world did too.  The thunder and lightning stopped, and so did the wind.  The noises that caused my mom and I to shout had all gone away.  I froze and watched her and she shook her head quickly side to side and cried.

“Rachel, go,” She begged, agony in her voice, “Go, go, go.”

“No,” A deep, gravely voice spoke.  Slowly looking beside her I found a man so tall he looked like he wouldn’t fit inside of our doorway.  It was dark so it was hard to figure out what he looked like, but it almost looked as if his skin was blue.

“Rachel,” He spoke again, coming closer to me.  My small feet walked me backwards as he came toward me, backing me against the living room wall.

“Baby, run!” My mother screamed, but before I could take off a large blue hand was grabbing onto me and picking me up.  I let out a piercing shriek at his cold touch and continued to scream the longer his icy hands held me in the air.

Suddenly I sat up in bed to the sound of my phone alarm going off beside me with a gasp.  Fumbling around for it, I shut it off and flopped back onto my pillows taking a long deep breath.  It wasn’t the first time I had dreamt something up like that.  As a kid my mother always told me how active of an imagination I had.  She influenced me to get into art by telling me to write about these dreams and draw pictures of what I saw.  There’s two notepads full of pictures of men and women like the man I just saw in that dream somewhere buried in my school things.  Elementary school teachers would scold my mom for letting me tell my stories and share with the other kids, but she allowed me to express myself and taught me to not be afraid of who I was, and I’m thankful for that because I live by it to this day.  I refuse to shrink myself for another human being which automatically didn’t make me too popular in high school.

Picking my phone up I swiped open to my messages between Shaun and I and told him about the dream.  Setting my phone back down I waited patiently for the ding and lifted it back up once I got it.

S: You haven’t had a dream like this in a few years.. right?!

I started to type a response, but he double texted me and read my mind.

R: Since my

S: Since your mom passed right?!

I deleted the words and nodded to myself.

R: Yeah.  I think it’s just me being stressed over this semester ending.

S: That seems fair enough?

R: It does.....

There was a moment before he texted back.

S: .....but?

I laughed at how well he knew me.  He knew more was coming.

R: ....but I would only dream these dreams whenever she got bad.

S: How old were you in the dream?

I paused and tried to remember the things that I saw.  The nail polish, the tattoo, the Little Mermaid nightgown.

R: Probably eight.

S: Right... and that’s when you were becoming more independent right? You were walking yourself to school and she was... starting to go through a rougher time.

R: You’re right.

A minute passed before either of us said anything.  Then we both sent a message at the same time.

R: What time do you work today?

S: You okay??

I laughed to myself and sent him a thumbs up.

S: Okay good...... and I open at 1 today.  It’s Sunday so it’s just me there.  You should swing by and hang out if you don’t work yourself too hard today!

R: Thanks Shaunyyy.  I probably will.

He sent me a heart and I smiled tossing my phone on the bed.  It was nine thirty and time for me to get started on this day.

Breakfast was the usual, an Eggos waffle in the microwave and a cup of almost burnt coffee because my pot was on the fritz.  I watched the news for a half hour to catch up on any life business I had the potential of missing, and then I showered and unpacked all of my art things on the kitchen table.  My paints were set out along with a few different sized canvases I had just bought after getting paid last Wednesday.  My two projects were simple.  One was for my color theory class, I needed to efficiently mix paint to create a proper color wheel with every color on there, and then add beside the wheel all the definitions to what each word meant.  This project being more than easy for me, I finished properly in almost an hour.  The second project, however, took me three.  It was for my regular painting class, and the assignment was to freestyle and create something that represented who we were as a person.

I scribbled for forty-five minutes on scrap paper trying to come up with a story about me and who I was and where I came from, but in the end I couldn’t see how anyone would find ‘Girl Grows Up Alone with Drunk Mother Who Dies and is Left More Alone’ interesting.  I was just another sob story everyone was tired of hearing.  I never even learned from my mother where we were from or how we ended up here.  It was just the two of us.  I never met any other family members.  I never even knew who my father was.  We never spoke about it, and I’ve kicked myself for it since she passed because I never asked her.

My eyes flickered between the blank canvas and the piece of paper I violated.  Grabbing the sheet I crumbled it in my hands, stood up from my chair and frustratedly threw the paper into the kitchen and watched as it bounced off a cabinet, onto the counter and rolled into the sink.  I got myself a glass of water and decided on a quick break to give my brain a rest.  Looking around the apartment sipping the cool water I let my mind wander.  I remembered the dream I had, and what I had said to Shaun.  It was clearly a stress dream.  Although, I thought, judging by the thoughts I had afterwards maybe it was a sign.  My mom influenced me to be an artist because of my dreams.  The dreams gave me an outlet, a different world to immerse myself in and create on a piece of paper.

I nearly dropped my glass on the floor.  Setting it down I hurried back to the table and began mixing some blue paint.  I was going to go back to my roots, where it started.  The visions that got me into art.

By the time I was finished I was more than proud.  My arms were covered in shades of white and blue, but I was happy.  My mind had traveled while I was mid-painting and the canvas turned into a world I had never seen before.  The people were from my dreams, but the world and scenery around them came from somewhere else inside of me.  It was clearly fantasy, but beautiful.

Glancing to my phone I had a missed call from Shaun from five minutes ago.  The time read two fifteen.  Wiping off what paint I could on my hands and arms, I tapped on Shaun’s name to call him back.

“Hey!” He answered at nearly a whisper seeming excited.

“Hey, I just got done,” I said slipping my shoes on, “I feel like a mess but I want to come hang out down there.”

“Uh, yeah,” Shaun said sarcastically and I laughed, “Rach, they’re back.” I paused and raised my eyebrows.

“The Avenger’s guys?” I asked, slipping on shoes.

“Mhm,” He said, “They just got here.  That’s why I called you before.  It’s just the two from last night.”

“That’s crazy,” I said, “Kinda weird.”

“Not weird for me, I’m loving this!” Shaun said. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was cheesing behind the phone.

“Shaun, I’m sorry, but Captain America is not going to have a crush on you,” I laughed out loud grabbing my keys and leaving my apartment.

“Shut up, Rachel,” He groaned.

“I’m on my way now, and beware!” I teased, “I’m a little hangry!”

“Nacho’s coming right up,” Shaun said and I hung up with a small thank you.

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

I wanna hearing about Paige's family with #5.

Super detailed questions about your OCs

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

HOO BOI my friend, you have volunteered for an infodump. I’m putting in a read-more cut to prevent dash clogging.

Paige was the second-to-last child out of five, with three brothers and one sister. 

Isabelle [Bella, Belle] -- the eldest, Paige’s sister and seven years older than her. Basically ended up as built-in babysitter/second mom. Paige calls her Izzy and is the only one who is allowed to call her that [anyone else will get whacked, including Bella’s husband]. Their relationship when Paige was a kiddo was pretty strained; Paige grew up running wild with her brothers whilst Isabelle, the eldest daughter of a very conservative and publicly religious family, was constantly being watched and judged on how responsible she was and how well she was growing into a ‘lady’ as she was expected to do. Meanwhile Paige, as the younger daughter and surrounded by boys, was excused for more wild behavior and often given a flavor of the ‘boys will be boys’ pass when she got into trouble until she hit puberty and suddenly got whacked in the face with more feminine expectations. 

Somewhere in Paige’s early teens, she and Izzy had it out in an honest to goodness, full-on fight, wherein Izzy accused Paige of being a spoiled brat who was incapable of understanding just how hard it was to hold up under everyone’s expectations, and Paige threw it right back by calling those expectations petty bullshit and questioning why Izzy didn’t just toss it all out if she hated being a lady. The two grew apart after that, maintaining some sisterly affection but mostly not getting in each other’s way. Izzy taught Paige how to look after her hair when she started growing it out, taught her how to do make-up, gave her advice on clothes and shoes for interviews, that sort of thing. 

They both ultimately stayed at arm’s length until Shaun was born, at which point Izzy had reached out to try and reconnect. She and her husband had been living in Pennsylvania when the bombs fell. Izzy’s family was well off enough that they might have gotten a spot in a vault, but Paige hadn’t been keeping up with them enough to know whether or not they’d registered...

Ethan -- eldest brother, five years older than Paige, she always looked up to him as her cool older brother. He and his friends had a garage band when he was a teen, but he gave it up when their parents put pressure on him to start figuring out something ‘real’ to do with his life. Music became a beloved hobby, noodling about on his guitar when he could get away with it, but never when their father was home, as he’d threatened to smash it on more than one occasion. 

Like Isabelle, Ethan was often leaned upon to be more adult than he actually was, looking after his younger siblings but with a touch more wiggle room. Where Isabelle was very much considered the one with full parental authority, and thus expected to enforce the rules to their fullest extent, Ethan allowed Paige, Daniel, and Zach to get away with the occasional mischief with a wink and a smile that assured them he didn’t see anything. 

Besides music, Ethan also had a gift of gab that made him excellent at talking himself and his siblings out of any trouble-- something he and Paige shared, and the two would get into deep arguments over tiny things as a kind of sport. At school a teacher encouraged him towards debate club and theater, and he participated in multiple school productions before, again, their parents reminded him that artistic careers were more fantasy than anything to build your life around. Instead, they pushed him towards law, which he fucking hated but attempted to make them happy.

He dropped out after his first year of college, arriving at home with black dyed hair, two tattoos and three piercings he hadn’t had when he left for school, giving their parents the finger, and all but disappearing when Paige was fourteen. Nineteen years old, he was technically an adult, his their parents couldn’t drag him back. Dad doesn’t talk about Ethan, and mom would cry when he was mentioned. Paige worried he died chasing a dream for the longest time, until she left for law school and started getting postcards-- turned out Ethan was still in contact with Izzy, and had embraced his musical career [and all the hardship that came with it] with everything he had. 

Last Paige heard, Ethan had been somewhere on the western seaboard when the bombs fell. She finds it unlikely that he, or any descendants of him, survived... though, if he went ghoul, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was still living the traveling musician life two centuries later. 

Daniel [Danny] -- middle brother, two years older than Paige, and oldest of the trouble trio. Daniel, Paige, and Zach were always the three making messes together as young kids, running wild, exploring the backwoods on the family farm, finding fun and odd ways to get chores done, and generally being kids. Danny was the tough one out of the three of them; easily the biggest out of all of Paige’s siblings and the one who got in people’s faces if anyone was messing with anyone else in the family. 

Danny and Paige frequently butted heads; they were both stubborn as hell and outspoken, and before Paige was expected to be more lady-like it very regularly came to blows. It’s thanks to Danny that Paige knew how to squirm out of most holds by the time she was an adult, even if the other person was larger than her, and exactly which soft spots to shove her elbows or heels into. This tendency towards brawling changed as they got older, however, as Danny realized that Paige was going to be a petite woman her entire life and went out of his way to teach her some honest-to-goodness self-defense tactics after hearing a few of his friends say a few... off color things about his sister. 

Danny stayed in Minnesota to attend a trade school, finding work in the automation industry; installing and maintaining machines used for mass manufacture. He married almost immediately out of highschool, and the timing of his first kid suggests that his wife was pregnant before the wedding. Paige kept in contact with him, and Danny actually made the trip out to visit her when Shaun was born. While Paige suspects that he’s dead, unless of course he ended up ghoul, she has occasionally speculated that if Danny and his family survived the initial bombing? He had practical skills that might have seen him through long enough to have descendants that survived to the present day.  Zachariah [Zach] -- the youngest, a year younger than Paige and her childhood partner in crime. Zach, like Paige, was kinda on the small side. Unlike Paige, Zach was also intensely shy in a family full of outspoken, opinionated, stubborn mules. It wasn’t that he didn’t have opinions, mind-- rather that he had a lot of trouble putting the words together to express them. Zach would often stick with Paige like her second shadow, because Paige was very good at picking up on what he meant to say to others and saying it for him, or re-iterating when he spoke too quietly and he got ignored. 

That said, Zach was often the mastermind behind what he, Paige, and Danny got up to as little kids-- quiet, but quick witted, and a grade-A prankster. 

As adolescents, Zach and Paige were occasionally confused for being twins despite there being a year difference between them. Their faces were strikingly similar, with Zach having deeply brown eyes rather than Paige’s hazel being the main difference. Sometimes their mischief would play into this, and Paige was allowed to get away with many things as a young teen simply by virtue of being mistaken for her brother. 

When Ethan ran out on the family, Zach was probably the one most deeply effected by it, and Paige did everything she could to support him at the time. They both looked up to Ethan, but Zach even more so because he was also musically inclined and had been learning the drums from one of Ethan’s friends. Sometimes the band even let him do some kind of back-up percussion when they were practicing before their father shut it down, and it was during those practice sessions that Zach tended to really light up. When Ethan left? Zach fell deeply into depression for a long time, and Paige felt like it was her responsibility to hold him up lest she lose another brother. 

Despite being the often-overlooked child in the family, Zach had damn near perfect grades... and yet, their parents appeared to lack specific expectation for him. Rather, the had a vague assurance that he’d simply do well at whatever he decided to do, and Zach confided in Paige that he had no idea what to do with his scholastic success-- that it didn’t feel real to him. That he wasn’t a person, but rather a mass of goo that could just be poured into whatever shape worked best for the people around him. 

Paige still regrets not having any good advice for him. Last she heard, he’d gone to school to pursue an engineering degree, like their father; imitating a ready example. She suspects that he might have gone after something musical, if not for what happened with Ethan, and that his choice paralysis was a form of avoiding even thinking about that kind of rebellion. Like Danny, Zach’s schooling didn’t take him far from the family home, and he still lived in Minnesota at the time of the bombing. He was, at the time, unmarried. Given time to think further on it, Paige actually suspects that Zach might have been some form of closeted due to still being close to the family and their parents intense involvement with the church. Thinking about that always makes her wish she’d been there for him more, that she’d been smarter and figured out what he’d been dealing with and helped him handle it better. 

Like everyone else, Paige is pretty sure Zach is dead... and he’s probably the one she’s mourns the most, because it feels like he never really got to live in the first place. 

[incomingalbatross]

Psych, Shaun and Juliet!

Hmm!

So... I don't think Shawn is much of an internet guy, honestly. My impression is that he browses for information (useful and otherwise) quite a bit, but he much prefers his social life to be IRL, face-to-face interaction, even if it's casual.

So, because of that--and because you'd probably have to move them around in time ANYWAY--I think I would probably do this by putting twenty-something Shawn and Jules in the present. As in, during quarantine.

Quarantined Shawn is, unsurprisingly, going out of his mind with cabin fever. He's in some random town in the US, where he was only planning to stay for a couple weeks but surprise! Now he's in his small, probably-not-quite-legal rental for the duration. He does get a grocery store job, which gives him something to live on and something to do, but it's not exactly fun work and the lack of recreational activity/interaction is seriously messing with him.

HOWEVER, it's 2020 and that means there are at least a lot of options for long-distance hanging out with Gus.

This means that, before too long, Gus talks him into ordering a Switch so he can see Gus's Animal Crossing island

(I know NOTHING about AC except all the Tumblr content, but that's enough to know it's exactly the kind of thing Shawn and Gus would get sucked into)

Shawn makes his own Pineapple Island, full of custom pop-culture stuff and MANY pineapples, and quickly becomes very engrossed in making it the Best Island Possible, because he has nothing else to focus on! This involves finding ways to make trades with other players

Enter Juliet (FINALLY) who is ALSO under quarantine stress in Miami and using AC to escape

Shawn tries to get the best of her in a deal

He does not succeed

Impressed by this, Shawn stays in contact with her and makes a better second impression. They "visit" back and forth

Jules's island is VERY cute, but she's also ruthless in running it the way she likes it

At some point they have a disagreement over something trivial, and Jules challenges Shawn to single combat

Shawn: "...I hate to break it to you, but this game doesn't have a combat mode?"

Jules: "There are other games."

She ALSO plays first-person-shooters, as it happens, and they end up arranging to meet in one and go head-to-head

Shawn is not a gamer, but he gets on early and figures out the mechanics, and he's a quick study with an excellent grasp of tactics

Jules wipes the floor with him

She is EXPERIENCED. She's a MUCH higher level than him, and has the skills to back it up

But what Shawn does get out of this is the realization that the challenge and adrenaline of FPS are also fun, and he starts playing with her there too

...Now they have voice chat

As one of them is Shawn, they talk a lot. This is where they really become friends, though they still don't know a lot of IRL Facts about each other. At some point Jules starts joining him and Gus sometimes when they're streaming cartoons together

BUT. Sometimes in the heat of virtual combat, Jules starts slipping into cop lingo. And Shawn responds automatically, because he knows this stuff, and since he's not always sure what's common knowledge and what isn't it takes a while to make him wonder about Jules

But eventually he asks where she learned it, and she goes "...I don't really tell people this often, online, but. Yeah. I'm a police officer"

And Shawn doesn't let his reaction show over the mic (just says, when she returns the question, that "my dad was a cop" in a closed-off sort of tone), but after they part ways he sits there, in his tiny apartment, with all his Henry Issues rushing forward, thinking I've fallen for a COP

"HOW COULD THE UNIVERSE DO THIS TO ME, GUS"

He decides he can live with it, though. He doesn't actually dislike the police as a whole, and he can be a supportive friend at least, right?

At some point he finds out she was getting ready for her detective's exam when quarantine started, and he goes "Oh, I could help you study, I took that when I was 16"

He DOES help, but this also leads to Shawn's Cop Skills being revealed to her

Somewhere in here, I think, they have a late-night conversation about Jules's dad and why she's a cop, and Shawn's dad and why he's not a cop

Fun Fact: I'm pretty sure at this point in canon Jules and Henry BOTH live in Miami

If not, well, it's already an AU 🤷

At some point Shawn finds out she lives in Miami

"...If you ever get a call about a cantankerous old coot named Henry Spencer," he says a couple hours after that, "let me know how he's handling this? Because Gus says he says he's fine, but he's probably going crazy alone without anyone else's rule-breaking to disapprove of. *chuckle* He's probably reduced to yelling at the TV."

So... Jules looks up the name, and finds Henry's called in some tips to the Miami PD over time (he IS a Spencer), though not recently

And

Here's the thing

Jules WANTS to respect her friend's privacy, and his obviously-superior knowledge of his own relationships... But she is a bit of a Meddler. And she ALSO wants Shawn to be able to have a better relationship with his dad, even if it's just the level of HER not-close-but-amicable parallel

And she's heard enough frustration and hurt and occasional wistfulness in his voice to think that, on some level, he really wants that too

So she makes up a reason to meet Henry Spencer, at six feet apart--something police-related, I don't know, maybe just driving through the neighborhood "checking up on people"

And... He's nice. Since he's also starved for human company, it's easy to get your conversation, and he has a lot of good advice to give her as a young officer.

He says he'd offer her cookies if it weren't for the contagion issues (Henry would be a quarantine baker, this is just a fact)

Jules knows that "likeable" and "good parent" don't have to corolate, of course, but she's surprised by how much she likes him

And then "loved ones currently out of reach" come up, because Quarantine Topics

Henry goes on a bit of a rant about his son who's who-knows-where, allergic to authority, and has ZERO sense of self-preservation. "His friend SAYS he's fine, but it's hard to imagine him keeping quarantine, you know? If he is, he's probably bored out of his mind..."

It's not hard to get Henry talking about Shawn

There's bitterness and disapproval there, and stuff Jules disagrees with... But there's pride, too, and fondness, and worry

She leaves sure of two things: A) she still wants him and Shawn to make up, and B) she's going to have to tell Shawn about this, because it feels wrong to keep it a secret

(Shawn is angry, but eventually she gets him to understand that her only real desire here is for him to be okay and not have to carry this hurt around)

(and he's also invested in hearing what she can tell him about his dad)

(so he's okay with her going back)

I'm not sure how things develop here, exactly, but Jules gets closer to Henry and Shawn over time (and Gus! Gus is helpful to this project, as well, though he doesn't want to take sides AT ALL)

I think Jules just ends up being in the right place, at the right time, to be a bridge between them

Eventually Henry and Shawn get in direct contact for the first time in years. It's still difficult, but Jules sets up some weekly game thing for the four of them, and just spending time together helps

Also! Jules has been talking about hard cases with Shawn for a while, but now they come up in the group as well. Watching BOTH the Spencer men solve something together is very impressive...

And at some point they start playing a puzzle game together, just the two of them. They fight, of course, but when the intellectual thrill outweighs their bad blood and they get on the same page, it's... Something to watch. And eventually this teamwork becomes a more consistent thing, and they can beat Gus and Jules at certain types of games, now, as a team

(Also, Words With Friends. Henry is very offended by all the "words" this game allows, which delights Shawn immensely)

Anyway this is why, when the quarantine lifts, the first place Shawn goes will be Miami

He'll see his dad, of course, but first he'll wait outside the Miami precinct for a certain Detective O'Hara (whose name and face he knows by now, of course)

"Excuse me, miss, would you like to see my island?"

"Shawn!"

And then he asks her out.

Jules... Likes him. She knows that. But she tells him she can't do an on-again, off-again thing with him, and if he doesn't know where he's going to be in a year, or five years, or if he'll ever settle anywhere...

He tells her he's actually been thinking, with everything that's happened recently, about being a detective for real. He can't be a cop, but he can be a PI... Not without Gus, though, which means moving home and setting up shop in Santa Barbara. "I do want this to be a real thing, Jules, you and me. It would have to be long-distance, at least for now, but..."

She dimples suddenly, looking up at him. "I think we've proven we can do long-distance, Shawn."

[avecorviidae]

Fic: mainlining the spiraling spherical truth of the universe

Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: T Relationship(s): Male Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Male Sole Survivor & Shaun Word Count: 5012

Ao3 Link

Toby descends into the Institute to find a son that's old enough to be his father, and despite that, still looks at him with a very careful sort of vulnerability as he walks with him through the pristine white laboratories, introduces him to his heads of staff, shows him orderly living quarters and serene recreational areas, looks at him sidelong like he's always waiting for Toby's reaction, like he wants him to be proud.

And there's a part of him that wants to pull his son close to him, and tell him, yeah, it's fantastic, this thing you've built, I'm proud of you, I love you.

But Toby knows what the Institute does. He's been smuggling synths out of here with the railroad for months, and they're fucking terrified, gun-shy and shaking, watching over their shoulders for the coursers that will surely, inevitably come to reclaim Institute property. and the way Shaun talks about the folks above ground - so dismissive, as though the towns and cities and communities and bonds, the buildings and the families and the love and the art that people on the surface have created, don't matter because it's not pure, not clean,and he just as much wants to grab Shaun by the shoulders and shake him, go, don't you know that I'm one of those people? That you ought to have been too? That it's beautiful up there? That in the face of all this awful fucking shit, I've found people that have, against all odds, refused to be anything but kind?

So Shaun says, "What do you think of my home? Of everything I've built here?"

And Toby says, "I'm sorry. This wasn't what I wanted for you. This place, it's beautiful, but it's not the world I'm from. It's not a world I can ever be a part of. And you can run your lungs dry justifying every awful thing I've ever seen the Institute do by saying it was a mistake, or for the greater good of mankind, but I'm sorry, kid, the mankind you've got down here isn't any better than the mankind I’ve got up there. I love you, and I am so fucking glad I’ve found you, but I can't support you with this. The things you do here - it's gotta change."

"Please," Shaun says, "Father, let me show you- the work we've done down here-"

And Toby just shakes his head, and says, "I've seen the work you've done. I’ve seen the people it's hurt. That's enough for me."

There is a hard, tight hug, and some tears, and Toby leaves the Institute with his son's permission and blessing, and in the seconds before Toby relays out, they look at each other with hard, tight eyes, and Shaun's got a look about him, stubborn and angry, and Toby, with a sinking sense of dread, thinks, that's my boy,'cause if he's a bullheaded little shit, then he got that from Toby and not a damn place else.

.

“Aw, hell,” Nick mutters, as soon as he finds it. “Guerra? Think you might wanna see this,” he calls over his shoulder to the other room of the abandoned house, where Toby and his terrifying friend had been digging through cabinets looking for unexpired food.

Eli appears in the doorway a moment before Toby does, hand already drifting to the holster at her hip. “Christ,” she says softly, as soon as she looks down, sees the baby sitting on the filthy floor at Nick’s feet, gnawing happily on its chubby fist. It’s about the fifth word he’s ever heard her say, he thinks, and definitely the one with the most feeling behind it.

“Nick?” Toby calls, as he rounds the corner, “Everything alri- Oh. Oh.”

In a moment flat he’s crouched on the floor, waving fingers at the little one’s face to catch its attention. “Hey sweetheart,” he says gently, all bright and smiling. “What are you doing alone all the way out here, huh?”

Pointless question, really. Toby knows as well as Nick does that there’s no good answers to it. Whoever the kid was with before was either dead, or ought to be dead for deciding to leave it behind.

Toby grabs it under the arms and scoops it up, tucking it snugly against his hip. It makes a hiccupping, surprised little noise, looking at Toby with wide, guileless eyes.

(He oughtn’t call the kid an it, really. Most of the humans he knows have been nice enough to do him the courtesy of a pronoun, he can at least return the favour.)

“Okay, sweetpea, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.” He’s talking to her in a low, sorta sing-song voice, swaying gently, and it’s right around then that Nick remembers that Toby’s got a kid. Well, it’s not as if he forgot, it’s practically the first thing the guy says to half the people they meet, I’m looking for the man who took my son. But this is the first time Nick’s looked at him and really understood what that means. ‘Cause it’s gotta be some paternal instinct, right? The way he comforts her like he’s not even thinking about what he’s doing, like it comes as easy to him as breathing.

She’s been alone long enough to be soiled, so Toby sends Eli off to look for a metal washbasin, pours some of their purified water in there, warms it over the fire for good measure. Grins when he dips her little feet in there to let her test the temperature and she starts to giggle and kick, splashing him right in the face. She seems delighted with the bath in general - Nick guesses he would be too, if he’d been waddling around in a stinking diaper for however long. (He sometimes gets - phantom memories, he supposes, of what it’s like to have a human body. Sometimes feels a strange nostalgia for the sensation of hunger, or genuine, non-battery-related exhaustion. He has never once missed the ability to excrete.)

Toby’s only got eyes for the kid, all attentive and careful as he cleans her off, and Nick finds himself making an awkward sort of eye contact with Eli, who shrugs slightly, expression as blank and unreadable as it’s ever been. She’s sat herself down cross-legged on the rug, ostensibly relaxed, but Nick’s travelled with enough mercs, knows she’s one of the smarter ones, knows how carefully she’s positioned herself, sat between Toby and the door, rifle across her lap, angled towards the open window. It had used to make Nick nervous, how careless Toby seemed, like he’d never been taught to watch his own back. Guess he gets it better now, the idea of having someone that you trust enough to watch your back for you. He feels safer these days, walking into a room full of strange humans, with Toby at his side, fending off any synth-averse sentiments with a truly aggressivedegree of cheeriness.

“Are you old enough to talk?” Toby asks, to absolutely no response from the babbling kiddo. Still, she’s clearly charmed with Toby, like just about everyone is, and she’s watching him with big, happy eyes as he chats at her. “Can you say... Toby? To-by?”

She laughs, and Toby snorts, swipes a little booger from under her nose, and Nick’s struck again by how unthinkingly he does it, like it’s just second nature to him. “Alright, maybe that’s too hard. Let’s try... Can you say aaaaahhhh?” He goes all dramatic with it, roars like a little deathclaw, and the kid laughs, delighted, and copies him, screeching with all her tiny little lungs can give.

“Awesome, sweetpea! And look at those teeth! You’ve got a whole bunch! Think you can handle some tato stew?”

She’s got no idea what he’s saying, of course, but she’s very agreeable as he lifts her out of the water and pats her dry with one of his clean shirts, dresses her as best as he can given their limited supplies.

Feeding babies is, apparently, a spectacularly messy process, but Toby seems inexplicably delighted to have half of a perfectly good meal splattered down the fronts of him and the kid.

“We’re, what, five hours from Diamond City?” Toby says, eyes not leaving the kid as he waves a spoon enticingly in front of her face, trying to coax her to open her mouth.

“Six, if we take the long way around Hangman’s Alley,” Eli says, almost making Nick jump out of his circuits. She says it real neutral-like, almost careful, makes no mention of the fact that they’d packed for a week out in the wasteland, a job for Nick’s agency, nearly halfway from here to Sanctuary, with no plans to turn back.

“Six,” Toby repeats. “Okay. We’ll catch a few hours’ sleep here, set off at dawn. Someone in the city will be able to take her in.” The kid finally takes her spoonful, only a little of it dribbling down her chin this time. There’s an odd, hard set to his face that makes Nick some weird sorta mix between nervous and sad, a kind of seriousness that doesn’t often touch Toby unless it’s something to do with Shaun, or the gal that Kellogg killed, his life before. Makes Nick almost want to rest a hand on his shoulder, say, look, she’s sweet, but you know you can’t keep her. not now, not here. she ain’t a lost mutt that you’ve found in an alley, and she can’t be what you’re looking for, not when you’re still following leads on your boy. But Toby knows that, doesn’t he? It’s why they’re heading back at dawn. Why he’s going to knock on the schoolhouse and ask around for any families that’d be able to care for a kid her age, why he’s holding her so close on his lap now, his nose and lips pressed into the dark, downy hair on her head. He knows, maybe better than any of them, what he can’t have.

.

Despite that - Toby does go back. Gets a message on his Pip Boy from Shaun, asking if he would like to visit, for coffee. They sit in a careful, studied sort of silence at the table, Toby sipping on the freshest fucking coffee he's had in 200 years and feeling conscious of the fact that he's probably leaving dust and various other wasteland detritus all over Shaun's bright fucking white chairs

"I just-" Shaun starts, shakes his head. “You're from before. When everything was pristine, when humanity was striving forwards. We're doing that, here, now, looking to the future. How can you support the people up there, stuck in the filth and ruins of the past?"

Toby leans back in his chair, sighs. "Forward isn't necessarily a straight line. Sure, back in the day, we had working air conditioning and fancy vending machines, but the way I was- the way I am- was illegal. It was an unkind fucking world, and all the shiny trinkets didn't do a whole lot to hide that people were paying a few hundred bucks a month for medication that they needed to live. Down here—you’ve got the science down, I won't deny it. Clean food and water, medication, synthetic life. The kind of shit we read comics about when I was a kid. But up there? Shaun, they've made art. You can't walk thirty feet in Diamond City without hearing someone playing guitar, there's murals on old billboards, I once met an old church choir made up entirely of ghouls. Here, you're taking care of the body, but Shaun, humanity needs a soul."

The kidbot - Toby can't bring himself to think of him as Shaun, despite the fact that he's got Toby's eyes and freckles and smile - steps into the room with something in his hands, freezes in the doorway when he sees Toby sat at the table.

"I was just-" he starts, looking back at the door like he's thinking of bolting.

"It's alright, don't mind me," Toby says softly, waving the kid in.

"What did you need, Shaun?" Shaun says. Fuck, that's going to get weird fast.

The kid shuffles his feet, something guilty about his face. "I was trying to make my remote control car go faster, but I think I broke it." He holds the little shiny red racecar up to Shaun and Toby for inspection. Toby's actually got a similar one back at the house in Sanctuary, blue paint fading to an off-green, some rust gathered around the wheels. He'd managed to fix up a little motor in it to make it go one night, and he and Hancock had spent half the night racing it against a rat. Good times.

Shaun peers over to inspect the car with a distant sort of interest, but Toby can see where the kid's gone wrong. He's always been good at that shit, fiddly little stuff to do with his hands. Besides, his dad taught him his way around a motor back when he lived out west and they had the truck, and he fixed garage doors for a while when he and Val were trying to get on their feet in Boston.

"Give it here?" He holds out a hand for the car, and the kid hands it over. It takes him a couple minutes of fiddling with the multi-tool he keeps in his coat pocket, but he returns the car with a perfectly functional suped-up battery, and the kid grins when he sets it down and sends it careening off out of the room and down the hall, says, "Hey, thanks!" and runs off after it.

The door slides closed behind him, and Toby finds that he's smiling softy after him, and when he turns back to Shaun, he's looking at him oddly. Do you think you would be capable- Shaun had asked, that first day, Of loving a synth? As though it were a human?

Toby knows he is, as surely and intimately as he knows every crack and tear along the seams of Nick Valentine's face, knows the whirring and clicking of machinery under the skin when he's lying with an ear to Nick's chest, the black metal of his spindly hand tapping an arrhythmic beat on Toby's shoulder.

"Don't you know what you've made, with synths? the Gen 3s, they have free will, they feel.They're feeling for the first time, it's incredible."

Shaun tuts dismissively. "They're just machines. They cannot feel. The Gen 3s have some errors which seem to cause them to behave... erratically. The defects, they are violent and dangerous, and cannot be allowed to roam free."

Toby raises a single, skeptical eyebrow. Shaun wilts, just a little, and Toby realizes that he's just given his son his first ever I’m not mad, just disappointedlook. What an exciting moment in his parenthood journey. "Yeah," he drawls, "so violent and dangerous that they desperately run away from the coursers that want to bring them back to be dissected, and go looking for help and shelter, usually blending in peacefully into human settlements in an effort to live a normal life and find a purpose. Real terrifying. Shaun, jesus, this is what I'm talking about. You've created people, and you have the chance to care for them, to guide them into being a person, and you're treating them like defective equipment! Up there, at least, they can find community. They can find home."

.

You’ve never personally met the General of the Minutemen.

Which, like, you get it. He’s this big important guy, right? Dragged the Minutemen out of ruin and obscurity singlehandedly, spreading goodness and justice wherever he went, and you’re just a farmhand from fuckoff nowhere. You and your folks joined up with the Minutemen because it was your best shot at protection from the local gangs of raiders and other assorted scumbags that tended to make your lives miserable, and all the righteous justice and fun uniforms and shit were just a bonus. Still, you believe in it, right? And you’re grateful. So when the radio call comes through that Garvey and the General want to retake Fort Independence, set up a big fuckoff stronghold, yeah, you want to get involved. You’re twenty-nine and pretty much the most exciting thing you’ve ever shot is a real sad looking radstag, so you’re pretty excited at the prospect of some real action.

When you roll up to the diner across the wharf from the old fort, there’s a few campfires burning all around it, sleeping rolls and tents and scattered packs, folks sitting around on upturned cars and half-rotted benches, cleaning rifles and gnawing on jerky and passing around canteens. Preston Garvey, the biggest bigshot the minutemen had before the general came along, greets you at the door of the diner with a big smile and a clap on the shoulder, tells you to make yourself comfortable, introduce yourself to your brothers in arms. apparently the general’s travelling from pretty far west, and he’d had to detour south to rendezvous with an ally of theirs, so it’d be a few days yet before they mounted the attack on the fort.

There’s folks from all over the commonwealth here, and all sorts. Salt-of-the-earth farmers like yourself, hoity-toity Diamond City types, rough mercenary-looking people, all breaking bread and listening to the radio, singing along to the same five fucking songs, and you’re right there along with them, sipping whiskey and drunkenly drawling Johnny Guitar into the shoulder of one of your comrades.

The General arrives near sunset, and if Garvey hadn’t greeted him as such, you’d never have guessed it. You’re not sure what you expected – maybe a big buff blonde guy waving the star spangled banner, maybe someone more like Preston Garvey himself, big tough freedom type – but it wasn’t the unassuming kid who pulls Garvey into a brief, warm hug, grinning wide as Garvey claps him on the shoulder. You wouldn’t put him at older than twenty-one, and he’s small, got this kinda delicate look about him, all freckles and big puppy eyes and bouncy, curly hair in a cute little ponytail at his neck. He looks soft, and you’re pretty fuckin’ sure that he’s not really the General. Like, okay, maybe he’s got the title, but it’s cause somebody’s his daddy, right? Something like that. Anyways, he’s just some ditzy, pretty kid who smiles at folks and tells them everything’s gonna be okay, and Garvey’s gotta be the real brains of the operation, the one who does all the bloody, dirty work to make it happen.

The attack is being mounted at dawn, and when y’all are gathered round for the strategy meeting, you figure Garvey will take point on explaining everything while the kid smiles and nods along. Still, he seems to have half an idea what he’s talking about as he points to things on the map of the fort, asks questions about fortifications and potential choke points, takes shit into account when Garvey or one of the other more experienced vets chimes in with an idea. It’s just weird to see, you guess. This bright-eyed, smiley kid squatted on his haunches, his pouty, round face all serious as he stares down at a war plan. Fuck’s sake, he’s still got baby fat clinging to his cheeks, he looks younger than your baby cousin.

The plan, such that it is, is not the most complicated thing you’ve ever heard. There’s a bunch of slimy monsters holed up in the fort. You and your comrades will storm the fort, and shoot the monsters. Simple enough. Some of you will be scattered around outside, taking the high ground and moving up to the turrets once the towers have been cleared, to provide ranged support and catch any little bastards who try to escape down the hillside. You’ve all got a nice little stockpile of frag mines to take care of the egg clutches. Gross. You reckon it’ll work, though.

“Gonna let y’all go to catch some sleep before we get this started tomorrow,” the General says, addressing his little crowd of soldiers as a whole. “But just wanted to say one thing, so listen up. If you find yourself shit out of luck tomorrow – if you’re cornered, run out of ammo, get too scared, too tired, too hurt to keep fighting? Run. Scram. Get the hell out of dodge. I know it’s the coward’s move, I know it doesn’t make for a good story, I know it feels like deserting. I know you probably joined the Minutemen because you believed in it, believed in what we do, and you’re willing to die an honorable death doing it – and I’ll be honored to fight and die alongside you. But in the end, that’s just a big old castle with a bunch of mirelurks crawling around in it, and that’s not worth dying for. The fort is a symbol, and in my eyes, no symbol will ever be worth more than people. I’d rather each and every one of you ran away from it screaming and lived to tell the tale, than if we managed to take the fort, but at the expense of half of you getting gutted by some overgrown crabs.”

It is the weirdest damn speech you’ve ever heard, and the weirdest part of it all is, you’re pretty damn sure he means every word of it. He’s looking around at you all like he’s trying to remember faces, nervous sort of energy to the way his fingers tap tap tap on the stained yellow paper of the map at his feet.

“Besides,” he says, smiling ruefully, and you realize that this kid’s carrying an exhaustion that’s older than the fucking war, “If y’all keep on dying, people are gonna start saying that we’re called the Minutemen on account of us managing to lose another man every minute.”

.

They keep irregular coffee dates. Fuck if Toby knows why Shaun keeps inviting him. Fuck if Toby knows why he keeps coming back. Maybe it's the same reason for both of them. Shaun is his son, and Toby loves him, wants to know him, even if he hates him half the fucking time.

The Railroad's suspicious of his intentions, and he has to smile his way into a restricted lab and bring them back some stolen synth research to convince them that he's still on their side, despite getting cozy with the Institute's director. Desdemona's angry that he won't commit to destroying the place from the inside out, but... he's talking to Shaun. It's philosophy and ethics, and even Toby's got to admit that the serene quiet of the Institute is a good place to do it, and Toby brings him little oddities he's found along the way, comics that survived the old word, photographs and holotapes, even shows him some of the sketches he's done of the folks he's met above.

Toby starts bringing toys for the kidbot. They're nothing near as shiny and pretty as the ones he's got down here, but he seems to still love the scuffed up Nuka-Cola van Toby had found in a ruined comics store, goes wide-eyed and amazed when Toby hands it to him.

.

It's a peace that wasn't meant to last, of course. Most of the Minutemen settlements at this point are informally doubling as Railroad safehouses, Dez and the rest delighted to have farms to send newly-escaped synths to, places where they're guaranteed jobs and work and purpose, and folks who will look after them and check up on them like they're family.

Preston flags him on the radio, lets him know that there's been reports of coursers at five different settlements across the Commonwealth. They're going after the escaped synths, and they're more than willing to kill any humans that get in the way.

Nick gives him a dark old look, that, "We've both seen two hundred years of the world going to shit and you and I both know this doesn't end well"look. They recall everyone to the castle, it's the most fortified place they've got, the best shot they've got at defending their people. They all arrive within a couple days, plenty of them with coursers on their tails, and Eli dispatches them with quick, clean shots, the respect that one hunter shows to another. For days, the coursers keep coming, and Toby's people are getting tired. Shaun's not responding to any of his efforts to contact him on the radio, and with grim finality, he lets Preston prepare the Minutemen and the Railroad to invade the Institute and take down the Commonwealth's boogeyman, once and for all.

It's surprisingly quick work in the end, Toby using the access Shaun gave him to relay his little army inside, and they make quick work of the synths that patrol the halls. Ss soon as alarms start blaring, all the humans in clean Institute whites panic and scram, which makes Toby's job a hell of a lot easier. Place the detonator on the central reactor, ignore the frantic ticking of his Geiger counter and the vague feeling that radiation might be making his teethbuzz.

He tells Preston to issue the evacuation order, get as many people and willing synths out as quickly as they can, and he and Nick trek up through the eerily empty halls to the director's quarters.

Shaun's in some kind of biobed, skin ashy and face gaunt, eyes half-lidded as he watches Toby step softly into the room. the kidbot's sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, curled around himself and shaking, and as soon as he sees Toby, he darts up, wraps arms tight around Toby's waist. Toby keeps a firm hand on his back, comforting as he knows how to be, in a situation like this. He meets Shaun's eyes.

I didn't want it to come to this, is what neither of them say, but both of them mean, when Toby blames him for the death and pain the Institute's wrought on the Commonwealth, when Shaun spits back that Toby is destroying his life's work. But what's done is done.

"...You'll take the boy?" Shaun asks wearily, looking at Toby's hand, still keeping the kid close to his side.

"Of course," Toby says, rough with feeling, "Yeah, of course. We're taking everybody, everyone we can get out. We'll take you, too."

Shaun shakes his head. "No. I want to rest now. I don't want to live to see the destruction of my home."

"Neither did I, but I managed, didn't I?" Toby snaps, then shakes his head. That was, well. Mean. Even for him. "You wanted progress. You wanted to move forward. You don't always get to choose the direction that goes. You don't just give upwhen you lose."

Wordlessly, Nick hefts the kid up against his hip, and Toby guides his son to a wheelchair near the bed, pushes him back down the sloping halls to the relay point, where the last party is getting ready to leave, waiting only on their General. Preston and Dez give him hard, unreadable looks when they see who he's pushing, but they've both got the good sense not to say anything, especially with Nick hovering over his shoulder and Eli quickly returning to his side.

.

Later, much later, they return to Sanctuary.

The kid wants to be called Callum. He read it in one of the comics Toby gave him. Toby had helped him to set up a bedroll and a lantern in the upstairs nook of Toby and Nick's home, had tucked him into bed wearing a soft shirt of Toby's that went down to his knees, hugging the bedraggled teddy bear he'd left the Institute with to his chest, and Callum had said, softly, "Night, Dad,"and Toby had smoothed a hand over his soft, perfect, synthetic hair, and said, "Night, kiddo."

At night, Sanctuary's strung up with lanterns and cooking fires, soft orange glows from inside the windows of the carcasses of old homes, flickering lamps in garages and driveways. It's more crowded than usual, on account of it being something of a celebration, the end of the Institute, and all. There's most of the Minutemen from across the state, the Railroad HQ, and the Institute evacuees, scientists, citizens, and synths all. Deacon and Hancock are arm wrestling, and they've drawn... quite the crowd. The Institute evacuees are slowly, surely mingling with the Commonwealth scum, who are meeting them with only minimal suspicion, and mostly good-natured heckling about the ugly white clothes. Someone's playing Johnny Guitar, obviously, and the soft strumming mixes with the gentle, constant murmur of a hundred or more voices laughing and talking and singing.

Toby finds Shaun on the outskirts of the celebration, his wheelchair parked in the dim driveway of the house that he was supposed to grow up in. Toby wonders, vaguely, if that's a coincidence. He's avoided this house, since he woke up. Maybe he's more like Shaun than he's wanted to admit. He's wanted to move forward.

Toby sits beside him on the concrete, follows Shaun's gaze to further down the block, where Preston's got an arm around Desdemona's shoulder, making some kind of triumphant speech, most likely.

"So," Toby says eventually, with a strange sort of serenity. He's got a thin layer of dust and sweat on every inch of his skin, and his fingers probably smell like battery acid from the plasma cell ammo, and his lip is still tingling from the little shock he'd gotten when he kissed the open circuitry on Nick's cheek. He's aching and stinking and exhausted, and he's never been happier. "What do you think of my home? Of everything I’ve built here?"

Shaun sighs softly, and after a long moment between them, says, "I don't know this world. but I suppose I'll have to take after you, and learn to adapt."

He stands, puts a hand on Shaun's shoulder, squeezes. "That's all I can ask for."

[sleepysailorghost]

"So this is it, huh?"

Under her bandana, Tracey smiled.

"Yeah, this is it." Macready rubbed at the back of his head sheepishly.

"Who do I see about rustling up a bed? That raider ambush took more out of me than I thought."

"It isn't really an ambush if we walk into their territory blindly." Tracey joked.

"So I've been told. You think all the blood and skulls decorating the place would have tipped us off, but no."

He might have been a hired gun, but to Tracey, he was family. The gates of the settlement opened as they approached. Dogmeat ran ahead, but Tracey didn't seem to mind.

A shiny, if somewhat worn Mr Handy approached her.

"Oh, Miss Tracey, how wonderful it is to see you again!" Its arms bent and waved as if to emphasize its point.

"Hello, Codsworth."

"I prepared this for you." One arm produced a can of water. "Only the best for the lady of the house!"

"Thank you, Codsworth. I'm going to show MacCready around." She put the can into the first pocket she could reach on her pack. It went into the pocket full of guns.

As the duo entered the settlement, people aproached them. It rather, approached Tracey. He could see some of their faces curl up with distaste as they noticed him and his skin felt too hot. Couldn't they mind their own business?

Instead, he focused on the settlement itself, looking at the newly installed water pumps and planted crops. There was a large man petting Dogmeat's belly. With anyone else, this would have lead to them recieving a vicious bite, but the dog seemed to appreciate the petting.

Tracey lead him into one of the houses.

"This is my room. If you need anything, just come and ask. I'm just gonna put down my pack and then we'll look around." She set her heavy, loot-laden pack down against the wall. MacCready didn't get a good look inside of her room, but he thought he saw a child's bed. It wasn't his business after all. Maybe it didn't mean anything at all, maybe it was there when she arrived.

Her handgun stayed strapped to her hip, he noted. He didn't think he had ever seen her without it.

They had come in through the side door, but as they passed the front, he realiized the front door was gone.

"Missing something there?"he asked

Tracey blustered for a second.

"I was trying to fix something and I, uhh, broke the door."

MacCready didn't even try to control his laughter, nearly doubled over as Tracey grew embarrassed and red.

"Look, these were things I didn't need to know before."

"Yeah? And where was that?" he asked between gasps of laughter.

"It's a long story. Remind me to tell you sometime." she said, removing and resettling her bandana.

MacCready had suspected she was a vault dweller, something that had become more rare as the years went on. In 22 years, MacCready had only met a few himself, and the general consensis was that they didn't last long in the wastes. The few he had met personally were hard to kill, and to hear Knick-Knack tell it, damn near invincible.

There was an issue, however. Tracey didn't seem comfortable in Vaults, even Vault 81, seemed to put her on edge when she visited.

Admittedly, he hadn't been working with her for all that long. A few months, maybe. Besides, she had already helped him to get Duncan's cure. Anything beyond that was really just superficial.

He wiped his eys as he straightened back up.

"You can't make this shi-err, stuff- up!"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up tough guy. Let's get a move on." She gently clapped him on the back and showed him to the next area. It was a small settlement, but it wasn't lacking in any necessities. MacCready could tell; he had been a mayor after all. There were a few houses, in pretty decent condition. Well, no windows or anything, but how often did you come across a building with windows any more?

He thinks about what it would be like to raise Duncan in a settlement like this. Things were just so different here. Better, maybe. The water doesn't run clear here, and he thinks about that any time he sees Tracey stop to drink dirty water. He's no stranger to it himself, but does he want Duncan growing up in a land of filthy water, with the threat of being taken by a shadowy organization looming overhead? Then again, there are less supermutants here by and large. The Capital wasteland's always been lousy with them. Raiders too. Slavers, and his face bitters as he thinks about it. He's not seen a slaver in the Commonwealth, but then again-his thoughts are cut off as a loud bell sounds.

At once, Tracey's body becomes tense. The time for tours is over, it seems. Dropping down into a crouch, she grabs the handgun at her hip. Her other, larger weapons were in her pack.

The settlement became lively at once. Looking around, he discovered the robot he had seen earlier was ringing the bell.

Tracey approached the robot.

"What's the issue? Any idea about the numbers?"

"The array has detected a raider party approaching from the bridge. It appears to be five people and a mongrel travelling together. Bloody psychotic gits!"The robot swore, and then added abashedly. "Pardon my French, Miss Tracey. I really ought to get that under control before young master Shaun joins us. I would hate to be a bad influence."

"It's fine, Codworth." Tracey replied, turning to the sniper. "If you go up those stairs, there's a decent spot to snipe from. I'm going to lay out mines real quick. Codsworth, make sure Dogmeat doesn't get outside."

Tracey kicked open a footlocker, and he clambered up the stairs to the location she had pointed out. Taking up his position, he watched as the buff man he had seen petting Dogmeat ran up to Tracey. She stopped spreading out mines for a second to brief him on the situation, or she assumed. He had a hefty lazer rifle at his side, with the words "Mutant Slayer's Valorous Action" painted on it.

What a stupid name. Who did he think he was, the Mechanist? It was kinda rad though.

Tracey and the unknown man took up their position by the gates. He doubted it would come to it, there were only five raiders.

The raiding party did approach. And then triggered the landmines. They went up quickly, and he, the man, and Tracey picked off the survivors.

With that said and done, he was more tired than ever, deciding that it would just be faster to find an unclaimed bed himself. Sure, it would be difficult for Tracey to find him if she needed him, but she had no shortage of allies here and he was tired.

Drifting off to sleep, the last thought that passed through his head was "Who the hell is Shaun?"

[siribear]

an alarm blares too loud, too early in the morning. deacon reaches forward, hand closing around the source as he fumbles for the switch to turn it off. he manages to find the button, eventually, but not before the noise wakes his sleeping companion.

whisper grumbles, the noise vibrating against his chest. and, hey, he’s been in this situation before - too many bodies in the catacombs, not enough beds. first come, first serve. those unlucky enough to tuck in late end up sharing a mattress with a fellow agent. but then whisper sighs and presses closer against him and he thinks, despite the cold basement and life-threatening rad levels above them, this isn’t so bad.

better than waking up because glory’s kicked him in the shins for the tenth time, for sure.

he draws his arm back. no response. maybe she’s gone back to sleep. five is too early to wake up, anyway, even underground in the glowing sea. deacon figures he’s safe to drift back to sleep, until: ‘we have to get moving eventually.’

psh. doesn’t even sound like she’s got her eyes open, yet. he presses his forehead against her shoulder blades, rebelliously. ‘you first.’

she sighs, but it’s too soon to think he’s won. ‘about last night...’

‘hmm?’

‘that was all true, wasn’t it?’ he hums an affirmative between her shoulders. ‘does the ache ever go away?’

his stomach drops. killing the claws didn’t help. neither did killing kellogg, for her. yet here she is, piecing their commonwealth back together, even as she’s mourning. deacon rolls onto his back to stare up at the black ceiling. whisper slowly sits up next to him. the light from her pipboy illuminates the wires and aging ceiling tiles above him.

‘it will for you.’

‘what’s that supposed to mean?’

it’s his turn to sigh. feels like he’s reopening all the wounds he managed to duct tape closed. ‘you deserve to be happy. the pain will settle until it’s manageable.’

‘and you think you still have to atone for something, so you can’t be happy.’ the pipboy casts a shadow across her brow, furrowed. ‘for what you did to those people when you were younger? you’ve paid for it. with all your work in the railroad, you’re continuing to pay for it. but you’re never going to break even because the world doesn’t work like that.’

he told her he wasn’t the hugging type, but he fails spectacularly when it comes to her. deacon reaches for her hand, and she meets him halfway. more than halfway - she actually pulls him into a hug, and he melts into it. tucks his head into the crook of her neck. ‘am i the only one you’ve told about this?’ she asks as he clings to her like a lifeline.

‘you’re the only one that knows the whole truth of it.’ the truth about him. who he really is. what he did.

he feels her sigh more than hears it. ‘thank you,’ she says. ‘for trusting me with this. i - ‘ her shoulders tense, but when he looks up at her face, it’s not from any sense of awkwardness. whisper’s gaze isn’t even.. here.

he pulls away, slowly. reluctantly. ‘hey - ‘

‘sorry.’ she’s back, smiling, if weakly.

his stomach twists at the sight. if this were some trashy, pre-war romance novel, he’d kiss the look off her face - make her smile for real. maybe some ravishing in between. that’s - that’s absolutely a friendly thing to think, right? it has been a while since he had one.

... right.

instead, he takes a deep breath, ready to reassure her, somehow. but she interrupts him, probably sensing the placating bullshit about to come out of his mouth.

‘now that you’re up,’ she tilts her head, eyes softer now, ‘we should get moving.’

he suppresses a shudder at a nail lightly tracing the back of his neck. ‘using my vulnerable state to make me wake up, huh? here i thought you were better than that.’

she chuckles. ‘maybe i’m not who you think i am.’ it’s his turn to tense, but she lets it go with another sigh. ‘i’m kidding. but i am hungry, so let’s eat and get out of here.’

deacon hopes his quick bark of laughter isn’t as high pitched as it sounds in his head. ‘right. can’t get eaten by deathclaws on an empty stomach.’

whisper winks and digs out their breakfast rations, and as she hands him his own portion, he realizes: as much as she’s done for all of them, they hardly know her at all.

-

a working elevator saves them from the basement, taking them all the way back up to the roof. whisper removes the fusion core at the top. the lights in the building slowly dim and shut off in turn, and the loud, centuries old generator eventually goes silent.

deacon leads the way south, to a settlement established in the crater left behind by the first bomb. ‘you’re kidding me,’ she says when he tells her about it. the children of atom. a cult worshiping the bombs that brought about the end.

‘didn’t have them where you’re from?’

‘small town,’ she explains. ‘heard some rumors from caravans, but you never think stuff like that is real, you know?’ it hardly makes sense. to find comfort in something like that...

but it’s a place to check for their scientist. civilization, however crazy. people to hide him. it’s why she keeps her voice even as a woman stops her near the center of the crater and calls the place a holy ground.

‘how is this a holy ground?’

dark blue eyes look to the sky as the woman extends a hand. ‘atom reached out and touched this world,’ she brings her hand down, ‘and brought his glow to us. here, was the start. his first act in the commonwealth.’ whisper’s geiger counter clicks slowly, counting away, and yet the woman in front of her looks unmarred by the radiation. the woman’s ragged clothing blows in the wind, but she’s still - not a ghoul.

whisper cuts right to the point, unnerved. ‘i’m looking for a man named virgil.’

the woman’s voice is clear. ‘we know him. what do you want with him?’

‘i just need information. that’s all. i don’t want to hurt him.’

‘in truth, virgil has caused some... concern.’ she looks to her fellow followers. ‘some believe his presence is an affront to atom.’

whisper frowns. ‘is it because he’s from the institute?’

the woman’s eyes widen. ‘the institute? no. that isn’t it. but, thankfully, he only travels up here to trade, on occasion. otherwise, we have little contact with him.’

‘so, he isn’t here, then.’ whisper checked. they’re at the edge of her satellite map, now. if they go further, there’ll be no way to track where they are.

‘he lives in a cave, southwest of here. beware, if you do not know who you are hunting. i suspect he isn’t fond of visitors.’

southwest. off the map. she looks to deacon, who shrugs. ‘we’ve come this far. besides, if we get lost, we just look for the lovely green glow. of atom,’ he adds.

‘thank you, ma’am,’ whisper tells the woman, a little stiffly. it feels strange to talk to someone so reverent about the thing that changed her entire life - changed the entire world. but she’s been unconditionally helpful.

it’s refreshing.

and then it’s whisper’s turn to lead, pipboy map held in front of her to ensure they’re heading southwest. only a few minutes after they climb over the edge of the crater, her map goes blank. a message flashes on the screen: NO DATA. even the radio tab is empty.

‘officially in the middle of nowhere.’ and she thought that roadtrip she and nate took before shaun was born was bad. too bad she forgot to bring her paper map, this time.

‘edge of nowhere,’ deacon corrects. ‘we still have to find that cave.’

-

trying to keep to a straight line is difficult when the terrain is jagged and mountainous. anything to keep their way back as simple as possible - go through obstacles, not around. which means over the river and through the woods, to virgil’s cave they go.

whisper lived in the city. even her long treks across the commonwealth, following broken roads and dirt trails, couldn’t have prepared her for this. by the time they reach the cave, it feels like she’s carrying the power armor instead of the other way around. deacon drops to his stomach for an angle, much less quiet and gracefully than he should, considering there’s a sleeping deathclaw just outside the entrance.

‘think it’s his pet? can the institute tame deathclaws?’

whisper slowly lowers herself to one knee. ‘definitely need to change our game plan, if so. maybe tom can come up with something to tame one of those scorpions.’

‘i was thinking supermutant behemoths. like swan. take that, institute. ready?’

‘when you are.’

between their height advantage and firepower, the deathclaw is easily dispatched. the heated barrel of her minigun glows red against the wash of yellow-green in the glowing sea. no one comes charging out immediately, come to see what the noise was, but there’s no way virgil didn’t hear the commotion, if he’s still here.

the thought makes her skip a step, power armor drawing a rut in the ground. he has to still be here. whisper doesn’t know what she’ll do if he isn’t.

‘alright there, partner?’

‘of course.’ she has to be.

deacon carefully removes a string of tin cans hanging from a hook in the ceiling. a scrap turret rattles next to her, barrel pointed near her ribs as she keeps between it and deacon. a soft light casts a shadow of a second string of cans against the opposite wall. a light at the end of the tunnel. whisper draws deliverer but holds it loose at her side.

‘i’m right behind you,’ she hears before she steps into the room.

half-put together machinery and experiments are scattered across the floor. cans of food, open and empty, are stacked on a far table. next to it, an active terminal on top of a blown out stove. a stack of tires blocks her view of a lower section, but it’s from there that she hears rustling, heavy footsteps round the single stone pillar in the middle of the room, and she has to look up at the source.

a supermutant. wearing glasses, a scarf, and the tatters of once-white jumper. instinctively, whisper takes a step back. ‘i’m not going back with you alive,’ it says simply, enunciated through its low growl of a voice.

‘whisper, the super mutant just talked. and i mean, it said more than grr, die!’

‘i can see that, deacon, thank you,’ she says, picking her jaw up off the floor. she clears her throat. ‘go back - ? i just want to ask some questions.’

‘questions,’ it repeats.

‘uh, yes. please. are you - are you virgil?’

the supermutant takes a step forward. ‘you would know. you’re the one hunting me. i’m just surprised they didn’t send kellogg.’

‘kellogg’s dead. i killed him.’

he huffs. ‘impressive, if true. kellogg’s been the institute’s attack dog for a long time. are you his replacement?’

‘i’m - ‘ she sighs. this has to be virgil. the reticence to answer any questions - makes sense if he suspects she’s here to kill him. or bring him back, as he says. ‘my name is alice. i need to get into the institute, and it seems you’re my only hope in that regard. i came here for your help.’

‘why?’

‘the institute has my son. i want him back. it’s that simple.’

he takes another step closer, and this time whisper holds her ground. leaning forward, he looks her dead in the eye, as if she isn’t wearing a helmet at all. finally, he leans back with a sigh of his own. ‘brian virgil. i’m.. sorry, about your son. i know the institute used to take people from the commonwealth.’

‘still at it. the old take and replace,’ deacon adds.

‘i see.’ virgil’s silent a moment, considering. ‘i can help you, but i want something in return.’

whisper jumps at it, doesn’t care where she lands. ‘name it.’

‘i was working on a serum. a cure for my,’ he gestures vaguely at himself, ‘condition. i wasn’t able to bring it with me when i escaped. you go into the institute and bring me that serum. that’ll be payment for helping you.’

‘serum. there’s a cure for the super mutant... condition?’ she asks.

‘for this strand of the FEV, yes. the institute was... responsible for the super mutant presence in the commonwealth. but the lab was shut down a long time ago.’

‘jesus,’ deacon hisses.

‘okay.’ too many things at once. ‘okay. i’ll get it, easy enough, right? now how do i get there?’

he holds up a hand. ‘first thing’s first. do you know how synths get in and out of the institute?’

‘teleportation. i saw it in kellogg’s memories. long story,’ she clarifies.

‘all right. yes, teleportation. it’s referred to as the molecular relay.’ virgil explains further, the science of it. taking people apart, atom by atom, and piecing them back together somewhere else. it sounds dangerous. unrealistic. but virgil insists it’s the only way into the institute. and in order to connect directly to that relay?

they’re going to have to kill a courser.