#just a smidge more alien

[lidoshka]

Pomegranate

have a Lotor and mermaid!Keith

[luveline]

Jade omg i love coworker james so much!! I was hoping i could request them taking the elevator up to their office together and it breaking down and them being stuck together!! Super cliche but i think it could be really cute and fun and that you’d write it so well!

You decide today is the day you stop pretending to forget something in your car. James has been nice lately. He does still hide your mug everyday, and he acts like an idiot at your desks. Just yesterday he made a parachute for one of his little figurines and made it land in your lunch. But he keeps saving you when you’re in trouble, and he might think he has to do it but it’s not true. 

If something goes wrong, James is the one who helps you out. Maybe it’s proximity, but maybe he’s just not the jerk you pegged him to be. 

So you’re being brave. You get out of your car, to James’ surprise, and you give him a teeny tiny smile. “Morning,” you say, making your way to the office steps, and following closely behind him. 

“Morning,” he says, looking back. He holds open the door for you without further comment. 

You walk in through the building’s lobby and past the main receptionist to the twin elevators. There’s a downstairs to the building, the lab, where the company conducts their water safety testing, and an upstairs where you and James and your colleagues work. He hits the elevator button on the right, you both wait for it to come down. 

“Did you see about that movie?” you ask. 

“I did!” He laughs at himself generously. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” 

“Crazy, if you gave me like, two more seconds before you interrupted, I would’ve specified.” You catch yourself scowling and soften your expression. “You know, the movie you told me about with the aliens that can hear you from ten miles away.” 

“Oh. What was I supposed to see about it?” 

You should’ve waited in the car. The elevator descends and the doors open. James waits for you to go in first before he follows, and you let him click your floor number as you lean against the mirror. 

You elect to wait in silence as the elevator chugs up, and up, and.

It stops short with a horrible sharp sound you’ve never heard it make. 

James looks at you, then the control panel. The doors don’t open. “That’s fucked,” he says hotly. 

“We stopped too early, right?” 

“No, no way.” He clicks the open door button, waiting approximately half a second before he starts to spam it. 

“Wait, what if you mess it up?” 

“Mess it up? It’s stuck.” 

You glare at him. “It’s not stuck.” 

“It’s stuck.” James slams his hand into the emergency button and waits with a frown for it to ring. “Hello?” he asks. 

“James, it’s still ringing.” 

“I’m glad this is funny to you,” he says. 

You hide your smile. You’d been unnerved by the sound, sure, but the elevator isn’t creaking or whining, it’s just stopped. There’s an inkling of worry growing in your chest. You’re perhaps a smidge too tired to panic. It’s barely 8AM. 

And James’ reaction is wildly comical. He glares at the control panel and rings the emergency button again, and again. Nobody answers. After a few long seconds of this, the control panel goes dark, backlit numbers fading. 

The overhead light blinks out. 

It’s quite dark without it. 

“What the fuck?” James asks. Surprisingly, he sounds less panicked than before. “The electrics gone. A power cut?” 

“It’s really dark,” you say unhelpfully. 

“If only I had one of my darling Smiskis to light up the lift.” James takes his phone from his pocket and turns on the torch, your eyes aching but then thankful for the added illumination. You can see his face again, the tug of a brow too handsome to be meant for grumpiness, and the confused pout of his lips. He has a lovely face, with sweet eyes, dark brown hair framing it, and the aura around him when he’s smiling is lovely too.  He’s a little less lovely when he frowns, but not by much. “I’m gonna shout,” he warns you. 

You and James spend that first half an hour believing the lift to be a short problem. Then another half an hour on the phone to Remus and then your boss, who assures you both that the maintenance team will fix it within the hour. “Within the hour?” James says to you where you’ve sat cross-legged on the floor. “Within the hour? How long do they think we’ve been in here?” 

“Maybe we can call the fire brigade to come and save us?” you suggest quietly. You and James are in very close quarters. His shouting has hurt your head. 

“They might have to. Why does nobody know what’s wrong with the lift? Are they really that complicated?”

James sits down beside you dejectedly. The lift is snug, but there’s room for him to sit further away that he doesn’t use. 

“You okay?” you ask. 

“Fine.” 

You open your bag in your lap and unveil your thermos. It comes with a cup as the lip. “Do you want some hot chocolate?” 

James tips his head back against the wall. “Yes,” he says, “okay. You never finished telling me about the alien movie anyways. What’s the news?” 

You smother a smile. “I’m not telling you. You should’ve listened to me the first time.” 

For some reason, you don’t argue once in the two hours you spend stuck. Not after the initial bickering. You drink your hot chocolate and you end up sitting together watching the trailer for the movie on your phone, and neither of you move away after. That is, until the elevator flicks back on and the doors are being pried open —you spring apart, caught red handed enjoying each other's company. 

[munson-blurbs]

I would actually LOVE to read about the proposal! How did it go down? Was Harris there? I think a blurb about that would be really special :)

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: A lazy Sunday morning turns into something much more special, thanks to your two favorite guys.

Warnings: pretty much none, just proposal fluff and a smidge of suggestive language at the end

WC: 1.3k

A/N: The proposal/Harris calling Ms. Sweetheart "mommy" was also requested by @hippiefairy02, @cheesewritings, @enam3l, @peachysink, and a handful of anons!

March 1998

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

Harris’s soft voice doesn’t carry over the sounds of running water and the sponge squelching soap bubbles along the lip of a coffee mug, the remnants of a lazy Sunday morning breakfast. He clears his throat and tries again, tugging on the back of your bathrobe as he shouts.

“Ms. Sweetheart?!”

You jump, pulled from your own thoughts, nearly dropping the cup among the sea of dishes cluttering the sink. Eddie had made scrambled eggs and toast for the three of you; a gesture you’d thoroughly enjoyed until you realized that the clean-up fell on your shoulders.

“Jeez, Har. What’s the emergency?” You catch your breath, allowing your heart rate to settle back to a normal rhythm, and shut off the faucet.

Harris wrinkles his nose, the bridge creasing in confusion. “There’s no ‘mergency,” he says, releasing his grasp and motioning for you to follow him. “I gotta show you something.”

You oblige with a soft laugh, haphazardly grabbing a dish towel to wipe the suds from your hands and wrists, and let him lead you to the kitchen table. Crayons are strewn across it, blues and purples and reds intermingled around his artwork. 

“Whatcha drawing?” you ask, hands bracing the back of the chair he’s plopped down on. You peer over his shoulder and smile. It’s a picture of you, Eddie, and him. A full-fledged kindergartener, he’s been adding more details to his stick-figure family portraits: a vase of wildflowers sits atop a sienna oval table, black squares and rectangles above it represent the various photo frames hanging on the kitchen wall. This picture looks different than Harris’s usual set-up; he typically draws himself in the middle of you and Eddie, each of his hands overlapping yours and his dad’s. Today, he’s drawn you, then Eddie, then him. And your hands aren’t linked; instead, he’s used a silver crayon to place something in Eddie’s cartoon palm.

You furrow your brows and gesture towards the mystery object. “What’s that, Har?” It’s better not to guess, lest you say the wrong thing and inadvertently offend him. Just last week, you’d asked him if a small blue object in the sky was a bird, and he was on the verge of tears trying to explain that it was a UFO. 

“Can’t you see the alien?” he’d wailed, pointing to a little green dot you’d assumed was a rogue eye.

Now, Harris grins. “It’s a proposing ring!” he announces. “That’s why you’re smiling so big!” Sure enough, the curved line of sketch-you’s mouth extends to both cheeks. 

Real-you can’t help but mimic the beaming expression. Just the idea of Eddie proposing to you has you feeling giddy. You’d marry him tomorrow if you could; all he has to do is ask. Though your pulse quickens at the thought, you don’t want to build up Harris’s hopes for something that may not happen for a while. Pressing a kiss to his scalp with a soft giggle, you remark, “A proposing ring? That’s so silly!”

“Is it?”

The unexpected sound of Eddie’s voice has you whirling around, startled for the second time this morning. He’s still wearing his pajamas, flannel pants perfectly complementing your own cozy attire. He bites the inside of his lip, and when he takes your hand in his, you can feel it tremble slightly.

“Sweetheart, I…” he starts, trying to remember the speech he had rehearsed an absurd amount of times. He clears his throat before speaking again. “Sweetheart, I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night grateful for you. Never in my life did I think I would find someone who loved me the way you do; someone who loves my son like he’s their own.” He chokes up at the last part, blinking back the tears so he can press on. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe I landed such an incredible, thoughtful, beautiful woman.”

You offer a small laugh, slightly easing his nerves, and he manages to smile. “You…you’re the love of my life, and my world is infinitely better with you in it,” he continues, pulling a small velvet-covered box from his pocket and sinking onto one knee. With shaky fingers, he opens the box to reveal a princess-cut diamond on a thin silver band. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, my god.” Elation and disbelief simultaneously surge through you, eyes going misty as the realization hits you. Eddie’s actually proposing. He wants you to be his wife, and he wants to be your husband. “Yes, Eddie. Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” You’re laughing and crying, tears streaming down your cheeks; you sloppily wipe them away with the back of your hand.

Eddie stands up, the ring still in its case. You expect him to slide it onto your fourth finger; instead, he turns to Harris with a knowing expression. “Your turn, Har.”

Before you can question it further, Harris takes your hand in his, just like Eddie had. “Ms. Sweetheart,” he looks up at you with wide, exuberant eyes, “will you be my mommy?”

You scoop him up into your arms; he’s almost too tall for you to do it comfortably, and it pangs at your heart. “Yes, I will be your mommy, Harris!” You kiss his cheek with an exaggerated mwah, placing him back on the ground as he excitedly kicks his feet.

With that, Eddie puts the engagement ring on your finger triumphantly, pulling you in for a hug that squeezes the breath out of your lungs. His lips find yours without hesitation, kissing you as long as Harris will allow before the kid becomes impatient.

“Mommy?” The title rolls off of his tongue so easily, bringing with it fresh batches of tears for both you and Eddie. Mommy. You’re Harris’s mommy. The close bond you’ve already developed strengthens in that moment, and you vow to wear your badge of Chosen Mom with pride. 

“Yeah, Har?” 

“Can we celebrate with ice cream?”

“It’s, like, 9:30 in the morning,” Eddie laughs, scrunching his nose. “I don’t even think Scoops Ahoy is open yet.”

Harris pouts but ultimately relents, on one condition. “Then…can we go when it opens?”

You look at Eddie, who delivers his seal of approval with a quick nod. “I think that can be arranged.”

As Harris cheers, you sneak a glimpse of the new jewelry adorning your finger. It daintily sparkles even under the kitchen lighting, a perfect depiction of your love for one another. 

Eddie’s hands snake around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. “How’d I do?” he asks with a goofy, lopsided grin. “Is my future wife happy with her ring?”

You turn around, draping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his, desperate for a moment of intimacy. “I love it. And I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“And me?” pipes up a little voice. 

“Both of you,” you amend with a giggle. Pleased with your answer, Harris returns to his crayons and construction paper. 

Eddie’s voice is a melodic whisper in your ear. “After our family ice cream date, maybe you and I can celebrate a bit more privately?” You can practically hear his teasing smirk at the raunchy implication. 

“We can pick up champagne on the way home,” you murmur back, heat blossoming in your belly. You’re no longer just a girlfriend, but a fiancée, a future wife, and there is nothing else you crave more than the touch of your future husband. 

And while you and Eddie finish washing the dishes with a plethora of stolen kisses, Harris picks up a green crayon and titles his drawing, just like he’d learned in art class:

Mommy, Daddy, and Harris. 

--

[vivi-mire]

I have to reiterate that Cait Sith is probably one of my fave ff7 characters because 1.) hes kitty 2.) Reeve's ability to control him DOES NOT fit in with literally any of of the established ff7 magic system. The closest thing there is to his power is jenova controlling sephiroth. And she's an evil alien whos powers are specifically supposed to be otherworldly. It's never addressed too, Reeve just seems to have like actual true magic that allows him to puppet this fake cat body from across the continent - and speak though it's mouth and see through it's eyes - ALL WHILE WORKING AS A DISLIKED HEAD MANAGER AT THE EVIL POWER COMPANY THAT, BASED ON THEIR PAST TRACK RECORD, SHOULD OF LOCKED HIM AWAY FOR EXPERIMENTATION THE MOMENT THEY SMELLED SOMETHING UNIQUE ABOUT HIM. its so so silly. But seriously think about it. His ability just doesn't fit with the established magic system and hes sitting in his office taking 3 types of meds before attempting to convince the company to be a smidge more ethical. this is never explained in game. he's kitty and and 37 year old man and hes complicit in multiple atrocities

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Does Elrelda have a government? Like as in like, nationwide level or planetary level administration? Like are Elreldians aware that the company that they make a tourist partnership with sometimes dabble in the Art of Human Trafficking?

Like is it legal to do what Arrin did? Or is Arrin just taking advantage of the fact that he is the chief and a well loved and respected one at that? Like yeah, Synthis is probably the Space Age version of Disney/Amazon but do the general population of Elrelda not know the probably illegal shit that Synthis (and their sister companies) pulls or is it just the people with the money, power, and authority (or the desire for a cute, submissive, and breedable human)?

How does it even work? Like did Arrin (and other human fuckers) just go to a random branch office and go “I want a cute human mate. Preferably soft, squishy, submissive, breedable, and T H I C C" and they were just “Aight, gotchu”. Then they just showed him a list and he just pointed at our pic and went “I want that one”? Tinder but much more hands-on with a smidge of human trafficking. Then Synthis just gave us a discount coupon when the time came for us to go to Elrelda (thank god, we didn't bring a date so we can share the expenses so that we can afford a nicer ship)

Or did Synthis just give their employees that were to be sold discount coupons to different place and have their buyers see their prospective mates for themselves? The ones not chosen getting to return to their homes not knowing they were almost going to have their lives uprooted?

Or did only Arrin just get the special treatment because of the partnership between his herd and Synthis' business?

Speaking of humans, why are humans regarded as status symbols for a chief to show power? Is it because l average humans are generally smaller and squishier than the average Elreldian, and the fact that the human they're with is healthy, safe, and happy a sign that their mate is strong and a capable provider while still skilled enough not to hurt them?

I know it's just a (really good and indulgent) smutty one shot but holy fuck, there is something to be said about the unexpectedly thought-provoking world building you did

It has been so long since I wrote that so I apologize if any of my answers conflict with the story.

Elrelda is ruled by regional chiefs who occassionally gather to make big decisions that impact more than one region and to facilitate trading arrangements.

I feel like in general the Elreldians don't care about the illegal stuff too much off their planet as long as Synthis is decent to them and they don't care that their chiefs can get humans as long as they aren't abused.

Anyone can get a human as long as they have rare resources that Synthis wants and the corporation is very good at covering it all up.

Arrin probably heard from another chief about the human "dating" program and contacted his local Synthis rep about it and picked from a list of potential mates with traits he desired.

Then, yes, that potential mate gets a free trip so they can be scouted and if they aren't chosen they return home and the next match is offered the trip.

They are seen as a status symbol because they are alien and because they are so soft and cute.

[drops-of-moonlights]

Next with the redesigns we get to the WarioWare cast! which oh god there's so many people here what the fuck! anyways! Here we have basically the cast of the og with two from later games. The Warioware cast designs are peak so not a lot is changed, but hey, I still changed some things, so let's get to them! (shoutout to the official WarioWare website it was so useful!)

Mona and Joe are the easiest since they keep themselves more or less the same - still the deliverywoman extraordinaire and her lovable boss. Mona here like everyone else is a bit older - a college student, majoring in archaeology, and has upgraded from a scooter to a motorcycle (quite literally upgraded, Crygor took her scooter and turned it into a bike). Joe keeps himself more or less the same, except a bit afraid of losing the best employee he ever had.

The man with the beat Jimmy T and the silly lil alien, Orbulon! With the former I just added some stars on his pants and also gave him melanin, because frankly the bright colors work better with darker skintones and the Mario cast is pale as milk, some variety is nice. for Orbulon I just put him in his human disguise's cute little minidress, because we stan a gender-non-conforming king. Fun trivia: Jimmy has beef with Waluigi over who has the better dance moves. They get along otherwise but if there's dancing happening it is ON. SIGHT.

Diamond Taxi's speed demons, Dribble and Spitz! I similarly didn't change much, just more detail on shoes, Dribble wearing his coveralls differently, and their earrings, which are actually their wedding rings, because look at me in the eyes and tell me these two aren't fucking. that's right you can't. Spitz finally got to publish his novel! It's doing better than Dribble expected.

Mad Scientist and Beleaguered Karaoke Robot Assistant Duo, Crygor and Mike! The levels at which Crygor is a cyborg vary SO OFTEN I just gave him the full helmet, a robotic left hand and a robotic foot. Mike I only changed up a smidge and changing his face to an LED display for better emoting. Still Penny's loving grandfather, he's gently trying to steer her towards a focus on the mechanics rather than chemistry, believing that she can achiever her idol dreams without having to rely on questionable homemade beverages. Mike on the other hand encourages to focus more on chemistry out of the selfish desire she can make a drink that will give HIM a perfect singing voice lol.

Nintendo Fanatics 9-Volt and 18-Volt! For fun I gave them the real names of Nikola and Edison. Now middle schoolers, they still enjoy skating and Nintendo games. I did the same with 18-Volt as what I did with Jimmy T. 9-Volt's helmet is more clearly a firefighter helmet - it's his dad's old model that he gifted to him.

And to finish it off, Kat and Ana! I wanted both of them to have more unique color palletes, and as a further distinction Kat has freckles. Like the rest they're a bit older, now elementary-school kids, and while he's not in this post they also get along a LITTLE better with Leo.

[demxters]

—𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀

x-files!au jake seresin x f!reader

summary: something wicked this way comes on the night you find yourself stuck at the motel california with your work partner, jake seresin.

wc: 12.7k

warning(s): 18+ for sensitive subject matter, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname pumpkin), language, mentions of paranormal entities, implications of self harm/suicide, brief violence, alcohol and drinking

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

find it on ao3

a/n: if you're familiar with teen wolf, yes this is also loosely based on the motel california episode of s3. a huge ty to @blue-aconite for being my rock throughout this entire process. i couldn't have done it without you <;3

Of all the moments in your career, none have felt quite as humiliating as this. You have shed your own blood, sweat, and tears just to even be respected in your field. Right when you felt like you were finally coming up on top, Director Simpson threw a curve ball and sent you right to the basement. Your ex-partner laughed in your face at the news, making steam pour out of your ears. 

The X-Files. Are you kidding? You are a highly skilled field agent and medical doctor–that’s one more thing than Director Simpson could say he was. Yet somehow, you were the one going down. Literally. 

The X-Files was a department full of hallucinatory agents. Those who believed in aliens, the supernatural, and ghosts just to name a few of what they investigate. It was a joke department. One that was created to satisfy the pipe dream of passionate believers. Sending you down there felt like an insult to your intelligence. 

The squeaks from the age old elevator as the doors opened to the dusty and dimly lit hallway was enough for you to know this probably wasn’t the most highly decorated department. With a steady gulp, you make your way down the hall. Dodging agents running around like headless chickens has you clutching your suitcase closer to your chest. Your eyes scan each room, looking for the director’s office. 

Someone bumps you on the shoulder, making you yelp. Meanwhile, they drop all their files onto the floor. 

You let out a soft “oh,” dropping to your knees to help the flustered agent. 

“I am so sorry, ma’am,” he breathes. 

Despite your annoyance, you could tell that the man was genuine, and your attitude softens slightly. “It’s alright,” you reassured him with a soft smile. Picking up the rest of his stray papers, you’re able to get a better look at the man. He had boyish features and a buzzcut. He was probably the same age as you, maybe even a couple years younger. He had the look of fresh meat, making your hardened exterior falter. “Agent…” 

His eyes flit up to meet yours with a smile.“Garcia, ma’am. Agent Mickey Garcia.” 

You hold out a hand which he grasps in friendly greeting. “Nice to meet you, Agent Garcia. Are you new here?” 

A shaky exhale leaves him as he lets go of your hand and takes the rest of his papers from you. He runs a hand over his short hair. “That obvious?” 

A sympathetic look graces your features. “Just a smidge.” 

He groans, throwing his head back. 

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing! We’ve all gotta start somewhere.” The sound of a phone ringing in the distance reminds you why you were down here in the first place. If you could spend the rest of your afternoon chatting with Garcia, you would. He was sweet. The kind of person you could find yourself befriending if not for the nature of your position. “Garcia, would you happen to know where Director Mitchell’s office is?” 

He nods hurriedly at the name of his superior. “Absolutely. Follow me.” 

You follow swiftly behind him as you weave your way through the various agents and file carts. A few of the male agents snickered and clearly looked you up and down as you walked by. Years of tolerating this behavior made you indifferent to their actions. Garcia said hello to a few of his fellow agents and blatantly ignored a few of the others who threw out teasing remarks to the man about his last assignment. You could tell it was a sensitive subject for him as the tips of his ears turned red and he ducked his chin to his sternum. 

Finally reaching the end of the hall after what felt like an eternity, you are met face to face with the wooden door and golden plaque with the name “Mitchell” staring back at you. 

Garcia gestures to the door. “Well, this is it. Good luck.” He gives you a half hearted thumbs up that did nothing to quell the anxiety bubbling in your system. 

You nod, harshly trying to swallow the nerves that were crawling up your throat. “I hope to see you around, Garcia,” you’re just barely able to speak. 

He turns over his shoulder with a bright smile and sound agreement before disappearing in the direction they came. 

You hesitantly raise her fist to the door when a muffled, “Come in,” is voiced from the other side. 

You push the door open with caution, unsure of what to suspect on the other side. You have only ever heard stories of the famed director, none that gave you any reassurance that your career was in good hands. 

Director Mitchell despite being dressed in slacks and a button up work shirt looked like the most casual man in the department. A pair of aviators sat on his desk next to his badge that was haphazardly thrown onto the surface of his desk. You wrinkle your nose at the sight, not seeing this man as someone you could easily respect as a superior. 

“I would say have a seat, but I don’t plan on keeping you here long,” the director puts it bluntly. “I’ve read your file. Incredibly impressive, to say the least.” 

You straighten your posture and hold your head up high at his praise. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Needless to say, I don’t see how your talents could be any more useful here as it is with the big dogs.” You could feel the underlying tone of his annoyance with the higher ups. 

“I am thinking the same thing,” you dryly add. 

He pushes off his desk with a large exhale and brings himself to his feet. “Well, whatever the reason, they sent you here. And lucky for you, I’ve got the perfect place to put you.” He beckons for you to follow him out the door. 

Walking past him, you mutter bitterly under your breath, “Lucky me.” 

Director Mitchell explains how the X-Files is an overlooked department in the FBI and continues to emphasize how they are not just a committee full of nut jobs. He drones on and on about the compelling evidence they have and if Director Simpson could just listen to his agents, they could be making history. You zone out halfway through his speech, watching the agents around you intently. Over in one of the board rooms were a group of agents who looked like they were in the midst of a playfully heated argument. You smile upon noticing one of the agents to be Garcia. Amongst them was a woman who looked like she could command a room with a single look. If there was anyone you were hoping to become good colleagues with, it was her. God knows you needed another woman to talk to down here. 

Mitchell leads you to the last room. The door was already ajar and before even stepping into the room, you could tell it was a mess in there. There was red string and newspaper clippings everywhere. Sticky notes and photographs galore. 

You can hear shuffling from inside the room as Director Mitchell steps in front of you and lets himself in with only a light knock. 

“‘M busy, Pete,” a voice from inside the room says. 

It’s deep, male with a hint of southern twang. The way he calls the director by his first name makes you uncomfortable. Director Simpson would never let that slide. 

“Too busy to meet your new partner?” Mitchell teases. 

The rustling stops and Pete steps aside so you can step into the room. You’re unable to hide your surprise as you step inside, glaring at him with questioning eyes. “I’m sorry, partner?” 

The sound of your voice makes the man in the office straighten up. He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks as he leans against his desk. You could see him from the corner of your eyes but refuse to give him any acknowledgement. 

“Director Simpson didn’t say anything about me having to work with anyone down here.” 

The disgust was evident in your tone, yet the man’s smirk only grew into an amused grin. 

Pete sighs. “With all due respect, agent, Director Simpson told me to place you where I think you’d be most fit. That being said, after everything I’ve read about you tells me you like working alone. I think you’ll find that working with Seresin might just change that.” 

The man, Seresin, steps into your view and you can’t help the heat that rises up the back of your neck. He’s attractive, that’s for sure. His blond hair was slightly disheveled–almost like he has run his hands through it a couple of times. He had bright green eyes and a fit physique. If anything, the smug look on his face just infuriated you even more. 

“Jake Seresin, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.” He holds out a hand that you ignore. 

If looks could kill, Pete would be dead on the floor. 

“I’ll leave you to it, I guess.” The director excuses himself with a pathetic shrug, knowingly escaping your wrath and leaving you for Jake to deal with.  

 You’re still glaring at him as  you watch him go, not wanting to have to interact with your new partner. 

“Well aren’t you just Miss Sugar, spice, and everything nice.” Jake’s voice cuts through your self loathing. 

Your stare, now directed at him, cuts through him like a knife. “I hope you know I’m only doing this because Director Simpson sent me here and not because I want to be here. Especially with you.” 

He laughs, causing your blood to boil even more. “Alright, pumpkin, no need to be so defensive.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped back. 

Jake holds his hands up in surrender, shaking his head with a laugh before settling back into his work on his desk. “We are going to have one hell of a time together, Agent. I can feel it.” 

If only you could figure out a way to transfer out of here before your first case. 

Two years later and you were still partners with Jake Seresin. All it took was one case and an insane amount of coincidences to get you to stay. You are a skeptic to say the least. Despite everything you’ve seen, you continue to go on these cases with Jake in an attempt to prove that there must be some scientific explanation for everything. Every time without fail, you are proven wrong, but you aren’t one to give up. So here you are, still in the X-Files department and still going on crazy cases with Jake. 

Your original dislike for the man turned into fond admiration, and eventually friendship. Jake was smart, smarter than you gave him credit for. You judged him too soon upon meeting him, assuming that just like everyone else, he was just another nut job in his department. However, you soon came to understand that no one in the X-Files department were nut jobs. Only curious agents with curious minds. You’ve even come to respect them and their many far fetched theories for the unexplainable cases you investigate. 

Here you are two years later and still investigating the impossible. But if you were being totally honest? You wouldn’t have it any other way. What you once thought to be a careless mistake, ended up becoming the best two years of your life. 

“Jake and Pumpkin at it again. Solving cases one supernatural entity at a time,” Jake’s comment breaks through the silence of the car. 

You laugh, rolling your eyes at his words. “Solving cases? Absolutely. Supernatural entities? Well…” 

Jake glances at you bewildered, before focusing his gaze back on the road. “What? Oh come on, darling, you mean to say even after everything we’ve been through you still think the supernatural isn’t real?” 

A playful grin tugs at your lips as you turn to see Jake smiling. “Hey, all I’m saying is that there is a scientific explanation for everything.” 

It’s his turn to roll his eyes at you. “Alright, killjoy, way to ruin my fun. Jake and Pumpkin at it again. Solving cases one scientific explanation at a time.” Jake cringes, making you chuckle. “See? Now that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” 

“We can agree to disagree.” 

“Don’t we always?” Jake sends you a quick wink and you have to bite your lip and look out the window to stop yourself from the school girl giggles that threaten to leave you. 

Jake was a charmer. From the beginning, his suave and confident attitude made you want to rip your hair. Now, it was something that made your cheeks warm and your heart flutter. However, you made sure he would never catch onto that fact. He gets his ego stroked enough by Pete and the unassuming people you meet on investigations. 

You were still riding a post-case high and you just weren’t ready to head back to the office. You hum thoughtfully, causing Jake to look at you with a raised brow. “I’m in the mood for a celebratory drink, Mr. Seresin. What do you think?” 

The mischievous grin on his face told you everything that he was thinking. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea, Pumpkin.” 

You loved to travel. Your favorite thing about being sent all over the U.S. for cases was discovering the small town charms along the way. More specifically, the dive bars. Celebratory drinks became a tradition for you and Jake after your first successful investigation together. The two of you would stop at the first dive bar you’d find and spend the night with a drink or two before heading back to the office or hotel you were spending the night in. 

Tonight, you found a rustic little dive bar in the middle of the desolate road in California. There wasn’t much around other than a few little establishments and it was clear that the next big city was at least a dozen miles away. 

Jake was nearly done with the beer he has been nursing since the beginning of your visit. Meanwhile, you were just starting round three of another tequila lime and coke. He was intently keeping an eye on you, just in case you decided to pass out on him. 

He loved seeing you like this, all rambly and carefree from the alcohol. He loved working with you, but you could be so stiff and orderly that he took advantage of the moments where he got to see you so unabashedly yourself. He did everything he could to make you feel comfortable enough to be yourself around him. It took some time for him to crack you open, especially with how set you were on shutting him out. But he was patient. Before you could even realize what he was doing, he slowly ended up building up your trust in him all while chipping at the walls you’ve put up to keep him away. To his surprise, he immediately fell in love with the woman he found underneath. He knew it was a slippery slope, working with you while feeling the way he did. It could compromise your partnership if you ever found out, as well as his judgment out in the field. 

Bradley had warned him against his feelings towards you. It hurt, but he was right. If you ever found out, you would probably never want to work with him again. 

But he couldn’t help it. The two of you worked so well together and you understood him and his thoughts more than anyone he has ever worked with. The two of you were a team and he never wanted to work with anyone else. He never wanted to be with anyone else. 

So he kept quiet. If keeping quiet meant keeping you here, then he would stay this way forever. At least until he knew if you felt the same way. 

There were moments in your partnership when Jake swore you felt the same way about him. But these moments were fleeting–disappearing just as fast as they came. By the time Jake was able to notice them, you were already pulling away and going back to your hardened “work and no funny business” exterior. 

They were moments like you reaching out for his hand when things got a little too intense. Your eyes scanning for him whenever the two of you get separated in the field. The smaller, more intimate moments where you’d share with him a piece of yourself that no one else knew. 

These were the moments that had him holding on to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you felt the spark between you two that everyone else could blatantly see. 

“Do you think we could take one of these shot glasses back home, Jake? I think Reuben would really like one of these.” You examined one of the lone shot glasses on the bar top, holding it up to the light. 

There wasn’t anything special about it. It was just a regular old shot glass that you could find almost anywhere. But in your buzzed state, the shot glass looked nothing but special. 

He smiles softly, replaying the word home in the back of his mind. Not back to the office, but back home. The way you said it made it sound like Jake was going back to your home with you. Oh, how much he wished that was true. 

Jake shakes his head, gently taking the glass from your fingers and setting back on the table. “I don’t think so, darling. This one belongs to the fine gentleman who owns the bar.” 

A small pout crosses your lips making Jake feel like his heart was thumping out of his rib cage. Oh, he was a goner. 

“Besides, I think Reuben has enough shot glasses to attend to the whole department.” 

“I guess so,” you sigh softly, before going back to sipping at your drink.

The slightly dejected look on your face makes his face fall and before he can even process what he’s doing, Jake’s grabbing your hand delicately in his. “But maybe we can stop at a gas station on our way back and buy him an even cooler glass. How does that sound?” 

Your eyes light up and Jake takes pride in his mission accomplished. You don’t seem to notice that your hand is still in Jake’s and you don’t find it in you to care. 

Jake wants to trap this moment in a bottle forever. There were barely any patrons left in the bar other than you two and a couple stragglers. But to him, it felt like it was just you and him. There was no need for him to be bothered by the rest of the world. 

The bartender clearing his throat breaks Jake from his trance. “You and your lady best be going now, son. It looks like the storm’s getting pretty bad out there. Don’t want the two of you getting stranded on the road.” 

Jake glances out the window to see that the man was right. He could barely see the night sky through the dark clouds overhead and the wind as well as the downpour was starting to pick up. You were still happily sipping your drink when Jake carefully pries your cup from your hand and pays off the rest of your tab. You let out a little whine in protest, but comply when Jake points out the storm brewing outside. 

The bartender gives you a bottle of water to take with you so you can sober up and help keep yourselves safe on the road. Jake, ever the gentleman, shrugs off his jacket and holds it over your head as the two of you run into the rain. He holds it above you as you get into the car before he hurries over to the driver's side. 

The rain seemed to be more than enough to have the effects of the alcohol wearing off as you’re instantly turned back into your level-headed self. 

You’re cursing under your breath as you lamely hold your phone up to the roof of the car in search of some cell service. 

“Nothing?” Jake asks after trying his own luck. 

You shake your head with a worried frown on your face. Jake holds out his hand and you get the message immediately, swapping phones and trying again. You knew it was silly and you’d probably end up with the same results, but it was worth a try. 

Even with Jake’s phone, you’re unable to get even one bar of service. Jake’s luck seems to be much better than yours as a soft “a-ha!” leaves his lips as he holds your phone awkwardly in front of the rear view mirror. 

“You got something?” You lean over to get a look at your phone. 

“It’s a bit slow, but I’ve got it.” He pauses waiting for the directions to load. “Here, Motel California.” 

“You mean like the song?” 

The innocence of your question makes him smile. “That’s Hotel California, darling.” He tilts the phone so you can get a better view. A glimpse of the preview pictures of the motel made the both of your faces drop. “Well, she ain’t pretty, but at least she’s something.” 

You only shrug in agreement. “I guess we have stayed in worse places.” 

“Here, how about you–” Jake is cut off by the sound of your phone chiming. He doesn’t mean to snoop, but the message is right in front of his face. 

It was a text from Pete. 

Are you sure you want to go through with your transfer? 

Jake’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. He has never felt as hurt and betrayed as he did at this moment. “Transfer? What transfer?” 

Your face falls at Jake’s venom laced words. You have heard him speak this way before–to colleagues who disrespected you at work and even friends who took a joke a step too far– but you have never been on the receiving end of his malice. You know you’ve been caught and you have nothing to say to justify it without giving yourself away. “Jake, I was going to tell you.” 

He drops your phone in the cup holder between the two of you. His face stern as he starts the car and begins driving. 

“Jake,” you start, already feeling the regret seep into your bones. 

“Don’t.” His grip on the steering wheel tightens and so does his jaw. 

“Jake, please. I was going to tell you, I swear–” 

“When? After you get transferred?” He scoffs, his anger fading into disappointment. Jake whispers your name. For the first time since you met him two years ago, he called you by your name. Not Pumpkin, or sweetheart, or darling. “And to think I was proud to call you my partner. I thought we were good together. Clearly I was the only one.” 

“Jake,” you beg. “You know that’s not true.” 

He holds a hand up, silently telling you to stop. If you say anything else he might say something he doesn’t mean. “Just read me the directions. I don’t want to talk about this right now.” 

Respecting his request, you shove down the cries that want to escape you and reach for your phone, weakly directing him to the motel. 

He was quiet tonight. It was another case solved thanks to you and Jake and you were celebrating with a pitcher of beer at one of the honky tonk bars you stumbled upon in the city. 

And Jake was never quiet. Especially after an investigation. He usually talked your ear off about how impressed he was with your skills and you would roll your eyes and give him an equal amount of appreciation. Or he would be going on about the supernatural phenomenon the both of you had just witnessed while you try to debunk it all with scientific jargon. 

The two of you landed an investigation in Texas and on the way there, you have never seen your partner as excited as he was on the plane ride. You thought Jake would already be on the dance floor because this was his element. Suddenly it was like a switch flipped, and he was no longer comforted by the essence of home. Now he looked like he was ready to take the first flight out of there. 

You desperately wracked your mind through the events of the past few days, nitpicking every moment you spent with him. You were hoping you could find the moment where his childlike excitement turned to absolute dread. 

It hit you then–the moment he changed. The abandoned warehouse on 5th Street where you ran into one of his old colleagues, Daniel Callaghan. Callaghan’s department was also doing some investigating of their own, causing you guys to cross paths. 

Callaghan was the type of man you were attracted to in your field. Tall, level headed, believed facts over fiction. He was everything Jake was not. Maybe in another time, you would have found yourself gravitating towards someone like Callaghan, but not this time. Instead, you saw him as arrogant, stuck up, and a misogynist when it came to his comments about you. 

You had only responded to him with a scoff and the finger to which Callaghan found amusing. Jake, on the other hand, wasn’t as pleased and told Callaghan to knock it off. That made the tension between the two skyrocket, leaving you in the middle of what felt like a masculinity contest.

You were just about ready to leave, gently grasping Jake’s forearm and motioning for him to follow you out. The two of you were nearly out of earshot when Callaghan called out your name. 

“Be careful with him out there, Pumpkin.” The way he says your nickname, the one only ever reserved for Jake’s lips alone, makes you feel nauseous. “They don’t call him the Hangman for nothing.” 

Jake had tensed in your hold and since that encounter, he hadn’t been the same. 

You wanted your bubbly and enthusiastic partner back, not whoever this was in his place. 

You clear your throat in an attempt to catch Jake’s attention. His gaze stays concentrated on the ring of condensation forming around his cup. 

You turn your body to face him instead. Reaching a hand out, you ghost it over his shoulder. You barely touch him when you’re pulling back like he burned you. 

After a moment of deep contemplation you finally ask him, point blank. “What’s going on with you?” 

He looks up, feigning confusion. “Nothing. Why?” His eyes darted back to the glass in his hand. 

“Bullshit.” You take the cup from his hands, eliciting a gasp of surprise from him. 

He knew you could be blunt when you wanted to be. Jake should’ve known you would notice something was going on with him. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, Pumpkin.” 

His words make you frown. Why was he so adamant on shutting you out after trying so hard to pry you open? “Hey, do you remember what you told me on the first case we worked together? You told me that we need to learn how to trust each other because we’re partners and partners have got each other’s backs. Always. This is me having your back, Jake.” You sigh, looking into his green eyes that looked glossy under the lights. “I’m not the easiest person to talk to or be around sometimes. But you’ve taught me that opening up to people isn’t the worst thing in the world. I know that you trust me out there, so please, trust me here too.” 

Jake wished he could tell you he wasn’t acting the way he was because he didn’t trust you. No, that wasn’t it at all. He trusted you with his entire being. There was no doubt about that. It’s what was bothering him that had him drawing away from you. He didn’t want you to see him differently. He didn’t want you to think you couldn’t trust him anymore. The guilt that courses through him is overwhelming. When he told you to trust him on that first day together, it was because he didn’t want you to see him like everyone else did. He wanted to make sure that you knew, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. If he tells you what’s on his mind, you’re going to doubt everything he ever told you. 

The way you’re looking at him, with soft eyes and a gentle smile, makes his icy exterior melt. You always managed to make him feel like you could see right through him. After confessing what’s on his mind, things between you two might never be the same. Jake won’t blame you for it though. This was all on him. Him and Callaghan for opening his stupid mouth. 

He knows he won’t be able to fool you. So he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for imminent loss.“I know you heard what Callaghan called me. Are you not wondering what he meant by that?” 

The genuine confusion on your face makes his chest ache even more. “What, Hangman? I mean I heard him, but I didn’t think much of it.” 

Jake won’t meet your eye, not when he’s making this part of him known. “Hearing that name, being called that again sent me back to a time I wish I could forget. Callaghan reminded me that no matter how hard I try, I’m still the guy I was four years ago.” 

“Who were you, Jake?” 

The rain still hadn’t stopped when you arrived at the motel. Even in his anger, Jake was ever the gentleman–opening the car door for you and shielding you from the downpour with his jacket. However, he hadn’t looked at you nor spoken a word to you once since the revelation that you may be transferring departments. 

You hated yourself for keeping this from him. You swore you were going to tell him, you were just waiting for the right time. Unfortunately that time never came, and Pete beat you to it. The look of betrayal and hurt on Jake’s face upon receiving the news was enough to make you reconsider your decision. In all honesty, you were still undecided on where you stood with the idea of transferring. From Jake’s outright dismissal of your presence, you found it harder to decide. 

The sound of someone calling your name, pulls you from your thoughts as you see Jake looking at you with a frown. You never thought it was possible to crave someone’s smile as much as you do now. You missed the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners and light up like a child on Christmas morning and the adorable dimple on the left side of his lips that you most definitely did not think about every single night before bed. A whole hour hasn’t even passed since the drive from the bar and yet you found yourself missing him as if he has been gone for months.

Instead he continued to stare at you with that stoic expression on his face, one you only saw once back when you were in Texas. There was only one other person you could remember that Jake faced with that expression and it made you sick knowing you might just be the second one. 

All he did was beckon for you with a nod of his head as you quickly thanked the employee at the front desk, who barely acknowledged you, before scurrying after Jake. 

Waiting for the elevator timidly behind Jake gave you a moment to fully take in your surroundings. You were so focused on Jake that you hardly realized he had already checked you both into the motel and that you had been in the lobby for a good ten minutes. 

You’ve been to a lot of unsettling places since the beginning of your partnership with Jake. Each with their own feelings of heaviness, despair, and discomfort from the supposed entities that inhabited the space. You blamed it on your own psychological expectations of the places, but this time you had nothing to blame it on other than your own feelings of unease. 

You shifted on your heels behind Jake, clutching your overnight bag tighter over your shoulder. The hairs on the back of your neck rose at the sudden chill that overcame your body. Strange that only the back of your neck felt cold, compared to the rest of you that was burning up. It was almost as if a hand brushed against your neck with ice cold fingertips. 

Looking over your shoulder, you expect to see a fan or perhaps an A/C unit but you are met with nothing but the wall. You feel the prick at your neck once more, only this time, your heart rate begins to speed up as you suddenly feel like you were being watched. You shake your head, reminding yourself that it was just your imagination. With the way motel management clearly hadn’t bothered to renovate the place since the 60s, you forced yourself to believe that it was merely an old building. Nothing more. 

Yet the itch to reach out and hang onto Jake’s arm for comfort didn’t cease, even as you reassured yourself that it was all in your head. 

The elevator ride to the third floor was filled with heavy silence. The unease you carried didn’t leave you even as you left the ground floor. It seemed to have followed you into the elevator and all the way up. 

The strength of the feeling made your arms prick with goosebumps as you followed Jake with your chin down, staring intently at the backs of his heels. 

Jake makes an abrupt stop at the end of the hallway and if it weren’t for your hyper fixated gaze on his shoes, you probably would have ran right into his back. He takes a heavy sigh before turning to glance over his shoulder at you. 

His green eyes, void of emotion, meet yours. “The concierge said they only had one room left for the night, so we’re gonna have to share.” 

You swallow the urge to scoff at the blatant lie that the motel only had one room available, for it was evident that the place was hardly full by their near empty parking lot. You keep this thought to yourself and nod, not wanting to give Jake another reason to be upset at you.

Stepping into the room, your nose wrinkles at the smell of stale wood and moist mold. You’re hesitant to even lay your bag onto the armchair that sat in the corner of the room. That also looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. 

You hear Jake gently close the door behind you and take in the room as well. He has the exact same reaction as you–his face twisting into a sour expression before letting out a frustrated sigh. 

An awkward laugh leaves your lips in an attempt to lighten the unsaveable somber mood. “At least you’ll have the bed to yourself.” 

Jake’s brows furrow at your insinuation and he shakes his head in disagreement. “What makes you think I’m gonna let you sleep on the floor?” 

You shrug. “What makes you think I would let you sleep on the floor?” 

Sharing a room with Jake wasn’t unknown territory. Sharing a room with one bed however, was a different story. 

“Yeah, no. That’s not happening. I’m sleeping on the floor and that’s final.” Jake’s hands rest on his hips like a mother scolding her children. His stance makes you giggle, pulling a small smile to his lips. 

The previous air that surrounded the two of you seemed to dissipate, if only for a little bit. You would take what you could get, wishing what happened hours ago was magically wiped from Jake’s memory. 

“Seriously? You’ve been complaining about your back hurting for weeks now! The floor isn’t going to make you feel any better.” You mimic his posture, desperate to get another smile out of him. 

His lips grow wider. “Well, what do you suggest we do then? My ma would kill me if she ever found out I let a lady sleep on a motel floor.”

Fiddling with your fingers, you try your last attempt at extending an olive branch of apology towards him. “I mean, we could always…” You trail off, figuring that he would understand what you’re suggesting. 

You regret the moment the words leave your mouth because the look on Jake’s face falls back into that guarded disposition. 

The lightness of before disappears just as fast as it came, making the weight on your shoulders drop. You silently curse yourself, wishing you had just shut your mouth and kept quiet. 

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” His gaze darts to the floor. “Take the bed. I’ll be fine on the floor.” 

You step forward, ready to argue once more, when he scurries quickly into the bathroom and shuts the door roughly behind him. You settled at the foot of the bed, burying your face in your hands in an attempt to stop the tears that threatened to fall down your cheeks. 

In the end, this was your fault. You were the one who was a coward. The one who ran away when things got scary. When things got real. You’d think Jake’s withdrawal from you would be a good thing–that it would lessen the pain of you leaving. But just because you had wanted to leave did not mean you wanted to cut off his friendship. Now, you didn’t even have that. 

You couldn’t sleep knowing that you were marked. You had stayed up all night last night just trying to put together some rational explanation for the sudden appearance of scars on the back of your neck but it was no use. Whatever this was, science couldn’t provide you any comfort. 

Even so, you still wouldn’t believe in whatever it was that Jake thought was going around killing innocent women. He swore up and down that it was some paranormal entity with ill intentions. He even went as far as saying it might be a demon. 

That made you scoff and roll your eyes until you woke up with the same mark that was found on the five victims’ bodies before their deaths. You knew a lot about coincidence, but this was a pattern. No matter how the mark had gotten onto your skin, the evidence just shows that you were next. You were going to die. 

A soft knock on your door makes your heart jump out of its ribcage. You clumsily reach for the first thing you find to defend yourself and raise it over your shoulder. The paranoia was getting to you and you didn’t even think of checking through the peephole before throwing open the door and swinging at the person on the other side. 

“Pumpkin, hey! It’s just me!” Jake stood at your door in nothing but an old t-shirt and flannel pants as he ducked and backed away from your swinging arm. “Put the lamp down, you’re okay.” 

You hardly register Jake’s voice, keeping your arm raised trepidatiously. 

His lips tilt down as he takes a step forward with his hands in front of him. “It’s okay, I promise,” he speaks gently. Jake nods, slowly reaching out to take the lamp from your grip. 

Your hand tightens when he tugs on it and he nods reassuringly, using his other hand to delicately cup your cheek. 

At the contact, you release a long breath, dropping your shoulders and letting him completely take your makeshift weapon away from you. 

He ushers you inside and carefully closes the door so he doesn’t startle you. Jake felt like something was wrong with you after finding out about the mark. No matter how many times you reassured him you were fine, even playing the skeptic card didn’t stop him from seeing the genuine fear in your eyes. 

Jake knew your relationship with the work the two of you did was complicated. Despite everything you’ve seen, you weren’t exactly a believer of the explanations behind the cases you solved. You helped Jake with the investigations and the small details he tended to miss, but in the end he was the one who called the case a supernatural occurrence. You balanced him out in a way, pointing out when he was too far gone and more logical reasonings sat right in front of him. Other times you challenged him and forced him to think outside the box. The two of you work in harmony together, making each other one hell of a team. 

But not once since the start of your partnership, had Jake ever seen you this shaken up. He was afraid that you were going to shut him out again because of it. Jake knew more than anyone how paralyzing fear could become. He knew how lonely being afraid could be. Which is why he found himself knocking on your door in the dead of night. Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t the only one experiencing fear. 

When Jake found out that you were marked, he had never felt such intense fear and worry in his life. Hearing stories of being marked was one thing, experiencing it with someone he cared dearly about was another. 

The dark purple hue beneath your eyes and your lack of attentiveness didn’t go unnoticed by Jake. No matter how much you tried to play off your worry, he could see right through you. Jake always could. 

“Pumpkin…” he starts, eyes sad and full of concern. 

“I’m fine, Jake.” You could feel his stare on the back of your head but you refuse to acknowledge him. 

“It’s okay not to be, God knows I’m not,” Jake admits, taking another step closer to you. He needs you to know that you’re not alone in this. 

That makes you scoff. “Why? You’re mark free. You have nothing to worry about in the first place. Being a man and all, because when do men have to worry about anything?” 

Jake stays silent, letting you stew in your anger. You have every right to be angry, he doesn’t blame you for taking it out on him. In fact, he lets you. 

You tighten your grip against the old wooden desk in front of you, staring at the makeshift evidence board you’ve created in your room. “Did you know that just because I’m a woman, I’m already more likely to be a target for a murder? And that’s discounting my occupation. Even now, whoever or whatever is leaving behind a string of bodies is targeting women. And we don’t even know what’s causing these deaths. It is so horrid just thinking that even these so-called supernatural forces, that we have no scientific explanations for,  have some kind of vendetta towards women. So if you came here to sympathize with me and tell me some bullshit about understanding what I’m going through, you can leave. Because you don’t. You never will.” 

Jake lets your words seep into him, trying to fully understand where all of your hurt is coming from. He has two younger sisters, both of which he loved and protected fiercely from the world because of the absence of his father. He knew how scary the world could be for them, but you were right, he would truly never understand it to the extent that you guys would. He wishes there was something he could do or say to make things better, but there’s not. There isn’t a thing in the world that would make any of this better. 

Instead, he sauntered over to where you stand in front of the desk, eyeing your evidence board carefully. “There’s something missing here,” Jake taps the wall with the knuckle of his finger. “Between the woman’s time of death and when the authorities actually find the body. The body looks so… different from what’s actually described as her cause of death.” 

“Well, hopefully you’ll be able to figure that out when it happens to me,” you grumble before running a hand down your face and collapsing onto the edge of your bed. 

Your despair and hopelessness is what breaks him. Jake gets on his knees in front of you and pulls your hands away from your face, firmly gripping onto your knees. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare even think it. We’re going to figure this out, okay? You and me. I will figure this out if it’s the last thing I do.” 

“Jake…” 

“No, hey, listen.” He is stern. Stern, yet gentle in his words. “We’re partners and we’ve got each other’s backs, remember? I’m not just going to let you die. It’s you and me, always.” 

Tired of fighting your exhaustion and denying just how terrified you are, your facade breaks–and so does the dam holding your tears at bay. Reaching to hold onto his hands tighter, you sob softly, “You promise?” 

“I promise, Pumpkin.” 

That’s all it takes for you to slide off the bed and onto your knees as you fall into Jake’s chest. Your shoulders shake in fear, but also relief from being in Jake’s arms. There was no certainty in his statement, yet you believed him wholeheartedly. For some reason you had faith that he would figure this out. That he wouldn’t leave you alone in this. 

Jake shushes you softly, cradling your head on his shoulder and rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back. He meant every word he said. He would go through hell and back if it meant keeping you from harm’s way. Though neither of you would admit it, you guys needed each other. In the field and off of it. 

Ever since you walked into his life, it was as if his career didn’t exist before you. He had no recollection of how he used to work when you weren’t his partner. The only thing he could see was you by his side for everything. Jake wished he could tell you this upright, but he’s afraid of scaring you away even more. 

But with the way you held his shirt tighter, it gave him the slightest bit of hope that maybe you needed him just as much as he needed you. 

You wake to the sound of thunder rattling the room. Out of pure instinct your hand shoots to the back of your neck, rubbing your thumb back and forth on the marred skin there. It was some kind of defense mechanism you had developed since the incident. A lame attempt at protecting yourself, you assumed. 

Turning over onto your side, you blindly grab for your phone on the bedside and squint your eyes to view the time. 

3:39am 

A groan escapes you, as you roll onto your back and throw an arm over your eyes. Another crash of thunder makes your heart jump and you jolt up. You’re breathing heavily as you pull your covers up to your chest. It was just thunder. There was no need for you to be so afraid. After releasing a deep sigh, you lay back down on your side. Curious to see if Jake had woken up from the commotion outside, you peek over the side of the bed only to be met with Jake’s vacant makeshift bed. 

The bathroom door was wide open and you doubted that he was out on the balcony. With your room key in hand, you don’t even think twice before bolting out of bed in nothing but your pajamas and into the hallway. 

The yellow hallway lights are blinding at first glance and you attempt to blink yourself awake. “Jake?” You call out into the hallway, not caring for waking up any other guests of the motel. Worry for your partner clouded your better judgment and you found yourself running down the hall with no clue where you were going. 

Movement in your peripheral has you swiftly turning towards the second outlet of the hallway where you see Jake walking away. 

“Jake!” You continue to follow him. He doesn’t even flinch at the sound of his name, and your worry is quickly replaced with anger. You knew he was probably still mad at you from the sudden news of your transfer, but he was being an immature asshole for making you chase him down a hallway. 

You pick up your pace, following after him with  newfound determination. When you got your hands on him you swore you were going to give him a piece of your mind. No matter how fast you walk, however, the further it seemed that you got from him. It was as if the hallway was stretching in size, progressively getting longer the closer you got to Jake. 

That feeling of dread, the one that prickled at the skin of your neck and made your hands clammy took over. That feeling that told you something was wrong. You were suddenly snapped into work mode, your senses more alert than ever. 

Those eyes you thought you felt on you earlier in the lobby returned, causing you to turn around to look for the culprit when you are met with nothing. A chill from behind you makes you whirl around again. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t save him.” 

The eerie whisper in your right ear sends you running. It sounded as ordinary as a whisper during the game of telephone, soft and deliberate. But it made you feel so unsettled that you thought you might vomit from all the nerves it ticked off. 

You don’t look back as you rush down the hallway, brushing your fingertips across the scratchy red wallpaper to keep yourself grounded. To remind yourself that you were here and not in some twisted dream. 

Too caught up in your desperation to escape, you remember the reason why you were out here in the first place. 

Jake. 

On cue, that disembodied voice echoes in your mind. “You can’t save him.” 

Was Jake the one the voice was talking about? That you wouldn’t be able to save him? Save him from what? 

You’re stuck. You swore you were going insane. You let your imagination run wild and now you were imagining things. All of Jake’s crazy stories were finally getting to you. And yet… 

What if this wasn’t your imagination? What if Jake was really in trouble? 

He would believe the voice and find you. That is what he’d do. He would follow his gut, and if there was anything you knew about Jake’s hunches it was that they were almost always right. You had to find him, even if this was your mind playing tricks on you, you had to go after him. It’s what he would do for you. 

_________

Jake woke up to the sound of his name being called. He shot up from the floor, immediately knowing that voice. It was the voice that echoed through his head in his nightmares, the one that haunted him in the middle of the night–and it was the one that was calling out to him now. 

“Jake!”  

He hears its pleas clear as day, begging for him to come save them. 

“Jake!” 

Jake scrambles to his feet, not caring about his shoes nor grabbing his room key because the second Jake walks out that door, he is no longer in the motel. Rather, he is in a place he recognizes all too well. 

Riley Mulder, his ex-partner, was screaming at him from the depths of the underground subway tunnel system they were investigating. 

Strange activity and a mysterious substance running down the cement walls wasn’t enough to get their team on the case, it was the murder. 

The victim, petrified in fear, like a statue in Medusa’s garden, lay paralyzed on the abandoned train tracks and covered in that mysterious goo. 

The sounds of his partner echo again and Jake finds himself running towards the sound. 

“Riley! Riley, I’m coming!” Jake shouts in a panic, sprinting down the dark tunnel. 

Jake curses himself for not remembering to bring a flashlight with him as he stumbles over another rail.  

He could see Riley’s silhouette in the distance, yet no matter how fast he ran, Jake didn’t seem to be getting any closer to him. 

“Riley!” He calls again, tripping and falling onto the ground in full force. 

Jake lands on something sticky beneath him and he picks up his hands to wipe it on his shirt. His heart jumps out of his chest at the sight below him. 

It was Riley. His skin was ice cold, and he was frozen in a state of fear. His mouth was wide open and his hands were blocking his eyes—his eyes that Jake was sure would be hollow if he could see them. 

He feels like he’s going to be sick as he scrambled as far away from him as possible. 

The shadow of a person behind him causes him to look over his shoulder. The sight before him fills him with dread. “No,” he mutters. “No, Pumpkin, you gotta get out of here. You’re not supposed to be here.” 

“I’m here because of you,” you hiss. Your voice is filled with venom, harsh in a way that isn’t yours. 

Deep down, he knows you aren’t really here. That he isn’t really here. But everything feels so real, throwing all rationale out the door. You are here. He is here. And you were right, it’s because of him. 

“Riley is here because of you. Riley is dead because of you.” You take a menacing step closer to him as Jake shakes his head in fear. “Because you were too much of a coward to stick around. You left him behind, left him…hanging. That is how you got your nickname isn’t it? Hangman?” 

Jake pales. Hearing that name out of your mouth, a name that he detests more than anything, hurts him. He remembers the night he told you with a heavy heart the origins of his nickname. He wasn’t proud of it, and he expected you to hate him for it. He wasn’t expecting for you to give him your full and complete trust. That was the night the two of you truly became partners. No more secrets, well, except one. 

“No, that’s not what… I’m not–” he stutters. His heart pounds in his chest, as he takes another step backward. Why were you doing this? Why were you hurting him this way? 

“How does it feel to be the one left out to dry, huh? Sorry I didn’t tell you about my transfer sooner. I just wanted to hurt you just as bad as you hurt Riley because you don’t deserve me, Jake Seresin. Being your partner is only going to get me killed and I know that. So I thought I’d save myself before you could.” 

Jake shuts his eyes, bringing his fisted hands to his temples. “Stop,” he pleads. You were right. He knew you were right. But he didn’t think he’d ever actually hear you say it. 

“You couldn’t save him and you can’t save me.” 

The two of you are on the roof of a building now, startling Jake slightly. He watches you take a step towards the edge of the roof and his heart jumps. “Pumpkin, what are you doing?” 

“This is all your fault,” you whisper, taking another step back. 

He reaches out desperately, trying to hold onto your hand. “Please.” 

Your wide eyes meet his and for a moment he swears your fingertips touched his. He tries to grab you, but you slip right through his fingers and right off the ledge. 

Jake can’t hear anything other than his own screams as his knees hit the concrete. 

“This is all your fault.” He picks up his head to see Riley’s face, gray and jaw wide open just like it was in his last moments. 

This time, he’s not afraid. A feeling of calm washes over him suddenly. Acceptance of his fate. You were right. He doesn’t deserve you. He couldn’t even save you in the end. Now you were gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He couldn’t save Riley. 

He couldn’t save you. 

And there’s no one to save him. 

“This is all my fault.” 

“It’s okay, Jake,” Riley comforts him. “You can let go.” 

Something compels him to stand on the ledge where you once were. Jake nods, taking in a deep breath before stepping forward. He’s no longer afraid. 

_________________ 

If the exit door leading to the roof had not been flung wide open, you wouldn’t have even thought to check up there. What would Jake even be doing up there on the roof? You had no idea. But your gut was telling you something about this place wasn’t right and that you needed to grab Jake and get out of there as fast as possible. 

You curse softly to yourself for not bothering to put on any shoes or even throwing on a jacket as the rain continued to pour outside. Jake didn’t have any on either, making you feel even more on edge than you thought possible. 

Jake was always particular about those things. He claimed to have sensitive soles and would never be caught dead walking around in bare feet unless he was at the beach. Even then, his toes would curl up uncomfortably at the feeling of the individual grains rubbing against his skin. 

Everything he did tonight was out of character and you doubted it was still because of the news of your transfer. 

A shiver crawls its way up your spine upon setting your sights on Jake and it was not just because of the rain. The state he was in pulled a gasp from your lips as you raised a hand to cover your mouth. His back was turned to you so you could see the outline of his muscles through his soaking wet white sleep tee. As you recalled, he was barefoot as he stood on the ledge of the roof. 

You didn’t understand what he was doing there so close to the edge. One wrong step and he would fall. You didn’t want to startle him into accidentally losing his balance so you carefully make your way forward until you’re standing right behind him. 

Jake was still unaware of your presence as he continued to stand still. You apprehensively wrap your hand around his wrist and gently tug him back towards you. His body moves like a rag doll, almost as if he were in such a relaxed state that he was no longer controlling his limbs. 

“Jake, what the hell are you doing out here?” You ask him as you use your other hand to grab his other arm and bring him down. 

It was like his body was on autopilot as he followed your guidance robotically. Your heart starts to race at the sight of him. His green eyes were looking right back at you, however there was absolutely no recognition behind them. Almost like he didn’t even see you. 

“Jake?” You call out once you notice he has started mumbling something under his breath. 

You could barely hear him over the sound of the rain but you caught a string of words that sounded like, Riley, my fault, and let go. 

Your heart drops to your stomach at the sound of his ex-partner’s name. You knew what happened with Riley and you knew that Jake still felt guilty about it no matter how much you tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fault. 

“Jake?” You say again, with much more force this time. Cupping his face in your hands, you lightly shake him, desperate to break him from whatever trance he was in. 

You wracked your brain in an attempt to understand what was happening. Was he sleepwalking? Jake hasn’t had any previous history of sleepwalking but that was the only thing you could conclude with the way he was acting. 

You rub your thumbs softly against the apples of his cheeks and his wet skin, frowning at how cold to the touch he feels. “Jake, I’m gonna bring you back to bed, okay?” You don’t know why you’re even telling him this since he can’t even hear a word you are saying. You grab him by the hand once more and turn around when you feel him tug you back. 

You look at him over your shoulder to see his feet still planted firmly on the ground beneath him. He is still looking at you, but gone is that neutral look on his face. It was replaced with a look that made you feel uncomfortable under his gaze. He was smirking–a look that wasn’t uncommon on Jake’s face. The glint in his green eyes that seemed to have darkened under the pale moonlight held something more unnatural. A look you would describe as sinister. 

His grip on your hand tightened and you had to stop yourself from squeaking out in pain. “Jake, what are you doing? Let me go, that hurts.” 

Jake’s smirk grows. “Stupid girl, Jake’s not home right now.” 

The voice that comes out of his mouth is hardly his. It’s low and unlike the Southern timbre you’ve grown so used to. It felt almost sickening to listen to. It made your heart race and tripped the danger signals in your head. “This isn’t funny, Jake.” Your voice fades at the end of your sentence despite how hard you try to keep your fear at bay. “Seriously, that’s enough.” 

He laughs mockingly. The sound makes your skin erupt in goosebumps and you tug on your hand to try to get out of his hold. “What makes you think this is a joke? I told you. Jake’s not home right now. He’s busy. Busy letting go.” 

You shake your head in denial. You know what this is. Jake has told you about this before. You’ve even seen it once yourself in a previous case that you concluded to be mass hysteria and sleepwalking. The word is on the forefront of your mind but you refuse to acknowledge it. 

“Acknowledgement makes it real,” you could hear Jake’s voice in your head. “You’ve got to start working on that.” 

You couldn’t. Acknowledging it made this situation real. It made everything you refused to believe in, refused to see the truth in, real. That just made this predicament ten times more frightening. 

“What does that mean?” You conclude that you won’t acknowledge it, but you would play his game like you would with a perp in the field. Goad him on, keep him talking in hopes that you could figure out his motive. 

“Jake is a suffering soul and you are the reason why his pain is too much to bear. He needs to let go so he can be free of the burdens you’ve placed upon him. I’m here to make sure he does without you getting in the way.” 

Jake, or not Jake, uses one arm to push you back onto the floor with an inhumane bout of brute force that makes your back ache. Your mistake was trying to use your arm to catch yourself. As if the immediate burning pain wasn’t enough, the sickening sound of a crack echoes in your ears as you hit the ground. 

You cry out before falling onto your shoulder and cradling your arm with your other hand. The tears that begin to gather in your eyes are from all the emotions rolling through you at once. Fear, regret, pain, but most of all, guilt. 

“I have to free him, just like the others.” Not Jake speaks before turning around and robotically walking back towards the ledge. 

You had to stop him. “The others? What others?” You call out, voice strained due to the feeling that your arm was on fire. 

“The others that were suffering!” He turns back around to face you. “I had to take over and relieve them from the pain that has been inflicted upon them before I could take care of the source of their pain.” 

“Take care of it, how?” 

“You’ll see. You are next after all.” A menacing smile pulls at Jake’s lips and the reality of your situation finally sinks in. 

There was not a single skeptic bone in your body as you finally accepted your job and what you do. Each moment of solving case after case with Jake became even more real as you thought of them one by one. You went through the catalog of supernatural explanations for each one before landing on the one that was being displayed right in front of you. Seeing it in the eyes of someone you loved was something you could no longer deny. 

Possession. Jake was possessed. He was possessed by some sick spirit that thought they were helping rid Jake of his pain. 

Your tears mix with the rain droplets on your cheeks as you beg for Jake to look at you. He couldn’t hear you, you knew that, but you had to do something to get his attention back on you. The spirit in Jake’s body was leading him back to the ledge. 

Watching Jake take another step closer to the edge of the rooftop finally made you understand what the spirit was doing. Ridding them of their misery. The entity was going to make Jake step off the ledge. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off Jake as you pushed yourself with all the strength you had off the floor with your good arm. What did Jake say could take victims out of a possession? 

You stare at the pair of lovers with watery eyes as they embrace each other tightly. “How did he do it?” 

“Do what?” Jake asks, looking at you with his arms crossed. 

“Snap her out of it. I really thought she was a lost cause.” 

He shrugs. “Easy. He just reminded her of who she is and what she’s living for. It’s cheesy but the power of love is not to be underestimated.” 

You scoff with an amused smile on your lips. “Whatever, Celine Dion.” 

You rush forward, grabbing him by the arm and forcefully bringing him back off the ledge to face you. “Jake, you are stronger than whatever this is. You’re Jake Seresin, FBI Special Agent for the X-Files. You are the smartest guy I know and maybe even the funniest, but don’t tell Bradshaw.” 

Jake, or whatever is possessing him, contorts his features so Jake is smiling down at you in amusement. Not the playful kind that you’re used to, but a more unsettling one. “That’s cute, Pumpkin. But what you’re doing is not gonna work.” 

You hold onto Jake’s arm with as much strength as you have, not caring if it might bruise him later. Bruising is the least of your worries. You ignore the bile that pushes itself up your throat at the sound of your nickname being tainted by something that isn’t even Jake. 

“You are confident and a little too arrogant sometimes, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. You are my best friend and my partner.” You sniffle, as you look into his clouded eyes. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not telling you about my transfer and I’m sorry for even doing it in the first place. The truth is, I did it because I was afraid. I was afraid of how attached I have become to you. I was afraid that at any moment something bad would happen and I would lose you. But most of all, I was afraid because I love you.” 

You scan his features, desperate for a sign that he heard you. 

“I love you, Jake Seresin and I was afraid that I do. I have never felt this way before towards anyone and I was scared. Working with you became too much and for a moment, I thought that transferring would save me from the inevitable heartbreak once I realized that you would never feel the same about me. But Jake, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. 

I love you and I need you to come back to me because I realized, I don’t think I could really live without you in my life. I need you like I need air to breathe, Jake Seresin. You are everything to me. I need you to come back to me and when you do, I promise I’ll stay, even if you don’t love me back. As long as you’re still in my life, I’m good. That is all I need. So please, please be strong and fight this for me. I know you’re in there and that you can hear me. I know you can. Fight it, Seresin. Beat that old spirit’s ass.” 

It feels like an eternity before he finally comes to. You had seen the shift in his gaze after the second “I love you,” but you still kept going. Just in case he needed reassurance. Just in case he didn’t believe you. 

The moment was subtle, just as it had been the first time you witnessed a possession. It wasn’t anything flashy like the media portrayed it to be. There was no screaming, no bodies defying gravity, and no latin phrases or priests in sight. 

It was the gasp of air Jake took before falling forward and into your arms. It was the cold of his skin turning warm again. It was the way he cried as his own arms wrapped around your body. He was here and he was home. 

You are careful of your injured arm as you slowly lower the two of you onto the ground. The rain, you’ve noticed, had finally ceased to a stop leaving you and Jake sitting in a puddle. Though neither of you cared as you were both sopping wet anyways. 

You cradle his head into the crook of your neck and sigh in relief with a cry of your own. Jake’s arms tighten around your middle and you kiss his wet hair. 

“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. You’re here,” you whisper into his ear. 

You don’t know how long has passed until Jake finally says something to you, but you don’t care. You’d hold him for as long as he needed. 

“Did you mean it?” He croaks, looking up at you with sad eyes. “Did you mean what you said?” 

You knew what he was really trying to ask. Were they not just empty words to get me out of my head?  

You brush his cheek with your knuckle. “Every single word. I love you, Jake. I love you so much and I am so sorry for everything I have done to make you think otherwise.” 

The smile that falls on his face makes the heaviness of before melt away. You no longer felt cold and damp from the warmth of his smile. One that was so unlike the one he had given you when he was possessed. 

This was your Jake, the one you loved. 

“I love you, Pumpkin. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say it,” he confesses. 

“Are you serious?” You let out a watery laugh of disbelief. 

He nods. “I love you. I love you so fucking much it hurts sometimes.” 

A smile of your own graces your lips as you lean your forehead against his. “Kiss me, Jake. Please, I don’t think I can wait any longer.” 

The kiss is everything you thought it would be and more. His lips feel like home as they meet yours in a dance that shouldn’t feel as familiar as it already does. It felt like a dance you’ve done a million times before. It was a dance you would do a million times again. 

“Please don’t transfer. Please don’t leave me, baby,” Jake begs as he releases your lips. 

You could cry from how desperate he sounds. You did that. You instilled that doubt in him. So you’ll prove to him that you’re here to stay, no matter how long it takes. “I’m staying. I promise. Jake, I don’t think I could leave you even if I tried.” 

That’s all it takes for Jake’s lips to meet yours in another round of passionate kisses. 

You shift in his hold, whimpering when you feel a sharp pain in your arm from when you fell. With all the adrenaline wearing off, you can feel the ache of your split bone. 

“Shit, Pumpkin.” Jake reluctantly pulls away. He looks down at you before making contact with your arm that you cradle back to your chest. “Darling, you’re hurt. We need to get you to the hospital.” 

He must think you’re crazy by the way you shake your head and try to keep him down with you. “Not yet.” 

“But baby, your arm—“ 

“My arm can wait,” you hum. “Let me keep you to myself for a bit. Just me and you.” 

Jake nods, falling back against you carefully. “Just me and you. Hey, Pumpkin?” 

“Hm?” 

“Thank you for saving my life.” 

Your smile is bright enough to rival that of the now rising sun. “Thank you for saving mine.” 

Six Months Later 

“I’m surprised you even wanted to come back here,” Natasha looks to the duo beside her with surprise. 

You’re smiling proudly up at Jake who has his arm securely around your waist as he tucks you into his side. 

“I needed to make sure that it was really done. That they really shut down for good,” Jake replies, looking out to the Motel California that was now officially closed for good after a thorough investigation by their department. 

Turns out, over a dozen helpless travelers and fallen victims to the motel’s sinister spirits. 

Dozens were found dead over the years by what was concluded as self inflicted injuries and unfortunate accidents. 

Upon finding this out, you and Jake had set it onto yourselves to shut down the motel’s business in hopes that no one would fall victim to those spirits again. 

Now, you could only hope that the spirits would stay contained in the now abandoned motel forever. 

The motel held a bittersweet place in both of your hearts. It was the place where you first said “I love you,” but it was also the place where an irreversible tragedy almost occurred. 

The motel served as a turning point in your relationship, but it did not define who the two of you were today. 

“I’m surprised the two of you didn’t take one look at this place and know it was haunted,” Bradley retorts from the other side of Jake. 

Jake elbows Bradley in the stomach causing him to wince over in exaggerated pain. 

You and Natasha giggle at the boys’ exchange, rolling your eyes with amusement. 

“Come on, Bradshaw, let’s give these two a moment of peace.” Nat pulls Bradley by the arm and towards the car. 

Bradley huffs under his breath like a child but complies, dragging his feet behind her.  

“You did good, Jake,” you grin at your boyfriend of six months. 

“Oh, please, that was all you, Pumpkin. I just played puppet for the night.” 

“Yeah, but it was you who pushed for this investigation and for the motel’s closure. That’s more than I did.” 

Jake shakes his head with a laugh and presses a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. “Why don’t we just agree to disagree?” 

You smirk, gazing at him knowingly. “Don’t we always?” 

He leans down to place a real kiss on your lips, one filled with love and a little bit of nostalgia. “That we do, baby.” 

The two of you take a moment before walking back to the car hand in hand. 

“Looks like we’re at it again, Seresin,” you praise. 

He eyes you quizzically with a clear question written on his face. 

“Jake and Pumpkin at it again. Solving cases one supernatural entity at a time.” 

tgm taglist: @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl @t-nd-rfoot @dempy @ollyoxenfrees @potato-girl99981 @averyhotchner @2guysonascooter @loveforaugust @blue-aconite @fandom-life-12 @stiles-banshees @iamdannyday @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @breezemood @eli2447 @angelbabyange @finelytaylored @pono-pura-vida @hecate-steps-on-me @blueoorchid @aviatorobsessed @blackwidownat2814 @hallecarey1 @averagereader35 @laneylovesglen @atarmychick007 @kajjaka @urfavelocagirl @clancycumber230 @memeorydotcom @kmc1989 @percysaidnever @thestarspangledcaptain @wkndwlff @shanimallina87 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for calling my nan to get me when I wasn’t sure about walking home?

This happened about a year ago, but it still eats at me. I have no idea whether I was actually in the wrong, and so far that day has been one of the worst in my life so far (for several reasons). I should also state that I am autistic, so this may give a frame of reference to how I think.

So, to make a long beginning of a story short, I went on the wrong school bus and when I realized it, I got off on a somewhat unfamiliar street. I’d been driven past it before on many, many occasions, but it was still very alien to me. I call my mom, video called her to show her where I was, that sorta stuff. I should mention, I was also walking down the street while on video call, just to show my surroundings. This is like.. a smidge important later I guess.

Now, here’s where it starts to get a bit bad— I ask if she can send my stepdad to come get me, but she says that I should walk home, considering it was kinda short. The thing was… it was around 4 km? I think? Not only was that the farthest distance I’ve ever had to walk to my house, I’ve only ever walked close to that distance on hikes and walks around this one pond, and I didn’t have a book bag to carry then. It wasn’t a distance I was used to walking, plus I was in a spot that was a bit unfamiliar to me. I was a bit put off by the idea and just was like “uh.. ok” before hanging up. I should mention I was overweight (still am) and got overheated easier than most, but I feel like I’d still be at least hesitant to do it if I wasn’t those things.

So, this is the part that’s the reason I’m sending this ask in the first place. I called my nan to pick me up. It was a sound reason to do so in my mind, being a pretty far walking distance from my house in a somewhat unfamiliar area. While I was waiting, my mom found out that I called my nan to pick me up. She seemed just a tad upset at the time, but I brushed it off as something that could be cleared up easily.

Christ upon a Ritz, I was wrong.

She was actually *mad*, and even when I got home I didn’t know how mad. I was told that I shouldn’t do that by both mom and stepdad when I got home, and when we had dinner that evening the atmosphere was so bad I almost cried afterwards, and the whole time I was home I could occasionally hear them talk about what I did.

Wasn’t the worst part tho.

At some point I was called out into the kitchen, and you know what happened? My mother just verbally tore into me. About how I had took advantage of/used my grandma (don’t remember exact wording), how I had lied (unintentionally), a lot of stuff that made me cry very quickly (which she also got mad at me for). I think she may have gotten mad with my grandma too, but I don’t exactly remember. I have a bad memory. Either way, I felt worse than garbage by the time she was done shouting at me. By the way, my stepdad was there the entire time and not once did he even think to go “hey, you’re going a little hard there” or something.

And that’s not all! She even went through my messages to my nan where I was talking to her about how she had gotten mad at me and how bad I felt.

Anyway, I decided to go to bed early that night because I just wanted the day to end. Something else happened later that night tho but it’s not related to the story nor do I want to talk about it.

The aftermath is that even a year later I don’t feel like I can talk to my mom about a lot of things, and I’m kinda scared of making her mad. I think I’ve become a little more doormat-y in just not ever expressing my feelings at certain things my family does.

But… I do wonder if I actually was the asshole. I genuinely meant no harm, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t do any.

So was I the asshole then?

What are these acronyms?

[mysticalsoot]

mission sims and missing cues

a continuation of my self-indulgent boarding school au

A/N; i am so in love with this au.. I've got like two other fics for this ay in the works. lmk if yall want more of this-- totally did not expect this to be this long but I mean that's okay. also thanks to lilly and elliot for just being motivation to finish this-- and thank YOU for all the love on my writing cause holy fucking mother of gOD there's 110 of you now?? what??

summary; reader and wilbur are close friends and classmates but both have feelings for each other without the other knowing! they're thrown into a mission simulation together as commander and pilot and slight flirting ensues.

tw// swearing, maybe a smidge of suggestive flirting, definitely thoughts

words; 6.3k

pairings; cc!wilbur x gn!reader

pronouns; they/them and use of y/n!

masterlist

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You loved every part of your school, you loved the classes, the teachers, and the activities but you couldn't help but favor the Mission Simulations above all else.

They were the most laid-back part of your academics, and it was a hands on experience that you could have any part in. You had the opportunity to do anything and everything with positions and experience and outcome. 

Although you were truly partial to being commander, you didn't mind any other position you found yourself in. Missions usually spanned around a week but in sessions. First two sessions would be training, and test runs, the third session would start the first half of the mission running about three hours and then the second half would be in the fourth session. You absolutely adored how they did this and found you got the most out of it, a real feeling for the position and role you'd be in and you could make a decision on if you liked it or not—and if you wanted to try the same position on a different mission another time.

Today's session was the first half, a three-hour run of the school's Mars Mission Sim and you had gotten the commander position. Your pilot being Wilbur. He was rather ecstatic about his role, only been put in mission specialist or station roles before—he was excited to be front and center in the mission, though it didn't really matter, he was just excited for a change of pace.

"So, have you come up with a 'first human on Mars' speech or do you need me to come up with it?" Wilbur is snarky in a playful way in the tone he uses, tossing a hash brown into his mouth as he watches you from the other side of the cafeteria table. You roll your eyes at him and fold your arms over your chest.

"Well, no-" He cuts you off.

"Good! I've come up with one!" He starts by standing up in a grandiose manner, not paying mind to any of the students on other teams staring at him.

"One step for humankind, one great step for alien kind!" He makes exaggerated steps, only a few before your crew trainer, Andy, looks over at Wilbur with this gaze of 'please sit down or I'm telling Evan' and he's quick to find his seat back in front of you.

"You're one of my favorites Wilbur, but you should be in drama school," Andy scoffs, looking down at his tray before standing and walking away to take care of it. Your gaze follows him before landing back on Wilbur in front of you. His elbow rested on the table and his eyes look past you.

You hum, "He's right, you should've applied to drama school instead," Then you shrug, chuckling to yourself as Wilbur's gaze lands onto you, turned into a playful glare.

"And miss out on the opportunity to steal my brother's best friend away from him? Never." His eyes shine with a playfulness to them, and he smirks. 

"So I'm just a pawn?" You put your hand over your heart in mock offense, a smirk of your own curling on your lips.

"Oh yes, just a pawn," 

Andy finds his way back to his spot, and he opens his teacher's binder to check the schedule, "I don't want to know what you two are talking about, do I?" He doesn't look up as he adjusts his glasses and sifts through the different pages.

"Wilbur says I'm just a pawn," You tell him and Wilbur gawks at you, offended at how quickly you told on him.

Andy looks up and ahead and then at you and then back at Wilbur, eyebrows knitted together and concern glazing over his irises, "Pawn in what?"

"My master plan to steal them away from Tech," Wilbur speaks nonchalantly, his glare dissipating and turning into a look of pride.

Andy hums, looks over at Wilbur and says, "Good luck with that." His attention is brought back to his binder before checking the time on his phone. He begins ushering the team to finish up with their meal, take care of their trays and stand in front of the glass wall just a few feet behind you when they're done.

"First one to the wall gets to say the first words on Mars," Wilbur smiles at you, eyes glinting with mischief and you can tell by his body language, he's ready to sprint.

"Okay, fine," You shrug and let him get a head start, subtly speed-walking over to clean up his meal, and take care of his tray. Although, subtly isn't the most accurate descriptor, his legs are long enough all he has to do is take longer strides and he can beat you almost immediately. You take your time, walking normally and then speeding up for a second, but you're still behind. Wilbur looks behind him at you and frowns.

"Why are you walking?" He tilts his head at you, stopping in his tracks.

"I don't want to win," You shrug at him, taking a few steps forward and follow behind him in line.

"Why not?" He's still facing you, his back towards the front of the line and you both put the tray's on the counter, taking care of the dishes and trash and putting them in their respective spots. Plastics, paper, plates, utensils, etc.

"Everyone will hear me and only a drama queen like yourself should get to say it," You smile lightly at your own comment, and you're out of line a moment later. You both stand by the exit of the short hall, the glass wall a few feet away from you both.

"You're such a pussy," He smiles and shakes his head as he runs off over to the glass wall, and you follow, yelling after him.

"Wilbur!" You grumble as you follow him, hot on his heels and of course, he's the first at the wall, his hand pressed against the glass and he sticks his tongue out at you, "You can't say that!"

He smirks, leaning down closer to your face teasingly and your breath hitches in your throat, "And why not?" 

You huff, moving to stand against the wall next to him instead of in front of him. You fold your arms over your chest and tilt your head up to meet his eyes, an annoyed glare filling your own, "You could get us both in trouble with that language, mister."

He leans down again, "Doesn't sound like a horrible idea, at least we'll be in trouble together," He smirks slightly, attempting to avert your attention from how pink his cheeks are, and how nervous his breath is.

"Wilbur," You warn, poking his chest and he giggles, leaning against the glass wall with you as you both wait for the rest of your team to meet you.

The rest of the kids take their time with meeting everyone else at the glass wall, both you and Wilbur growing anxious at how long it was taking. You tilt your head forward to look down the line for Tommy, making sure he isn't causing any mayhem too great for Andy. And then you lean back when you see he's just talking with his friends.

It seems that both you and Wilbur found yourselves at the front of the line, the rest of your classmates assumingly lining behind you both as a buffer between them and their crew trainer. To keep Andy from hearing the things they say, probably. He's heard it all from you and Wilbur, so he's far from bothered by whatever stupid thing one of you may say next.

It's a few moments and then he's at the front of the line, leading the hoard of kids down the ramp and around the corner in front of the training room. As per usual, only you and Wilbur are the ones in a proper line and it doesn't surprise anyone. Everyone else could care less and it didn't bother you or Will to speak to each other without facing one another. Plus, if anyone got in trouble for taking up too much space, at least it wouldn't be you or him.

Andy stops the group at the fence blocking off the training room and he tells everyone to stay put as he leaves to go into the back and talk to the trainers running today's mission. You and Wilbur decide to take a spot by the wall, and sit on the floor. You're squeezed up against him slightly, the rest of the group causing you both to get a bit squished. You do your best to hide the red that begins to crawl up your cheeks, looking away from him in hopes he won't notice. He does the same, without you knowing. Both of you are desperately trying to hide any inkling at the feelings you both harbor for one another. Letting that truth through creates vulnerability and being jokingly flirtatious is easy. It can be brushed off as a playful platonic joke. So why not be flirty and break your own hearts at the thought of unrequited feelings?

"You think they trained us enough?" Wilbur breaks the deafening silence with a playful question, mouth quirking up into a half smile, half smirk. His eyes glint with something you can't quite place.

You huff a laugh, "Do you think you paid attention enough?" You turn your head to face him, smile soft but mischievous. You lean against the wall, trying to subtly slink yourself a bit away from him. You don't really want to be away from him and his touch, but it makes you nervous and you don't want to make him uncomfortable. But you don't move, you can't make it obvious. He doesn't mind the touch either, but he too fears the possibility of making you uncomfortable.

"Hm, I think I have a decent grasp on the concept. It's just button pressing and reading lines, right?" Wilbur nudges your shoulder with his, a soft laugh of his own rolling off his lips, ones held in a smirk.

"Oh, you think it's that simple, pretty boy?" You try your best to hide the pink of your cheeks, plotting a response if he asks. For a brief moment he simply looks at you, mouth slightly agape before he shuts it, bringing back his previous smirk.

"Well, that's what it seemed to be, so I'd say it's pretty simple," He brushes past the use of the pet name and he looks away, a nervous smile replacing the smirk as he looks down at his lap. Oh, he's infatuated and dear god—he wanted nothing more than to fall out of love, out of the feelings he felt. They weren't reciprocated, and any point he may have thought they were, could easily be shut down by the excuse of playful jokes.

"Well, we'll see about that," You push up to stand, catching your eye on Andy and another trainer walking over to the team. He makes the motion to move along and follow him with his hand and so you jump to stand behind him, Wilbur following suit.

The group is led around the corner and into the mission control room. Everyone's instructed to put their backpacks and whatnot on the table far behind the rows of desks. Both you and Wil put yours down on the far end, next to each other's and your shoulders brush together when the rest of the group pushes towards you both. You try to shuffle backwards, but hit the wall that separates the rest of the room to the trainer's desk. Wilbur puts his hand on the small of your back, and guides you to stand in front of him when you get startled by the wall. He rests his hands on either side of your upper arms. You know you're blushing, you know it's obvious but you just hope he doesn't see or doesn't care or doesn't notice and—

"Alright, Andromeda, everyone split into your groups of who goes where and a space ghost will lead you out to your positions, alright?" Andy speaks over the loud conversations of everyone in the group, his hands cupping around his mouth to somehow assist in making his voice louder and heard.

You and Wilbur stay in your place, Tommy, Ash, Niki and James join you both in your corner. Tommy starts chattering about his position and Wilbur is quick to shush his younger brother, and Tommy grumbles in response, crossing his arms and huffing.

The six of you are silent as you await instructions, and another trainer comes over to your group, muttering something about following her and so you do, you first, Wilbur behind and then the rest in a clump behind him. It's barely a few feet around the corner to the capsule. The trainer walking in first, ducking in through the doorway. She stands over to the corner, letting the rest of you walk in and find your seats. Wilbur attempts to duck down but still manages to bump his head, holding back a few obscenities that would definitely get him in trouble.

You chuckle at the sight and he keeps his head ducked down as he finds his spot at his seat. He buckles in the best he can, and then the trainer tells him off, reminds him he has to put his suit on first. He grumbles to himself, and turns around out of his chair and joins the rest of you as you put on the white painters jumpsuits over your normal clothes. Light costume astronaut boots being put on your feet and velcroed in.

You look over at Wilbur and catch your eye on him as he struggles, trying to get his sleeves to pull down all the way, same with his pants legs. You huff a laugh at the sight, "Don't worry about it," You shake your head at him and adjust his collar, hands lingering on his chest before pulling them away to rest at your sides.

His eyes go wide in a playful way, lips curling into a slight smirk, trying to hold some semblance of a fearful gaze, "I could die, y/n!" 

You huff a laugh, turning away from him and sitting in your commander's seat, him following and sitting in the seat opposite you, "You, die? Yeah you're too stubborn for that," You open the small binder you were given and review it as you wait for the signal to start, a clarification from every position that they too are ready.

Wilbur follows suit and you swear you see him gaze at you from the corner of your eye. You smile softly and pretend you don't notice, "Wilbur?"

He hums, looking up from his book for a moment and he looks to you, a quizzical look on his features, "Yes?"

You nod your head towards the comms, "Joe asked for confirmation from you, pilot,"

"Oh!" Wilbur rushes to put his headset on, and presses the speak button, "Roger that SOCOM," He rests his head back against the headrest, sighing.

"Alright, I'll leave you guys to it. Remember the call buttons if you need anything at all, okay?" The crew trainer assigned to the Orion capsule then leaves out the door, being sure to get a verbal confirmation or a thumbs up from each of you.

"You'll do fine, Wilbur," You reassure him, going about various procedures, buttons and switches being turned on or off. Codes being entered and lines of numbers and codes being typed out on the screen.

"You think so?" His voice shakes, unsure of himself as he flips switches along with you, referencing his binder every few seconds.

You nod, "I know so," It's all you need to say as you press the last few buttons before the computer switches the simulation to launch. Voices muffled in your ear as you focus intently on what's needed to do next, when you get into Altair.

It's a few minutes of launch and then the program switches to a screen showing the stars and planets passing by. More switches need flipping and more buttons need pressing. You glance over to your right at Wilbur, his eyebrows knitted in concentration and anxiety. His finger skims the lines of words and instructions in his binder.

"You alright there, Wil?" You put down your book, keeping your eyes locked on him.

"Uh, yeah, fine, fine," He keeps his gaze locked on the pages before him. 

You revert your gaze back to your own work, still checking on him in the corner of your eye every once and a while. Everyone in the capsule was ahead of schedule, all buttons pressed and switches flipped so all you had to do now was respond to Mission Control and wait for docking. Wilbur's leg had started to bounce by this point and he was biting his tongue. His hands kept running through his hair and he seemed oddly stressed for a simple simulation. If you could stand up and walk over to him, you would. But you're buckled in (more like strapped in since there were no buckles and both you and Wilbur were insistent that you were secure in your seats), you couldn't unbuckle yourself and walk over to him, risking an unnecessary anomaly.

So, you reached your hand over to his shoulder, having to lean to your side to even reach him in the first place. His head shot up to look at you, eyebrows creased in a wrinkling worry and mouth drawn in a thin line. 

"Are you okay?" It was merely a whisper, only meant to be heard by you and him. It was intimate and private and your eyes were soft as they looked into his. He didn't know what to do with himself, the amount of care you showed him was overwhelming. His heart racing with anxiety and nervousness.

His face flushed pink, "Yes-"

You cut him off, tapping his leg that bounces and hits the console a few times with how lanky he is, "Your leg says otherwise," You smile softly to him, the softness matching your gaze.

"I'm okay," He tries looking away, up at the screen and he watches the digital stars. The white dots scattered on black in the monitor before him.

You rub his shoulder gently, "Can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong."

He sits there, fidgeting with his hands in his lap, eyes closing shut and a deep breath being taken, and then his head turns to face you, "What if I mess it all up?"

You smile, shaking your head, "That's not possible, I promise you won't," You pat his shoulder gently, soft and assuring smile held on your lips.

"What if I press the wrong button? Or don't get secured well enough? Or what if I mess up the O2 transfer, or--"

You cut him off, squeezing his shoulder gently. Mission Control is sure to be watching this all, but most are probably running around chasing someone so the thought isn't bothersome to you or Wilbur. The camera can't catch the light pink tinted on either of your cheeks anyways.

"I'll be right there to help, you're not alone. It's a job for both of us, if one of us goes down we both do. Triumphantly," Your thumb rubs over his shoulder, back and forth in a manner of comfort and consolation.

"They need their commander more-" 

You shake your head, "They need their pilot too," When the closeness is overwhelming, you back up, ruffling up his hair and finding your spot back in your seat, "Now, relax and ask MOCR if they're like, dead yet."

Wilbur smiles, wider now and he shakes his head with a light chuckle.

"Part of me hopes they're dead."

"Wilbur!" You scold him, smiling wide. The rest of the Orion crew is in their own world, not paying mind to you and Wilbur's bickering.

"Okay, not Joe, the rest though--" He cuts himself off with a giggle and presses the speak button on his coms box, "Mission Control, how is it over there?"

There's a crackle in your headphones and Joe speaks over the mic, "What do you think, Wilbur?"

"Ey, it's Pilot to you," Wilbur, while speaking with a stern tone, is smiling wide. Joe huffs and a scream is heard muffled behind him, "How bad?"

"Zombies, Wil, zombies," Joe sounds tired, exasperated and he leaves his mic on accidentally and there's a shuffle heard and more yelling.

"ZOMBIES??" Tommy yells and the entire capsule bursts out laughing, you, Ash, Wilbur, James, Niki-- Tommy just stands there oblivious as you all listen to the chaos in Mission Control.

"I didn't know there were zombies," Niki speaks up, giggling and sifting through her own guide book.

"I hope at least Mark survives," James then pipes up, and shrugs.

"What about the rest?" You ask him, turning in your chair to look back at him.

"Eh, they can get eaten alive," Everyone's heads spin to look at him and James simply shrugs.

"James!" You scold him, "You are both children," You look between both James and Wil as you speak and then you turn back to face the screen in front of you.

The speaker crackles again, "Docking is in five minutes, Orion," Joe sounds out of breath as he speaks, "You're on your own for now, half of my crew is dying,"

"Thank God," James mutters and Ash smacks his shoulder.

"James! Your mic is on!" Ash glares at his friend, huffing.

"Yeah, that's the point,"

Joe grumbles and his mic cuts off, now no longer any inkling as to what's happening in Mission Control, the six of you sit in silence, waiting for docking to complete.

"I don't want to jinx it--" Tommy begins speaking but he's then cut off by the rest of you yelling;

"NO!" in unison.

And then he draws his mouth in a thin line and crosses his arms, puffing his chest.

Silence blankets the air, and then a clicking is heard through the loudspeakers.

"Docked!" Ash calls out and Wilbur instructs everyone to unbuckle and follow you through to Altair. You crawl through the 'airlock' door between yours and Wil's stations and slip into the Altair capsule. Wilbur follows you, bumping his head on both sides of the airlock and then again when he stands. You giggle at him as you shuffle to find all the mic boxes and helmets and set them aside for landing.

"I'm not sure how you passed the first Astronaut evaluation-- You're much too tall for this job," You playfully poke at Wilbur and he rolls his eyes, finding his spot at the front of the room, by another control board. He puts on his headset, gesturing for you to do the same and then the rest of your crew all files into the capsule.

"They needed someone decently charismatic," He smirks smugly, looking through his guidebook again, landing on the page for Altair arrival and he begins the usual routine of button presses and switches.

"You? Charismatic? Yeah, no, they just felt bad for you," You chuckle to yourself, and he drops his hands from the control board in front of him, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to him, his eyes locked on you.

"You are so mean to me," He shakes his head, eyes still on you and your cheeks dusted pink. You averted your gaze from him, down at the control board.

"All in a day's work," You shuffle through your own book, pressing buttons and entering codes.

"Stop flirting, you two," James chirps up, rolling his eyes and messing with the screen in the far back.

You both turn bright red, focusing your gazes heavily on the control board in front of you, doing your best to ignore the words from your friends mouth. Tommy, Ash and Niki, find their own spots on the floor against the wall--James is too stubborn to join them and determined to stand as long as he needs to before landing.

"James, just sit," Niki is stern and pats the spot next to her. James looks over, watching her and shaking his head.

"I'm fine up here, Niki," He looks through his own guidebook now, nothing new for him to do.

"Alright, well, suit yourself," Niki shrugs, looking across at Tommy and Ash and striking conversation with them both.

You continue glancing over at Wilbur, his eyes intently focused on screens and buttons and words typed on a page. His face contorted into a focused gaze and it's endearing. Watching him so focused, working in a way. He's in his element--while you can't deny he's meant for music, something about him being in this STEM environment fits. A leadership role. If you weren't so bad at communication and speaking clearly, you would've immediately opted for Pilot--Commander was simply made for him. But then again, so was the position of speaking and commanding and communicating--and wow, he's so pretty. 

A few stray curls fall onto his forehead as his head tilts down to get a closer look at a separate screen, finger running over the words next to the O2 symbol. He's rolled up the sleeves on his jumpsuit, and he's stuffed a pen he grabbed, in his hair on top of his ear. 

You catch yourself staring and look away before he can notice, and when you look back at your crew, they all look away as if they were staring too. Probably at you, and most likely going to gossip later. You huff and squeeze through to the back, grabbing helmets and mic sets, handing one by one to each person. James first, since he's closest to you, then Niki, then Ash and lastly Tommy. He huffs, mumbling something about how he's obviously your least favorite. Which isn't true by any means, but the child insists.

And then you hand Wilbur his, and he nods to you, a curt smile on his lips in thanks. Your stomach flips and your cheeks burn but you shake it away.

A few more moments and Mission Control comes through the coms again, Joe sounding stressed and out of breath, "Landing procedure will begin shortly, please put your helmets on and secure your suits. Thank you," And then his voice cuts out again and Wilbur shrugs before pressing his coms button, responding with a short 'roger that'.

All of you begin readjusting your suits and hooking up your comms. Wilbur rolls his sleeves back down and to you that's slightly disappointing--but it's better than him 'dying' so you suck it up for the sake of the mission. James struggles with his helmet, grumbling and Niki giggles, helping him slide it on and secure it around his collar. He mutters something about it being stupidly difficult but you can't entirely hear. Your focus is on the boy in front of you, stumbling with his comms box as he clips it onto his belt and then he puts on his own helmet. Yours has already been put on and is perfectly adjusted. You'd be a liar if you said your suit was too small--it was much too long. So you had to roll the sleeves and pants legs to make it so you didn't trip. 

Wilbur struggles with the collar, fidgeting with it to get it to sit right, over the lip of his helmet. You hum, walking over to him, "Need any help?"

He nods, "Dear god, yes."

You smile softly and help flatten his collar and pull it up over the lip of his helmet. You fasten it in the back after ushering him to turn around and kneel a bit so you can reach. He turns around after you pat his back, facing you and smiling softly. Your hands linger on his chest for a moment, fingers messing with the edges of his collar to put it in its final place.

Wilbur speaks up, "Thank you," He smiles softly and you pull your hands away, eyes looking away and face turning a light pink.

"Anytime there, Wilbur," You turn to face the control panel, flipping the final switches before you all get the okay to step out.

Wilbur steps out first, freezes and mumbles "Mars, a new frontier," and the entire crew bursts into fits of giggles--Wilbur included.

You walk up to him, pat him on the shoulder and look up at him, smirk pulling at the corner of your mouth, "You regret making that deal, yet?"

He looks back to you, eyes wide with anxiety, "Perhaps," and he ushers you to the dome base just a few steps aside. You step through, the rest of your crew following like a line of ducklings. You all get settled in at your stations, familiarizing yourself with where things are and what things do what. 

It's calm and quiet, just waiting on further instructions from Mission Control when you and Wilbur decide waiting is for the weak. You both head out the door, over to Altair and begin oxygen transfer.

The plan is simple: connect the hoses to the oxygen tanks, begin the transfer at the computer and move it over to the base and repeat. It's a two person job, one manning the computer and the other with the tanks. There's a computer inside the base for transferring the O2 onto the base from Altair.

"So, I'll go on computer?" Wilbur asks as you both stop outside the doors to the dome, you look up at him. Eyes soft and you nod.

"That was our plan, right?" You smile smugly and Wilbur rolls his eyes, walking off and into Altair. You get the hoses connected and then Wilbur yells out;

"Ready?"

"Ready!" Your reply is loud, enough for him to hear but to not bother anyone else in the simulation room.

There's a simulated sound of hissing and the O2 transfers, a few moments pass and then you switch to the base and repeat everything you just did but in reverse, to empty it into the base's reservoir.

As you wait for the O2 to empty out, your mind begins to run off on its own accord. Wondering about Wilbur, if he's noticed any of your nervous glances, or the way your cheeks turn pink or red when he smiles--how you stared at him at his first volleyball game a few weeks back. Your dad told you off with a laugh--but it was hard to look anywhere but him. Anywhere but his ar-

You cut your thoughts short, bringing yourself back to reality when the O2 shuts off, and then you drug it back over to Altair. You looked around and noticed Wilbur wasn't in sight, nowhere near the base or by the computer--maybe he was inside of Altair, at the computer, waiting for you. You dropped the key to the O2 tanks and walked around the corner, sneaking into the door of Altair. No sign of the lanky nerd called Wilbur--you groaned in annoyance, hitting your head on the air lock opening when you stepped into the lander.

You shuffled yourself over to the computer, pressing a few buttons to get the transfer ready and you went back out; connected the tanks and went back in to press the final button for this transfer.

It was merely a waiting game as you patiently awaited the transfer to complete--if you were honest it was more impatient than anything, but no one needs to know that. You got bored, and partly frustrated and so you walked off while the tank filled and you went into the base.

"Okay, has anyone seen my Pilot? He's went missing and it's really difficult to transfer these," You wave your hands in frustration, "these, tanks!"

Tommy scoffs, Niki giggles and Ash closes the plexiglass door to the solitary bed James is laying in.

"Haven't seen him, sorry," Niki is the first to speak, going about her business grabbing medications and other things and handing them off to Ash.

"Not even an inkling?" 

"Nope," They all answer you at once, shaking their heads or shrugging. James' nope is muffled behind the plexiglass.

You groan and turn on your heels, dramatically exiting out the double doors. You drag yourself back into Altair, shutting off the transfer and continuing your previous routine, desperately looking for Wil as you do so.

"Y/n! I found it!" The familiar accent breaks through and you turn around to face him, a wide smile plastered on his lips and a small Mars Rover in his arms. He holds it up, smile still wide and warm.

"So that's where you disappeared off to?" You smile back, so soft and partially teasing. You fold your arms over your chest.

He nods wildly, "Yup! I'm gonna go fix it, I'll be right back out to help, okay?" Wilbur begins walking off and into the base, you chuckle to yourself shaking your head.

"You better, Wil!" You call back, desperately trying to hide the fluttering in your chest and the pink on your cheeks. There's no evident reason for your reaction other than just…him.

A few moments later and he's back out of the base, letting it loose on the floor and walking over to you. He pats your shoulder and slips into the lander, his legs sticking out for a few moments before he pulls himself all the way in. An ouch is heard along with a bang and you giggle.

"I'm okay!" He yells out, and you shake your head.

"It's already done, Wilbur!" You call out, the four words having been delayed by you until he got into the lander--just to mess with him.

You hear him huff and then slink out of the lander airlock. He takes a few steps down the ladder and walks over to you, "I dislike you right now," He holds a fake frown on his features, but his eyes are soft.

"Dislike is a strong word there, Gold," You smirk, arms folding over your chest again and eyes looking up, locking on his.

"Hm, it fits," He shrugs and turns on his heel, walking over to the satellite board, he stops and looks back at you, "Can you get the box underneath the medical bed? We need the pieces to fix this," If you didn't know better, you would've sworn he heard your thoughts back in Orion--maybe he did.

"I don't remember your role being commander?" You walk over to him, leaning against the board, a wave of confidence shooting through you.

"Might as well be," His lips curling into a smirk as he speaks, soft and quiet, "I'm better at taking lead, aren't I?"

This fucker-- You scoff, smirking to yourself and walking off into the base. You rub your hands on your face in an attempt to rid your cheeks of its burning redness and James looks over to you--

"Did you not notice how miserable I am? Or are you too busy with-" Ash yells at him, smacking the plexiglass before James could finish his remark.

"No-- sorry, both our mics are broken so we're pretty out of the loop," You mumble and kneel down to grab the box into your hands, "you dying or something?" 

"Yes!! I am!" James' tone is sharp and everyone giggles at his words, "Hey! Come on guys! That's what the Space Ghost told me!" 

Ash shakes his head, "No! They said you're having a severe allergic reaction, not dying."

James groans, throwing himself back on the bed flat, "I wish I was dying!" 

You laugh, shaking your head, "Alright, well don't treat him, Niki," and you walk out, box in hand.

You walk over to Wilbur, dropping the box in front of him and then putting your hands on your hips, "There you go, Commander, happy now?" 

He smirks, "Why yes I am, thank you," He leans down to open it and take out a few pieces, handing a good half of them to you and you huff, rolling your eyes.

"This power is getting to your head-- You're not even Commander," You start to place the pieces one by one in the way the instructions sheet requires-- it's not detailed instructions by any means. It's more or less an example of what it should look like which is plenty for you and Wilbur to go off of.

"Well, I might as well be. I thought you liked this?" His face never falls from the cocky smirk he holds, some sort of confidence of his own surging through his body. He looks over at you briefly, eyes locked down onto yours. "Me being in charge and all?"

Your eyes went wide and you hoped you were hallucinating-- or maybe daydreaming-- or maybe this was a dream. But you figured with how real it felt, your senses being in tact--that this was real. You felt your cheeks burn bright red and you simply stared, hand going limp and the piece of this big puzzle in your hand, falling and crashing into the box.

"I saw you staring, that's all," He smirks and shakes his head, moving along with his part of the puzzle and you swore you could see him blush too--

The thought is cut short when a Space Ghost comes out of the Mission Control room, ushering everyone to stop their roles for a moment and that we'll pick up where we left off next session. You silently thank the gods for this interruption-- keeping Wilbur from getting too cocky and you catch him wink at you as he follows the rest of the group into Mission Control.

Next session will be the death of you.

taglist; @sleepyburs @lillylvjy (just send me an ask or dm if you want to be added!)

[betterbemeta]

Yeah Dinotopia did this to me, I love art that depicts humans living and working with dinosaurs, its so cool

but like. we need to have a talk. there are two options for this scenario and both of them require human beings be a lot braver or more thoughtful than I think we are on average:

the dinosaurs are sapient. But bird intelligence is convergent evolution to mammal intelligence. Meaning that what we're really depicting is a society where humans and 'an alien species' have peacefully integrated: just, aliens separated by time from the same planet and not aliens separated by distance such as from another planet.

the dinosaurs aren't sapient. Human beings have sustained a military loss to emus, it's pretty hard to have a cassowary as your chill friend and most attacks have to do with feeding them, and most human beings tend to be wary or frightened of even middling-large birds such as geese, turkeys, swans, and that's without getting into predatory birds like eagles and condors. Human beings have domesticated birds and kept them as pets for a long time, but we're talking chickens, pigeons... 'exotic birds' kept as companion animals such as parrots aren't domesticated and we should understand how huge a commitment it is to keep them. Are we ready to be pals with a cockatiel the size of a donkey? How about larger than a rhinoceros?

I'm not slamming these as fantasy concepts. People love to depict Amazing Animal Companions and probably always have throughout history. But I think we can keep it fresh by coming at this with a smidge of realism. Your intelligent dinosaur friend may not be a human person in a lizard suit but instead an Extremely Large African Grey Parrot With Fingers. Or your Pet Dinosaur may be, uh, Loud And Broody if you don't put it to bed on time. How do you enforce bedtime and lights out for a creature that can thagomize your walls, and you? Carefully.

[lidoshka]

Disguise

"...the image if a stranger stared back at him, and for a moment he fancied the idea of having that face and growing up in this planet,"

[scifur]

(please note, none of these are explicitly ships or even remotely romantic, I'm just thinking character dynamics in general)

Xiao: if you ever need me.. just call my name..

Lumine, towering over him in monster form:

(Also Xiao finding comfort in Lumi's beastial form as it in some ways reminds him of his fallen yaksha's forms)

Also, Childe sees this fucking monster and goes "Damn. I NEED to fight that." (He still tells Teucer all about her and describes her as having only one eye as well like Mr Cyclops and when Tecuer sees her he is BLOWN AWAY he thought his brother was making up jokes but WOW and she looks STRONG and THAT COAT WILL BE THICK ENOUGH FOR SHNEZNAYAN COLD) (Also Ajax relaxing around her just a smidge because her lack of humanity 1. Reminds him so much of the abyss, yet completely different in energy: light and warm and safe.. & 2. He doesn't feel shame for how his experience in the void has affected him and made him feel alienated with the rest of humanity -- note: that 2nd point also applies to other characters with similar issues such as Shenhe, Ganyu, Qiqi, etc. Anyone that feels less than accepted by humans for inhuman qualities)

Scara bonding w/ her over their shared inhuman-ness (imagining Scara having met her whilst she had a glamour, but still could detect her nonhumanity and when exposed to the extent of said nonhumanity,, he can feel a little more alive, a little less like an object)

Any of the nonhumans being like "hey, I have a form like that too!!" and bam suddenly there's a pack of creatures strutting down the streets of each and every nation. Morax (allegedly dead) spotted play fighting with the famed Beast. He claims he cannot come back to work The Beast has solely summoned him to hone their beast form. This is a complete lie.

You are so right , I love these have some doodles :D

[teenandbeyond]

Think that I could request Gohan relationship headcanons with someone who’s super shy and docile? Thanks in advance!

Gohan x Shy. Reader Headcanons

I was surprised by the request, since usually saiyan-blooded beings go for fiery beings, but I like this twist. Edit: Lol, made the reader shy with random spurts of fieriness, couldn't help it oops Edit 2: Btw y'all know I separate SFW from NSFW for people who might only want innocent stuff or don't like sexual stuff, right? If not, now you know.

Want more from me? Masterlist 2

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

👓Studious👓 (DBZ or Dragonball Z)

Warning(s): SFW and NSFW

Let's just say it's...interesting to have a boyfriend who's half alien.

✨✨✨✨

SFW

Gohan loves how shy you are

It's so cute

You've mostly gotten used to little pecks on the cheek or temple

But anything in public and your body gets all hot

Sometimes he'll feed you, just to get the reaction you always give

Slight embarrassment

But he never fully embarrassed you from anything...only a smidge

You often think he hides sadism under that smile of his

During study sessions more often than not, he'll pull you into his lap while he works

Then came time to meet the family, you were nervous and he was dreading it.

Chichi was nice...intimidating at first...mom jitters, ya know?

But she found you pretty adorable and just interrogated you about your academic abilities, overall nice

Goten broke through your shell of shyness, he was too adorable to not indulge him, besides he was a kid, so he wasn't as intimidating.

Then Goku came home

Well...crashing through a window...but he was home.

No one but you seemed surprised, Chichi was just annoyed.

Your head snapped to Gohan, "This is...normal?"

Goku intimidated you by the middle of dinner when you witnessed how much food he could eat. He kind of teased your quietness, too.

You thought his kindness must have been an act, he must be an evil human black hole or something. No human eats food like that.

Turns out Gohan eats like that too, you supposed he hadn't eaten around you before.

Oh...He's not human? Neither is Gohan completely?

Cue Gohan apologizing for not saying anything sooner or not really planning to until the window thing that couldn't be easily explained.

And you being interested if he had any powers, him saying he wasn't really into fighting as much...only for him to cave and fly with you when he saw your disappointed face.

He might have to take you flying again, your eyes were filled with so much wonder and he got a joyful laugh out of you.

Because you were shy, you hadn't kissed yet.

Seeing Gohan with a girl might have made you a little jealous though...and you might've impulsively kissed him.

Only to hide away in his chest after.

Wait...he wanted to do it again?

At least on dates, he was mutually shy, so you felt a little better

He took great care of you.

Taking care of you when sick or hurt.

Helping you out with your own studies.

Making things together.

Dancing, sometimes in the rain.

And giving you all the affection in the world.

Even though half of it flustered you.

You were absolutely burning when you cuddled.

Or when a kiss got heated for the first time.

And he swears when you stood up for him in front of his family and friends and that unknown fiery part of you came out full force for the first time...

He'd already wanted to marry you, but sheesh, have kids with him, too

He could only smile when you stopped and the fire sizzled out, hiding in his chest away from the wide eyes.

Your occasional spurts of fire really excite the Saiyan part of him.

And oh, did he find you adorable in his clothes

NSFW

Was it mentioned how much he loved your shyness?

It's even cuter behind closed doors in his room

When you look away from his bare chest.

All the little sounds you make and when you try to hide your face.

He likes the power that you let him have.

Sometimes the change in personality overwhelms you in the best of ways.

The first time you decided to go all the way was risky, he was in the process of getting his own place but still lived at home. Chichi was away for errands but got back sooner than he planned. Didn't stop him though, he just told you to keep quiet while he answered her questions from the other side of the locked door to make her go away.

He liked kissing your neck, leaving marks of claim behind.

More often than not he wasn't traditional with the position.

Anything that let him see your face and how expressive it was fine, though.

He preferred to sit with you on his lap.

Surprisingly Gohan can get primal if in a certain mood.

Without those glasses in the way, his bare face seems much more carnal.

But putting aside shyness you find it much more attractive when he has them on, you can't explain it.

He also likes when you dress up in cute outfits.

He can also be evil and make you memorize test questions this way. But hey, you remember the answers!... And the...memorization methods...

Okay...maybe he's a little sadist-y

But he's still very caring and prioritizes your needs first.

But due to your submissive nature, you prefer him to take control

To embarrass you, occasionally he'll surprise you and put you in the position of control. He does his best not to coo when you stutter out demands, but you never last long before relinquishing control to him.

[variablejabberwocky]

started watching delicious in dungeon/dungeon meishi (sp?). or as i like to call it

~*AUTISM COOKING DUNGEON*~

dear god y'all have undersold this to me. and like i get it. spoilers and all that. but holy shit

our boy isn't like... "tee-hee little-bit of autistic, just a smidge" like you were all making me think. no no. no, this guy is DEEPLY autistic. we're talking "normally we only give THIS much autism to aliens and robots" kind of autism. the "i need an allistic translator for my social fubars" autism (rip your sister dude). the "i learned a thing! so now im not gonna shut up about it for at least an hour" autism.

and they gave this to THE ONE SINGULAR HUMAN IN THE PARTY. this guy is a HUMAN FIGHTER/KNIGHT-type that is like the MOST BORING/NORMIE shit in a d&d style setting. that is "why are you even playing a fantasy game?" level of normie shit.

and THAT is who gets to be The Party Freak(tm)

i love it. completely unironically/unsarcasticly i love it. they took the "that much autism isn't human anymore" bullshit thats so prolific its basically a trope and went NOPE FUCK THAT NOISE

what i find unforgivable though is that none of you mentioned he's a Kronk too.

boy sounds SO SO STUPID but is so so smart when you actually listen to what the fuck he's on about now (and think on why he's on about it right then). he's a big tank (literally in the fantasy class sense) that just wants to help everyone and do his little special interest shit on the side. and it is on the side because the other two seem like they had no idea it was more than trivia until he didn't have to help micromanage a massive party. like this shit has clearly been on repeat in his brain in the background for A WHILE but he was so busy helping/keeping everyone alive it got shoved aside of his outward behavior unless it was useful. he is a lovable dorky himbo and NONE of you mentioned this.

anyway, i'm also loving the way this whole show is basically only like this because him and senshi are vibing on the same wavelength and the other two are basically just along for the ride to save their friend/part member

the whole thing has a Green Eggs and Ham kind of thing going on with it too. but like...environmentalist about it? like it was more subtle about the whole "hey maybe work WITH your current environment rather than against it" bit and then we found out what senshi normally does and subtlety just went right out the fucking window on that front.

i'm also liking the way it both explores the horrors of dying in a world where being brought back to life is common, while also kind of...poking fun at it? like its reminding me of a thing i heard something like "the difference between comedy and tragedy is how far from it you are" kind of concept.

like they are so fucking ... how the fuck do you spell it blase? with the little "/" over the e. that. the story is so bland in how it handles how people came back from horrific deaths and yet when the characters have to face things that remind them of their own it gets heartbreaking very quickly. but like...chillchuck. goddamn. we get just enough from his perspective that its harrowing but the way its shown to us the reader/viewer is like a comedy skit

cause like...its both.

these guys keep dying/nearly dying to THE. SAME. FUCKING. SHIT.

mage elf is slimebait, chillchuck is basically Dungeon Canary with an emphasis on mimics, and himbro over here is gonna get himself killed trying to pet/eat a new monster no one else knows about at some point. probably why his sister seems to have specialized in healing magic.

i know the fandom is thinking once they get his sister back that she's gonna be Just Like Him but i think it would be much funnier AND more 'realistic' if they were classic autism-adhd alliance but siblings about it. like him being better at staying on a task and her being better at navigating social cues and shit. and both of them with their own little special interest energy. i'm betting her's is magic. and thats why even magic elf is like "omg shes so good at magic i'm no where near that level" about it. i mean its also the lesbianism but there IS more to that than thirst from what i've seen.

anyway i'm 6 episodes into what seems to be 12 available on netflix and i'm already hooked. might have to see if i can get my hands on the manga or something too

[gemsofthegalaxy]

There are so few omegaverse fics for stolitz i'm shocked. maybe with the whole demon thing means people don't wanna bother? but idk i feel like it would add another interesting layer. I'm also apparently in the minority in that i want Blitz to be the alpha but all the fics on ao3 that specified had him as an omega... I just like the idea of Stolas being a prince and having the social power of his high class but being a male omega (another thing that makes him Weird and alienated from his peers, there's a disproportionate amount of Alphas among higher demons ((allegedly anyway))) and Blitz being an alpha affords him a smidge more power, but with his being an imp it only counts for so much

And if we also throw some level of soulmates into the mix, maybe, Stolas realizing when they're kids that they are soulmates but obviously he's bethroted to Alpha Stella and Paimon could care less if Stolas thinks he's matched with some imp because Blitz would have no "claim" to Stolas unless they were mated and they're kids so obviously not and issue and it's. whatever. and Blitz leaves Stolas' life for 2.5 decades. That's all i got and i realize it's basically not even different from canon yet but i'll get there maybe

[some-pers0n]

I can't think of anything for the assuming thing that you reblogged, but while I'm here uhhm. I'd like to hear abt tf2 if you're willing to explain.

I don't know a lot abt it but I see the stuff you reblog!! I know the game, but I've never heard any lore or anything abt the characters.

No pressure ofc, you don't have to :]

You're. asking me..to infodump? About TF2!?

Okie okey I can do it. Uh. Keep in mind it's going to be pretty long-winded and incomprehensible. I just really like this game...

Oh! And if you're a follower or mutual, read on as well! I put a lot of effort into this. If you're at all interested in understanding my madness even a little bit, this is for you.

Before we even begin, I HIGHLY recommend first checking out the Meet the Team videos and perhaps Expatriation Date. It will take you roughly half an hour to watch all videos. They are simply fantastic. They are humorous and show off the personalities of these characters in a great and short way. Plus it establishes the tone of this game (which is very silly)

With that being said, let it commence.

Okay, so, I guess we start with the basics. Team Fortress 2 is a sequel to Team Fortress (Classic), which was a mod for a game called Quake using the engine for Half-Life, Source. It was made by a couple of friends who would later on become a part of Valve, a game company known for their own games such as Portal, Half-Life (as previously mentioned), Counter-Strike; Global Offense, and of course, Team Fortress.

Team Fortress 2's development is pretty interesting and cool in of itself. I could go on for a bit, but just know that TF2 was announced back in 1998. Over this time, it went by the name of Invasion, following an art style similar to TFC and Half-Life with them now being on some alien planet thing. However that sort of style became outdated, so they then went under a major art style shift. After nine years in development, they final released it in 2007 as a package called the Orange Box. It released alongside Portal and Half-Life 2, Episode 2.

Since then, Team Fortress 2, or simply just TF2, has become a cornerstone of the internet and general team-based shooter games. Its influences can be seen all over, with the most prominent example being games like Overwatch being a spiritual successor to it.

You don't want to hear me ramble about the actual gameplay and such though, I assume. I really like watching people play the game, but I would be lying if I didn't find a smidge more enjoyment from the characters, hm? I mean, how could I not? They're one of, if not the best parts of the entire game.

But before we get to that, even more ground work. Here's the basic lore you need.

In the 1800s, a man called Zephaniah Mann owns a company. He's your generic richy-rich upperclassman guy. His business partner, Barnabus Hale, co-owns this. This will be slightly important later. He has three children, Redmond, Blutarch, and Gray Mann. Redmond and Blutarch practically come out of the womb hating each other, while Gray Mann? Well, he's. special. He's incredibly intelligent for his newborn nature, being able to speak fluent English as well as supposedly inventing a new kind of algebra.

Zephaniah Mann freaks out. He tries to kill the child, however he is, and I quote, "absconded by the Eagle". This is a random eagle that's been apparently terrorizing the small town that Zephaniah Mann lives in. It breaks through the windows and literally steals Gray Mann, saving him from an untimely death.

So that happened.

Years later, Zephaniah grows old. Blutarch and Redmond are the only real heirs of his company, but the both of them won't come to a single agreement on anything. Pissed off about it, Zephaniah writes in his will that he's giving his company to Barnabus Hale, leaving his servant, Elizabeth, with all of his "gold", and jack-shit for Redmond and Blutarch.

Well...not nothing. Redmond and Blutarch convinced Zephaniah to buy up a bunch of land in New Mexico. Gravel pits and dustbowls. When Zephaniah died, the two of them tried claiming the land for themselves. This sparked the main event: the Gravel Wars.

Blutarch and Redmond hired a bunch of mercenaries to fight for each other. This was the original team. Yes, that is Abraham Lincoln you see there. Get used to it.

The mercenaries fought and fought, yet there was no clear victor. In the end, Blutarch and Redmond were growing old. By 1890s, it was becoming obvious that the two would die before they saw the end of this fight.

Or...until a certain other party emerged. Radigan Conagher. A brilliant inventor that catches the attention of Blutarch Mann. He brings Radigan to him and asks something so simple of him.

Build him a machine to make him immortal.

Radigan agrees to the task.

However, this also gets the attention of another person. Remember that servant I mentioned? The one who inherited Zephaniah Mann's gold? Well, it turns out that it isn't gold, but actually an incredibly powerful material called Australium.

Australium is native to Australia. It is a precious mineral that is capable of incredible power. Among giving the people around it super-strength, heightened intelligence, and generally being very Australian, it can also be used to make a person immortal through extending their life.

Elizabeth knows about this, and for some reason that we still don't quite know, she wants to continue on this war. So, she approaches Radigan and asks him to build another life extender machine for Redmond. Also for her probably.

So now the old men (and also this chick) are immortal. Cool!!

The 1930s roll around and there's another group of mercenaries. We don't care about these ones that much. Just know that they are the same mercs from Team Fortress Classic and they'll be somewhat important later. Understand also that Barnabus Hale's company is now called MannCo. and is the main supplier of weapons to this war.

NOW IT'S THE 1960S YAYYY IT'S TIME FOR THEM!!! THE SILLIES!!

Something to also know is that there's somebody pulling the strings. The Administrator. For some reason, she wants to continue this war between Redmond and Blutarch. She's not Elizabeth though!! Definitely not. Totally not. Definitely not a plot twist that WOULD'VE HAPPENED IN THE FINAL COMIC HAD IT RELEASED- but it's fine.

Anyways, I digress. Elizabeth and the Administrator (also known as Helen) are pretty much the same person. Working as her assistant is Miss Pauling, who (among other things) hides bodies, gives contracts to the mercs, and generally does whatever the Admin wants her to.

Whew!! There you go. That's the general gist of the lore. Back in the 1800s there was a guy who had two kids who hated each other. They hated each other so much they went to war over a bunch of useless land. Over 100 years later now we've got the mercs.

Finally!! We can start talking about them.

Scout, aka Jerma985

The Scout, real name Jeremy, is a loud-mouth, obnoxious 20 something year old from Boston. He fights using a shotgun, baseball bat, and a pistol. He's got 7 older brothers (he's the youngest of them all) and has an affinity for baseball, Tom Jones, and a soda drink named Bonk! that is apparently radioactive. He's what I'd argue to be the most ""normal"" merc, since he's just kind of an asshole who likes killing people. He talks and acts like an obnoxious guy, but he's overall not that bad.

Oh I forgot to mention he's canonically God's gift to women.

Here's a snipbit of the scene where Scout dies and goes to Heaven where he meets God Himself and tells Scout that he was intended to have sex with as many women as possible.

Scout is also illiterate and can't read. He's actually a pretty good artist though. He's got a Tom Jones memorabilia collection that he once used to try and impress Miss Pauling. Oh right! He's also got a massive crush on Miss Pauling. The Expiration Date short is all about it, with him trying to get a date with her before he dies of cancer.

Soldier, the American Idiot

The Soldier, real name Jane Doe, is a red-blooded American patriot from somewhere in the mid-west USA. He fights using a rocket launcher, a shotgun, and a shovel. He is not a real solider. In fact, he was turned away from WWII because of his mental instability. That didn't stop him from buying a ticket and going to Germany himself, beating the crap out of all of them Nazis. He only stopped when he was told that the current year was 1949 and the war had ended four years ago.

Soldier is what I'd argue to be the character the narrative focuses on the most. You'd be pressed to find a comic that doesn't feature him a lot. He's the second half of the WAR! update, the first merc that Miss Pauling recruits when the actual main comics happen, generally pops up a lot in bits and pieces of the lore, and is one of the stars of Expiration Date.

Soldier was roommates with a 6,000 year old wizard named Meramus. Meramus is a character from TF2's annual Halloween event, Scream Fortress, and is a silly wizard who attacks them once every year. Despite this, the two of them lived together. Past tense because Meramus was kicked out. Here's a panel from a comic about this that I find funny.

Soldier also drinks lead water. The water in the base is the same water that the people from a nearby town, Teufort, which is all full of idiots from the water situation. We don't know if he's like this because of the water. It's probably not the only reason.

Pyro, the Silly!!

The Pyro has no identity, no backstory, nothing. Anything we know about them is pretty much nothing. They, along with the Spy, are the most unknown of the mercs, but even then we still know more about Spy and generally what he's like. Pyro? Nothing. We don't even know their gender.

Pyro fights with a flamethrower, shotgun, and fire axe, however they see these items as a cute and wholesome version. In Meet the Pyro, it's revealed that Pyro sees the world through a oddly sweet lens, full of lolipops and rainbows and whatever. This isn't reality, obviously, and what Pyro sees as them petting a dog is probably them gutting it.

Pyro and the Engineer have some sort of bond and connection, most likely stemming from how Pyro's in-game help out Engineers by keeping away spies and whatnot, as flamethrowers are the best ways to get rid of them.

Anywho, that's Pyro. The silly!!

Demoman, Man I Love Being Drunk

The Demoman, real name Travis Finnegan DeGroot, is a self-proclaimed "black Scottish cyclops". He fights with a stickybomb launcher, a grenade launcher, and a bottle of his beloved whiskey: scrumpy. Demoman is a full-blooded Scotsman hailing from Ullapool and has a long, long lineage of fellow bombmakers and general stuff.

Demoman is actually one of the more intelligent members of the team, being knowledgeable of chemicals and bomb making. This is however not exactly known as 90% of the time he's black-out drunk. He gets drunk so often that his liver actually changed to adapt to this sort of environment, now drawing minerals from booze as if it were water. Now Demo basically gets poisoned by drinking water.

Demo's eye is actually cursed, by the way. No, he didn't lose it during some fight or some accident. Well, I mean, it technically was an accident. He opened up a cursed book, the Bombinomicon, and now his eye is just. fucked.

In fact, the Medic tried giving him a new eye. Several times in fact! Why doesn't he have it still? Well, uh, this.

He's so silly.

Heavy, The TF2 Guy

The Heavy Weapons Guy, real name Mikhail (or Misha), is a Russian man hailing from Siberia. He fights with his miniguns, a shotgun, and his fists. He's rather fond of his guns, in particular his main one, Sasha.

Heavy is a family man and generally a lot different than how a ton of the internet characterizes him. He's intelligent, having a PhD in Russian Literature, and a lot more soft-spoken. When he was young, his father, a counter revolutionist, was taken by the KGB. Soon enough, his entire family were imprisoned in a gulag. They escaped and found refuge, but Heavy became protective over his sisters and mother.

TF2 goes hard, like if you agree. Every time I think about Heavy I just get increasingly sad.

Heavy likes sandwiches. A lot. In fact, you can swap out his shotgun in the game for a sandwich (or some other food item). Apparently in TF2 canon, Heavy just hunkers down in some corner after taking a good amount of damage and starts eating this ham sandwich to suddenly have his bullet wounds be healed.

Engineer, YEEEEHAWWW!!!

The Engineer, real name Dell Conagher, is a hardworking man who's come round from Bee Cave, Texas. He fights using a shotgun, a pistol, his trusty wrench, and a little tiny box called the PDA. That lil' box gives the Engineer a major advantage, being able to now make buildings. Dispensers that give ammo and medkits. Teleporters that make traversing the maps easier. Lets not forget the sentries now either, stationary automatic guns that fire upon any enemy that gets too close.

If the name "Conagher" seems familiar, that would be because Engie is the grandson of Radigan Conagher from all the way back. Also Fred Conagher, who was the Engineer for TFC. Here's the both of them when Engie was a kid.

Engie is commonly mischaracterized as being normal. This is because he seems smart and okay. He is not. I need you to understand that his Meet the Team video has him using a BLU Sniper's body as his campfire and he shows little to no reaction to bullets being mere inches away from his face. He just sits there and plays his guitar while his sentry guns mow down anybody nearby. Also the whole being a mercenary and his job being to kill people.

Unfortunately for Engie there's not too much Funny comic book stuff about him. His big break was mostly with the Loose Cannon comic. In other ones he's usually a supplemental character to the others. In the main comics he's the sort of caregiver to the Administrator, just sort of standing around her while she says stuff.

That doesn't make me any less terminally ill about him in this one comic though. They make me SICK!! I love them,,

And, well, speaking of these two...I suppose it was only a matter of time before we got to him.

Medic, You Already Know Who This Is

The Medic, real name maybe Ludwig Humbolt? I dunno. It's unclear. All that's really confirmed is that his last name is probably most likely Ludwig. Some people like Ludwig Humbolt. Others like Fritz Ludwig. I like calling him Ludwig Ludwig.

Anyways, this is Medic! He hails from Stuttgart/Rottenburg, Germany (it's not very clear where he's from) and he is a bit of a silly little fellow. He fights using his trusty bonesaw, a syringe gun of sorts, and a unique device of his own creation: the medi-gun. With this machine, he's able to heal people as well as deploy an übercharge, which makes both the Medic and whomever his medi-gun's healing beam is connected with invincible for eight seconds.

The Medic is a silly little fellow. One fascinating thing you can see about him is how his character has been shifted since the launch of the game. His voice lines in-game are a lot more...er, how should I say this...Nazi German stereotype-ish? Hehh, uh... So not particularly great. He's barking orders and generally seen kind of like that.

However, as time goes on and more and more updates come out, his character shifts. The Pyro goes under similar changes in presentation, going from a mysterious and scary character to more friendly and cutesy. With Medic? He forgos that previous stereotype and more or less just becomes a mad scientist archetype. He's got a silliness to him that wasn't present when the game first launched.

My favourite example of this shift in character is the change in how the Meet the Medic videos would've been. Did you know there was a scrapped Meet the Medic video? It was a lot more like the earlier ones, styled like an interview he was giving. He's doing it on a train(?) and it shows how he created the medi-gun. There's a noticeable lack of silliness, aside from when the Spy head begins talking. The Medic is a lot more stern and serious, mentioning more how he's proud of being able to make gods out of men.

Then, of course, we see the actual Meet the Medic. Medic is preforming surgery on the Heavy, and it's all fairly silly and wacky. Medic explodes Heavy's heart, his birds are just straight up inside Heavy's organs, he basically tells the Spy head (which is actually a reference to the OG Meet the Medic video) to shut up, and laughs away like what he's doing is no big deal. He's got a manic twitch to him. He's a brilliant scientist, though a mad one at that.

I have a lot to say about Medic if you can't already tell. He's my silly!! He's the guy giving me all of this brainrot over this game. I just go into detail about his characterization because it's a major pet peeve of mine when people label him as a uncaring sadist who hates his team and wants to experiment on them all. He IS an uncaring sadist, but he's sill and I will go down swinging on this hill that he, at the bare minimum, cares about his team. I rationalize his in-game voice lines by saying it's from him a) dying a lot and getting pissed off at how his teammates just let it happen and b) he's having a manic episode every day at work and has zero filter. All of them have zero filter when battling. If they all acted the way they did in the game, then characters like Scout should be GO GO GO GO!!!! 24/7 without rest, something that's certainly not the case in Expiration Date. On a similar note, let's not forget that Medic and Engie decided to spend their last few days trying to develop some kind of cure for their tumors.

Anyways, deranged EngieMedic fangirling aside (these two make me violently ill and they are the only characters I could even dare to say I "ship")(even then it's as a QPR because I'm diseased and hit Medic with my aroace-ification ray)(you cannot convince me that this man in alloro in any way shape or form he does not even know what an emotion besides mania and blistering rage is), Medic is a fascinating character who I feel not too many people really get. He's either written as a pencil-pushing busy-body vaguely Nazi stereotype or as a soft uwu twink cinnamon roll who wants to help his team and only has a small sadistic streak and only wants to be railed by Heavy. You guys don't get it. He's silly :)

Oh, yeah, right, Heavy. Heavy and Medic definitely do have a connection established. I left it out in Heavy's section, mostly because I want to give focus onto Heavy as a character and leave Medic out of it. Heavy already gets piss pour treatment by the fandom, where he's just reduced to "the other guy" in every ship. He doesn't deserve that...

But, yeah, Medic and Heavy certainly is kinda pushed. Medic and Heavy duos in the game aren't that uncommon, as Heavy is a good tank and Medic can hide behind him, leading to Heavy more or less becoming a stream of bullets to mow down anybody nearby. In Meet the Medic, Medic experiments on Heavy's heart and the big climactic end has him activating the übercharge on Heavy. In the comics themselves, Classic Heavy, the inverse of our normal Heavy, is antagonistic and extremely rude towards Medic. The complete and utter opposite of what Heavy and Medic had back in the day. Then finally he shows up when Medic is literally About To Die.

Blah blah blah, there's a lot of stuff relating back to Heavy and Medic at the VERY LEAST having some sort of ties and liking to each other. That's the reason why there's like 1100+ fics on Ao3 tagged with them.

Medic is a silly goober as previously mentioned. As shown in the Engineer section, he experiments on random civilians. I like to imagine that he doesn't particularly do random fucked up experiments on the RED team, but rather he more or less does everything on civilians. He enjoys putting somebody through pain and suffering, but he wants it to mean something. He doesn't want to just mess with people. He tests out the bounds of which a person can go to, which he does on random people he plucks off the street because there's replaceable to him. His teammates? Not so much.

Oh, and also the Classic Team. He doesn't care about these people. They suck! They aren't his friends. So he just does. this sort of stuff.

He's a bit special. Love him dearly for it.

Sniper, Aww Piss

The Sniper, real name Mick Mundy (real birth name being Mun-Dee), is an young Aussie from the outback. Yes. Young. This man is roughly 30 in 1972 (when the comics take place). Can't you tell by how stereotypically young he looks? Sniper fights using a sniper rifle (duh), an SMG (or other items), and a kukri (big knife).

He's one of the most level-headed of the mercs. Not sane, but rather a man who sticks to being professional and a set of rules. Despite this more refined sense of mercenary work, his parents don't exactly support him being a crazed gunman. Also his parents aren't his biological ones.

That's right, Sniper is adopted. Why do we care? Because he's not Australian, but rather from New Zealand. New Zealand is at the bottom of the ocean, by the way. In 1932 they sunk their entire country because Bill-Bel, Sniper's dad, convinced everyone that the world was going to become an uninhabitable wasteland if they didn't otherwise do this. Ten years later, and when little baby Mun-Dee was born, Bill-Bel and his wife began working on a rocket to escape to space because now they were convinced that earth was going to explode or something. They only built the rocket big enough for one person though, so they fought over who would survive. While fighting, Mun-Dee crawled into it, was shot up into the sky, and then crash landed immediately onto Australia.

So Sniper is Superman.

Also, remember how I said that Sniper sticks to rules and such? Yeah, apparently being a professional also means throwing jars of piss at people. Jarate, a form of jar-based karate invented by Saxton Hale, owner of MannCo.

Sniper's just like that.

Spy, Fr*ch

The Spy, real name unknown, is the second most mysterious character. He's from France (no idea where particularly) and he's just kinda. yeah. There. He fights using his butterfly knife, which he can instantly kill anybody he backstabs, a revolver, and a sapper so he can destroy the Engineer's buildings. Also, an invisibility watch, where he's able to cloak himself and become invisible, and the ability to disguise himself as the enemy team.

The Spy is a richy-rich upperclassman. He likes the finer things in life. Smoking, wine, expensive suits, all that. He's a lot more refined and generally snobbish than the other mercs. However, I don't think of him as exactly mean or rude. Definitely stuck-up, but he cares about his teammates. In Expiration Date, he takes the time to ask everyone what their final wish is. When that's a bust, he then happily spends time with Scout and teaching him how to get ladies.

Ah, yes, right. Scout and Spy. Spy is actually the Scout's father. It's a theory that has been around since the release of Meet the Spy, with the RED Spy being in pornography staring Scout's mother. It's been tossed around and hinted at, with their dynamic and Expiration Date as well as a couple references to Spy and DNA tests. Then, in The Naked and the Dead comic, it's pretty much outright confirmed. While Scout is bleeding out and on the verge of death, Spy takes a moment to finally give Scout some peace.

...while disguised as Tom Jones, of course.

I could go on and on about this scene and how I feel about Spy's characterization and his dynamic with Scout, but blah blah blah...yeah. Spy TF2.

Annnddd that's it for now! Basic summary of it all. The characters, the lore, all of it. I've reached the image limit and have been sort of dancing around it for a while now. Hope this was informative. Toodles!!