#memo to me of that time: we lost that fight

[lies]

[laheyxlover]

Stuck Between part 4

Quinn Hughes x Reader x Trevor Zegras-Poly.

2k

Unedited

Summary: You and Trevor get into a minor fight while trying to communicate about sex.

Warnings: Mention of sex, hickey's. Let me know if I need to add more.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Trevor had dragged you with him to one of the neighbors house parties. Quinn was at dinner with his parents. So Trevor took the opportunity to introduce you as his girlfriend. Most people got the memo that you were off limits. Except for one man that wouldn’t stop flirting with you.

Maybe it was Elliot’s obnoxious laugh every time you told a story. Or how he kept trying to put his arm around you. You kept ducking away from his advances, usually sending Trevor a panicked look so he could step in. 

You had decided to go dance with Taylor as Jack was busy talking to the neighbors. After a few songs, and chatting between you and Taylor. You both headed back to the kitchen to find Jack. 

Jack smiled brightly at her and wrapped an arm around her waist when Taylor approached him. They were simply lost in their own world. You felt a little out of place, so you went to go find Trevor. 

Turning around you bumped into Elliot who held onto your waist to keep you up right. He mumbled a drunken apology but didn’t remove his hands from you. You pushed against him but Elliot seemed to notice. 

You turned your head to call for Jack, when Trevor moved hardly between you and Elliot. Trevor kept his hand on your waist, tucking you into his side as he glared at the confused drunken man. Trevor leaned down, his voice was full of obvious jealousy. 

“He just wants to fuck you..” Trevor rolled his eyes. He meant it as a playful joke at Elliot’s expense. He didn’t expect you to shrink away from him slightly. Elliot threw up in the sink, causing a few more people to rush into the kitchen. 

After a few moments of silence, Trevor used his index finger to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. 

“Hey, what's wrong?” Trevor moved quickly to shield you from the crowd. He was now standing in front of you. Your lip quivered as you shook your head. Refusing to start crying but the drinks in your system made it increasingly harder. 

“Isn’t that what you are trying to do?” You mumbled quietly. You felt nauseous suddenly, but you didn’t think it was the work of the strawberry-canned daiquiris. 

“What?” Trevor asked softly, not following your thought process. 

“Nothing..” You mumbled and stepped back from him slightly. Trevor frowned slightly, his eyebrows furrowing before nodding. 

“Do you need space? We can go back to the house” Trevor spoke quietly, making sure to keep his voice low. You were picking at your fingernails, you slowly shook your head. 

You didn’t want to ruin the night but you suddenly felt uncomfortable with the amount of people in the room. 

Trevor decided to let it go for the time being, you had begun to stare at the floor. Trevor started to feel a little panicked as he ran his hand through his hair. 

Trevor made no move to reach to touch you again, he knew you hated being touched when you checked out like this. 

“Tell me what's wrong in that pretty little head of yours..” Trevor whispered softly, he took a small step forward and watched as your back hit the edge of a chair. 

You mumbled an apology to the couple making out on the chair as you brushed past Trevor. 

“Baby..” Trevor called softly following you as you rushed out the house. 

“I’m fine.” Your voice was harsh, it surprised you slightly but you were already brushing past people to make it to the door. 

Trevor stopped walking, sucking in a deep breath as you closed the house door behind you. 

“Shit.” He mumbled as he pulled out his phone to call Quinn. This was supposed to be a night together, just you and him. 

Trevor was growing anxious after the phone kept ringing. Eventually after the second call, he got enough courage to run after you. 

You had made it to the lake house's driveway when Trevor caught up with you. 

“Baby..” His voice wavered slightly as your back stilled once his footsteps caught up with you. 

“Call Quinn..” You said softly, you needed Quinn to help you communicate. The cold summer wind caused you to shiver slightly while Trevor processed your words. 

After a few seconds of anxious silence, Trevor’s voice broke through. 

“No.” Trevor said moving in front of you, making sure to still leave some space. 

“Trevor! I am not kidding-” You tried to push him away slightly but Trevor just pulled you into his chest. Trevor’s head dropped to your shoulder, breath softly puffing against your neck. 

“He isn’t answering. So you don’t have to tell me what's going on, but I would really like it if you didn’t run off on my watch.” Trevor looked at you sweetly as he pleaded with you. 

“I am not your responsibility, Trev. I am your girlfriend.” You said picking at the skin on your fingernails. Your eyes dropped from his as you stared at his chest blankly. 

“Please,  I have the privilege of making sure you get home safely. So go sleep in Quinn’s bed for all I care. But please, I can’t sleep when I know you're out drunk.” Trevor moved back as you pushed him away from him. It was a light push, but Trevor immediately moved away from you. 

“Okay.” You said still fidgeting with your fingernails. You dropped your hands to your side before looking him in the eye. 

“I shouldn’t need to get Quinn to solve all my problems…” You said before running a hand through your hair as you looked at Trevor nervously. 

“I am fine with helping you communicate-” Trevor said but was cut off as you stepped forward. Shifting your weight slightly. 

“At the party, you made a comment about how Elliot wanted to sleep with me.” you said looking at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes as you spoke. 

“And I said, ‘Isn’t that what you are trying to do?’ because you always make these comments about me.” The look on Trevor’s face as you spoke was enough to make you never want to speak again. He looked like I just kicked his pet dog. 

“I am so sorry..” Trevor said stepping forward, before stepping back when you drew your hands back up to your waist. Folding your arms. 

“It’s fine. I should’ve said something before but-” You were cut off as Trevor raised his hand up before wincing slightly. 

Trevor was an affectionate person, so not being able to touch you as a form of reassurance was hard. Quinn was always better with words, but Quinn wasn’t here. 

“Was it the jokes? Because I can stop. Just keep reminding me because I can fuck up a little at first…” Trevor asked, completely ignoring your words from before. 

“Oh. No, it’s just that you sometimes make comments in public…” you said, stepping forward. 

Trevor smiled at you and held out his hand, you gladly took it. 

“Okay, I promise not to make those comments in public…” Trevor said, smiling at you softly. 

“Thank you for being so…patient.” You said tugging Trevor closer to you with your linked hands. Trevor moved closer to wrap his arms around you in an instant.

“I just- I wanted that dickhead to know you were mine.” Trevor said, running a hand through his hair, as his other hand held you closer from the back of your head. 

“Were you jealous?” You asked to pull back to see his face. Trevor’s ears turned a soft shade of pink.

“No.” He was too quick to reply and you took the opportunity to lean into him. 

“Really? So I can go back to the party?” You asked looking back at the neighbors house. Trevor’s hands moved to your shoulders and he took a deep breath.

 “Yes. Can I please come with you?” Trevor asked quietly, he wanted to give you space. But if he couldn’t keep fuckheads like Elliot Lockwood away from you, he felt much less comfortable with that. 

“Are you jealous?” You asked in a calm tone. Trevor bit his lip nervously as he nodded his head. He felt embarrassment creep up his neck. 

“Words Trev.” You said your sultry had Trevor sucking air into his lungs sharply. “Ha. Funny cause you're the one asking me to-“ Trevor snapped his mouth shut when he saw your pointed look. 

“I hated to see that dick put his hands on you. Especially not when you were wearing my jersey..” Trevor said tilting his head down, his neck flushed a deep red. 

“What about your Jersey?” You asked shyly, trying your best to understand.

“I know you don’t like crude comments…” Trevor said, looking at you suddenly nervous.

“Trevor, come on! We are communicating..” you said lightly pushing his arm. But he kept it firm in place as he held onto your shoulders. 

“Baby, you're wearing my jersey. And I love it, everyone knows your mine.” Trevor stopped once he saw you glance down his body. Trevor covered his crotch with his hand. 

“Hey! Eyes up here!” Trevor said, using his free hand to tilt your chin up. 

“I like knowing how I affect you..” you blushed softly, it was your turn to tilt your head down in embarrassment. After a moment of silence you spoke up again. 

“I get a fuzzy feeling when you use that whiny voice..” you whispered, refusing to meet his eyes. Trevor looked at you utterly confused. You pulled your hands up in front of your face, your face warming. He didn’t understand and because of that you had to explain it further. 

“When you're obviously attracted to me, your voice gets a little strained…” you said looking down as Trevor chuckled against you. He wrapped his arms around you, letting you hide your face into his chest for a moment.  

“And you like that?” Trevor said softly, almost like he was afraid to push you like he usually did. Trevor didn’t want to make you uncomfortable because this was the first time you out-right told him how you were attracted to him. 

Trevor leaned down to kiss you, softly putting his hands on the middle of your back. 

“I love it…” You mumbled brushing your lips softly against his neck. Trevor let out a rush of air, from his nose at your lips against his. 

Trevor’s hands on your back pulled you closer to him, he leaned up suddenly. His face flushed a deep red when he turned around to see Quinn’s car drive up the driveway. 

Turning around you could see Luke notice you first, then Quinn. Quinn’s eyes flickered between you both, before looking back at the road. A soft blush on his face as Quinn hid his smile from his teasing brothers. 

You felt a little embarrassed at being caught having a moment in the middle of the driveway. 

Trevor’s body relaxed once he saw Quinn’s expression. He wasn’t mad, his face had emotions swimming across it. 

“How did dinner go Quinn?” You asked, wrapping your arms around Quinn, he picked you up and held you slightly off the air. Breathing deeply in relief as he let you go. 

“Jack texted me that some guy was getting too close to you..” Quinn said, suddenly embarrassed as he explained he left the dinner early with his parents. 

“You came back to check on me?” You asked, watching as Quinn’s eyes flickered next to you. 

“Both of you..” Quinn corrected, clearing his throat as he averted his eyes to his brother. Luke was helping Jack get his girlfriend out of the car. Taylor was sleeping, softly snoring in Jack’s arms. 

After everyone got settled back into the house, you sat in Quinn’s bed. Trevor laid next to you. Quinn was showering with the door open, the curtains were drawn so you both couldn’t see him. But it made talking easier. 

You were about to roll over to talk to Trevor when you heard Quinn’s voice from the doorway. 

“Why does Trevor have a hickey?” Quinn asked, eyes narrowing at Trevor. 

Trevor slapped his hand to the small hickey, his face flushed. 

“I gave it to him..” You mumbled quietly, staring at your hands as you waited for either boy to speak. 

Quinn’s tense posture relaxed slightly, “Oh..” He said before averting his gaze back to the bathroom. 

“You're not mad?” Trevor said confused, scanning Quinn’s face slightly. 

“I also like to get hickeys from our girlfriend too.” Quinn chuckled watching as your eyes snapped up to him. Your face flushed as Trevor whipped his head to you. 

You blushed wildly, holding up your hands in defense. 

“Well now I feel left out..” Trevor said, giving you an exaggerated eye-roll. 

“I know how I can make it up to you..” You said, moving closer to Trevor. 

Trevor’s hands found your waist as you sat on his lap. 

“You okay with this Quinny?” You called from the bed, Quinn snapped off his haze. 

“Of course baby..” Quinn mumbled coming to sit next to you. 

Trevor swallowed thickly, eyes flickering between you. 

“Can I kiss you Trevor?” You asked softly cupping his face with your hands. Trevor breathed out quickly, his eyes pleading with you. 

“Please..” His voice croaked as your head dipped down to his neck. Your lips softly brushed against his neck. Trevor’s hands gripped your waist tighter when your lips kissed the column of his neck. 

Trevor felt the tent in his pants harden. Quinn leaned forward to admire the hickey you gave Trevor. 

“I think you should even it out, give a few over here..” Quinn said, gesturing around Trevor’s neck to you. 

“Hmm. I am not sure what you mean?” You tilted your head teasingly, Quinn nudged you with his arm playfully. You leaned down to further mark Trevor’s neck. 

Trevor had to keep very still, he so desperately wanted to move his hips. But refused to without the ‘okay’ from you or Quinn. 

After you felt good about the amount of hickey’s on Trevor’s neck. You pushed yourself off of Trevor’s lap. You sat back on your spot on the bed while Quinn pulled you to rest between them. You talked for a few more minutes until you heard Trevor snoring into his pillow.

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3 link) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Part six people!!!)

Batting away a pod of stalkers that didn't get the memo he wasn't food Duke sighed. Rarely persistent predators, normally all it would take to scare them away was a slap from his tail. But with all the chaos that'd happened in such a short time period, they were agitated, attacking him more frequently much to his dismay and his sibling's entertainment. His face heated as he felt laughter erupt into the bond.

"Are the stalkers okay?" Damian questioned demandingly.

"I- They're still trying to maul me?" He replied, taking a second to whack a stalker, its mouth wide open ready to attempt biting his tail off.

"I think a Mesmer wandered from one of the nearby cave systems," He proposed, shaking the attacking stalkers off of him and watching with bared teeth as the fish finally realized they bit off more than they could chew leaving. A Mesmer would explain the stalker's agitation, their hypnotism and eventual biting tended to tick a lot of creatures off.

"So the glow from earlier was just from a Mesmer...?" Dick questioned, disappointment flooding into the bond.

"It was about the size of a Mesmer... Maybe smaller?" Duke started, peaking into the egg from before, no sign of anything being inside at all. " I didn't get to look at it, I was too busy being mauled," Duke complained, turning to glower at a stalker lurking beside him.

"You don't seem very certain Duke," Dick began, "Did something happen?"

Duke froze, staring intently at one of the smooth crystal-like slabs glowing dimly from inside the egg. "Yeah, I heard one of the little noises from the...you know?" The babies carried these around with them, it would make a little noise. A string of little chirps and clicks, and the baby would panic most often dying soon after.

"I think it was from one of the dead ones,"

'one of the dead ones' god he felt disgusting just saying it. But that's all he really could say. None of them lived long enough for them to know anything about them. They couldn’t pin personality and preferences to any of them like they had before! None of this batch lived long enough to fight reapers or watch plants and animals with curious awe.

Dick’s silence was deafening, hope dying slowly. It was like being stabbed, Dick was the one who so desperately wanted a new baby sibling to come out of this tragedy.

“Hey, I-“

“Father wants you two to join him patrolling,” Damian interrupted.

“Aren’t Cass, Steph, and Tim already doing that?”

Damian scoffed, “They have their own territories to patrol Thomas” Damian snapped. “The hell hole was blocked off!”

“And that means…?” Duke questioned, trailing off as the younger scoffed.

“Any idiot with a brain could understand that means we have to watch for sea dragons,”

Terror settled in his stomach. “Those things are real?!” He screeched, gills flaring.

“Real and hungry. What do you think is going to happen when they no longer have a fresh supply of reapers to snack on?” Damian mused and Duke could almost see the sharp-toothed grin on the youngers face

“Well I’m hoping they start eating rocks instead but I’ve gotta feeling you’re going to tell me otherwise.”

“It’s going to wander through the lost river and eat everything in the crater that moves,” Damian warned.

“Damian quit scaring Duke," Dick chimed in exasperatedly.

" I'm not!" Damian protested.

"You quite clearly are, Baby fish!" Dick replied voice laced with faux authority.

"It's not my fault he asked a stupid question!"

"Wait..." He started, pushing himself off the ground, flicking his tail to glide through the kelp forests. " Are we or are we not going to be eaten by a sea dragon?"

"No Duke, they only need to eat large meals every so often,"

"If you see one outside the lava zones switch forms and swim away. We're faster, they won't see us as something worth chasing" Dick explained.

"Oh..." That was relieving, the amount of damage a sea dragon could potentially cause him was terrifying. Precursors had made the fatal mistake of messing with one and you don't exactly see any of them around anymore.

"Why does Bruce need us then?" Duke could almost hear the infuriated shriek from here.

"What part of precursor activity screams 'business as usual'?"

"Be nice you two," Dick warned. Duke shook his head, gliding his way toward the impact site.

"I think he's just bitter that he's the one who was tasked with watching the shallows" Duke teased, an uproar of laughter flooding the bond at Damian's offended squawk.

"At least I won't have to deal with the reapers!" Damian bragged

"You won't if you'd get your ass to the shallows Demon spawn," Jason piped up.

"Plenty of reapers in the dunes kid,"

"Snitch,"

"Slacker,"

Duke snickered as he slithered into the crash zone. Murky waters, from the massive amounts of sand yet to settle at the seabed. Chunks of metal littered the impact site an egg floating upside down yet not a trace left of the red blood that spilled into the ocean the other day. Reapers circled the site, teeth snapping at anything they saw.

A blur of red entered his peripherals, Jason used his horn to stab through a chunk of metal before launching it full force at a charging reaper. A loud snap as the metal hit its target shrapnel spray slicing into a shrieking reaper.

"These fuckers are getting bolder every single day," Jason laughs humorlessly. Mandibles snap, teeth gnash, reaper screaming louder and louder as it starts circling the two of them. "I almost miss the Sea dragon," Jason joked. A gnarled pinkish burn scar on his left side, dorsal fin torn off and smaller burns littering Jason's body told him he would never in fact "Miss the sea dragon,"

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim

[bakugokemkatsuki]

Break My Heart- Haikyuu

Oikawa x (GN) Reader x Shiratorizawa

Warnings: cussing, nicknames, implied bullying, fighting (verbal) Key: R/N- Random Name, Y/N- Your Name Word Count:2205 Note: You do NOT end up with Oikawa in the end though the ending is happy, Y/N is not gendered Genre: Angst to Fluff

It had been a week since Aoba Johsai had lost the Spring Qualifiers to Karasuno. Since the loss Oikawa had been very distant. You figured he was just dealing with a lot and had been giving him his space. Today though, you decided you would go surprise him with cuddles and bring him some milk bread (since it was his favorite after all). You arrived at his house, knocking and then entering quietly incase he was asleep.

You- Hey Babe! It’s me. You- Kawababe? It’s me. I brought milk bread.

You waited for a response and decided to go check his room after not hearing anything, thinking he might be asleep.

As you crept closer to his room you heard muffled noises and noticed the door was slightly agar. You pushed the door open slowly and the scene before you broke your heart.

You- Kawa… Oikawa- Y/N!! What are you doing here? I... It’s not what it looks like, I swear.

In front of you was your “loving” boyfriend and R/N, the head girl of the Oikawa fangirl club in bed together (doing yknow what).

R/N- What do you mean its not what it looks like, babe? It is exactly that. He doesn’t need you anymore. We all know you could never be what he needed. That’s why he came to me after the loss. That’s why he’s been avoiding you. He’s been with me ALL week. You- Was I not enough...?  >You asked tears streaming down your face<

Oikawa- You are more than enough I swear! Please let’s talk about this! Let me make it up to you. You- NO!!! We only ever made one promise and you broke that. You broke my trust and that isn’t something I can just get passed. Out of everyone to cheat with… R/N… Knowing how insecure she constantly made me feel and how horrible she treated me for dating you. You really said hit them where it hurts. Well, you succeeded congrats. Incase you didn’t get the memo we’re through and fuck you… Fuck you both.

With that you left his house tears streaming down your face. So hurt and betrayed. Oikawa tried to follow you, calling your name but you ignored him running home to hide away in your room.

-Time Skip 2 Weeks-

You hadn’t been going to school. You knew you couldn’t keep skipping but you just weren’t ready to face everything yet. You did try going back to school once two days ago, but that didn’t go well. At this point the whole school knew about what happened and the fangirl club was more brutal toward you then ever. Rubbing the whole thing in your face and reminding you how Oikawa deserves better.

The team themselves had reached out several times to check on you and apologizing. They went as far as showing up at your house, but you couldn’t face them. You knew it wasn’t their fault it just hurt to bad. You loved them you just couldn’t face them, though you really did miss them.

Oikawa kept reaching out and trying to talk to you, that was part of the reason you felt you couldn’t go back to Seijoh. You didn’t want anything to do with him. Right after everything happened Oikawa called and texted like crazy until you blocked him, every text left unread, and every voicemail left unheard. He even came to your house one time but after hours of pleading to see you with no avail he went home.

You decided switching schools was the best choice. Though you were scared and moving schools especially during third year wasn’t normal and wouldn’t be easy you felt it was the right choice. You decided to use this as an opportunity to apply to the school you were too scared to apply to when you were originally looking at schools.

Now here you are, reading your acceptance letter to the Shiratorizawa Academy. Shiratorizawa is very difficult to get into and it was really hard to convince them to even let you take the entrance exam, but once they saw your scores it was an easy yes for them.

You start Shiratorizawa tomorrow, you decided it was time to reach back out to Seijoh and say your final goodbyes. You texted Iwaizumi and asked him to meet, just him. Iwaizumi was quick to say yes and was over to your house in ten. You answered the door and immediately hugged him, you secretly missed him the most. You two were quite close before everything because he was Oikawa’s best friend after all.

Iwaizumi- Y/N its good to see you again. How are you? Shittykawa is an absolute dumbass and I’m sorry for what he did. The team has shunned him since it happened. None of support him and his decision. You- Iwa he’s your best friend, I know were friends, but you can still be friends with him. I know you were his friend first. Plus, I actually asked you hear to tell you to let the team know I’m really going to miss them, and I hope you all keep working hard. I am doing something for myself to help me heal. I’m transferring schools. So you guys don’t have to choose between us.

Iwaizumi- You’re transferring schools? Where? And we all still want to be your friends and in your life too. You- Were all still friends, you guys can text me and we can still all hang out anytime. I just need some time to adjust to my new school.

Iwa stayed and you guys hung out for a couple hours before he went home.

-Timeskip to next day (Monday)-

Today you started your new school. The day went by quickly and was quite smooth. You even made a few friends. This new start made you happy. It was just what you needed. On your way out you heard the noise, the noise you loved so much. The noise you’ve missed for the past few weeks. You unconsciously found yourself walking toward the sound of sneakers squeaking and balls hitting the floor. Without realizing it you found yourself outside the volleyball gym, and couldn’t help but peak in. You watched awed by the team in at work in front of you.

Tendo- Hey, are you a fangirl?

Tendo came up behind you startling you. Jumping you turned to face to face with the red hair boy.

You- Oh no, sorry. I’m actually new here. I was really close to the volleyball team at my old school and unconsciously followed the sound here. Sorry. Tendo- Well it’s great to meet you. I’m Satori Tendo third year, middle blocker.

You- Oh Yea!! You’re that really awesome guess blocker, right? Your blocks are like scary accurate. I’ve always wanted to see you up close. I’ve seen you play but to be up close is something totally different. Tendo- Wow, thank you. Why don’t you come in and watch… um?

You- Y/n L/N, third year as well.

With that Tendo led you in and you watched practice. After practice Tendo introduced the team to you. They were pretty intimidating at first but they slowly got to know you and they were actually quite nice. You ended up hanging out with them all the time. Slowly you lost touch with the Seijoh players, not intentionally but everyone was busy and you guys hadn’t seen each other in months. Besides you were very busy, Tendo kept the whole team on there toes.

One day you finally told the team everything and explained why you switched schools. They were all there for you and it only made there hatred for Oikawa stronger. Slowly you found yourself healing and even possibly falling in love again.

You were watching the team practice, currently they were on a break.

Tendo- So, are you going to tell him? You- What are you talking about Tendo?

Tendo- You know exactly what I’m talking about. You- I really don’t.

Tendo- Its obvious (to me at least) that you like him. You should tell him. You- >Flustered< Huh? What are you talking about? Confess to who?

Tendo- Wakatoshi-kun duh. You- >Your face is now beet red< I do NOT have a crush on Ushiwaka. Besides he wants to focus on volleyball and doesn’t have time for dating; which I TOTALLY respect.

Tendo- I mean honestly doesn’t hurt to try. You never know he might just make an exception to date you. After all he totally likes you back. Show that Oikawa dude you don’t need him anymore. You- What are you talking about?

Tendo- Ushijima is my best friend, I know him better than anyone. I can read him like a book. He may seem stoic and emotionless, but he likes you trust me. You- Fine, fine I’ll do it. I mean he at least deserves to know how I feel. He’s been nothing but good to me and he deserves the truth.

After practice you pulled Ushijima to the side.

Ushiwaka- Hello Y/N. Did you need something? You- Yes actually. Listen before I say this I don’t want it to ruin our friendship. You are very important to me Ushiwaka. Promise it won’t ruin things, please.

Ushiwaka- Okay, I promise. Now what is it? You- I know you want to focus on volleyball, and I respect and support that one hundred percent. I know how important a career in volleyball is to you, but graduation is quickly approaching and before we leave I want you to know… Ushijima I have feelings for you… I like you… in more than a friend way.

Silence filled the space between you, causing you to become super flustered and nervous.

You- I totally get it and I hope this doesn’t ruin anything. I just wanted to be honest with you. I… Ushiwaka- Y/N, I believe I like you as well. As more than a friend. Would you consider going on a date with me?

You and Tendo at the same time- YES!!! You- AHHHH! Tendo!!! What are you doing here?

Tendo- I couldn’t not come see my two best friends finally get together. And its all thanks to my amazing advice. You- More like you crazy persistence. >You all laugh at that<

That weekend you and Ushijima went on your date, which went amazing. It was everything you could have dreamed of and more. He was a total gentleman. After the date Ushijima asked you to officially be his and of course you said yes.

-Time Skip 2 weeks-

You were hanging out with Tendo, Ushijima, Semi, Goshiki, and Shirabu (though he was dragged here by Semi and Goshki). The rest of the team was suppose to meet you guys in an hour or so for a date turned whole team hang out (thanks to Tendo). You guys were hanging in the park when you hear someone calling your name. You look up to see most of the Seijoh volleyball team.

Oikawa- Hey, Y/N could we um talk? Please?

The team tried to talk but you cut them off.

You- Sure.

You stepped off to the side with Oikawa while the others started talking amongst themselves.

You- What is it Oikawa? Oikawa- It’s been a while… how are you?

You- I’m fine. How are you? Oikawa- I’m doing okay, I guess. Really miss you though. You transferred to Shiratorizawa?

You- Yes. Oikawa- That’s cool. I know it was you first choice for schools, but you didn’t think you’d make it. Glad to see you prove yourself wrong.

You- Thank you. Now what did you want Oikawa? Oikawa- I wanted to apologize for everything. You were so good to me and you didn’t deserve what I did to you. >He reaches out and brushes your arm<

You quickly pull back from him.

You- Oikawa, thank you and I accept your apology but please don’t. We are through, done for good. Oikawa- Please Y/N one chance that’s all I ask.

You- Oikawa I… I can’t I have a boyfriend.

As if on cue Ushijima walked over and wrapped his arm around you.

Ushijima- Oikawa Oikawa- (directed at Ushijima) Ushiwaka…(directed at you) you’re dating him… aren’t you Y/N?

You- Yes, he’s everything I ever dreamed of and more. Sorry Oikawa. Hope you find happiness one day. Sorry, that’s just not me. Oikawa- I understand… Also Ushiwaka, hurt her and I will personally kick your ass, got it? Don’t make the same mistake as me. Cherish her and hold her close.

After that you all returned to the group. You informed everyone that you and Ushijima were dating. Everyone continued catching up before parting ways. After everything you and Ushijima walked to his house together.

On the walk out of no where Ushijima blurts

Ushiwaka- I love you. You- You what ?

You ask as you stop in your tracks. Ushijima turns grabs your hands looks you in the eyes and says it again.

Ushiwaka- I love you Y/N. You- I… I love you too Ushi.

You guys continued home. Honestly, Oikawa really hurt you but in some ways you had to thank him. Without him you may never have found your way to the love of your life.

**A/N: This took me 3 plus hours to do. Also if you see this posted on @animereactsbybkemk its okay!!**

[2nd2ndalto]

what if there were two (side by side in orbit)

__

(Chapter 4 here)

Chapter 5

March 1999

“Got your mail,” Will announces as he comes back into the office. He falters at the edge of Nico’s desk, trying and failing to see a single square inch of available space on which to drop said mail - a handful of memos, photocopied reports and interdepartmental envelopes.

Nico straightens from the newspaper he’s been poring over, immediately registering Will’s dilemma.

“Oh, thanks, I can –” Nico accepts the little bundle of papers from Will and automatically looks around for somewhere to set it down, reaching the exact same conclusion Will did a second earlier. Will laughs.

Nico slumps, defeated, still holding the mail in a loose grip.

Will plucks the envelopes from his hand. “Here, I’ll put them…” Will glances around, finding almost every other surface cluttered with papers, books and files.

Nico sighs, dejected. “It’s a lost cause.”

“I can go put them back in your slot in the mail room,” Will offers, only half-kidding.

“No, I’ll just –” Nico takes the papers back again, opening three crammed-full drawers in his desk before finding one with room to stuff the mail on top and shutting it with a satisfied nod.

“Much better,” Will says. He moves to his own, mostly-clear desk and begins to flip through the items he’s retrieved from his own mailbox. Nothing too interesting. Copies of authorized expense reports, a reminder that he’s due to renew some sort of workplace safety training that he doesn’t even remember completing the first time around. He pauses, eyes skimming over a glossy flier.

“You think we should do the workplace communication training workshop?” Will says contemplatively. He glances over to Nico, who looks predictably appalled.

“No,” Nico answers.

Will grins. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t you want to learn to communicate more effectively with me?”

Nico gives him a withering look. “Solace, if we communicate any more effectively, they’ll make us teach the class ourselves. And neither of us want that.

Will attempts not to look too outwardly pleased at this. “Good point,” he agrees, solemn. “We don’t want to peak too soon. Or like, get promoted against our will.”

Nico lets out a laugh. “Definitely not. I kind of like it down here.” He shoots Will a smile, a real one. Will winks. Nico huffs and turns back to his paper.

Will sets the flier aside, unfurling the red string of an interoffice envelope. He squints at his name, misspelled and scrawled messily underneath two dozen others, before pulling a single sheet of paper from the envelope, folded in half. It’s nice paper, embossed. Thicker than the stuff he and Nico are allotted to print letters on. Will makes a face, scanning over the page. “What kind of a name is Octavian?”

Nico’s head jerks up from his newspaper.

“Sorry,” Will shakes his head. “That wasn’t very nice, was it? I’m sure he’s lovely.”

“He’s not,” Nico says acidly. “What does he want?”

Will blinks, surprised at the sudden vitriol in his partner’s voice. “It doesn’t say. I’ve never even heard of this guy.” Will peers at the letterhead, then the interdepartmental envelope, trying to ascertain where the letter originated from. “He wants to meet with me tomorrow. Why wouldn’t he call, or send an email? What if I hadn’t even checked my mail today?”

Nico scowls. “That’s Octavian.”

“He’s the… associate deputy director?” Will reads from under the signature at the bottom of the letter.

“Yeah,” Nico says, tired. “He’s Reyna’s boss.”

“Wonder what I did to deserve a meeting,” Will says, his stomach lurching unpleasantly. He reads through the letter again, but there’s absolutely nothing to indicate what the meeting might be for. It feels ominous.

Nico grimaces. “Nothing, most likely. He’s – Octavian doesn’t like me. Or the X-Files. I’m actually surprised his name hasn’t come up before. When I’ve mentioned fighting for the department to keep its funding – that’s all on Octavian. He’s always looking for some excuse to shut me down. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was looking for you to snitch on me.”

Will scoffs, disgusted. “Well, that’s not going to happen.”

“No?”

“Of course not!” Will says, aghast. “I would never. What would I even snitch about, if I wanted to? That you put in extra hours you don’t claim in your paysheet? That you do research into cases on your own time? Besides, we’re partners, Nico. You’re my friend.”

Nico looks a bit shaken by this declaration, and Will turns back to his desk, giving the other man a moment.

“What happens in the basement stays in the basement,” Will announces with finality, flipping through the rest of his mail. Nico laughs.

::

Nico’s in the office a full hour early the next morning, pacing, his stomach in knots. He’d tried to brush off Octavian’s letter, and done a pretty good job of it for most of yesterday. But it had started to weigh on him by the evening, alone in his apartment. By the time he’d gone to bed, the thought of Will’s looming meeting had taken up a heavy, unpleasant occupancy in his gut.

First, there’d been the niggling worry that Octavian was looking for dirt on Nico. But even if Will would have indulged that, which he’d made quite clear he wouldn’t, Nico’s not really worried about his work or his methods being scrutinized. He’s proud of the cases they’ve worked, maybe even more so in the last six months. Sure, they haven’t solved every case in its entirety, they haven’t locked up every perpetrator, but they’ve been careful and thorough. They’ve helped people. The case in Fairbrook was a standout, certainly, and it’s gotten a lot of attention, both from the Bureau and the media. Surely that will help his case, if he needs to have one.

So there have been those worries - small and persistent, really nothing new. The X-Files has been in perpetual danger of losing its funding ever since Nico first descended into the basement. But what’s truly had his insides twisting since last night is the unwelcome worry that perhaps this meeting means that he’s losing Will.

There’s no denying that Will’s an excellent agent, and he did amazing work in Fairbrook. What if the Bureau wants to reassign him somewhere they think he’ll be more useful? What if Will wants to be somewhere where he’ll be more useful?

Nico works alone. He always has. Sure, there have been other agents assigned to work with him here and there, and it’s been fine. Nothing special, but fine.

But Will... Will is a partner, in a way Nico hadn’t even considered possible. Nico doesn’t want Will to leave. He’d arrived at this realization with complete, crashing clarity at three am just as he was finally about to drift off to sleep. The rest of the night had mostly been a write-off.

How did this happen? This was not part of the plan when Will came to work down here. Work, sure. They could work together. With a very few notable exceptions, Nico gets along decently with his colleagues. He can be a team player when the situation requires it.

But just when exactly did Will worm his way under Nico's skin the way he has? The way that makes it feel like there's a tangibly empty space in the office when Will leaves early for a dentist appointment, or gets pulled into another department for an afternoon? The way Nico glances over to Will automatically, reflexively seeking his agreement, his input. The way it settles him when he receives it.

The way his stupid heart swells when Will laughs at his jokes, loud and bright, his lingering fond smile.

Fuck.

And now – what if all that gets snatched away? What if that's even what Will wants? Sure, Will seems to enjoy Nico's company, but really (as Nico realized as he entered that particularly devastating train of thought around four am) Will seems to enjoy everyone's company. It's not as though there's anything special about Nico, no reason for Will to want to stay here of all places. Here, in the basement, the armpit of the FBI. Here, hanging out with the one little weirdo no one else takes seriously.

Will's just so damn easy to get along with, so fucking pleasant to have around. So much more curious and open-minded than Nico ever would have expected. He's smart and funny and... tall and... okay, Nico supposes he can admit it – it doesn't hurt that he's really attractive.

Fuck. Fuck.

Having completed probably a dozen laps of the office (not easy, thank you, there’s not exactly a clear path around the perimeter), Nico drops heavily into his chair then drops his head into his hands. He's an existential, underslept mess, in no way prepared for Will's early arrival when the office door opens mere seconds later.

Will beams at the sight of Nico, sitting there like a disheveled, pathetic pile of desperation, and how the fuck is that fair?

Nico clears his throat, forcing himself to sit up straighter. "You're early," he says. The words come out sounding far more accusatory than he intended.

"Yeah." Will's face falls a little. "Sorry?"

"No, no," Nico says immediately. "I'm – just ignore me. I didn't get much sleep."

Will's brow creases in sympathy. "Sorry to hear that."

Nico watches with a sinking heart as Will pulls off his coat and hangs it by the door, ruffling a hand through his hair and brushing water droplets off his bag. What if this is their last morning in this office together? What if this is the last time he watches Will hang his coat, cross the office and drop into his chair? Every little motion is so familiar now, so much a part of his morning. How did he never think to properly appreciate it before?

Will turns once he's seated, regarding Nico with a little more scrutiny than Nico had been prepared for, and Nico immediately attempts to look completely sane and cool. Like the sort of person who wouldn't miss his partner at all, were that partner to be reassigned.

Will doesn't look as if he's fooled, which is concerning in itself.

"Should we go grab coffee?" Will asks, worried. "Have you eaten?"

Nico nods, grateful for the distraction. "Definitely yes to coffee and no, I haven't eaten." He stands from his desk. "Dunkin’?"

Will makes a face. "It started pouring right after I got off the train. I ran all the way here with my bag over my head. I don't suppose you have an umbrella?"

Nico does not, so the cafeteria it is, then. On days when they’re feeling particularly motivated, they'll take the stairs up to the eighth floor, but god, it's early and Nico feels like shit, and Will seems to understand this without Nico needing to explain. Will leads them to the single elevator that descends to the basement level.

The elevator gets progressively stuffier and more crowded as it rises through the building, and Nico gets progressively more twitchy and irritable. By the sixth floor, there's barely room to breathe, and he and Will are trapped in the back corner together, a wall of suits and briefcases forming a barricade of claustrophobia in front of them.

Will glances down at Nico, then bumps their shoulders together, once, then harder, teasingly shuffling over inch by inch until Nico's smushed against the wall, Will grinning and Nico trying valiantly to maintain his scowl in the face of this unasked-for amusement.

Ten minutes later they're settled at a table with a view of the rooftop garden, Nico gazing out the windows at the puddles collecting on the pebbled cement outside and picking at a bran muffin. Across the table, Will checks his watch.

"What time's your meeting?" Nico asks. As if he doesn’t know. As if he’s spent more than a few minutes not thinking about it in the last eighteen hours.

Will lets out a breath. "In an hour."

"Oh –"

"Yeah." Will makes a face. "He emailed me last night to move it earlier. Not sure why he couldn't have just emailed in the first place."

That's not such a bad thing, Nico supposes, as his stomach gives a violent lurch. At least they'll know soon, one way or another.

"Guess he didn't say what he wanted to meet about in the email," Nico says, trying to sound as though this is only of minimal concern to him.

Will shakes his head. "Nope. Just hope I'm not about to get fired." He lets out a nervous laugh and Nico glances up, surprised.

"Why would you think that?"

Will shrugs. "I don't know. It's all a little weird and mysterious, isn't it? Maybe I made some horrible mistake and didn't realize."

"You definitely didn't. If anything, I'd think he'd – well. Just, hypothetically... what if they offered you a promotion?"

Will laughs, surprised. "What would – that doesn't make any sense. I'm brand new. I barely know what I'm doing yet."

Nico scoffs. "That's ridiculous. You do know that, right? The Robert Marcus case – that was basically all your doing. And the whole Bureau's been talking about it."

Will blinks. "I mean – that was a group effort, though."

Nico averts his eyes, gazing into his coffee. The coffee here is decent, at least. Thick and strong. The ceramic cups are small, but heavy, a pleasing weight to them. The bran muffins leave a lot to be desired. Although Nico's not sure if he could enjoy eating anything at this exact moment.

"What – what would you think? If they did offer you a promotion?" Nico asks, his heart throbbing in his chest, staring desperately into the depths of his coffee.

"Do you really think that's what this is about?" Will sounds incredibly skeptical. Which is kind of hilarious, Nico thinks. Will, the skeptical partner, whose deadliest skepticism is directed at his own abilities.

"Wait," Will says, taking in Nico’s expression. "Are you – are you worried that I'll be promoted?"

And okay, that's uncalled for. Nico is frankly offended. Nico is supposed to be the psychological profiler here, thank you very much.

Nico shrugs. He chances a glance at Will, who's gazing out into the rain, brow furrowed. Probably considering all the other floors he could be working on that aren't the basement. All the other agents he could be working with who aren't weird and grouchy. And short. Take Magnus, for instance. Magnus is tall, and he’s almost always in a good mood. That fucker.

Will's gaze finally flicks from the window back to Nico, something tentative there. "I don't think there's any other job I'd rather do at the Bureau," he says slowly, as if he's only just realizing it himself. "I feel like I really lucked into something, being assigned to this department, you know?” Will’s blue eyes are clear, and Nico's stomach seems to settle back towards its regular location. “The work we’ve been doing together – it’s fascinating. And it feels worthwhile. Like we’re making a difference. I think it’s something I think I could learn to be really good at. I’d like to. And I mean." Will swallows. "I think you already know that I enjoy working with you," he finishes, timid.

Nico can feel his cheeks warming. Stupid cheeks. "Yeah," he mutters, turning his coffee cup in his hands. "I mean... me too."

"You like working with me, or you like working with you?" Will asks, suddenly wide-eyed and dead serious.

Nico scowls. "Fuck off."

Will laughs.

"I like working with you, okay?" Nico says, pained.

Will's fully grinning at him now, the full, devastating one hundred watts.

"And you know. You did just save me from death by exsanguination, so it's probably in my best interests to keep you around," Nico says, as grudgingly as he can manage.

Their conversation in the cafeteria is heartening, but Nico's still a grouchy ball of nerves almost an hour later as he watches the clock in the basement office tick down, the time of Will's meeting looming closer and closer. With fifteen minutes to go, he can't take it anymore and he stands abruptly, throwing his jacket over the back of his chair. He crosses to a cabinet in the corner and pulls out a bag, little-used, slinging it over his shoulder.

Will blinks up at him from where he's cross-legged on the dusty floor in front of a filing cabinet, digging through the bottom drawer. "Are you running away from home?"

Nico rolls his eyes. "I'm going to go to the gym."

Will's eyebrows rise. "The gym? Oh. Okay."

"You don't have to sound so surprised," Nico mutters, "I go to the gym."

“No, obviously you do, I mean…” Will suddenly goes pink and flustered, his gaze somewhere around Nico’s chest, and Nico’s brow furrows in confusion, glancing down to make sure he hasn’t spilled something on himself.

Will clears his throat. “It’s just that I’ve never seen you go to the gym. Here.”

They gaze at each other for a long moment. Will’s pink cheeks make his eyes look bluer. Brighter.

“Well,” Nico says, bemused. “I guess it’s been a while. And hey,” he adds as he reaches the office door, as if it’s nothing but an afterthought, “good luck with your meeting.”

Will smiles from where he’s still seated on the floor, looking nervous. “Thanks.”

::

Nico’s workout doesn’t last long. Mid-morning is apparently a popular time to use the Bureau gym, and Nico can’t bear the thought of making small talk with any of his colleagues at the moment. He lasts about half an hour, weights and some half-assed cardio before he hits the showers, washing up quickly before heading back downstairs, hair still damp.

Maybe he’ll have some time to collect himself before Will reappears. Maybe he should have done some yoga. That's supposed to be relaxing, right? Frank showed him some poses once. He doesn't think he can remember any of them except the one where you lie flat on your back.

Nico does actually manage to distract himself by reading through a file for a few minutes before he hears the heavy slam of the fire door at the stairwell, letting him know that someone’s reached the basement level.

Nico watches the office door, breath caught in his chest. He only has seconds to wait.

“What a fucking asshole,” Will announces, the office door slamming shut behind him. “What the actual fuck.”

Will’s face is flushed. He pulls off his jacket, the motion jerky, tossing it on top of his coat on the rack by the door. It falls to the floor. Will takes a deep breath, hands on his hips before retrieving it and shoving the jacket more violently at the coat rack. Nico thinks he’s actually shaking.

“What happened?”

“You were right.” Will throws up his hands, disbelieving. “He wanted me to fucking snitch on you! He started asking me all these inane questions, like whether your methods made me feel unsafe.” Will rolls his eyes, gloriously. “All these fucking pointed questions about our protocol for initiating cases and –” Will lets out a huff of frustration. “I obviously wasn’t answering the way he wanted me to, and he just got… more and more infuriating.”

Will sits on the edge of his desk, then immediately stands again, shoving a hand roughly through his hair.

“That fucking anemic loser,” he seethes. “The absolute nerve. I can’t even –” Will shakes his head, lost for words.

Nico watches him for a long moment, now torn between worry and admiration. “And so what did you – what did you tell him?”

“I told him you were a brilliant agent, one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and that the FBI was lucky to have you!” Will says, his voice rising.

Nico's throat goes tight.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t actually yell at him.” Will huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate that.”

Nico feels as if he’s been hit over the head with something very heavy. “Well. I might have. A bit. I sure would have enjoyed watching it.”

Will smiles, finally. His eyes are bright, cheeks pink. He’s radiant like this. Like some kind of avenging angel, or a Greek god.

“Thank you,” Nico manages. “For defending me.”

Will shakes his head, frowning. “I just told him the truth.”

“So he’s not – he didn’t threaten to pull our funding or, I don’t know. Assign us both to Agricultural Corruption?”

Will barks out a laugh. “No.” He lowers himself to the edge of his desk again, aggressively scrubbing a hand over his face. “He made some noise about irregular procedures and untenable evidence.” Will throws up one hand in a half-hearted air quote. “But honestly it seemed like he was just grasping at straws by that point. He kept bringing up specific instances of when seemed to think we weren’t following protocol - he had a fucking list – and I just very patiently explained all the ways he was wrong.”

Nico laughs. Octavian’s got to be absolutely seething right now, and that’s a pretty great feeling. As if that wasn’t enough good news, it doesn’t sound as if Will’s going anywhere. Nico suddenly feels about twenty pounds lighter.

“Seriously, what an absolute dick,” Will says. “What the fuck is that guy’s problem?”

Nico shrugs. “He’s one of those guys who always wants to be at the top of the heap. Even as far as he’s climbed the corporate ladder here at the Bureau, it doesn’t seem to have made him any happier. It’s not enough for him to be at the top. He needs everyone else to know they’re at the bottom, too.”

“I can’t stand guys like that.” Will scowls. “He did commend us on the Fairbrook case, though he didn’t seem happy about it. Told me I was a valuable asset but he sounded like he meant the exact opposite. I made sure he knew that without your timely research resources, Marcus would still probably be murdering diabetics.”

Will stands again. “You know, I think I need to walk this off. I’m kind of a wreck right now. I managed to hold it together while I was talking to him, but I feel like my blood pressure’s through the roof.”

“Isn’t it still raining?” Nico asks.

“I don’t think I care," Will laughs, shoving a hand through his hair again. The violence he’s perpetrated on it in the last few minutes combined with the humidity of the day makes it stand out like a messy halo around his head. It’s glorious. "I can’t believe I put on my best suit for that idiot.”

"Well, you look..." Nico swallows. Amazing. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. God, why the fuck did he start this sentence? The longer Nico's lost for words, the more Will's smile grows, and when Nico finally manages, "very professional," Will grins, wide.

"Aww, thanks."

Nico rolls his eyes as hard as he can.

"Do you want company?" Nico asks, as he watches Will pull his coat back on. He immediately curses his lack of filter. "It's fine if you don't." Will’s jacket falls from the coat rack again and Will kicks it aggressively into the corner.

But Will only says, "of course I want your company.”

"What if it's still raining, though?" Will asks as they head to the stairwell. "You don't like getting wet."

"I guess I can make an exception," Nico mutters, because that sounds a lot more sane than, now that I know you're staying, I kind of don't want to let you out of my sight.

Will steps back neatly, holding the door open for Nico with a little bow when they reach the ground floor. "You know, for someone who doesn't like rain, you'd think you'd keep an umbrella around," he muses, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, well. I'm an enigma wrapped in a mystery," Nico mutters, and Will’s bright laughter is worth any potential rain.

The rain is more of a drizzly mist by the time they make it out onto Pennsylvania Avenue, and they walk in companionable quiet in the general direction of the sculpture garden, Will looking a bit more settled the longer they walk. It settles Nico, too.

His mind drifts back over the last six months, still a bit baffled that this has become what it has, and so easily. A partnership. A friendship. Will had said, of course I want your company like it was nothing, implicit.

And Nico suddenly remembers his worries, in the first few months Will was here. That he wouldn't be able to keep Will at arm's length, that he had to make sure not to let Will in, not to let Will know him. As they wait at the back of a crowd of tourists for the lights to change at Constitution Avenue, Will's shoulder bumps gently into his, and Will smiles and Nico realizes it's far, far too late for that.

The realization doesn't hit him like a truck, not like last night, when he desperately wanted to sleep. Instead, the knowledge settles over him gently, like the misty rain, like the half-memory of a mostly-inconsequential task that he neglected to complete.

Well, damn.

::

Still March 1999

Nico, having returned from the continental breakfast buffet, hands over a coffee and muffin. Will accepts both gratefully from where he’s seated cross-legged on his bed. Nico’s footsteps falter on the way across the hotel room. “You smell… fruity,” he comments, then immediately looks embarrassed.

Will grins. “Well,” he shrugs. “I am, a little.”

Nico huffs, settling himself onto his own bed, newspaper spread out in front of him.

“It’s probably my shampoo,” Will realizes. “It’s Dewberry, from the Body Shop. Kayla got a big gift basket for her birthday, but she didn’t like the scent. I like it, though. So you’ll have to put up with me smelling fruity for the foreseeable future.” He tilts his head in Nico’s general direction, ruffling his still-damp hair.

Nico rolls his eyes. Then, a moment later – “It could be worse,” he mutters.

Will hides a smile, turning back to his own work. If he’s forced to tolerate Nico’s arms in that devastatingly tight Ramones t-shirt every time they share a room, Nico can put up with Will’s fruity-smelling hair, Will thinks ruefully.

They’re sharing a room on this particular trip because Reyna insisted on it; Will’s been called here to conduct a couple of autopsies, Nico tagging along because he’d read about reports of possible UFO sightings in the area. They’re both a little disappointed with yesterday’s conclusions – neither of the autopsies revealed anything indicating foul play, and Nico’s UFOs turned out to be drunk teenagers with laser pointers.

Sharing a room isn’t a hardship, anyway. They’ve done it on cases more often than not in the weeks since their visit to St. Ambrose, Ramones t-shirt notwithstanding. The couple of occasions they’ve booked separate rooms, they’ve wound up watching TV and chatting until late in the evening anyway, WIll often dozing off in Nico’s room.

Nico folds up the newspaper, leaning back on his hands and gazing towards the window. It’s still pouring out. The rain began just as they pulled off the interstate yesterday afternoon and it hasn’t stopped since. Neither of them had thought to bring an umbrella, and they’ve been sprinting from building to car to building attempting to shield themselves with briefcases and newspapers.

“It’s still fucking raining,” Nico grumbles. “I hate getting wet.”

“Because you’re made of sugar,” Will says vaguely, glancing over his report.

Nico snorts. “I’m what?”

Will glances up, grinning. Nico’s gone a bit pink.

“Because you’re made of sugar. It’s what my mom says. You know. Because if you were made of sugar, you’d melt. In the rain.”

Nico scowls, clearly trying not to look amused. “If anyone’s made of sugar, it’s you,” he mutters. “I’ve seen what you call breakfast.”

Will laughs. He refuses to feel any guilt over his penchant for pastries. “Are you calling me sweet?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “You wish.”

Will grins wider, flopping back onto the bed for a long stretch. He doesn’t miss the way Nico’s eyes flit to his waist, where his shirt rides up. The reflexive flip-flop in his own stomach is already expected, familiar. He’d pulled on sweats and a t-shirt after his shower, knowing they likely wouldn’t leave the room for a couple of hours and not quite ready to face getting properly dressed.

Will rolls to his side, tugging his shirt back into place and propping himself up on an elbow. Nico regards him, looking a bit exasperated. But that’s become familiar, too.

“So you don’t want to head out yet then?” Will asks.

Nico glances back to the window. “Eh. It’s still early. We could wait a bit, see if it eases up. I’m not crazy about driving in this.”

“Sure,” Will says easily. “I think I’m done my report. You wanna watch TV?”

Nico makes a face. “It’s all gonna be morning news right now. I’d be happy to never hear another word about the fucking Clintons.”

Will nods, in complete agreement. “Animal Planet?”

Nico huffs, then – “Oh, actually…” He hops up from the bed, grabbing his overnight bag from the floor and retrieving something small from a side pocket.

He tosses the item to Will, who of course, fumbles it. It lands on the bed though, and Will’s eyes go wide. He feels his face heating, fast. “Um,” he says.

“Oh,” Nico laughs, almost giggles. Will glances up, astonished.

“I should have explained –” Nico begins, red-faced himself, then laughs harder as he takes in Will’s expression. Will doesn’t think he’s ever seen Nico laugh so hard, and the sight makes him feel almost unbearably fond. He’d be able to enjoy it so much more if it weren’t for the accompanying and distracting feelings of shock, and confusion, because –

Nico leans over the bed, grabbing the pack of very clearly x-rated playing cards from Will’s limp hand.

“They were a gift,” he says, still very much red in the face, still laughing. “A stupid – I don’t know, it was one of those stupid blind gift exchanges. Secret Santa, or something. And – they’re the only playing cards I have, and I thought I could try teaching you to shuffle again next time we were on an overnight, but I didn’t really think about –”

“Oh,” Will laughs, the pieces finally fitting together. “Oh. Yeah. A little warning might have been nice.”

They gaze at each other in silence for a moment before bursting into simultaneous laughter.

“Sorry,” Nico laughs, “just – the look on your face.”

Will shakes his head, scrubbing hands over his very warm face. “Fine,” he laughs, “Fine. Let’s shuffle.”

He heads to the table, and Nico follows. It’s sweet, Will realizes, a shot of warmth to his chest as the shock fades. It’s sweet that Nico remembered this, that he wanted to give Will another chance. Will splits the deck, snorting when even more explicit scenes are revealed.

“Jesus, Nico,” he laughs. “I don’t know if I can – where do you even get – it’s just so many naked men.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Nico agrees, peering over. “To be honest, I hadn’t actually opened them.” Nico grabs the top card from the deck and surveys it critically, eyes dancing. “Are you saying this gentleman isn’t your type?” He flips the card to show it to Will, who inspects it for a moment, lip caught between his teeth, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know. He’s awfully… oily.”

Nico nods, trying to compose himself. “True, true. He looks like he could use a good shower. He flips to the next card. His brows shoot up. “Oh, look. These three are having a shower.”

Will shakes his head, letting out a giggle. “I don’t see a lot of showering going on there. That’s a waste of perfectly good hot water, is what that is.”

Will makes a few half-hearted attempts at shuffling, but it soon devolves into commentary on the scenes depicted on the cards, Nico laughing loudly as Will deems certain situations “physiologically improbable” and “highly inadvisable.” Will’s not sure if he’s ever been so pleased with himself for making someone laugh before. There’s something about seeing Nico so uninhibited that makes him feel about ten feet tall. His stomach aches from laughing when Nico finally slides the cards back into the box.

“Oops,” Will says, snatching up a card that’s fallen to the floor. “You missed these guys.”

Nico’s mouth twitches as he surveys the card, seven of hearts. “What do you think, workplace safety violation?” he asks, turning the card to Will.

Will leans closer. “Definitely. Although… they are wearing hard hats.

Nico shakes his head, slotting the card in and closing the box. “Should I leave them in the desk for the next people to find?”

Will considers. “Maybe not. Imagine if someone’s kid opened the drawer, and –”

“Oh god.”

Half an hour later the rain isn’t splattering quite so hard against the windows, and they decide to make a break for it while they can. Nico makes one final sweep of the room while Will kneels at the door, tying his shoes.

“Oh hey, you forgot your glasses,” Nico says, snagging them from the corner of the nightstand where Will had left them last night.

“Oh shit, thanks.”

Nico raises an eyebrow, settling the glasses on his own face as he returns to the door.

Will feigns annoyance although Nico, of course, looks adorable in the glass. Will plucks them off Nico’s face when his partner is close enough. He folds them, slipping them into the pocket of his blazer. When he glances back up, Nico’s brow is furrowed, his eyes on the pocket where the glasses disappeared to, and Will feels a twinge of discomfort.

“What?”

“That – that’s a really strong prescription,” Nico says slowly. “You don’t usually wear contacts, do you?”

And Nico likely already knows the answer to that, considering their hotel-room proximity in the last month, both of their possessions spilled over bathroom counters and hotel room beds and floors, Will’s socks occasionally ending up in Nico’s laundry and vice versa.

Will groans inwardly. Instead of answering immediately, he opens the door, heading down the hall towards the elevator. Nico’s quiet, but as the elevator descends, he’s still watching Will with something like curiosity, or concern.

“I don’t like wearing contacts,” Will says, finally, as they reach the main floor.

“But you don’t like glasses either? I almost never see you wearing them.”

Will grimaces. “I – I know it’s stupid. Or vain, or whatever. I just don’t like the way they look.”

Nico regards him seriously as they take their place at the end of the line to check out. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Will rolls his eyes, batting Nico’s hand away.

They make one more stop at the continental breakfast after checkout, one last coffee for the road. Nico shifts so Will can fill his cup, securing the lid on his own coffee.

“So am I just like, kind of blurry to you all the time?” Nico asks, still teasing. “How do you manage to pick me out in a crowd?”

“I just look for the grumpiest short guy wearing a tie,” Will shoots back, unthinking, then – “sorry,” he says, because the words sound meaner than he intended, and something like hurt flickers over Nico’s face, But Nico’s shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –”

“Kids teased me,” Will says flatly, because suddenly, unfortunately, it’s become a thing he needs to explain. “I know that’s stupid and I’m an adult and I should be over it, but…” he shrugs.

“No, I get that,” Nico says, softer.

“You’re not really that grumpy,” Will feels the need to say as they head for the front doors.

Nico huffs out a laugh. “It’s okay, Solace.”

::

The rain has eased a bit more now, and the two men jog across the parking lot in the misty drizzle.

Will’s given up on looking presentable at this point. He’s past due for a haircut, his curls have gone rogue in the humidity, and he doesn’t mind getting a little damp when all he’s got ahead of him is a two-hour drive. It’s clear that his partner doesn’t feel the same, but Nico flatly refuses Will’s offer to bring the car around and pick him up at the door.

Much to Nico’s dismay, the CD player is on the fritz in their fleet car. After his third attempt to get the player to accept Road to Ruin, they give up.

“Just put it back in the case,” Nico says glumly. “We might never get it out again if it does go in.”

Will does so, flipping to the radio. They’re not required to keep the police scanner on, but Will supposes they should at least check in and make sure they haven’t missed anything important.

There’s nothing at all for the longest time, and Will starts to doze to the sound of the static when suddenly there’s a crackle.

“Dispatch to all available units. We have a code 10-65, missing minor near Rockwood Forest. Repeat, missing minor near Rockwood Forest. All nearby units please respond.”

Will glances to his partner. “Missing kid?”

Nico’s brow furrows. “Yeah. Can you check on the location? I think we’re near there.”

Will presses the call button radio, leaning closer to the dash. “Dispatch, this is unit 215. We’re about 30 miles west of Argyle. Can you give us an ETA to Rockwood Forest from our current location?”

“Stand by, unit 215.”

The wipers are on low now, just an intermittent drizzle. Despite the damp and the low hang of clouds in the sky, it’s gorgeous out here, just starting to green up. Will finds himself itching to get out in it, inhale a few deep lungfuls of fresh, forest air. Hopefully be of some help, too.

The radio crackles again. “Unit 215, you’re approximately ten miles west of Rockwood Forest.”

Will glances over at Nico, who nods. Will clicks the radio once more. “Unit 215, en route.”

::

“Hey, it’s you guys!” Magnus brightens, making his way over to them through the crowd of officers. He squeezes Will’s arm, and Will pats him on the shoulder. Magnus takes a formal step back, back straight. “Agent di Angelo,” he nods, eyes sparkling. Nico rolls his eyes.

“So, what’s going on?” Nico asks.

Magnus heaves a sigh, shoving a hand through his hair. “Too much, honestly. We’ve got an escaped convict – there was a crew of prisoners from Morgantown doing some highway cleanup about a mile from here, one guy made a break for it. We think he headed this way. This is him.” He hands Nico a photocopied picture. “Then there’s a nine-year-old boy missing in the area as well.”

Will and Nico share a glance, concerned, and Magnus immediately shakes his head. “We don’t have any reason to believe they’re connected. Guy was in prison on some minor charges, he’s not believed to be dangerous. Kid seems to have wandered off from his buddies who were playing in the area. But it’s all-hands-on-deck until we find them both.”

Magnus hands Nico another photocopied sheet, a school picture of a young boy with a wide, toothy grin and shaggy dark hair. “Sam’s been out for a few hours already, no sign of either of them. The kid – Andy Torres – may or may not be in the company of his dog, who’s also missing.” He passes Nico one more sheet, a photo of the dog.

Will leans in, propping his chin on Nico’s shoulder for a better look. Nico elbows him in the ribs.

“Nice dog,” Will grins, taking a step back.

“Yeah,” Magnus sighs, frazzled, “husky-shepherd cross. Not considered dangerous. Answers to Chew-Barka.”

Will laughs. “Nice.”

Nico inspects all three pages of slightly damp paper before passing them to Will. “So. Where do you want us?”

::

Feeling more than a little self-conscious about it now, Will pulls out his glasses as they enter the forest. They are kind of necessary, in the current circumstances.

Nico’s gaze flicks over. “You know, they –” Nico cuts himself off, making a face. “The glasses. You look… good. In them.”

Will breathes out a laugh, embarrassed. “You don’t have to say that. But thanks.”

“I wasn’t just saying it.”

Will glances over to see his partner, eyes set on the trail, pink in his cheeks.

“But if you really don’t like them,” Nico adds, awkward but determined, “you could get some new frames, find something you like better. They have some really nice ones now. My sister just got some – they’re like, purple and… chunky.” Nico waves a hand vaguely in front of his face.

Will smiles, fond. “I don’t know if I could pull off purple and chunky, but yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

Nico’s quiet for a moment, the crunch and squelch of mulchy leaves underfoot. “Anyway. I’m sorry for teasing. I didn’t realize it was a sore spot.”

Will shakes his head. “No, it’s really fine. I’m just being stupid.” He makes a face. “And I’m – sorry I called you grumpy.”

Nico sighs, a little dramatic now. “You know, the more times you apologize for calling me grumpy, the more glaringly obvious it is that you’re not sorry for calling me short.”

Will laughs, loud. Nico’s still got his gaze set ahead of him, but there’s something pleased and satisfied in the set of his mouth that loosens the tension in Will’s shoulders. “You don’t wanna be good-natured and tall,” Will says. “That would make you too powerful.”

He makes a gentle, purposeful collision into his partner’s side on the narrow path and Nico rolls his eyes.

::

They’ve been tramping through the forest for almost an hour when Nico suddenly comes to an abrupt halt. Will, once more lamenting his choice of footwear, slips on the wet leaves underfoot and nearly bowls his partner over.

“Did you hear that?” Nico says, hushed.

They’re both silent for a long moment, blue eyes gazing into brown. All Will can hear is birdsong, water dripping somewhere nearby. Maybe several somewheres.

He pushes his hair off his forehead, and his hand comes away damp. He grimaces. His shoes are caked with mud, pants damp and muddy up to mid-calf. Nico’s looking equally damp, the bottom of his coat spattered with mud and a smudge of it across his cheek, dark eyes wide under a mop of dark hair. His hair has a bit of a wave to it, moreso in the humidity, a perfect, spiral curl just behind his left ear.

Nico shakes his head. “Fuck. I was sure I heard something. A voice.”

Before Will can even reply –

“Help! Somebody help me!”

“Andy?” Will calls.

Silence.

“This way,” Nico mutters, turning to lead Will straight through the trees, nothing like a path for them to follow. Will’s hot on his tail, shoes slipping on the slick ground, grabbing onto rough bark to steady himself.

There’s the sound of a dog letting out a sharp whine. They pick up speed, branches scraping at their faces, dead leaves catching in their hair. Will takes a damp tumble when he trips over an exposed root, knees muddy, but he’s up again a second later, pushing through the underbrush. They emerge from the trees onto the bank of a creek, trickling sluggishly through deadfall and muck. There’s a culvert, just visible, and then the sound of a few plaintive barks.

They approach the bank. It’s slippery with wet leaves and mud. It doesn’t look particularly treacherous though, just messy. Thankfully, the water below is shallow. Will half-climbs, half-slides down the bank. Nico follows, only slightly more graceful.

“Andy?” Will calls again, near the culvert. “Andy Torres?”

“Hi?” comes a boy’s voice in response.

The two men glance at each other. Relief.

“Are you okay in there? Why are you in a culvert?” Will asks, loud. Nico snorts and Will shoves him, nearly sending him sliding further down the bank. Nico grabs Will’s arm to steady himself.

“My dog ran in and he got stuck,” says a small voice after a moment. “Can you get my dad?”

Will smiles, half-listening to Nico, now on the radio to other searchers in the area. “Your dad should be here soon. In the meantime – my friend and I out here are FBI agents. We’re going to try to get you out, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” the boy says, sounding less than enthused. Then he adds, “I’m really muddy. My mom’s gonna be mad.”

“Wait until your mom sees us,” Nico calls, dry. “We’re even muddier.”

There’s a giggle from inside the pipe.

They share a glance. “After you?” Nico says hopefully.

Will tilts his head, glancing first at the muddy culvert, then Nico. “You are smaller. Besides, someone should stay out here and um… wait for the others to arrive.”

Nico groans. “Fine.” He inches a bit closer.

Will scans the area critically. “I think we’re going to… here.” He carefully lowers himself to the creek bed, cringing as his already-muddy shoes fill with icy, stagnant water.

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he says deadpan, and Nico grimaces.

They manage it, eventually, Will giving Nico a boost into the pipe, both getting even muddier in the process. The dark-haired man disappears into the hole in the bank grumbling to himself.

Half a dozen other agents, a couple of EMTs and Andy’s dad have arrived by the time Nico emerges with Andy and Chew-Barka in tow, and Will watches, amused, as Nico is roundly congratulated, probably receiving far more handshakes and thumps on the back in ten minutes than he’d like in an entire year. He finally makes his way back towards Will looking harassed but pleased, and they follow along near the rear of the group as everyone heads back towards the trailhead.

Andy, thankfully, doesn’t seem hurt in the least, and his high, excited voice carries back to them as he swings off his father’s arm, enumerating his adventures. Chew-Barka looks thrilled just to be along for the ride, repeatedly tripping up the search team as he attempts to make friends with everyone.

“That was a good morale boost,” Nico murmurs, a small smile on his face as they pick their way over a fallen tree.

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “Always good to schedule in a few of those.”

They trudge along in silence for a while, the group in front of them slowly drawing further ahead.

Will glances over at his partner. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Nico huffs. “Just trying to keep my shoes from getting wetter than they already are.”

“Good luck with that.”

They’re only walking for another minute when Nico speaks up, sudden. “Did you see his dad?”

Will blinks. “Whose dad? Andy’s?”

“Yeah,” Nico says, and then there’s a pause as they pick their way around a large puddle, anchoring themselves on branches alongside the path to keep from falling into the muck. “He didn’t seem upset with the kid at all, did he?”

Will frowns, considering. Andy’s dad had caught the little boy up in his arms and squeezed him like there was nothing else in the world. He thinks there isn’t anything quite like the relief on a parent’s face at finding their child is safe when they were worried otherwise. “Why would he have been upset?” Will asks slowly. “I know the kid wandered off, but… I think he was just happy we found him in one piece.”

Nico nods. “Exactly. That’s how – that’s what dads should be like,” he says fervently.

Will glances over, processing. Nico’s studiously avoiding his gaze. Then, “Oh,” Will says, soft. “Not like your dad?”

“No, he would’ve…” Nico shakes his head. “No. Not like mine.”

Will’s throat goes tight. He wants to reach out, but Nico picks up his pace, and Will does his best to keep up.

::

Several hours later there hasn’t been any sign of the escaped convict. The rain has stopped though, and the sky has begun to clear, trails of white fluffy clouds smudged above the treetops. Nico’s somewhat less damp, now, if nothing else. He hopes the lady at his regular dry cleaner will refrain from comments on the state of his pants.

The search crew are lingering around the trailhead, awaiting further instruction. Nico glances over to see his partner seated at a picnic table with Sam, dappled sunlight illuminating Will’s blond curls and Sam’s hijab, sky blue today. The two are chatting animatedly.

“Search is moving into town,” Magnus announces, making his way over to Nico. He’s looking a bit disheveled at this point in the operation too, but his gray eyes are bright. “There was a reported sighting. I just heard from Ramirez-Arellano though. She wants you and Solace to head back to DC. Says if you accumulate one more minute of overtime she’s sending you both on a forced vacation.”

Nico huffs. “Fine.” He can’t say he’s too disappointed. His back is aching and his toes are icy inside his wet socks.

“Keep in touch though, yeah?” Magnus says. “Sam was saying something about organizing another karaoke night.” He winks and Nico rolls his eyes.

Magnus heads back to the search crew and Nico crosses to the picnic table. Sam’s gone, but Will’s still sitting there, legs stretched out, eyes closed, face turned up to the weak spring sunlight. Photosynthesizing, maybe.

Nico stops in front of the picnic table, giving the wooden structure a light kick. “Hey.”

Will opens his eyes, already grinning. “Hey.”

“Hate to interrupt your tanning session, but Reyna wants us to head back. They’re moving the search into town, and we’re not invited.” Nico drops down beside his partner. His cold feet are throbbing.

“So rude,” Will sighs, dramatic. “I have some good news, though – look what Sam lent me!”

Will holds out a CD. Nico peers at it, then pulls a face. “Dawson’s Creek? Isn’t that the show with the teenagers with the huge vocabularies?”

“Nico.” Will shakes his head, solemn. “It’s so much more than that. Dawson’s Creek is a classic. Ahead of its time. Sam and I are going to watch the season finale together, in May. You should come!” Will nudges his leg with a muddy shoe, and Nico grimaces. Not that he can get much muddier.

“I think I’m washing my hair that night.”

Will sticks out his tongue.

Really? He’s almost thirty years old. He’s a doctor.

“Party pooper. Anyway, the soundtrack is really good. You’ll like it. We can listen to it on our next trip.” Will wiggles his eyebrows in a manner that’s probably meant to indicate that what he’s just proposed should be enticing to Nico.

Nico sighs, pained. “Fine. I guess.” He stands. His cold, wet shoes make a weird squelching sound, accompanied by a weird squelching sensation. Gross. “Let’s go. I wanna stop in town for snacks before we head back to DC.”

“Sure.” Will extends his hand.

Nico blinks at the hand, then at Will. “What.”

“Help me up,” Will says, as if that should have been obvious.

“Help you – why should I – why do you –” Nico sputters.

Will sighs. “Nico, we can argue about it, or you can just help me up.” He makes a grabby gesture.

“Oh my god,” Nico mutters, grabbing Will’s warm, large hand and yanking him to his feet. It does something stupid to Nico’s stomach and he drops Will’s hand quickly, shoving down the impulse to rub his own hand on his coat. Really, if Will’s hands are going to be so much larger than his, then surely Will should be the one helping Nico up, or –

Will smiles, all sunlight and freckles. Jerk.

“Andy was right,” Will says. “You are strong.”

“What?” Nico laughs, startled. He can feel himself going red, and he walks a bit faster up the path, attempting to position his flushed face out of sight.

“I heard him telling his dad,” Will grins, catching up easily with his stupid long legs. “All about the strong, brave policeman who rescued him.”

“Jesus,” Nico mutters, unable to come up with anything cleverer.

Will laughs, bright.

The car is parked about half a mile from the trailhead, and they make their way back through the wooded trail together. The sun is slowly beginning to warm the forest, and it smells lush and earthy, droplets of water sparking on leaves in the filtered sunlight. Nico’s dragging a bit after a long day, having trouble focusing on anything besides his wet feet, but Will seems energized, practically skipping next to him.

“I’m so hungry I could eat the north end of a southbound polecat,” Will announces, affecting a southern drawl. Nico snorts, and Will glances over, grinning. “That’s what my nana used to say,” he explains. A branch catches his hair and he pauses to untangle it.

“That’s a new one,” Nico mutters.

“Why, what would you say?” Will asks, still bouncing along next to him.

Nico makes a face. “I don’t know. I’m just hungry. I don’t feel the need to drag out colloquialisms about it.”

Will ignores this. “I’m so hungry I could eat my arm,” he says. “Or your arm.” He grabs Nico’s arm and squeezes.

“God, you’re so touchy Nico complains, batting Will’s hand away. They’re walking side by side, but it’s still obvious, the way Will wilts at the words, a dimming in Nico’s peripheral vision. Nico immediately internally berates himself.

The truth is he’s never been touched so much – at least not outside of romantic relationships. Or at least, not in his memory. He’s sure his mother was affectionate with him, but his memories of her are so hazy, more flashes of her smile, a vague memory of her presence in the house, comforting. And while Bianca was his best friend, his companion and sometimes caregiver, she was never easy with physical touch the way Will is. Nico never has been either. He never thought he particularly liked it, or wanted it. It's taken some adjusting to, as prickly as he knows he can be, but now that he has, he very much doesn’t want to be without it. And Will’s touch is so easy. Something generous. Unconditional. It makes Nico feel warm and grounded.

“Sorry,” Will says, chastened, the teasing gone from his voice. “I’m – I know I can be. I’ll back off.” Will moves a bit further away.

Fuck.

“I don’t – I don’t actually… mind,” Nico manages, feeling his face heat. “I was just – I was teasing. Sorry.”

Will glances over, still guarded. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Nico says, embarrassed. “I might – I kind of like it. Actually.” he admits. His face is burning, but look. He brought this on himself.

Will beams, suddenly throwing an arm around Nico’s shoulders, hugging him from the side. It nearly knocks them both to the forest floor.

“Okay, okay. Nerd,” Nico mumbles, gruff. But he carefully slides an arm around Will’s waist, squeezing back before Will moves away, and okay. That’s kind of nice.

::

They make the short drive into Rockwood. It’s barely large enough to be called a town, Will thinks, and lunch options are thin on the ground. They park on the main street, leaving their muddy coats in the trunk before making their way across the street and up the block to a small grocery store. They exit soon thereafter with a paper bag brimming with snacks, wrapped deli sandwiches and two bottles of soda. Will glances at their reflection in a glass storefront as they wait for the town’s single traffic light to change. He huffs out a laugh.

Nico turns, cocking an eyebrow. “What?”

Will waves a hand towards the glass. “Just wondering how you manage to look artfully windswept after our trek through the woods while I look like I just crawled out of a trash compactor. Especially since you were the one who climbed through the culvert.”

Nico snorts, glancing into the glass. He preens a little and Will laughs. Will glances back to Nico himself, who’s gone a bit pink.

“You – you look fine, anyway,” Nico says, gruff.

Will grins. The light changes and he follows Nico across the street. There aren’t many pedestrians around to begin with, and both men glance up automatically as a man passes them, crossing the street in the opposite direction.

They pause mid-step, halfway across the street. Realization seems to dawn over Nico at the same time as it does Will.

Nico scrambles to pull out the papers that Magnus gave them hours ago, his eyes wide.

“Was that –”

“Fuck.”

A quick glance at the photocopied picture of the escaped convict and both Will and Nico hurry back across the street the way they’d come.

“Edward Michael Corrin?” Will calls.

The man whips around to look at them. His eyes go wide and he takes off at a sprint.

“FBI, stop where you are! Nico yells. If anything, this makes the man run faster.

“I hate running,” Nico groans, cursing and taking off after Corrin. Will sadly abandons their bag of snacks, dropping it as carefully as he can before racing after his partner. Nico may not be tall, but god, he’s fast, and Will’s quickly out of breath.

The town of Rockwood borders right on dense woods, and that’s where Corrin seems to be heading. Will grimaces, thinking ruefully of his already-wet feet and muddy clothes.

Will’s just finished calling for backup as he sees Nico disappear into the trees, maybe 50 yards behind Corrin. The guy’s got a lot of life left in him, considering he’s been on the run all day.

The land here isn’t quite as wet, but it’s rocky and uneven. Will’s pace is slowed immediately as he tries to find a safe way through the woods. The forest here is mostly deciduous, thankfully, just the barest hint of new leaves on the trees. Otherwise, Will thinks there’s no way he would have spotted his partner, halfway up a sharp incline. Nico’s gasping for air, leaning forward with hands propped on his thighs. Will reaches him a moment later, clutching at a stitch in his side.

“I think I lost him,” Nico manages, breathless. “Fuck, I hate running.”

Will breathes out a laugh, sharp. “Yeah, it‘s not my first choice either.” His lungs are burning, but he manages to force himself upright, shoving hair off his sweaty forehead and scanning the landscape. “You didn’t see which way he went?”

Nico shakes his head, still catching his breath. There’s a rip in the shoulder of his jacket.

“Should probably keep climbing,” Nico manages, tilting his head towards the top of the hill. “Might get a better look from up there.”

Sadly, he’s probably right, and they make their way up, breathing hard. The rocky soil underfoot might make for good footholds under other circumstances, but right now the rocks are slippery with rainwater and dead leaves, and Will nearly loses his footing several times, finally resorting to crawling rather than climbing to the top of the hill.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” Nico breathes as they reach the hilltop. It’s dotted with birch up here, too, but the trees are thinner.

Will glances around, chest heaving. “Maybe – there?” He points across the little plateau they’re standing on, because he’s sure he’s just seen movement, a flash of color…

“Where?”

Not enough breath for conversation, Will grabs Nico’s chin with a sweaty hand and points him in the right direction. Nico blinks, startled, but there’s no time to argue, because –

“Oh fuck, that’s him.”

And Nico takes off running again. Will groans, one more deep breath before following. Where are the others?

At least he’s no longer fighting his way uphill. The ground up here isn’t quite as rocky, and Will makes better progress than he had been.

“FBI, stop where you are!” Nico yells again. Corrin doesn’t, but in the next second, Nico’s somehow right on his tail, then he’s got the other man by the shoulder and then they both go down. There’s a brief tussle, but by the time Will catches up, Nico’s got Corrin’s hands behind his back, fumbling for his handcuffs.

“Nice one,” Will gasps, crouching down to help. Nico pulls Corrin to his feet just as the other agents crest the hill, Sam and Magnus in the lead.

“Nice of you all to finally show up,” Nico says, breathless.

There’s a blur of activity. Corrin is led down the hill. Nico takes a few minutes to debrief Magnus, but finally they head back towards the little town they’d left so suddenly. They don’t talk much as they make their way back over the rocky ground, finally emerging from the trees into late afternoon sunlight.

“Oh hey, our snacks are still here!” Will exclaims as they round the corner, spotting the paper bag he’d stowed next to a mailbox. “Thank god, because I could, quite literally, eat your arm at this point.”

He quirks an eyebrow at Nico, who rolls his eyes. “Oh – you’re bleeding,” Will frowns, grabbing his partner by the arm and turning him.

“It’s fine. Sam gave me a bandaid.”

“Let me –” Will ducks his head, trying to get a better look. Sure enough, there is a bandaid at the corner of Nico’s forehead, right at his hairline. A dark lock of hair has fallen over it, might even have done a good job concealing it, if not for the trickle of blood.

“Nico, it’s not fine. There’s literally blood running down the side of your face.”

“Just a flesh wound.”

Will rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t mean you – here. Sit. I’ll be back with the first aid kit.” He grabs both Nico’s shoulders, guiding him firmly to a bench.

“Will, I can make it back to the car, it’s just a cut,” Nico complains.

“Yeah, I know, but the light’s better out here. Just stay put. And give me the car keys.” Will gives him a stern look, holding out his hand, and Nico finally slumps, acquiescing.

Will shoots a glance over his shoulder to make sure Nico hasn’t moved as he hurries back to the car, popping the trunk. He’s been trying to push it aside as best he can, but images of Nico collapsed on a motel room floor, rapidly losing consciousness, seem burned into his brain. The way Will’s heart had plummeted when Nico had stopped responding, gone limp under his hands. The interminable drag of minutes as Will waited for the ambulance to arrive, counting Nico’s every breath.

Nico casually bleeding from a head wound isn’t particularly helping matters. Will takes a moment for a few deep breaths, for whatever good that might do, before heading back up the street.

Nico’s waiting for him, looking mollified or disgruntled, Will’s not sure.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” Will says, settling himself next to Nico. He opens the little med kit, cleaning his hands and then pulling on gloves. He offers the hand sanitizer to Nico as well, who holds out his hand obediently as Will squirts a blob into his palm.

“Can you hold your hair back?” Will asks.

Will carefully peels the bandaid back, blood already soaking through the fabric. It’s a jagged cut, nearly two inches long and still bleeding freely. It could probably use a few stitches.

“Jesus,” Will mutters. “How did this happen?”

Nico’s nose scrunches. Sitting this close in the sunlight, Will notices a scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “Not sure. Might have been a rock.”

Will gently tilts Nico’s head to the side. “Did Sam see this when she gave you the bandaid? Why didn’t she take you to the EMTs? They were right there when the guys carted Corrin off.”

Nico makes a small sound in his throat, noncommittal.

“Nico?” Will frowns. “Did Sam tell you to see the EMTs?”

Nico glances over, cagey. “I told her you’d look at it.”

Will huffs. “Seriously? And were you planning on mentioning that to me?”

Nico shrugs, and Will gets to work cleaning out the cut, his jaw set. Nico’s gaze flicks over to him a few times, but he stays quiet.

Finally Will shakes his head, dabbing at the still-bleeding wound. “I can put a Steri-Strip on this, but I’d really recommend getting it stitched instead.”

“But you can do it?” Nico says, hesitant.

Will sighs. “I can. If the other option is putting a bandaid back over it and oozing blood all the way back to DC.”

Nico grimaces. “Can – can you do the Steri-Strip? Please?”

“Fine,” Will says, short. The trouble with human bodies is that they’re so fucking fallible. All that blood, right under the skin. Bones that break and hearts that stop and the smallest, stupidest choices that can put you six feet under. Will grits his teeth, throat tight.

“You’re angry at me,” Nico says quietly.

Will blinks, pulled from his morose contemplation.

“What? No.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m really not. Sorry.” He carefully secures one side of the Steri-Strip to Nico’s forehead, applying gentle pressure with two fingertips and holding gauze against the wound with his other hand. “I’m just going to hold this here for a minute and make sure the adhesive sticks before I secure the other side.”

Will’s eyes flick to his partner, who’s watching him with something like wariness.

“I’m not mad,” Will repeats. “I’m just –” he trains his gaze on his gloved fingertips, pressed to his partner’s forehead. Nico’s blood slowly soaks through the gauze, shocking red against the white. Will takes a deep breath. “I almost lost you on our last case. Gotta be more careful this time. Right?” His voice comes out clipped and hoarse.

“But that wasn’t your fault,” Nico says slowly. He’s still holding his hair out of the way, and he swaps one hand for the other, taking care not to jostle Will’s fingers.

Will grimaces. “Wasn’t it? I read the autopsy report on the first victim. I performed the autopsy on the second one. And then I let you order pizza, and I left.” He hadn’t had the space to give it much thought at the time, but in the ensuing days it’s weighed on him more and more. It seems baffling how quickly they moved on from it. Baffling that they’re both still here, alive and breathing.

Nico’s brow creases. “But that’s – I read the autopsy reports too, Will. I didn’t put the pieces together either. And besides, if you hadn’t left, we’d probably both be dead.”

Will shrugs. “I think this side is adhered now,” he tells Nico, avoiding his gaze. “You’re just going to feel some tension and then I’ll secure the other side.”

“Okay,” Nico says quietly.

Will finishes applying the Steri-Strip, then carefully tapes a square of gauze over it. He clears his throat. “I don’t think it’s going to bleed too much more, but the gauze will take care of it if it does.”

Will takes a deep breath, finally turning his gaze to Nico, who’s watching him with those big, dark eyes, his expression solemn. Looking at Nico from inches away like this is a bit like gazing directly into the sun. Will glances down instead, peeling off his gloves and discarding them with the trash in the can next to the bench.

“Any other open wounds I should know about, before I put the kit away?” Will asks irritably.

“No,” Nico says softly.

Will begins packing away his supplies. His hands are clumsy, though, his heart beating too fast, and he fumbles the gauze and then the baggie of cotton balls. Nico pulls the kit and all its accessories out of Will’s hands, packing everything away and handing it back wordlessly.

“Thanks,” Will mutters. He sighs. “Look, I didn’t mean to bring that up. I didn’t mean to make things awkward. Can we just forget about it?”

Nico watches him for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he says finally.

Will can still feel his pulse pounding in his throat. “You don’t know?”

“Well, I –” Nico lets out a breath, sharp. “Look, I’m not good at…” he waves a hand vaguely. “Talking. But I think – look. This job has certain risks, right? And we know that going into it. And if anything ever happened to me, because of this job – this job that I choose to do – I would never want you to blame yourself. Not even if, say, you think you missed something. Or even if you fucked up – which you didn’t, incidentally. But I would never want you to carry that with you. Because this job is my choice, and I accept the risks that it involves. Okay?”

Will lets out a breath. “I mean, that’s easy to say but…”

Nico nods. “I know, but –”

“But obviously I’d never want you to blame yourself either,” Will says, “if anything ever happened to me.”

“Well.” Nico suddenly looks conflicted. The waning sunlight catches on his dark hair, his long lashes, a flash of gold. “That’s different.”

“What? Why –”

“Because I’m never going to let anything happen to you,” Nico says smoothly, his lips quirking.

Will stares at the other man for a moment, his throat going tight. “Yeah? That’s your grand plan?”

Nico shrugs, smug. Will manages a laugh. “You’re such a nerd.” Will restrains himself, just, from throwing his arms around his partner’s neck and sobbing into his shoulder.

“Fine. Then I’m not going to let anything happen to you either,” Will says, as light as he can.“And in fifty years we’ll be like… chasing down perps together with our walkers and canes.” Will feels his face warming at all the possible implications of that, but Nico only laughs, looking pleased.

Will stands, holding out his hand to his partner, who accepts it. Nico’s hand is warm. It fits nicely in his. Will pulls Nico to his feet.

Will leads the way back to the car, unlocking it and passing the keys to Nico, who still has a quietly please look on his face.

“You wanna solve crimes with me when we’re old and infirm?” Nico asks, light.

“Well,” Will huffs, stowing the med kit in the trunk. “Not if you can’t be bothered to tell me when you’re actively bleeding,” he can’t quite resist saying.

But Nico just grins. “That’s probably something I can work on.”

There’s a light chill in the air now, at the day’s end, but the car is sun-warmed and cozy inside. Will’s very much looking forward to staying seated for a couple of hours and finally eating something.

Nico starts the car and then pulls down the sun shade, flipping open the mirror. He wrinkles his nose. “Not so artfully windswept now.”

Will glances over and grins. “I don’t know. I think you can pull it off. I especially like the bloody bandage. And the leaves.”

Nico huffs, tilting his head. He plucks several dried leaves and a small twig from his hair.

Will watches, fond. “You missed a couple,” he says, and when Nico can’t quite locate them, turning his head this way and that, Will can’t help himself. “Here,” he says, leaning closer.

Nico stills, but Will’s committed now, stomach fluttering with nerves despite the fact that he’s just spent the last twenty minutes in close quarters patching up Nico’s head. It feels as if there’s something more private about the car, though, and this is distinctly less medical. Less necessary.

Nico’s hair is soft, silky. Will’s fumbling fingers take a moment longer than they should to extricate the leaves, and he can feel his face warming in the process. Nico smells a bit like sunshine, a bit like the fresh forest air, and under all of it, the comfortingly familiar smell of Nico. It doesn’t help Will’s butterflies.

“Got it,” Will says, finally, a little rough, holding up the leaves in demonstration. He lowers the passenger side window, letting the leaves flutter out onto the street outside.

There’s a rather loaded silence following this interaction and it’s truly ridiculous, Will thinks, the way his heart is pounding in his chest.

“I really need a haircut,” Nico mutters as he starts the car.

Will huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, same.” He ducks his head to inspect his reflection in the window, shoving a few errant curls out of his face.

Will finds a radio station that’s acceptable to both of them, and neither speaks much more until the exit signs for Baltimore begin flashing past in the twilight.

“Actually –” Nico glances over at Will, then away.

“Hmm?”

“If you wanna take a quick detour into Baltimore, I’ll treat you to a haircut?”

Will’s face must betray his confusion, because Nico immediately goes red, turning back to the road. “Sorry, that sounded really weird,” he laughs. “My um – my sister. Half-sister. She lives in Baltimore. She always cuts my hair for me. I could use a trim, and we’re in the neighborhood – forget it, though. I’m sure you want to get back to DC.”

“No, that actually sounds great.” Will actually has very little desire to get back to his empty apartment. Kayla’s away overnight, and the Wednesday night TV lineup is usually a bore. He grins, poking Nico in the shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re going to introduce me to your family already. It’s only our tenth case-iversary.”

Nico scowls. “I changed my mind.” He moves to bump the cruise control back up.

Will laughs, loud, grabbing Nico’s wrist to pull it away from the cruise. “No, no, I’m sorry. I would love a haircut. I promise I’ll be good,” he adds, because Nico’s looking pained.

“Anyway, it’s our eleventh case-iversary,” Nico mutters a moment later.

Will blinks. “You’re right,” he realizes. “I forgot about the spaceship.”

Nico snorts.

“What’s the gift, for the eleventh case-iversary?” Will wonders aloud.

“Haircuts,” Nico says, dry.

Will nods, serious. “Right, right. Tenth was shitty take-out coffee.”

Nico shakes his head, looking harassed, but he drops his speed again. “Case-iversary,” he mutters under his breath, disparaging, as he exits the freeway. Will laughs. ___

It’s fully dark by the time they park on a quiet street in the heart of industrial Baltimore. Nico turns off the car and then pauses, not unbuckling his seatbelt yet.

Will shoots a glance in his direction. “What’s up?”

Nico looks uncertain. “Um. Just – my sister –”

“Hazel, right?”

Nico looks surprised. “Yeah. You remembered.”

Will shrugs. “It’s kind of an unusual name. Pretty.”

Nico watches him for a moment, then nods. “Yeah,” he says. “So – she lives with her boyfriend, Frank. He’s great. They’ve been together for ages. Actually, he’s my star researcher – remember he did the background check on Robert Marcus?”

“Oh, Frank Zhang, right? Perfect, I already love Frank,” Will smiles.

“Me too. He’s fantastic. But then there’s their roommate, Leo.” Nico scrunches his nose. “He’s… well, he can be a lot. Just so you’re forewarned.”

Will nods. “Okay, noted.”

“He actually – he’s the one who gave me those playing cards.”

“Oh, I see,” Will laughs.

“Yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Will closes the car door, stretching. He glances down at himself, brushing off as much of the dried mud as he’s able to. Nico joins him on the sidewalk, does the same.

“Ready?” Nico asks.

Will swallows, more nervous than he thinks he probably should be. “Yup. Bring it on.”

Nico pauses, his gaze softening as it flicks over Will’s face. “They’ll like you,” he says.

::

There’s a shriek as the door opens, and Nico is immediately enveloped by a woman several inches shorter than him with a fluffy cloud of golden-bronze curls. “You should have told me you were coming by,” she exclaims, then turns to yell over her shoulder, “Frank, have you ordered the pizza yet? Can you get extra?”

Hazel’s eyes light up as she catches sight of Will, hovering awkwardly just beyond the doorway. “You must be Will!” she exclaims, reaching out to shake his hand. Will smiles at being so enthusiastically received then smiles a little more, just to himself, at the surprise of Nico’s hand, pressing low on his back as the other man ushers him into the apartment. The small touch is reassuring, immediately making him feel more at ease. As much as Nico denied it, Will knows that he can be too touchy.

“You’re not allergic to dogs, are you, Will? Or cats?” Hazel asks.

“Or hamsters, or lizards?” comes a deep voice in the background. “Hi, I’m Frank,” says the man attached to the voice, sticking out his hand with a warm smile. He’s tall, burly, with close-cropped dark hair and a kind face.

“Frank works at an animal shelter part-time,” Hazel explains, somewhat apologetic as Will toes off his shoes and an enormous orange cat approaches, sniffing the muddy cuffs of his pants. “He brings home a lot of strays.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling me now?” asks a third voice, and another man crowds into the already packed entryway. He’s about Nico’s height, and wiry, with a head of brown, glossy curls. He grins widely at Will, giving him an appreciative, very obvious once-over, then turning to Nico. “Is this your skeptical partner? He’s hot.”

Nico scowls. “You can fuck all the way off,” he mutters to the newcomer, then turns to Will. “I’m so sorry. Please feel free to ignore him. I try to.”

“Nice to meet you, Will. I’m Leo.” The man sticks out his hand, offering a toothy smile. Will reaches out to grasp Leo’s hand. “The moon landing was faked,” Leo adds, his smile never faltering.

Will can’t tell whether he’s supposed to laugh or not, and he ends up just kind of awkwardly staring.

“God,” Nico mutters, grabbing Will by the arm and dragging him further into the apartment. “Hazel, we actually came by to see if you had time to cut my hair – and Will’s,” Nico says, sounding a little guilty. “I know I should have called first, but we were in the neighborhood and –”

Hazel’s face lights up. “I would love to cut your hair, Will,” she says, stepping closer and beginning what feels like a clinical inspection of Will’s head, rising on her toes and tilting her head from side to side. Will tries very hard not to feel like some sort of a medical specimen. “And yours too, Nico,” she adds as an afterthought, reaching out to examine a curl at Will’s ear more closely. “Will, what’s your curl regimen?”

“My um – what?”

“Your curl regimen,” Hazel says, deadly serious. “What products do you use?”

“I –” Will blinks at Hazel. “I wash it? And um… sometimes I use a little gel?” He looks helplessly at Nico, who looks like he’s trying desperately not to laugh.

Nico nods, solemn. “It’s true, he does sometimes use a little gel. I’ve seen him do it.”

Hazel’s brow furrows. With disappointment, maybe? Will suddenly feels very guilty for something, though he can’t quite get a handle on what that might be.

Nico sighs. “Sorry. Hazel gets a little excited about curly hair. It’s kind of her thing.”

Hazel turns to stick her tongue out at her brother and then, thank god, ceases her inspection of Will’s head. Hazel’s brow furrows as she takes in Nico’s appearance.

“What on earth did the two of you get up to today?” Hazel asks, sounding worried. She plucks a leaf from Nico’s hair that Will must have missed earlier, her eyes going wide at the hint of bandage half-hidden under Nico’s over-long bangs. Hazel brushes the hair back from Nico’s forehead. He makes a face but doesn’t flinch away. “Oh no, what happened?”

“Well, actually,” Will says, “Nico completely saved the day.”

Nico’s gaze flicks over to him, pink in his cheeks. “I absolutely did not.”

“You absolutely did,” Will says. He turns to Hazel. “We were heading back to DC after a case, and we got a call about a separate incident while we were on the road. Missing dog, missing kid and missing convict. There were at least a dozen other agents on the case, but Nico managed to personally find all three of them.”

“Nico, really?” Hazel squeals. “That’s amazing!” She throws her arms around her brother.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Nico mutters as Leo claps him on the back and Frank nods approvingly.

“You mean when I describe the events exactly as they occurred?” Will grins. Nico shoots him a smile, a bit bashful. Hazel’s gaze flicks between the two of them with a level of interest that makes Will a little nervous.

She gives Nico a squeeze around the waist. “Come on, big brother. You can tell me all about your heroic deeds while I wash your hair. We’ve got time to give you a quick trim before the pizza comes, and then I can do Will’s afterwards.”

Will thinks Nico looks a bit reluctant to leave him with Frank and (probably more accurately) Leo, but he follows his sister and they disappear down a hallway together.

Frank leads the way into the main living area, he and Leo settling themselves in easy chairs. Will sits on the floor against the couch as a dog shyly approaches, sniffing delicately at Will’s hand when he extends it. She’s medium-sized, possibly some kind of a lab mix (Frank introduces her as Summer) and she climbs into Will’s lap, turning in an awkward circle before curling herself into a ball and tucking her head against Will’s stomach.

Leo is certainly a lot, as Nico described, but he’s easy enough to talk to. Soon he and Will are engaged in a friendly debate on flat earth theory, Frank sitting quietly in the background and occasionally shaking his head good-naturedly.

“I’m not saying I believe you could actually walk off the edge of the earth,” Leo is saying, his eyes bright, “but you have to admit they make some compelling arguments. And to be perfectly fair, I haven’t tried it myself.”

Will, who’s been trying hard not to laugh, finally allows himself a proper grin aimed at Nico as the dark-haired man returns to the main living area. Nico shoves a hand self-consciously through his now much-shorter hair, smiling to see Will sprawled on the floor against the couch, Summer still curled in his lap and a three-legged gray cat tucked under his arm. Nico lowers himself to the couch at Will’s shoulder.

Leo grins, jerking his chin towards Will. “He’s like a fucking Disney princess.”

“He sure likes to sing like one,” Nico complains and Will grins, his gaze flicking up to his partner. He sees the gauze has been removed from Nico’s head.

“Can I take a look at –” Will motions to Nico’s forehead and Nico leans forward obligingly, so Will can avoid dislodging the cat and dog.

A light touch to Nico’s temple and Nico leans his head closer. Will nods approvingly. “It looks better now. I think I did a decent job,” he says, a little relieved.

“You’re a forensic pathologist, Will?” Frank asks.

“Yes,” Will says, surprised. “These days the most medicine I do is autopsies. But Nico was kind enough to let me practice on a living specimen today.”

Leo and Hazel laugh. “I never should have brought you here,” Nico says, an amused look.

Will grins up at him, unrepentant. Frank looks to be thinking something over, a worried pinch to his brow.

“I know you’re not a vet,” Frank begins,“but would you mind taking a quick look at Otis later?”

“Sure,” Will agrees immediately, then suddenly hopes that Otis is, at least, a mammal. “And Otis is…?”

“A dog,” Frank says, looking relieved. “He’s got this infection under his ear. I’ve been doing my best with it, but I’d really appreciate a second set of eyes on him. I know you’re not really trained to –”

“No, it’s okay,” Will interrupts, smiling. “I’d love to take a look at Otis. I agree. It’s always good to get a second opinion.”

The doorbell buzzes, and Leo carries the pizza in a minute later, setting boxes on the table as Hazel follows with a stack of plates. Will fills his plate and moves back to the floor at the foot of the couch. Hearing a huff next to him a moment later, he laughs in surprise to see three more dogs sitting in a line, avidly watching the progress of his pizza from the plate to his mouth.

Hazel rolls her eyes. “Just ignore them, if you can,” she tells Will, attempting to (mostly unsuccessfully) shoo the dogs to their beds. Frank, looking a bit shifty, explains that while city bylaws generally prohibit having quite so many pets in a dwelling, he’s found certain ways to circumvent this.

“It’s okay, Frank,” Nico says. “He’s not that kind of cop.”

Frank looks a little relieved, dropping into a chair with a plate of pizza in one hand and a one-eyed tuxedo cat tucked under his arm. A second cat, this one a brown tabby, immediately hops gracefully into his lap.

“Definitely not,” Will assures Frank, grinning at the two cats simultaneously head-butting the man in the chair, Frank attempting to hold his pizza safely out of the way. “Anyway, you’ve certainly got the room for it here. This place is amazing.”

It really is. The apartment is impressive, the main living area a loft-style apartment with high ceilings and huge, arched, floor-to-ceiling windows. A mish-mash of pleasantly mismatched but comfortable-looking chairs and couches are scattered throughout the space, along with a large collection of dog beds, and several of the most elaborate cat trees Will has ever seen. In the corner, what looks like a crib mattress is occupied by something large, shaggy and weathered-looking. A dog, probably; whatever it is is lightly snoring.

Frank brightens. “Thanks. My dad owns the building, so our rent’s pretty cheap, and he’s willing to overlook the fact that this place isn’t really zoned as residential. We’ve got plenty of room for the pets and all our side-hustles. Hazel has a little salon in the back, and Leo has a workshop. The door to the kitchen is right where you came in, and that hallway there,” Frank points, “leads to the bedrooms.”

“I’d be happy to give you a tour,” Leo grins, leaning forwards in his chair. “Of the bedrooms.”

Will blinks.

“That definitely won’t be necessary,” Nico says firmly.

Hazel laughs, her arms raised over her head as she ties her hair out of her face. “If you’re finished eating, I can cut your hair now, Will.”

Will is, and Hazel leads him down a hallway into a small space that’s been converted into a salon, a long mirror and two styling chairs.

“I’ve heard lots of good things about you,” Hazel says casually as she drapes a cape over Will’s shoulders. Is my brother treating you well?”

Will wishes she wouldn’t say those words in quite that tone – but maybe he’s just imagining unasked questions. Regardless, his face warms, and he hopes Hazel won’t notice.

“Nico’s great,” Will offers. “He really knows his stuff. I’m learning a lot.”

“That’s good to hear.” Hazel efficiently spritzes Will’s hair with water, shielding his face with a hand at his forehead. “He can be a bit stubborn sometimes. Doesn’t always like following rules.”

Will laughs. “We make it work. We don’t always agree, but we can usually find a way to meet in the middle.”

“It sounds like the two of you make a good match,” Hazel says, reaching for a comb. “Professionally speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” agrees Will.

Hazel does her best to make a case for Will growing his hair longer and letting her teach him a decent curl regimen. He politely declines, citing a lack of time for grooming as well as the general vibe of the FBI.

“I understand,” Hazel says, sounding a little regretful. “You have beautiful curls, though. You let me know the second you decide to grow it out and I’ll set you up with products.”

“Will do,” Will agrees as Hazel begins snipping. “So, do you see a lot of clients here?”

“Yeah, I do,” Hazel says. “It’s been really busy the last couple of years. I have a lot of regular clients – and then I’ve got a ton of government and corporate contracts right now. Everyone’s in a panic about Y2K.”

Will blinks. “You’re – sorry. I’m assuming the government contracts don’t have anything to do with cutting hair?”

Hazel laughs. “No. I guess Nico didn’t mention – I have a degree in computer science – as well as my cosmetology license.”

“Oh, wow, that’s fantastic.”

“It keeps me busy,” Hazel agrees.

“I bet. And can I ask – the government contracts are for –”

“Oh.” Hazel rolls her eyes. “Paranoia, mostly. Government agencies and big corporations are afraid that when the millennium hits, all their computer systems will fail. Mass chaos and panic, you know?”

Will nods. He’s seen some Y2K compliant stickers on some equipment at work – he stuck one to Nico’s forehead the other day as he passed by his desk – and he’s heard some buzz in the media, but he honestly hasn’t been paying a lot of attention.

“I heard about some guy somewhere in the midwest who wants to go into his bunker on New Year’s Eve with two hundred hamsters – he’s planning on using them as a self-sustaining food supply,” Will says, remembering a newspaper he’d been reading to Nico on a recent road trip.

Hazel laughs. “I’m not surprised. Leo’s been trying to convince us to build a bomb shelter out in the woods. Honestly, the chances are it’s all going to be a bit of a letdown for everyone who’s so worked up about it. But everyone wants the appearance that they’re making an effort, right? They want plausible deniability. The contracts are out there – so I take them on, fix up the code, and keep pulling in the big bucks,” Hazel moves to stand in front of Will, checking her work.

“That sounds like a win-win,” Will says.

Hazel shrugs. “I think so. It makes Frank a little uncomfortable, knowing all this work is being done and all this money is being spent when it’s not really necessary. But someone’s gotta do it. And once the millennium turns over and everything is fine, Frank and I might finally be able to buy a big property in the country.”

Will’s eyebrows rise. “Oh yeah? That sounds amazing.”

Hazel smiles. “Yup. Frank can rescue as many dogs as his heart desires and I can finally have horses.”

Will glances up at Hazel’s face in the mirror, seeing the same expression on her face when she mentions horses as Nico has when he gets started on cryptids. Will smiles. Hazel’s engaging and kind, and Will finds himself warming to her quickly. Sure, Nico has those same qualities, sometimes in abundance, but it’s quieter. You have to work to get there, with him. With Hazel, it seems to be all on the surface.

Will’s back in the living room not long after, dropping onto the couch beside Nico, who’s scanning over a newspaper. Nico glances up from his reading in surprise, reaching out a hand to Will’s hair and brushing his fingertips over it lightly before seeming to catch himself.

“Looks good,” Nico manages, looking a little embarrassed.

Will grins. “Thanks. Hazel does good work. What’re you reading?”

“Oh.” Nico passes the paper over. “These guys –” he gestures around to the others in the room, “put out a monthly newsletter. I was just getting caught up.”

Will glances at the cover, scanning over headlines including Criminal Whalers Exposed and Teletubbies Mind Control??.

Will blinks, then flicks a gaze over to Nico, surreptitious and questioning.

Nico appears to be fighting a smile. “It’s mostly Leo’s brainchild, as you might have guessed. But it is actually a group effort. Frank’s research is amazing, of course – you know, government watchdog stuff.”

Will nods, grinning. “I have no doubt.” He flips the newspaper open.

“You can have that copy if you like,” Frank offers.

Will nods his thanks. “You guys have some great side hustles going on here. Coding, journalism, top-tier research –”

“And Leo,” Nico mutters.

Hazel bumps Nico with her shoulder, hard enough that he collides gently with Will on his other side. Will bumps him back.

“We all love Leo,” Hazel says.

Leo beams, and Nico almost audibly rolls his eyes.

“He can fix absolutely anything,” Frank adds. “He’s our robotics expert. He actually built the cat trees,” Frank gestures over to the massive structures at the other side of the room. Will notices now that they’re bolted securely to the wall.

“Cool,” Will nods. “And the animals are very cool, of course,” he adds, as Summer makes her way back into his now-available lap, stopping to touch her cold, wet nose to his before settling back in. “Did I see lizards in the back?” Will asks, scratching Summer behind the ears. He’s pretty sure he saw a lit tank in a room somewhere along the hallway.

“Yup,” Frank says proudly. “That’s Pancake. He’s a bearded dragon. We’ve got a bit of everything here.”

“Everything but birds,” Leo says, and before Will can answer he adds, serious, “because birds aren’t real.”

“Oh my god,” Nico mutters. He glances at Will, who nods. “We should actually get going.”

“It’s been a long day,” Will agrees. It’s hard to believe that it was just this morning that he and Nico were laughing over Leo’s x-rated playing cards.

The whole group of them crowd into the entryway to bid Will and Nico goodnight, Hazel throwing her arms first around her brother, then Will. Will hugs her back, surprised, but pleased. He has to admit, Hazel is nothing like what he would have imagined a sister of Nico’s to be.

“Come by any time, Will,” she says warmly. “Oh wait - here’s my card.” She presses it into his hand. “You won’t find anyone who does curly hair better. I cut your hair from now on,” she says, just a bit too intense, and Will suddenly sees the resemblance between the siblings, vividly.

“Yes please come by any time,” Leo adds, somehow making the words sound more suggestive than Will would have thought possible.

Nico scrubs a hand over his face. “Valdez, please don’t scare him away,” he says weakly. “I like this one.”

The door closes behind them and Will follows Nico to the elevator, grinning. “You like me,” he teases.

Nico snorts. “Yeah, don’t let it go to your head, though. It’s only our eleventh case-iversary.”

__

Notes:

1. It's another chapter already! I didn't think I'd get it out so fast, but this one wasn't in bad shape. The updates will slow down at some point because there are still big chunks I need to write from scratch. 2. I can't even remember how long this thing is because at some point it got so large I had to split it into separate docs. It might be 200k total by the end? 3. Thank you SO MUCH for reading and thank you SO MUCH for your comments. They really keep me going <3 4. Thanks once again to @rosyredlipstick for the beta. Thanks also to @anything-thats-rock-and-roll and @snoelledarts for allowing me to borrow their pets/friends' pets :)

[fandomfluffandfuck]

*breaks down your door while huddled in blankets and sobbing* S THE ANGSTY STUCKY THOUGHTS ARE BACK AGAIN. 

Oh my GOD, S. Can you imagine how heartbroken Steve would be when Bucky “dies” in TFA? Steve didn’t want to have all this. He came to terms with the fact that he wasn’t exactly soldier material a long time ago. But he wanted to follow Bucky. He’d follow him anywhere. Now he’s gone, and Steve is… he’s fucking lost. 

He’s curled up in his shitty army room for days, not listening to the radio, barely eating, not talking to anyone. Just staring at the wall, wishing more than anything that his baby would walk in and hold him like he did when Steve was still small, whispering in his ear that “It’s all gonna be alright, honey. I’m here. I’m not leavin’ my best guy anytime soon.” 

But he won’t. And Steve will never see Bucky again, never get to hold him and tell him how much he loves him, and he’ll never get to kiss him or run his fingers through his hair when Bucky’s on the edge of sleep. Steve sobs, clinging onto his pillow and ignoring the knocks at his door. 

“Steve, we have to-“ It’s Peggy. She’s the only one that hasn’t gotten the memo that Steve isn’t able to do shit right now. She keeps pushing and pushing, and Steve finally snaps. 

He wrenches open the door, finding Peggy rolling her eyes and it makes him crazy. He looks at her with disgust. 

“You’ve never lost someone, have you? You’ve never lost someone who your world revolved around, who you would hang the moon and stars for.” He spits. She looks taken aback. 

“I- Steven, I get he was your friend but this is wildly inappropriate! You’re acting like your wife died, for Christ’s sake!” She laughs, and Steve barely keeps his cool. 

“He wasn’t my friend, Margaret.” She startles at the use of her first name. “He was everything to me. He loved me when nobody else did. Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” 

He slams the door and crumbles, sobbing on the floor. He wants his Bucky back. He wants the love of his life back. So he does stupid shit. He ignores Peggy when she tells him to turn the plane around, that they’ll find another way. He ignores how much it hurts to find out that he’s not dead, that he has to keep living without Bucky. He ignores Stark trying to tell him that fighting aliens two weeks after coming out of the ice is a terrible idea. He ignores the ache in his side when he runs at dawn, ignores the pain in his chest when Sam asks him if he’s lost someone. 

He looks Sam in the eye.

“I did, yeah. My best… my lover.” He can say it now. He won’t get thrown in jail for saying that he loves Bucky Barnes and Bucky Barnes loved him. Sam nods, not saying anything. “His name was Bucky. He… he was the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

Sam is surprised, of course he is, but he quickly corrects himself. A hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, man. I’ve been to his grave before. Medal of Honor.” Steve nods, smiling a bit. He’s so proud of his baby. 

They end up standing on the grass in silence, facing white marble with a name carved in it. Steve lays down roses. Bucky loved roses. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam spots a man in tactical gear and a suspiciously shiny arm in the trees, seemingly watching them. But he doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t feel right. 

“I love you, Buck. I always will.” Steve whispers, desperately hoping that somehow Bucky will hear it. He hopes he never forgets how much Steve loves him. 

I 👏🏻 don't 👏🏻 have 👏🏻 words 👏🏻

This makes me want to scream. Particularly this part, though:

"He slams the door and crumbles, sobbing on the floor. He wants his Bucky back. He wants the love of his life back. So he does stupid shit. He ignores Peggy when she tells him to turn the plane around, that they’ll find another way. He ignores how much it hurts to find out that he’s not dead, that he has to keep living without Bucky. He ignores Stark trying to tell him that fighting aliens two weeks after coming out of the ice is a terrible idea. He ignores the ache in his side when he runs at dawn, ignores the pain in his chest when Sam asks him if he’s lost someone."

STEVE. BABY.

Jesus Christ, I always forget how fucking devastating canon is and then when you take the plunge beyond want canon gave us into the implications based on what we did get to see of Steve and Bucky's relationship it's just so much worse.

So, uh, thank you for the pain.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

I'm gonna go walk into the ocean, I guess. See you around 🫡

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Seeking Comfort in Solitude

Summary - Part 29 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist 

Meanwhile in an undisclosed location…

“Do what you want with me, but you leave her out of it!” Dean spits out while fighting against the ropes around his wrists. 

“No, you see, it’s not in her anymore … but it will be. We just need to make sure you know the stakes here.”

“To hell with the stakes! You just stay away from her!” The demon brings his knife up to Dean’s cheek and applies pressure leaving a trail of blood. “Just kill me already!”

“No, we need you alive. We need you to take a message and a gift back to your precious girl. We just need her to know that if she doesn’t hand over the package once it arrives then she can kiss her lover boy goodbye.”

“If you’re gonna kill me anyway, just do it. She’ll never give you what you want.”

A new, deep voice echoes through the room, followed by heavy footsteps approaching, “She will, she’s getting very close to giving in. She’s so desperate to find you she’s willing to offer almost anything. A few more days of this torture and she’ll be ready to give us anything we want just to see you again.”

“Great, more of you asshats…”

A short man comes out of the shadows dressed in a pressed black suit. “I’m hardly grouped with these imbeciles. I’m the King of Hell and you should address me as such.”

“You’re a little short for the King of Hell, don’t ya think? But if you’re the man in charge at least tell me what you want from her?”

“Not much … it’s an insignificant little thing really. And it’s not even so much from her, but you’re incapable of repopulating on your own.”

Dean takes in his words for a second before it clicks, he smirks. “Sorry pal, didn’t the demons give you the memo? She lost the baby. And now we’ve agreed on celibacy.”

“The great Dean Winchester celibate? Well, we’ll just see how long that lasts.” The man paces around the room stroking his chin with one hand. “She’s close to breaking, keep him here another day. Don’t let him out of your sight!” He clicks his fingers and disappears. 

Dean pulls at the ropes harder, leaving rope burns on his wrists. Then a bright light fills the room along with a chorus of screams. And then another set of footsteps approaches, Dean steels himself for the hit but it never comes. Instead, he feels the rope loosen from his wrists prompting him to bring them around to his front and rub the burns. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Took you long enough, Cas. How’s Y/N? Is she safe?”

“Yes, she’s safe. She’s with Sam.”

“Good. You have to take me as far away from her as you can.”

“But you love her? You’re soul mates.”

“Yeah, and no doubt set up by cupids the same way my mom and dad were. This bloodline ends with me. I won’t bring a cursed child into the world. And I sure as hell won’t let demons get their hands on it. But I lose all control around her, so you have to keep me away from her. Lock me up, kill me, whatever you have to do, just keep her safe.”

“Dean…”

“Cas, please, I’m begging you.”

“Fine.” Cas presses two fingers to Dean’s forehead to heal him, and he blacks out. 

When Dean reopens his eyes he blinks a few times trying to assess his surroundings. His eyes land on his guns adorning the walls, then the picture on his bedside table of you and him kissing. He rubs his eyes, shaking his head as he pulls himself into a sitting position. 

“Cas!” He calls out, his voice hoarse. 

Seconds later Cas pushes his door open and comes in carrying a Biggerson’s paperbag and beer bottle. “Here. Eat. Drink,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“This isn’t far from her, she’s gonna come back. This better just be a pit stop. You’re getting me the hell out of here!”

“You’re a match literally made in heaven, why would you want to leave her? I thought you loved her?”

“I do, Cas. I love her more than anything. And that’s exactly why I have to leave her. She’s not safe with me. The demons want her, not for her blood but for mine. She wants a family. A little child to raise as her own. But I can’t give her that. And she deserves it. She deserves the world.”

“As far as I can tell, you’re perfectly fertile, Dean. Even despite your many deaths.”

“That’s not what I mean. If I have a child the demons will stop at nothing to get it. So, this bloodline has to end.”

“You could get a sperm donor.”

“Cas. Not helping”

“It’s a perfectly viable option. Millions of humans do it everyday.”

“Not me. I won’t raise a child in this life. I was disillusioned before when she was pregnant. I wasn’t being practical. We cannot have a child. And she deserves to get out of this life, and I know she won’t as long as she’s with me. The monsters won’t let us. So, I leave and she gets to move on with someone else who can keep her safe and give her the family she deserves.”

“But, you’re her soulmate …”

“I don’t give a crap about soulmates, Cas! I care about Y/N and her safety, that is all. So, you either zap me somewhere far away right now or at least get me to my car so I can leave myself.”

“Your car’s in the garage … You know this will break her heart.”

“At least she’ll be alive and safe.”

“Very well.” Cas dumps the food and drink on the end of Dean’s bed and disappears. 

Ignoring the food and drink, Dean gets up and takes a seat at his desk pulling out a notebook and pen. He starts writing, but only gets as far as ‘Dear Y/N, My love,’ before he tears up and pegs the notepad across the room. Getting up again he leaves his room in search of a stronger beverage than the beer Cas offered. He pours himself a fifth of whisky and then decides to just drink out of the bottle. After taking a few swigs he takes the bottle and makes his way back into his room. He picks up the notepad off the floor, but something distracts him. He notices an unfamiliar small, pink box under the bed. 

He dumps the notepad on the bed and drags out the box and opens it. Inside he finds the positive pregnancy test, the piece of paper with the positive results and a tiny jumpsuit that he doesn’t recognise. He pulls out the jumpsuit and stares at it as more tears drip down his cheeks. After a few minutes he shoves it back in the box, closes it back up and pushes it back under the bed. 

He stands up again and brings the notepad back over to his desk and sits in front of it. He takes another drink of whisky and brings the pen back to the paper but his mind refuses to cooperate. He finds himself reaching for one of his spare phones instead and staring at her number. His tears fall on the paper causing it to wrinkle and smudge, so he rips off the page, scrunches it up and tosses it in the direction of the rubbish bin in the corner of the room. He roughly wipes his tears away, takes another mouthful of whiskey and picks back up the pen and begins to write. 

“Dear Y/N, My Love,

I never tell you enough but you mean the world to me. You make me feel happier and safer than I’ve ever felt in my life and I want nothing more than for you to feel that too. I know you’ll never be safe as long as I’m by your side. With me you’ll continue to hunt monsters and be hunted by monsters, you’ll never get to have the happy family and children you want. That’s not my life; it never will be. My bloodline is cursed and as such it must end with me. But that doesn’t mean you should give up on your dream. You deserve to have all of your good dreams come true, instead of your nightmares. 

I don’t want you to worry about me or search for me. I’ve gone somewhere safe, I promise. Now please use this opportunity to do the same. Get out of this life, get a normal 9-5 job, meet a normal man that makes you happy, protects you, and provides for you, and live the life you really want and deserve. You’ll be the perfect wife and mother one day. You’ve been the perfect fiancé. I’ll be forever jealous of the next man you give your heart to, but more than that I’ll be happy knowing that you’re safe. 

Dean”

Once he finishes signing his name he takes another mouthful of whisky and gets up to start packing up the only room he’s ever called his own. He starts with his drawers and wardrobe. As he pulls his clothes from their hangers and crushes them into a duffel bag he can’t help but hesitate when it comes to his flannels. He knows how much you like them so he decides to leave a few hanging there with your clothes. Then he moves on to his toothbrush and other hygiene essentials and weapons. He leaves his record player and records behind for you as he knows how much you like listening to them and how they calm you down after a rough day. The last thing he takes before disappearing onto the open road in his beloved Impala is the picture of the two of you from his nightstand. He tries to listen to music but all he can hear is your sweet voice singing along so he shuts it off and drives in silence. No destination in mind, he just knows he has to go somewhere where you won’t look for him and find him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423

[thefirsthogokage]

Oh fuck. And ONCE YET AGAIN, FUCK RYAN MURPHY

(link to article)

A WGA leadership memo notes the threatened litigation prompted showrunner Warren Leight to step back from captaining duties and also implored members: "Our foe in this fight is not other members, it is the AMPTP. If we turn on each other, the AMPTP wins."

I do remember John Rogers tweet that as a WGA board member, it wouldn't be right to comment on certain things at this time, so he hoped other members would do it. I can't remember the specifics, but I know Google doesn't pick up Twitter anymore, so, 🙃. I should have saved it. But I don't 100% remember the timing of it and it was vague enough it could have applied to a few things.

Anywho, it's perfectly fair - in my opinion - to turn on scabs like Ryan Murphy who feel they're above everything because they know that networks will keep hiring him.

The article has a lot of stuff in it about the lawsuit. But I just want to say, I remember seeing Warren's work on Twitter...

Leight, an outspoken New York-based WGA member, had been dubbed as the East Coast’s “Air Traffic Controller” for his efforts leading the so-called Rapid Response Team that directs striking writers to filming locations. Leight declined to comment for this story.

...he did a HELL of a job. It sucks that this is happening because he's work was definitely needed. Like, I might not like the guy, and he got himself into this position by tweeting what he did even though he was the co-chair of the Strike Rules Compliance Committee, there must have been some rules about this.

So one of the things that pisses me off here is that he should have known better, had to bench himself, and the strike may suffer because he's not doing what he was, and it's on him not keeping his fingers from typing things he knew shouldn't have. Things other people were already saying.

According to the memo, Leight has stepped back from his duties as co-chair of the Strike Rules Compliance Committee and as a captain.

Sources say the WGA’s letter followed a regularly scheduled strategy meeting with WGA East leadership, including Michael Winship, Lisa Takeuchi Cullen and Chris Kyle, and strike captains that turned contentious. “We were talking about themed pickets. Nobody discussed Warren and everyone was like, ‘When is someone going to talk about Ryan Murphy?’” says one East Coast strike captain. “People were pissed. We wanted an explanation and answer about why Warren lost his captain’s hat and what happened. He was our leader.”

🙃🙃🙃 He was doing SUCH AN amazing job. It really, really sucks that he stepped down. And he's partially to blame. I mean, who the fuck would have thought being a guy in his position as a Captain that it would be a good idea to go after giant bastard Ryan Murphy?

Again, this is just frustrating from both angles: Warren Leight pulling a dumb as a Captain, and the loss of Warren Leight as a strike captain.

Multiple sources tell THR that only four scripted TV series remain in production on the East Coast — with three of them produced by Murphy: American Horror Story, American Sports Story and the episodic anthology American Horror Stories (the fourth is Lionsgate/Starz’s Power Book 2: Ghost). In addition to being a member of the WGA West, Murphy is a producer and director and is permitted to continue working provided he is not rendering services performed by writers. Multiple sources say Murphy was spotted twice last week in New York crossing WGA picket lines. Sources close to Murphy say he has not been in New York for the past month.

Those last two statements contradict each other, but I would take anything from Murphy's circle with a huge, huge, grain of salt. Still wish people took pictures. Writers crossing the picket lines need to be named and shamed.

“He is following the letter of the law and going to set as a producer/showrunner/director and says he’s not doing writing — and no guild can convict somebody of conjecture,” says another East Coast captain. “A million of us would love to see it, but there’s no proof that he’s scabbing; he’s doing scripts that were done before strike started.”

Bullshit. No way even "The Great Ryan Murphy" can predict all the problems that would come up beforehand and have everything written out. No fucking way.

The WGA, meanwhile, said in its memo that we will “continue to picket [Murphy’s] shows,” and that the Strike Rules Compliance Committee will investigate all leads concerning potential violations. (If Murphy is found in violation of the strike rules, he can be suspended or expelled from membership, hit with monetary fines or censured. After the 2007-08 writers strike, the WGA brought members alleged to have violated strike rules before a trial committee, as in the case of Jay Leno, who was cleared of wrongdoing).

HE BETTER BE FUCKING EXPELLED!

The internal squabbling comes as news leaked June 20 that Murphy, one of the industry’s most powerful showrunners, has been negotiating with Disney to return to the studio with a rich overall deal after his $300 million Netflix pact expired. In the memo to captains, the WGA officers implored them to stay focused on the fight at hand, noting, “Our foe in this fight is not other members, it is the AMPTP. If we turn on each other, the AMPTP wins.”

How is this not expulsion worthy? HOW?! Your foe is ALSO PEOPLE WILLINGLY PULLING THIS BULLSHIT!

From the letter:

Losing Warren as a strike captain is the last thing any of us wanted, but he understood that his actions on this particular issue exposed the Guild to potential liability, especially as co-chair of the very committee investigating Murphy. His tweet was also in direct contradiction with instructions he had received multiple times from WGAE and WGAW leadership and staff about his use of social media.

LIKE I SAID, WARREN WAS A GODDAMN DUMBASS!

• We will not quit on Ryan Murphy. We continue to picket his shows, and the Strike Rules Compliance Committee continues to investigate all leads. Send. Us. Leads.

This kind of sounds like they're looking for any and all reason to give that son of a bitch Murphy the boot. I hope they find it.

Fuck Ryan Murphy!

No way someone hasn't had to make at least one edit this far into strike with THREE shows in production. No way. Someone has to have proof.

Fuck Ryan Murphy, his ass needs to kicked from the Guild.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Big Business can't stop its illegal, fantastically lucrative gossiping

Seven years ago, I called Leonard Cohen’s Everybody Knows “the perfect anthem for our times.”

Everybody knows the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That’s how it goes Everybody knows

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/11/11/leonard-cohen-wrote-the-perfect-anthem-for-our-times/

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/16/compulsive-cheaters/#rigged

That was just after Cohen died, and while the world seems to want to settle on Hallelujah as his totemic song, Everybody Knows keeps inserting itself into the discourse, in the most toxic, hope-draining way possible. Whenever some awful scandal involving the great and the good breaches, we’re told that “everybody knew” already, so let’s move on.

This current has been running through our society for decades now. Remember when the Snowden leaks hit and a yawning chorus of nihilists told us that they knew already and so should anyone else with the smallest iota of sophistication? Back then Jay Rosen coined a rejoinder to this counsel of despair: “Don’t savvy me”:

https://twitter.com/jayrosen_nyu/status/344825874362810369

Everybody knows. It’s what we heard after the Panama Papers. Swissleaks. Luxleaks. The Paradise Papers. Everybody knows! It’s what the nothing-to-see-here crowd said about Propublica’s explosive IRSLeaks, back in 2021:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/15/guillotines-and-taxes/#carried-interest

The leaks revealed the tax-dodges of the richest and most powerful people in America, which were jaw-dropping in their audacity and shamelessness. Sure, maybe you suspected that the 400 richest people in America paid less tax than you — but did you really guess that the means by which they did this was through taking massive deductions on their elite hobbies?

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/13/taxes-are-for-the-little-people/#leona-helmsley-2022

Maybe “everybody knows” that the game is rigged, but did you know how? Like, did you know that REITs — a tax shelter for mom-and-pop investors who buy an income property for their retirement — have become a primary vehicle for gutting unions at hotels, slashing wages and imposing brutal, dangerous working conditions?

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/01/reit-modernization-act/#reit-makes-might

The leaks are cumulative. By combining data from one leak with another, we can build out a far more detailed picture of the conspiracy — and it is a conspiracy — among the utlrawealthy and their Renfields in the law, real-estate and accounting trades to duck their responsibilities and mound ever-more treasure on their hoards.

Take the Jersey Offshore leaks (2020), comprising the internal memos of La Hougue, a fantastically crooked firm of fixers on the Isle of Jersey, one of the lawless tax-crime jurisdictions that the UK pretends it has no control over. La Hougue has a playbook, 11 tactics for lying about your taxes. The remarkable thing about these 11 tactics is how flimsy they are, how easy it is to penetrate their lies. When Parliament says it can’t possibly do anything about the criminal havens in the Channel, remember the Jersey Offshore leaks and remind yourself that not even Parliament is that credulous. They know. Everybody knows:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/20/la-hougue/#complexity

Why do working people think the Democrats are just another party for the ultra-rich? Maybe it’s Pelosi’s relentless opposition to meaningful curbs on insider trading. Or maybe it’s the kinds of politicians that the Democratic Machine likes to rally behind — like Tali Farhadian Weinstein, who raised millions in 2021, in large-money donations from Democratic finance-sector donors in her bid to become the DA of Manhattan. Farhadian Weinstein and her husband have more than $100m in annual income, and yet, paid no federal tax in 2013, 2015 and 2017. In 2014, they paid $6,584:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/17/quis-custodiet-irs/#trumps-taxes

Propublica isn’t done with the IRS Files. Today, they published a long investigation into ultra-rich corporate executives who buy and sell their competitors’ stock for massive profits with suspiciously precise timing. The data comes from 1099-B filings, which brokerages file with the IRS with each trade, but which the IRS doesn’t share with the SEC:

https://www.propublica.org/article/secret-irs-files-trading-competitors-stock

Here are some examples:

Ohio billionaire August Troendle, CEO of Medpace, repeatedly bought and sold shares of $Syneos — his company’s archrival, timing the transactions with a management shakeup that dropped the stock by 16% in one day, and an SEC investigation that crushed Syneos’s stock by 25%. His precision timing made him at least $2.3m in profit.

Isaac Larian, CEO of Bratz-maker MGA, made $28m trading shares in Mattel, MGA’s nemesis and frequent litigant — during a period when Mattel stock crashed by 57% (!). Larian boasts that “I made a LOT more money shorting Mattel stock than they did running a $4.5 billion toy company.”

Larian’s trades also involved some very precise timing. Sometimes, he took positions just before his own company announced its upcoming products, and others positions immediately preceded major disclosures from Mattel. Larian’s subordinates told Propublica that he is “is a boss with an endless appetite for information about his company and its competitors, constantly grilling subordinates on minutiae about the industry.”

Larian couldn’t explain the timing of these trades. His lawyer told Propublica that it was “false and defamatory” to suggest that he “possessed material, nonpublic information that Larian knew was obtained in breach of a duty.”

Next up is Gerald Boelte, founder and chair of the massive oil company LLOG. LLOG partners with other companies for its oil drilling. Companies like Stone Energy. Boelte bought a huge position in Stone the day before the company’s 2015 earnings report, in which they revealed an increase their reserves’ value, pulling in a 65% one day profit. He’d never bought shares in Stone before.

Boetle told Propublica, “I do not and have never traded on any material, non-public information of competitors, business partners or others… Any implication that I was investing based upon advance knowledge is therefore clearly false.”

Jim Sankey is CEO of Invue. He bought $3.2m worth of shares in his rival Checkpoint, while checkpoint was in secret negotiations to be acquired by CCL Industries. Sankey was already thoroughly connected to Checkpoint, having sold a $150m product line to them in 2007. There’s no record that he’d ever traded Checkpoint before. He made $2.3m. Sankey says “he did not know Checkpoint was going to be acquired.” He says that his company was not approached by Checkpoint as a potential acquirer.

Barry Wish was a board member of Ocwen, a company he co-founded. After the Great Financial Crisis, Ocwen bid unsuccessfully to buy $215b worth of Bank of America mortgages. The winning bidder was Nationstar. Three weeks before Nationstar’s winning bid was announced, Wish bought $600k worth of Nationstar shares. After the bid was announced, he sold them for for a $157k profit.

Wish told Propublica that he never traded competitors’ stock: “No, not at all.” Propublica read him the details of the trade from his leaked 1099-B. He said “You might see it, but I don’t have any recollection” and hung up.

Steven Grossman is a cardboard heir — a nepobaby who inherited Southern Container Corp from his grandpa. After he sold the company to Rock-Tenn for $1b in 2013, he stayed on as a senior exec. Over the next 5 years, he traded large blocks of shares in Rock-Tenn’s competitors, companies like Temple-Inland, a company that he made a 37% profit on after its acquisition was announced in 2011, one week after Grossman started buying its shares.

Grossman falsely told Propublica, “I haven’t traded stock since then.” IRS records show that Grossman continued to trade. Grossman also told Propublica that he had no role with Rock-Tenn, despite being on their payroll for five years. When asked about his extremely lucky timing buying and selling Temple-Inland, he said “That was 10 years ago” and hung up.

As Propublica’s Robert Faturechi and Ellis Simani write, Securities regulations have their origins in the crash of 1929, and the subsequent collapse in confidence in markets and capitalism, the sense that the system was rigged for the wealthy and political insiders. That is a pretty good summation of sentiment today:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/15/mon-dieu-les-guillotines/#ceci-nes-pas-une-bailout

It’s not just that corporate executives are corrupt, it’s that they’re lavishly, shamelessly, endlessly, incorrigibly corrupt. Take Canadian Pacific and Kansas City Southern, the sixth- and seventh-largest Class I railroads in the USA, whose merger was just approved by the Surface Transportation Board.

There are plenty of good reasons for the STB to have blocked this merger. The rail industry is already excessively concentrated, and its top execs are so convinced that they’re both too big to fail and too big to jail that they’re rendering entire towns permanently uninhabitable in order to eke out a few more points in profit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

But there are specific reasons to have blocked this merger, starting with the whistleblower report about CP and KCS executives illegally coming together for a three-day “retreat” at The Breakers hotel in Palm Beach, a notorious site for Republican operatives to collude with the business lobby:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2023-03-16-canadian-pacific-kansas-city-southern-rail-merger/

As Luke Goldstein writes for The American Prospect, both companies spent millions in 2020 and 2022 on campaign contributions to “grease the skids” for the merger — in particular, ensuring that the combined company could transport Alberta tar sands oil (the filthiest, most energy intensive oil in the world) to US ports.

Though the STB was informed of the illegal meeting — in which the two companies behaved as though the merger had already been finalized — STB chair Martin Oberman told Goldstein that the Board did not write to the companies for an explanation before waving through their merger.

Instead, Oberman dismissed the complaint on the grounds that “Railroads have to be able to talk to one another to function.” Typically this takes place over a free phone call, though — not on a three-day executive junket at a hotel where the rooms run $1,500/night.

Oberman knows what happened at that meeting.

Everybody knows.

It comes as no surprise to learn that before FTX imploded and destroyed the savings of its depositors, it paid out $3b to its top executives, including the criminal Sam Bankman-Fried:

https://gizmodo.com/sbf-ftx-crypto-sam-bankman-fried-1850232043

It comes as no surprise that Silicon Valley Bank paid out bonuses to its execs and employees hours before it collapsed:

https://www.cnbc.com/2023/03/11/silicon-valley-bank-employees-received-bonuses-hours-before-takeover.html

Everybody knows.

It’s comforting to think that the tax code loopholes that the ultrawealthy exploit are an epiphenomenon of complexity, an unavoidable consequence of the technical requirements of a big regulation that spans 300m+ people. But the truth is, the loopholes in the US tax code were inserted by politicians who got massive campaign contributions from donors who directly benefited from those loopholes. Senator Ron Johnson got $20m from the owners of Uline (Dick and Liz Uihlein) and roofing magnate Diane Hendricks, then he blocked the Trump tax bill until his fellow lawmakers inserted a loophole that produced $215m for the Uihleins and Hendricks, in just the first year:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/11/the-canada-variant/#shitty-man-of-history-theory It’s not even surprising that a sitting US Senator amended a bill to give hundreds of millions of dollars to billionaires who gave him tens of millions of dollars.

Everybody knows. It’s weirdly comforting to think that everyday people vote for demagogue wreckers because Facebook hired a legion of evil sorcerers to fashion a mind-control ray out of Big Data and AI, but Facebook lies about everything, and everyone who ever claimed to have a mind-control ray was a liar.

Maybe people vote for demagogue wreckers because they believe the system is rotten, and maybe they believe the system is rotten because the system is rotten. Maybe the self-described evil sorcerers of Big Tech aren’t “hacking our dopamine loops” — maybe they’re just helping opportunists target people who are justifiably angry:

https://onezero.medium.com/how-to-destroy-surveillance-capitalism-8135e6744d59

The problem with this explanation is that it requires “progressive” parties to actually do stuff to demonstrate that they are on the side of people, not the side of paperclip-maximizing immortal colony organisms and the corporate executives who pretend to run them:

https://twitter.com/thehill/status/1184004730722217984

I try to have hope — that is, I try to believe that if we can only make changes to our material circumstances, however small they may seem, that we might attain a new vantagepoint that reveals more possible changes within our grasp:

https://gen.medium.com/hope-not-optimism-943e88291b

Some days, it’s hard to have hope. Some days, it’s so obvious that everybody knows, all that I can muster is fury. Fury is not a full substitute for hope, but it’ll do. It’s a far superior alternative to the fatalism that “everybody knows” and thus nothing can be done.

Some fights you win, and other fights, you just fight, because surrender isn’t an option. Everybody knows, right? If everybody knows, then everybody might just decide to do something about it.

Next Monday (Mar 20), I’m doing a remote talk for the Ostrom Workshop’s Beyond the Web Speaker Series.

[Image ID: A smoke-filled room lit by candles. Around a large formal table sit various 19th century gentlemen-type people. One of them stands and reads from a memo. The shadow he casts is in the shape of a dollar-sign.]

[valleynix]

How I Would Have Written Resident Evil: Village

let me preface this by saying a few things: i am slightly tipsy as i write this, so i apologize for any misspellings, incorrect lore, or things not articulated well. i also do not hate Ethan nor the original story of RE8, but i do think there was a lot of wasted potential and unnecessary plot holes

moving on, under the cut

i'll start off by saying that i loved Biohazard. it's genuinely one of my favorite games and the atmosphere is done so well. i love the horror, the mix of action, and the genuine fear you can feel as you run around, searching for answers.

Village did not have this, and it was a massive disappointment, as was the game itself, overall. i do still love it and it'll always be one of my favorites, but Capcom fumbled hard with the plot and the general story.

let's start off with this: in my own little fantasy land where Capcom doesn't hate women (joke), Mia would have been the protagonist in Village. think about how well the story could have gone between her knowledge from the Connections, her unknown relationship with Miranda, the fact she likely would have been struggling to actually fight (just like Ethan should've), and how much different her interactions would be.

i'm genuinely so tired of seeing husbands and/or fathers searching for their lost wife and/or child in horror games. appeal to a different audience!!! where's my mother searching for her lost child, taken by Eldritch horrors???

anyway, i won't be super detailed, but we'll say Mia is the protagonist and Ethan is sidelined :3

throughout the game, i personally would have made it much more obvious that the lords are indeed a family. like, i thought it was obvious enough, but apparently lots of people in this fandom didn't get the memo?? so i would make it more apparent.

and just like i mentioned in the one video i'd already made on this (kinda), i would have changed the lords' appearances and their deaths, pretty much meaning that only Donna (maybe) would have been killed. everyone else would have just been something for her to escape from.

(i'm sorry this isn't super detailed. i don't want it to turn into an eight hour essay, which i may do for a video later on, but anyway)

i will say that i probably would have changed the beginning sequence and made it more mother-daughter focused before Rose is taken. like, imagine Rose being kidnapped right from under Mia's nose without all the brutality and shooting, as comedic as that was, once you knew. the whole thing with Chris not telling Ethan what was going on was probably the dumbest thing in these games and i will forever stand by that.

so, we'll just say that Miranda somehow finds a way to subdue Mia long enough to kidnap baby Rose, and Mia wakes up cold and alone and has to follow a barely-there trail of footprints and feathers that eventually lead her to the village and the horrors within

i also probably would have kept the game during nighttime or early morning, simply because of how terrifying that would be. it's not as fun when you can blatantly see the mutants trying to stalk you (ahem. lycans.)

at this point, Rose is taken and we now have an angry mother on our hands that is very wary of what's going on around her, but now knows that Miranda is a culprit (because in my mind, Miranda has no real reason to hide from Mia, and came to her in her true form). this would leave the audience to question what she really knows and what she's been hiding, and while it would create skepticism, it would also generate curiosity.

Mia traverses the village in relative darkness, led only by the moon's light (hehe symbolism) and the occasional torch. she searches the village for any inhabitants, and while she mostly finds blood and corpses, she also finds a group of people still surviving and untrusting of her.

i think the scariest thing would be that every time Mia progresses and comes back to the village, more people are missing and she finds out rather quickly that it's Miranda's doing. this would leave a sense of fear within her: Miranda is watching and waiting, she is causing Mia distress and threatening her without outright doing anything, letting her know she is unsafe and alone without ever laying a hand on her.

we'll say she goes to Donna's first, under the impression that the hermit dollmaker could have taken Rose per Miranda or she's just being mislead by Miranda posing as a villager (or even the witch lady). from there, she's forced through hallucinations, vivid fabrications of Rose and Ethan, all while struggling to see what is real and what's made up.

she finds out that Rose isn't at the Beneviento Estate, but now, Donna isn't letting her leave. she's not allowed to let her visitors through those doors, saying something similar (though perhaps slightly more afraid) to, "Don't leave... I can't let you." this may hint at the fact that Donna herself does not want to hurt Mia, but cannot let her leave.

Donna's boss fight consists of hallucinations and fabrications, and Mia "dies" when she succumbs to one and doesn't realize what it actually is. there is no "monster" in this section, but it's probably one of the scariest parts, as it takes place throughout the blackened estate and the dolls are, in fact, still moving and making little noises.

Mia escapes somehow, and when she returns to the village, she overhears a conversation from Miranda and someone else (perhaps Rednic?) basically hinting at the megamycete and the ritual and what needs to be done. this begins the plot of finding out what the fuck is going on and where the hell is her daughter, which she believes will be found together.

(sad mother moments, of course. i'd make them tearjerking.)

Mia then finds herself stumbling to Moreau's reservoir, cold and angry, and from here, she starts to realize just how deep Miranda's corruption really goes and how much danger she's actually in. in her mind, prior to this, she thought Miranda was under some kind of control or that she was simply a lackey in a larger scheme of things.

after all, the Miranda she knew was much different than this one, much less angry and violent. Mia doesn't recognize this woman any longer, and she begins to find herself very afraid of what she's gotten herself into, though she doesn't regret it.

Mia hears Moreau's pleas for his mother to help him, to be proud of him, to notice him, and all Mia can feel is the heartbreak of a mother watching this child throw a tantrum for his mom's attention. she tries to kill him, but in the end, she finds herself out of ammo and cornered and freezing her ass off, as well as injured from wounds so graciously gifted to her by lycans and the varcolac.

she escapes, leaves Moreau to his cries and his desperation, and at this point, Mia wonders just how much farther she can go until she collapses. she remembers those little moments with Rose when everything was starting to look up and when she thought her life was going to be normal again, and for a time, she fades into unconsciousness.

when she wakes, it's eerily quiet, and she knows she needs to leave. after more of the villagers go missing and they mention laughing and screaming from the castle, Mia decides she will go there next in her attempt to find Rose and take her away from this fucked up place, get her out of Miranda's grasp before she can do god knows what with her.

the castle is... eerie, yes, but not quite as dangerous as she had been expecting. she meets the Dimitrescus and she's most likely flirted with a bit (as they tend to do), and because Mia is a woman, her pleas are heard and she is allowed to speak, if only for a moment. they come to find that Mia is only there for her daughter and she will gladly leave once she's found, but they're under orders from Miranda now to keep Mia alive (wink wonk).

that doesn't stop them from chaining her up and giggling as they leave, as they did before. i'd make the castle much darker and make more noises throughout the halls, like footsteps or quiet laughter, maybe some soft clanging or things slightly being moved, like vases or chairs, only for there to be nothing.

it's creepy, but there's nothing outright dangerous until Mia finds herself cornered in the kitchens with a very angry Bela now out for blood. she holds back only a little during this little spat, but eventually, it gets to the point that Mia shoots open the window and only distracts Bela before she runs and manages to get away.

(it's now a safe room for her, as Bela would have run away when her weakness was exposed and warmed up, bruised ego be damned. she'll just regroup with her sisters and go from there).

i think the phone call scene would still happen, but it would be a little different. at the very least, it would still show that Miranda does not care about the lords as much as she claimed to and cares more about the ritual and ceremony, but now Lady Dimitrescu is pissed and wants Mia out of her castle before she can actually kill one of her daughters.

(i like to think Bela and/or Cassandra would be in the room, quietly observing, and if the player looks away long enough, looking back would show one or both of them staring right at Mia before quickly looking away. you know the drill).

Mia somehow finds a way to sympathize with Lady Dimitrescu, perhaps because she refuses to kill Daniela while the former is nearby or something, and she ends up escaping (though it's obvious the action is allowed, as Lady Dimitrescu is blatantly keeping her distance but ensuring Mia is chased out. yada yada).

more creepy village stuff happens, more fights with lycans, blah blah. i'm not entirely sure what to do here, but i'll think more on it.

the factory would be last, and i think it would be incredibly interesting with Heisenberg likely knowing that Mia and Miranda had a past together. he might try to use that against her and try to convince her that Rose is their only hope for being free (maybe playing into what she'd seen with his siblings), but he's ultimately denied again.

Mia doesn't know this dude, doesn't know his true intentions or if teaming up with him will guarantee her death at the price of his freedom. everything she'd gone through would have been for nothing, and so, she refuses.

i think the factory would have been creepier if the mechanical noises weren't so loud and in-your-face, but that's just me. keeping the lights low and the enemies quieter but still lit up would have been great, but oh well.

after making it through the factory and proving how strong she really is (never doubt a mother), she is, once again, faced with the opportunity to join Heisenberg or join the dead. she denies him once more, manages to escape the factory (and Sturm) as metal flies by and she's probably pierced a few times, and when she eventually becomes free, she just collapses in the middle of a dusk-lit village.

she's been through so much, lost everything dear to her, and she still hasn't found answers or her daughter. she begins to wonder if she ever left that first hallucination at Lady Beneviento's but she's too tired to care-

and then the moldy tendrils begin breaking from the ground, near enough to terrify her but far enough to know that she's not in immediate danger. she hears laughter and searches through the mold (which she comments on), vision blurry, only to completely freeze when she finds Miranda standing near one of the tendrils, watching her with a fond smile on her face.

this is all i've thought about (because the ANGST of seeing your, at the very least, old coworker/friend who is now a CULT LEADER and trying to kill you...) but i'll probably expand way more on it if i ever do a video on it. i didn't want this to turn into a massive ramble (even if it already did), so i'll pause here for now.

i didn't hit everything i wanted to and i'm sure i'm missing a LOT of points, but these were all the major things i would have changed or implemented. i am very tired and tipsy, and i do apologize for anything that doesn't sound quite right or that's left with like... no other point or explanation. i'll do better next time <33

[mlobsters]

supernatural s11e14 the vessel (w. robert berens)

don't judge, nic. (generally historical fiction is not my jam. the sigh i sighed when the title screen with nazi-occupied france came up... also why i immediately get tired over old timey men of letters stuff)

hold the phone, i know that music intro! it's non, je ne regrette rien by edith piaf - which was used to wonderful effect in inception. spent far, far too long trying to find a clip of it, everything is garbage quality and it's not streaming anywhere i can get it easily

well, i am definitely on board with stabbing nazis, with impunity. (and gee, men of letters related, color me surprised :p)

haha ok but wait

SAM 'Cause I found something. I mean, we need something. Magic. A weapon strong enough to give us a shot against Amara. So, I've been looking outside the lore in history. And I found this, the Vichy Memorandems. They were Nazi communications that puzzle historians to this day. And they speak of a super weapon obtained by the Ahnenerbe, said to be strong enough to win the war.

reminds me of the magicians rhinemann ultra

the magicians s2e2 hotel spa potions

I mean, it was amazing reading about how you used the Rhinemann at Gettysburg to help win the war for the Union. And it was you who slipped it to Rupert Chatwin for the Battle of the Bulge. I mean, you changed history.

the magicians s2e3 divine elimination

The spell that won World War II is called the Rhinemann Ultra? Sounds like a not-so-great beer.

and someone had to power-up with god .... juice (semen) to be able to cast it. anyway. god this is going to take forever.

SAM Well, these memos refer to it as "The Hand of God." I mean, that was sort of a catch all term for several objects he touched on Earth in Biblical times. But they're believed to contain traces of His power. DEAN Yeah, well the Nazis believed a lot of things. SAM Dean, Lucifer's caged. God's MIA, the only beings strong enough to battle Amara are gone. If we're gonna fight her, what better way to arm up than with an actual dose of His power?

just sayin. familiar!

so dean i got a pro-tip here for you. have more than one source of caffeine on-hand at all times. that way even if you're out of power or machine breaks or no grounds or whatever, you can have coffee. personal fan of starbucks doubleshot cans. and it reminded me of the self-heating coffee cans in the neuromancer universe way back when they first came out and i've been drinking them for my first coffee of the day since :p (william gibson writes about coffee a lot.)

answers the incapacitated crowley question i had

distressing. i generally like crowley, even if i don't like what he's getting up to. and having him in this forced pet play torture thing is pushing some really upsetting and unpleasant buttons for me. at least they let us know he's still in there fighting i guess sooner rather than later

DEAN Just in case things go sideways, somebody needs to be left standing to take care of the Darkness. We can't risk us both! And at the moment, I'm the least valuable player! You both know that I can't kill Amara, so the least I could do is get the thing that we need so that you can! SAM So you expect me to sit here and ride pine while you can Cas go play Jules Verne? DEAN Yes! No. I - who?

so he just used a 20,000 leagues under the sea reference but doesn't know who jules verne is? sure, jan. anyway. sure, yes, get dean and lucifer!cas alone on a sub together, sounds great. handwave away sam's confusion about logistics of time travel without wings

SAM (Resigned) Be safe. DEAN When am I not?

ha ha.

oh, sam, i feel you.

LUCIFER Right. We'll double down on what screwed us the first time. You're really bringing your A ideas today. I can't believe I lost it. (sighs) Him. Can't believe I lost Dean.

and now dean is alone there, great. trying to figure out what submarine movie this is reminding me of but all i can figure i've seen enough is the hunt for red october (which is cold war) mashed with some vague memory of enigma machine on a sub thing - maybe from cryptonomicon? (book by neal stephenson which was kind of a mashup of current and historical fiction)

jackles is doing a good job with this and the production quality is nice but i'm emotionally detached and just want it to be over with. lucifer isn't even half assing his castiel cosplay but i guess sam is too distracted with imminent death for dean if they don't fix the problem

SAM Wait a second. I remember Bobby told me when you needed strength to retrieve us from the past, you used him to power up, you touched his soul, right?

LUCIFER That's right, I did that. But that procedure can be fatal. SAM Use my soul. That way maybe you'll have enough power to wield the spell. LUCIFER That isn't necessary. SAM It's worth the risk. Cas, Dean needs our help. I trust you.

ugh. the unknowingly begging for torture from the thing that tortured you for (an unknown but presumably) very long time, yeah. turns my stomach. is this over yet. at least the cat is out of the bag right after.

DEAN So. Cas. SAM Yeah. What do we do? DEAN What else? We hunt Lucifer, trap the bastard, and save Cas. SAM Like I said. Lucifer may be in control now, but Cas may not come back willingly. I mean he chose it. DEAN No. No, not possible.

guess we're not mad about him saying yes to lucifer? all righty.

getting in a lingering beauty shot

and closing with non, je ne regrette rien again

[kaesaaurelia]

extremely stabbed

For @whumptober day 5, using the prompts “debris,” “pinned down” and the lyric prompt, “You better pray I don’t get up this time around.”

Aziraphale scrambled down the escalator as if all the forces of Heaven were after him, which they probably were, though he didn't dare look back to see. He'd broken all the lifts before leaving, so if nothing else, Facilities would justifiably be after his head.

He hoped desperately that his memo had gone through, that he had given his allies enough time to prepare, that he had any allies at all, and that, if he did have them, he wasn't damning too many of them and that it would all be worth it in the end.

But the street outside was eerily quiet for a London afternoon -- not a soul in sight. Still, he could hear the chatter of humans nearby and the whoosh of traffic. He would have to be strategic about this if he wanted to avoid collateral damage, especially as Heaven had made it abundantly clear that they had no qualms about that sort of thing.

He emerged onto the street, mind racing. He hadn't planned this part very well -- he had thought he might steal a car, perhaps, and then drive like a maniac back to the bookshop. Heaven would be expecting that, but none of them really knew London and he knew he could get there before them anyway.

Unfortunately, the road was clear of cars as well; the other Principalities had done too good a job. He could just see them now, saying Well, you know, the humans really hate property damage, we ought to move their cars when we evacuate them. It would be the right thing to do. Bless.

Aziraphale, personally, was getting very tired of trying doing the right thing, which was funny, actually, because the more he thought about it, the more he realized he'd never really had the option until now.

"Aziraphale! You won't escape!" Michael emerged from the building, and Aziraphale sighed; he'd hesitated too long and now he had to stand and fight.

Well. He could fight, at least. He drew the sword he'd stolen, lit it aflame, and lunged forward with it, knocking Michael's spear out of her hand. "Let me go. I don't want to hurt you," he said. This was not entirely true, but he didn't want to want to hurt her. "I did fill out all the proper resigna--"

She punched him in the jaw and he staggered backwards, nearly falling; instead he spread his wings and caught himself. "You didn't even give two week's notice!" said Michael.

There was shouting from somewhere to the side, and he saw -- ah. In the distance down the street he could make out some sort of barrier keeping a crowd of human gawkers to stay back. There was no avoiding notice, but at least they weren't in the thick of the action.

Uriel drew their sword as Michael scrambled to retrieve her spear.

He heated the tar up to stick both their feet to the road, then wrenched it upwards with a miracle, and Michael and Uriel both lost their balance, but now Sandalphon emerged, and Aziraphale's heart was in his throat as he watched Sandalphon eye the humans with interest. "Please, you're all going about this the wrong way," he said, with an unpleasant smile. "He's gone soft, you'll see." Aziraphale could feel him forming a miracle. "All you have to do is pick off a few --"

"No," said Aziraphale, and the skies trembled as he reached for Sandalphon's miracle and pushed. It collapsed back onto him, and suddenly where Sandalphon had been there was a pillar of salt. Several more angels had descended by now, though, and Aziraphale knew he was going to have to escape quickly or he'd be overwhelmed.

A whip of holy fire lashed from one of the new angels' hands and grazed one of his wings. (Jegudiel, Aziraphale thought, automatically. Always the first to leave a meeting, always the last to arrive, but makes up for it by being just full of bad ideas. He had been trying to memorize everybody in Heaven but the most irritating people seemed to be the easiest, alas.) "Look what he did to Sandalphon! Traitor!"

"Oh for -- he was going to do the same thing to a human," said Aziraphale, "and if he'd picked something a bit less lethal he wouldn't be looking at discorporation paperwork now, would he?" He leapt back out of the way of the whip again. Surely Jegudiel didn't actually like Sandalphon that much; surely nobody could. Maybe they just wanted a chance to use the whip? He dodged an arrow from -- who was that, Beburos? He had always gone out of his way to be polite to Beburos, and this was what he got in return, apparently.

And then Saraqael, who Aziraphale had hoped would be too reasonable to join in on this foolishness, emerged from a nearby bank entrance, which they'd apparently managed to make into a lift by sheer force of will. It was a pity they were here, Aziraphale thought, but at least they weren't wielding a weapon -- only suddenly the ground lurched under him and he found himself pitching forward down a very steep incline, and nearly hit his head on a bit of railing that had sprouted in the middle of the road. "This is all very silly," said Saraqael, sounding disappointed but not surprised. "But we did all know it was going to happen, I think? I mean, I certainly did. Just give the book back, Aziraphale, we'll let you --"

"No you won't," said Aziraphale, "unless you think letting me go is the same thing as -- as releasing me only to have me perish with all other life on Earth in a second attempt at the Apocalypse."

"No, that sounds right," said Uriel, stepping forward and holding out their hand. "Look, we're being very generous. Just give us back the book and --"

"I will not be allowing you to destroy this planet and that is final," he said.

"Oh, please, you can't stop us. You don't even know how to read it," said Michael.

"Do you?" Aziraphale asked. "Has any of you even tried?" The looks they exchanged suggested that this had not particularly occurred to them, and that was about right; if Heaven's angels had been human, the Voynich Manuscript would have been nothing but an unpleasantly real chunk of matter. (As it was, of course, they were not human, so it would have been fairly obvious to any of them that the book was one of Raphael's.) "Anyway, I should think you'd be pleased, Michael. Now you have another chance to be in charge! Unless Uriel wins at Paper, Scissors, Stone, or however you decide these things. Or maybe the Metatron will find yet another fool to foist the job off on." He was backing away as he spoke, because now Uriel and Michael were glaring daggers at each other. "What does he have against you two, I wonder?" He had to get out of here -- if not for his own sake, then for the Earth's.

The Metatron chose this moment to walk calmly out onto the street. "I don't have anything against them," he said, and he sounded so reasonable, so calm, and Aziraphale found in his soul an untapped well of loathing. "But I clearly overestimated your ability to handle the stresses of the job. Even so, there's no need to make off with company property."

"There is abundant need," said Aziraphale.

"Well, if your mind can't be changed, it seems we're at an impasse," said the Metatron. He made a careless gesture with one hand, sending Aziraphale flying back into a wall, and then another, and Aziraphale suddenly found himself overwhelmed with six thousand years of grief and regret and loneliness and anger, all at once, so many scenes replaying themselves in his mind, so many things he wished he'd done differently, so many things he'd done wrong. He, an angel of the Lord! It was shameful, how he had indulged himself, how he had given into his own base desires, how he had failed Heaven at every turn, how he had loved --

No. That was not shameful.

Aziraphale made himself stand, shaking. His head hurt very badly and he had to do a bit of healing to keep his vision from swimming. But he drew his sword and stepped forward. "I don't want to hurt you," he said -- and it was definitely a lie this time -- "but I am very prepared to do so if necessary."

The Metatron sighed. "The thing is, I just don't think you are." And as Aziraphale watched, his sword began curling in on itself like burning paper. "Now. Put the sword down and --"

Several things happened at once. There was shouting from the direction of the humans -- he very distinctly heard the word pedestrians! and he was pretty sure he recognized the voice as one of the other Principalities he'd called on. Not that he was a Principality anymore. Or the Supreme Archangel anymore, either, at least in spirit.

But then he heard a motor revving, and he knew he recognized that specific motor, and he panicked, because Crowley was not supposed to be here. Aziraphale lunged at the Metatron, who shook his head sadly at Aziraphale, and with a final gesture, dissolved Aziraphale's sword to ash.

A great black something was approaching, and the Metatron was only a step away, and he was unarmed now, so Aziraphale leapt back -- just in time, as it turned out, because whatever the Voice of God knew of Earth and of Crowley, he didn't know quite enough. The Bentley plowed into him, throwing him back several meters, and the brakes shrieked as the car turned, sliding to a sideways stop just before it ran into the debris of their brief fight. "Angel, come on!" Crowley said, leaning out of the car window, and Aziraphale loved him terribly, and he wished Crowley was anywhere else, safe and sound and ignorant of this entire confrontation.

Michael threw her spear at Crowley's head with perfect aim and terrible velocity. I can't have that, Aziraphale thought, and he threw himself in front of the spear. The momentum was so great that it pushed him right into the car. It hurt, and he could taste blood now, and when Aziraphale tried to move, he realized the point of the spear had gone right through his chest and wedged itself into the car. He thought, suddenly, I hope the repairs aren't too difficult, and then he remembered that they were both going to die if he didn't do something very clever very soon. And he wasn't feeling very clever anymore, unfortunately; he was just feeling extremely stabbed.

[rotschopf-thedrow]

That Dialogue Tag Game

Tagged by the wonderful @dandenbo <3

rules: pick up to 10 characters and share one of your favorite lines of dialogue you have ever written for them!

Major Daryl Coats in my opcoming Kaidan Alenko / Major Coats story "The loneliest Hour":

“I lost my sister and my best friend during the battle of the Citadel,” Coats said softly, taking all fight out of Kaidan. “My sister was one of the navigators of the SSV Madrid. My best friend was a scientist assigned to the SSV Jakarta. Trust me. I do know how you feel.”

2. Chris Shepard and Wrex discuss if the marines on board of the Normandy are paying attention.

Fredricks. Of course. He had seen him equip his omnitool earlier. Naturally, he would try to reduce Shepard’s ability to throw them around like ragdolls. “Good one, Fredricks. At least, one marine who pays attention.” Fredricks actually blushed. “Thank you, sir.” It was that little moment of distraction that Wrex needed to throw Fredricks off balance and put him on his ass. “Are you sure he’s paying attention, Shepard?” “Well, there’s always hope,” Shepard replied, lifting two crates and Williams into the air. “Pay attention!” he barked. “Look at Negulesco! She got the memo!” Everyone turned to look at Negulesco, who was taking cover behind one of the immovable targets. “They don’t learn, do they, Shepard?” “Only the hard way, Wrex,” Shepard returned softly, before he threw all four remaining marines into a barrier. “Dead. All of you.”

3. Chris Shepard and Kaidan Alenko discussion poper protocol. Side note: They have romantic history in that universe:

“Commander on deck!” Joker called when he spotted them, but he made no move to stand up. “At ease, everyone. You don’t need to spring to attention every time my ass is in sight,” he shot back, earning a few laughs and catcalls from the present crew. “Ah. While your ass is certainly attention-worthy, Commander, I don’t think saluting it would be, ah, proper protocol,” Kaidan said quietly enough for him to hear, but for his voice not to carry across the deck. Shepard stopped dead in his tracks, staring after Kaidan. “What the fuck, Alenko?” Kaidan smirked at him and went to the galley. “Careful, Commander. - I’ll have the pancakes. Biotic’s style,” he said to Miller, grinning when the mess sergeant handed him a plate with pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup. “Want some as well, Shepard?” he asked while nodding at Miller to prepare a second plate. “Why do you even ask?” Shepard retorted, sitting down at the mess table. “Because that’s proper protocol. And common curtesy.”

4. This is actually from a tiny scene I wrote for the Big Place server, and the line in question again comes from Major Coats:

“We found him, Kaidan,” Coats said without preamble, and Kaidan’s insides churned. Coats didn’t have to explain who they found. “He’s alive.” “What?” Kaidan looked the other man in the eye, looking for any kind of deceit he didn’t find because Coats was too decent a man to do that to him. “How?” “Hell if I know. Bloody bastard was even conscious and complained about the sun being too bright.” Kaidan choked on his laughter, mixed with tears, and he welcomed Coats’ one-armed embrace. “I’m going to kill him.” Coats snorted, before he pressed a soft kiss to Kaidan’s temple. “Vakarian said the same when he got the news.” “Figures. He can draw a number and get in line,” Kaidan replied.

5. EDI in The Pendulum.

“Jeff and I are in a monogamous relationship, so banging you against a shuttle isn’t a viable course of action.” Kaidan couldn’t help but stare at EDI with his mouth hanging open, and he was glad to see that Joker was just as flabbergasted. “That was a joke.”

6. Joker, a couple of paragraphs later

“You want me to make a ship-wide announcement or something?” Joker said, not even bothering to mask the sarcasm. “Kaidan is back. Everybody: come to the bridge and cram yourself into a tight space because Kaidan’s back!”

Anyone who hasn't been tagged yet? XD @westernlarch, @ficbrish, @briarch, @mallaidhsomo, @clericofshadows, @monowires

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

Blog Update / Muse Retirement

//Hate that it's got to this point. Going to be a bit of a downer here so, read at your own discretion.

There is little to say really. Like many people here, I use RP as a form of escapism to my own stress and life. It makes me genuinely happy to get into character and forget about problems for a while.

These past weeks I have been in dire need of RP more than I had in a very long time. An awful timing really, to hit a slump in interactions.

I did my homework, I tried to network. I reached out. A few became welcome and beautiful mutuals, but many, many many others unfortunately did not. At my age, I tell myself I can handle rejection well, but that is only true to a certain degree. Even if I don't let these feelings impact my routine and real life, they are there nonetheless. And I don't want them to be.

After doing research on how to help with the situation, I have reached the conclusion that I have been in denial just how much my choice to make a multimuse blog has come back to bite me in the ass. Things like anonymous RP confessions say it like it is: multimuse blogs are stigmatized and often passed on without a chance given.

We are considered to be unorganized, lack commitment, and not provide the muses we put in our roster we asked. Personally, I thought multimuse was an excellent idea. I thought that making single blogs muses for such niche fandoms would lead to no activity, since my pool of potential partners would be smaller. I thought a multimuse would equal to fish with a net rather than a rod.

I was wrong, haha.

I can be super organized and tag every post with its fandom; I can provide all the tools for my followers to blacklist fandoms they are not interested in; I can commit to respond to any muse in my roster one may ask for. All this hard work won't amount to anything to those who just look at a number and decide I do none of those things without actually giving me a chance to prove them wrong.

So what is it that I can do? Create single muse blogs. The idea of having to log out and log in from tumblr for each individual muse to check notifications, reblog memes and post replies seems like even more work than what I already am doing, but if it is what gets mutuals, then so be it.

I feel like I have lost a fight here, but RP is a hobby, my favorite hobby, and it shouldn't be making me miserable.

So what is the TLDR? Do not panic. This blog isn't going anywhere anytime soon. But I will be slowly retiring muses that haven't gotten any engagement in months. Those I care to keep will get their own blog, and when those are set up and running, I will update you and provide links for anyone interested.

We are talking about an endeavor that will take months, so do not throw me away as a mutual just yet. This blog will stay up and running until everything else is set up properly. I have over 1500 posts to scan through and decide whether to transfer or not (I hate to leave my own writing behind, I like to go back and reread these threads for my own enjoyment).

In the meantime, I hope to still RP with everyone here. If you want to make sure I update you regarding a specific muse getting their own blog, DM me and I'll write a memo to do so. Just know that it is a long term project.

Thanks to all of my new mutuals and the old ones who have stuck around. You guys are keeping me sane everyday and trust me, this is less of an overstatement than it sounds.

Saru-mun\\

[the-consortium]

Mr. Saqqura? What's your favorite type of tea?

Saqqara reads the question aloud, smiling happily. His ivory-white, even teeth shine in his olive-dark face. "Ah, now that's a good question! There are so few people who can still appreciate it! Well, not appreciate the question. But tea." He wanders around the small room that serves Arrian as a sort of craft room when he wants to get as far away from his colleagues as possible with things that need a lot of concentration.

A memo that Saqqara obviously didn't get, as the Word Bearer completely ignores the fact that Arrian is currently trying to spot-weld something on a drone and clearly has no desire to join the conversation in any way. That his friend reaches for headphones and screws them into his ear canals with determined movements before pulling his mask back down and continuing his work might give a clue. But it doesn't.

Saqqara wanders around the small room, not having much more space than for three or four steps. Then he turns around, walks the other way again. He dodges half-assembled weapon systems and a few sacks of seed.

He reaches Arrian in his steady pacing back and forth across the room and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Something no one should do to a World Eater uninvited. Especially not when he is concentrating and not paying attention to his surroundings (which in itself is a great sign of trust).

Arrian roars and throws himself around, his fist whizzing through the area where Saqqara's head had been a tenth of a second ago. The Word Bearer's Astartes-reflexes have saved him from getting his face pulverised and he has jumped back. He now looks at Arrian, slightly offended. The latter pulls the welding mask off his head and the headphones out of his ears. The music he had been listening to rumbles faintly through the room. Arrian's face is distorted from the sudden onset of the nails, his whole posture showing that he wants to strike, to fight, to kill. That a hair's breadth separates him from the loss of control Angron's sons experience all the time. "Have you completely lost your mind now, Word Bearer?!"

"I was talking to you." - "No, you didn't!" - "All right. Yes. But …" - "But nothing! You want to talk about tea? Fine! I'll say something about your tea! You drink the worst tea in the known galaxy. You put enough sugar in it to give a Grox bull instant diabetes. The only reason you have any teeth left at all is because we can't get cavities! And it's my fault, because I have such a soft brain that I even grew you that mint substitute. I make that crap possible in the first place. Science help me, I'm an enabler! And it's all to distract you from the fact that I don't have the slightest desire to grow you the plants you use to brew the stuff on Sicarus that makes your head completely fly off. The path of the lesser evil. That's your fucking mint tea! The lesser of two evils!"

The twitches that had been running down Arrian's cheeks and neck ebb away. The impact of the nails weakens, disappears. The World Eater groans, buries his face in his hands and sinks back onto his stool. "Oh damn."

Saqqara approaches him again - slower and more carefully this time, leaning against him and wrapping his arms around his friend. Somewhat awkwardly, he strokes his back.

"You and the Chief Apothecary. You drink too much coffee."

Arrian sighs.

[theteasetwrites]

Well I just watched episode 23. Here are my thoughts. 🥲

Spoilers for TWD season 11 episode 23. Don’t read if you haven’t watched it because some shit goes down.

Love that they’re all heading for commonwealth to fuck shit up

Ok I am actually pissed tf off about Daryl letting Judith come with them. Daryl she’s like 11 years old. Idc how “tough” she is, she should not be allowed to fight in a literal warzone where there are automatic rifles being shot at your people. I absolutely HATE how they’ve written Daryl to allow that. They’re making him make such a stupid ass decision that I feel like he would never make (another OOC moment because the writers don’t know Daryl as a character anymore). Daryl makes stupid decisions sometimes, but this is beyond stupid. Daryl, I know you would be a better parent than that and yet they’ve written you like you have the common sense of a potato

Also Judith begging to go with them all the time is so annoying to me like girl you are a literal child know your place read the room and stop trying to be an adult it’s just annoying at this point we get it your parents were Rick and Michonne pls shut up about it🙄

Hi when am I supposed to start caring about Annie or her and Negan’s stupid unborn baby I think I missed the memo

NOT LYDIA. NOT LYDIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. I gasped. When I tell you I sat up in my bed at 3am and GASPED. I love Lydia so much. But at least it was just her arm and Aaron was with her and helped amputate, but still. Also when Aaron said “you are so loved Lydia” 🥹 I love this man so much you don’t understand he is actually the best character right next to Daryl don’t @ me I’m right also I cared more about Lydia than I did Judith in this ep 🫣

I hope Elijah and Jerry make it in the herd, but tbh I am not going to get my hopes up because they are both fair game at this point unfortunately 😔 who is going to take care of Jerry’s 20 kids

I love that Mercer is helping them out now! He really is a great character I think. It’s just so frustrating that he got snitched on but you know what they say about snitches

Ezekiel pls you don’t have to be nice to Negan it’s ok (I love him for that tho, we stan a bigger person) also if they kill Ezekiel I will stab someone anyway

I really really hope Rosita finds her baby. I wonder why Coco wasn’t at Alexandria like the other kids??

Connie is so sweet to that guy idk his name but you know. That guy. Too bad he DIES

Oh yeah and Judith gets shot. Um so I am not a big Judith fan at all so like obviously I am slightly sad but also… I mostly just care about how Daryl is going to deal with it because he is totally going to blame himself (as he should bc WHAT DID YOU THINK WOULD HAPPEN BESTIE 😭). Daryl has lost so many people and he always blames himself for it and idk it just really bothers me that they’re doing this to him AGAIN like let my man have ONE DAY where someone’s death isn’t indirectly his fault and/or affects him greatly. We don’t even know if Judith is gonna die but yeah it’s not looking good. I mean they’re not going to get great medical care in the middle of a full-blown war AND a walker attack (with the advanced updated DLC version of walkers thrown in too)

I honestly don’t care that much if Judith dies but I also don’t want Daryl to have to deal with that because DAMN he is going to be devastated he has lost so much man it’s really not fair. I think he has suffered more than any character on this show and I don’t think it is controversial to say that because just considering the sheer amount of shit he has dealt with and seen is insane. I would say he is going to need therapy after this but apocalypse 😔

But also Daryl you dumb bitch lol ofc this was going to happen you should have never let a CHILD into a WARZONE you big himbo

I’d still give him a blowjob tho he’s gonna need one after this

Anyway

Also Pamela suck the fattest cock you are such an asshole I hate you and I can’t wait to watch you die I hope Daryl kills you too 😘

Ok that’s all I think?? Idk this episode was a whirlwind. I am scared for the next one (esp since Daryl is laying on the ground?!?! HELP)