#the tumor might not be... um. whats the name for it...

[sar3nka]

My vet is optimistic abt Bezi's state btw. Said that the surgeon telling me euthanasia might be the most humane thing to do was very wrong. Essentially I'm calm now.

Also she said that if I do put any of my rats down I can have not only the teeth and claws back but the entire body! Which is technically illegal cuz the body is supposed to be burned whole but!!! Yeah!!!

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Bang

First posted: October 4, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne

Favorite bookmark: "No spoilers, but if OP doesnt write a sequel I will literally die."

Second favorite bookmark: "The noises that came from me when I reached the end of that countdown were, um, violent. 😭"

Tier: Middle of the pack

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

I am so friggin' proud of this fic, I can't lie. It's such a powerful little one-shot, and I'm pleased with how I did it, and I'm pleased with the reaction it received. Gold star, me.

There was a bomb in the school. And the rec center. The Grove Street bank. The post office on Utica. The Nockaphee Building. The newly opened inner city hospital.

Once again, my dreaded foe, logistics. I knew what I wanted the crux of the story to be with Jason and Damian, so then I had to backtrack and figure out the scenario that best fit. Not one bomb but multiple, to scatter the family around (because there are so dang MANY and they're always RIGHT THERE in the city), and where a villain might be most inclined to stash them. I know where I got the names for the bank and the post office, but no idea for the Nockaphee Building. Google shrugs at me.

Bombs all over Gotham, embedded in the spines of community spaces and corporate structures like ticking tumors.

This inversion still tickles me.

Batman and Black Bat had bypassed evacuation to head straight to the source. Stop the bomber, stop the bomb. The rest of them were merely backup, protection in case the caped pair failed. Their job was evacuation. Get everyone out and keep them away. Every time they were given a new location, a segment of the core broke off until their forces were scattered wide across the city.

Again, friggin logistics. I duck and dodge plot as much as I can, because I don't care, there is so little actual plot to my fics. But I am as careful as I can be about seeding in realistic barriers into my story. I don't want to stop the whole story to say "Well, you see, they couldn't do XYZ because" or handwave away the most obvious solution to the problem at hand. I want it to make sense why each person is doing what they're doing (or not doing.)

Jason wasn’t normally a keep-tabs person, but explosions made him nervous.

Again, weaving plausible explanations and justifications in a way that also tells a little bit more about what relations are like between Jason and the fam right now.

The one moment of potential disaster—the bomb tucked into the belly of the rec center had malfunctioned and gone off on its own—had resulted only in property damage and no loss of life. The bomb maker hadn’t even set them all to run independently but instead had retained control via a mechanism that turned deliberate detonation into an all-or-nothing deal. All Batman had to do was incapacitate the bomb maker and turn off the controls.

Ugh, this bit of seeding was so tricky. A lot of partially started mental dead ends before I figured out these two pieces: setting up the rec center and the all-or-nothing bomb.

Jason wasn’t fluent in all of them—and had done his best to forget most of them—but he knew that a “hrnn,” unlike a “hnn” or a “mm,” was not a good sign.

This was plucked directly from the group chat. Certain members have a habit of reacting with typed out grunts like Bruce, so I've had time to appreciate the nuance.

Normally, it would be Nightwing’s job to nudge Batman into using his big boy words, but Officer Grayson had been on duty when the emergency alarm rang.

More logistical justification loaded and ready to go.

Jason leaped to the next building and ducked down, pressing his back against the low retention wall.

I don't know, I just like this. If this were a visual medium like a movie, you'd be able to see Jason deliberately blocking out the world so he can focus on whatever horrible thing is about to happen.

Okay. Okay. He was expecting worse. Jason scowled.

The double okay is a very me thing. There are two different tones involved but that's hard to invoke in writing.

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. This was why Jason refused to be affiliated with these people. They were all idiots. “I didn’t want Batman to worry.” Yeah, because Batman wasn’t a grown adult who couldn’t handle his own crap. Obviously. So the little gremlin had lied about where he was, concealed an injury, and now was calling Hood like his own personal Uber. And Jason was going to let him, because he was also an idiot, apparently. “You’re a brat, you know that?” Jason growled as he hauled himself to his feet again. “Fine. Fine! Where are you?”

I personally l o v e this because right now Jason doesn't actually know what's going on, he just thinks he does, so you get to see his reaction to the assumed situation of "The baby of the family did something stupid and got hurt so I get to be mad about that but obviously I'm still going to help and then I'm probably going to make his life miserable for worrying me retroactively."

“The shelving units fell on me. I extricated myself, but something is blocking the doors. I can’t—I am—I made it to the supply closet.”

Damian is being amazingly patient through all this, if you think about it. But I guess he doesn't want to have to say it all out loud yet, so maybe he's just procrastinating. Once Jason understands, then it's real.

“I wanted to know if it hurt.”

That was my cornerstone line, right there. That's the whole reason I wrote the fic. I wanted someone to say this to Jason, because they needed to know. Please picture me dabbing.

This wasn’t happening. He’d just seen the kid a couple hours ago. They’d nodded while passing to their own teams. He’d left a movie about a dog on Jason’s windowsill last week.

It's such a little piece, but I wanted to hint at the utter disorientation of traumatic tragedy, how quickly the day can change and the swooping sensation a person might feel amid that change. Also, even as Jason has spent this entire fic being like "We don't talk!" I did want to seed in that they still interact. Damian trades movies he likes with Jason. He knows where Jason's safe house is. Jaosn is upset that he's about to die.

I would go back and change all those contractions, though. And having two different he pronouns back to back without tying them to a proper noun is just bad form.

Jason couldn’t lie, not even to a little kid.

This appears to be a tiny bit of Ronan Lynch seeping into Jason. Huh. @audreycritter are you seeing this

It had hurt to the point beyond pain, like every cell, every molecule, every atom had been lit up like a Christmas tree.

That "like a Christmas tree" is from something and for the life of me I can't remember what.

Don’t say please to me. Don’t say thank you. Don’t say things that you only say because you think you’re about to die.

I write this kind of thought pattern a lot to exemplify stress and grief. I don't know how I feel about this realization.

“No.” No matter how Jason tried, it was impossible to miss the tears in the boy’s voice now. “It would kill him, having to listen. And he’ll be so angry. I cannot—I-I cannot die knowing he’s angry with me. Please don’t call Richard.”

This was where my throat started to hurt. I don't remember where exactly I started to actually cry while writing.

“You understand. You can tell them. Tell them I-I’m sorry. And that I was brave?”

It was definitely by here, though.

Jason cleared the stairwell, slowing only slightly to duck under the sagging ceiling and pick his way through the debris-strewn hallway.

Oh hey. I don't use any details here but rereading reminded me that I based the rec center on parts of a real place so that I could visualize what Jason would have to get through to get to Damian. Totally forgot.

Ten seconds. Jason lunged at the barrier, roaring as he tore aside mountains with his hands. Nine.

I think building in the countdown itself helped with the tension. It definitely helped with the writing. Generally speaking, the length of sentences should match the pacing of the action itself. For tense writing, you really want short, snappy sentences, but I am a wordy bird who loves long multi-part sentences. See: this paragraph. So hacking up the action into short sentences bracketed by a single digit countdown really helped with the vibe.

“Jason?” Damian gasped over the earpiece. “I don’t want it to hurt. I don’t want it to hurt.”

That would be me. Dying is scary, but the pain before it is scarier.

Jason threw himself into the closet and shut the door.

Sometimes a lack of closure is fun, actually.

Funny story: I didn't actually consider that readers would think I set the bomb off and killed them both. I was new, hadn't done any sad-ending fics before, and also it's comics. Even when characters die, they come back in a few months, so it doesn't really count.

So my notifications start blowing up in the middle of a football game and I had to figure out if I wanted to continue the story...

[sonkitty]

The Sideburns Scheme Post #42

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 3, I Know Where I'm Going, not a foot

...

Sideburns Check

The above image is brightened a little.

The sideburns are still pointing to Crowley's mouth. That's what they tend to do when Crowley is not in the mausoleum during this minisode.

The space itself is within a human space with many lit candles at night. Crowley both sits and stands during the scene. All three characters do not wear hats during the entire scene. Both Crowley and Aziraphale are no longer wearing gloves.

...

Comparison

Here is a comparison picture between the last scene and this one, also brightened a little.

The curls on Crowley's right side of his head are more defined in this space than the last.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Aziraphale's vendetta against the backs of chairs has activated, so there's some extra thing in his chair that he has his back to, that's not in the other chairs.

Both Aziraphale and Mr. Dalrymple sit the entire time.

Crowley stands to pick up the container Mr. Dalrymple indicates with a tumor inside.

Each character touches a glass of whiskey during the scene.

Aziraphale touches the container with the tumor after Crowley passes it to him.

Mr. Dalrymple says the name, "Dr. McFell."

Aziraphale has questions with, "I'm sorry?" and, "But if you're in such dire need of bodies, why not dig them up yourself instead of making the poor and the desperate do it?"

Mr. Dalrymple has a question with, "Seriously, though?"

Mr. Dalrymple addresses Crowley as, "Doctor," which might qualify well enough for a name substitute as a title.

Crowley has a question with, "Well, in my professional opinion, that seems to be... I say that seems to me a... um... well, what do you think?"

Mr. Dalrymple has a number and a question with, "If you two smart gentlemen can't identify it, then what are my students to make of it?" Then he has another number with, "I removed this tumor from a seven-year-old boy. "

Aziraphale has a question with, "And...is he...?"

...

For pockets, I won't log it all here, but I'll share at least the following:

Aziraphale is visually pocketed between chairs when it's shown that the back to his particular chair is different.

Crowley is briefly visually pocketed between candles when he stands.

...

Story Commentary

(For reference Post #26 (my side)) The scene starts with Aziraphale looking at the drink in hesitance.

Much like in the A Companion to Owls minisode, the camera itself is making specific choices about what it shows when it comes to drinking alcohol. Mr. Dalrymple is shown finishing taking a drink when Aziraphale is asking him about digging up the bodies himself. When the scene finishes, as Mr. Dalrymple is about take a drink, the camera cuts away before the drink actually enters his mouth.

Crowley is heavily implied to be drinking. He raises his glass when saying, "More murders! I'll drink to that!" He raises it again in agreement with Aziraphale about the item in the jar not being a foot. He reaches for a bottle filled with more. However, the camera never, ever shows him in the actual act of drinking.

...

I think this minisode is supposed to match Pestilence of the four Horseman of the Apocalypse, given the context of Mr. Dalrymple talking about the tumor.

...

Present Day Aziraphale

Let's check in on Aziraphale's side of things with the forming connection.

I'm not going over the entire scene, just a few parts.

As Aziraphale parks, or more likely the car is parking itself, the car is shown to have acquired its new extra doors in its transformation.

Aziraphale also shows the interior of the driver's door has changed.

He wears a hat with a "66" on it. Is he trying to be a demon beacon?

He uses a pocket for his notepad and pen.

The road looks different from when he walks across the street to the road shown as he arrives closer to the pub.

When he arrives at the pub, he finally sees the barrel next to the jukebox. The drawing of Gabriel he shows is different than the one the story has shown him working on. This drawing shows a turtleneck and looks more like Gabriel did when Aziraphale last saw Gabriel in season 1 at the air base.

With a look to the pub sign after exit, we are taken back into the minisode.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

[mlobsters]

supernatural s9e22 stairway to heaven (w. andrew dabb)

confederate flag in the banana split...? apparently last episode s8e6 southern comfort that was covered in them too was set in missouri as well

sam, now you're sleeping on top of the covers in jeans too? we're regressing

SAM What's wrong with you? I could have shot you. [checks his watch] Why aren't you sleeping? We got in like two hours ago.

probably feel slightly more rested if you were in comfy clothes under the covers. just sayin

obligated to point out bedroom vanity sink situation

DEAN I called Cas. He said there's something going down in Missouri. SAM What kind of something? DEAN He said he couldn't talk about it over the phone. SAM Why? DEAN Because he is a weird guy, okay? He's a weird, dorky, little guy. But he happens to have an army of Angels behind him, and, even though I hate to say it, if we're gonna take a shot at Metatron, they might be useful.

lol

SAM Well, do you think we need the First Blade? Why don't we just leave that here? DEAN We talked about this, and we decided that -- SAM No. In all fairness, we didn't decide. You did.

appreciate that

DEAN Okay, I decided that a hockey stick that can kill anything might come in handy, so sue me. SAM How many times have we been around this block? Magic that powerful comes at a price, and right now we don't know what that price is.

s4e20 the rapture

you end up with a gutter bunny sam situation

DEAN I'm fine. I'm fan-friggin'-tastic. SAM And I'm glad, honestly. I'm not saying we bury the thing. I'm saying we just save it for when we really need it. Crowley. Metatron. The big boss fights. You don't have to have it with you all the time, right? I mean, just leave it. Please. DEAN [setting the blade to the side] No problem. SAM Thank you.

let me guess, he doubles back and grabs it anyway

haha okay andrew dabb. did follow up saying some really shitty stuff, so we can gloss over the shade

SAM Uh, roll call? You hold, uh, roll call? CASTIEL They like to hear me say their names. DEAN I know a couple of women like that.

what a weird, weird line to go with (castiel's). it wasn't creepy before but it sure is now!

boop boop command shell results lemme click

DEAN Cas, I know you try to be a good guy, okay? I do. You try. But what you got here, this is a a freakin' cult. CASTIEL Dean. DEAN And the last time you had this kind of juice, you did kill humans and angels, and you did nothing but lie to me and Sam about it the whole damn time! SAM Can we, uh -- can we take this somewhere else, guys? [They enter CASTIEL's private office] SAM Will you stow the baggage, Dean.

understandable baggage, but also yes

CASTIEL No. If you don't want my help, then I will follow Josiah's trail to Colorado. I have to do something, Dean. DEAN All right, fine. But Sam's coming with you. SAM What? CASTIEL Because you don't trust me? DEAN To help.

well sam and cas quality time, then. can chat about wtf is up with dean. and sam seems to have fully stowed his baggage, i mean, breaking the wall in his head kind of feels unforgivable but i guess not

CASTIEL Abaddon is dead. SAM And then some. CASTIEL Oh, no. SAM Okay. Um...Ominous.

cute

CASTIEL He does seem angry. I mean, he's always a little angry, but now it seems like...more. I think a part of him actually believed that I ordered those angels to, you know...Sam, you don't, do you? SAM No, man. Cas, listen. You got a weird thing going on back there. Those other angels, the way they stare at you, I-it's like you're part rock star, part L. Ron. CASTIEL They've put their faith in me. SAM And maybe that's the problem. I mean, people have been doing messed up crap in the name of faith -- in the name of God -- since forever.

sam's being so earnest and open

FLAGSTAFF Not funny "ha ha." But you thinking you help people -- it's amusing. I help people. A clogged artery here, a tumor there. I do good in this world. You -- you believe every problem can be solved with a gun. You play the hero, but underneath the hype, you're a killer with oceans of blood on his hands. I hate men like you. DEAN Honey, there ain't no other men like me.

kind of fair, kind of not. but poking the already pissed off bear who you think is a murderer anyway, maybe not the best call?

also sure, tessa. why not

DEAN Yeah. See, that just doesn't sound like the Cas I know. TESSA But doesn't it, though? And the Cas you know, would he raise an army of angels without telling you? 'Cause this Cas did.

ouch. and surprising no one, dean does in fact have the first blade. he's a few stabbings away from his own gutter bunny moment, i think

glad they clarified in conversation that she threw herself on the blade

SAM We had a deal. DEAN Yeah, well, it was a stupid deal. SAM Really? 'Cause if you'd stuck to it, Tessa would still be alive. Without her, we ain't got jack. DEAN Yeah, you think I don't know that? You think I wanted that to happen? SAM I don't know, Dean. Did you? CASTIEL All right, that's enough. Stop it.

sorry, dad 😔

so cas has to kill dean or everyone will leave. sure, why not!! it's not as bad as the leviathans but good grief i'm tired of this

METATRON So? Well, that's an old writer's trick -- flipping the script. You start by building up a seemingly unbeatable enemy, like the death star, or a rival angel with a bigger army. That way, I look like the underdog. But then, oh, no! The competition gets greedy. He starts pushing things too much. With the help of my combustible double agents. And then, after a rousing speech, his true weakness is revealed. He's in love with humanity. And now...I'm inevitable.

*taps the sign*

also the pause "he's in love .... with humanity" was that one for the destiel shippers :p

CASTIEL Long enough to destroy Metatron, I hope. But without an army... DEAN Well, hey, you still got us. CASTIEL Dean. Those bombers -- you don't really think that I -- DEAN Cas, you just gave up an entire army for one guy. No, there's no way that you blew those people away. CASTIEL You really believe we three will be enough? DEAN We always have been.

trying to remember when they actually solved a big problem with cas. he was there with getting lucifer in the cage... blowing up dick roman/in purgatory. hum. too tired i think, will have to look it up later

GADREEL I've...made mistakes. But haven't you? Haven't we all?

understatement of the century lol

little slice from the first blade for his trouble, again surprising no one

well that one had some fun punchy moments, jackles is getting to use his detached face a lot, sam's still on the empathy overload train. but i am so weary of the angel plotline

[bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet]

PUPPET HISTORY FINALE

we made it y’all. i’m so scared of what i’m about to witness.

no woosh. that’s new.

EDIT: i actually am dumb and just was too excited and missing it. the woosh read: birds chirping not knowing that a meteor is about to hit and kill everyone they love.

awww oh my god. this is gonna be devastating isn’t it. i’m worried for my emotions.

ah yes the crouton period. my favorite.

the permian period (not much going on here) so true

they call the sun big-O??? that’s strangely sweet.

we love pangea.

i really want the answer to be pansea. it’s not but oh well.

i really love that the parents understand none of this but really trying to be supportive. despite being confused.

“we’re gonna live forever” oh. oh no.

we stan the polyamorous dino parents. slay for them.

“movies are like life but not” is the gucci brand to “the movie feels like a movie”

oh man that skit was giving divorce

hehehe right…. no climate problems…. is what some people would like to believe

i am very scared of where this episode is going

this argument is uh something. i apparently need to watch tenet to understand.

tumors really aren’t fun but uh go off i guess

love a good titanic reference. especially when we’re referencing the episode.

uhhhh professor. bud. um. well. you see.

oh ho ho puppet future

i love communication. people should get better at that. it is the key to a lot of things.

this is so unrelated to the actual episode but i love the little animation of the professor in a space suit.

yeah i don’t think they understand measurements. which is fine.

i guess yelling at the rock is one way of handing it. but yeah no it would not work. i have a feeling nowadays we’d just blow the meteor up.

this description of what happens when the meteor hits the earth is terrifying and i very much do not like it.

i appreciate the dino parents trying but it’s very unfortunately not that simple.

A BILLION NUCLEAR BOMBS?????????????? THATS SO MANY

jesus fucking christ this sounds like a very bad time. y’all i really don’t like this. and i don’t like how this is undoubtedly going to end.

it’s gonna be a tsunami isn’t it. because it’s gonna get worse. that’s the only thing i- fucking hell not the acid rain. and there’s the tsunami.

well fuck. this is why i never learned about this. i felt like it’d make me sad. and i was right.

awww i appreciate that they’re trying

DID SHE JUST SAY MEXICO

that was uh…. fun i guess….

well. uh. i uh might cry. this is so fun for me.

side note their names are dinosir and dinosara

i’m uh doing really well. definitely not crying.

i appreciate him yelling for ryan of all people.

ryan who’s getting the shit kicked out of him by a hologram

YEAH YOU PUNCH THAT SUCKER

he really just hit him with the puppet vape huh

WHERES THE EXAMPLE WINDOW

oh oh no comet hit.

aww ryan. bud you tried.

oh god this is so happy

YEAH OUT THE FUCKING WINDOW

awww the parents are okay

well i guess that’s it y’all

damn that was a ride

[kiranatrix]

What Comes Out in the Wash

Day 1: Hair @deathnotetober

Characters: Light, L, Watari, & mentions of Sayu // Rating: Gen; platonic (or Lawlight if you squint) // Summary: L wakes up with a huge rat’s nest in his hair and Watari says ‘handle it yourself,’ so Light has to help.

Co-written with @resilicns

——-

Sleep was something that was becoming increasingly rare for L to achieve these days, and when he did, it could hardly be called restful. He’d spend those few measly hours tossing, turning, kicking, and just squirming in general. When he slept on his own, this was hardly an issue, but now that he was sharing a bed with Light, things were getting a bit complicated.

L grunted quietly, pushing his elbow and forearm down into the bed as he lifted his head up off of the pillow, resting on his side. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he gazed around the room drowsily, trying to desperately grasp for awareness, until his gaze landed on a mirror. He lifted his other hand to feel his hair, touching the knotted mess he had noticed in his reflection. His hair was almost comparable to a bird’s nest at this point. Grimacing, he lifted the receiver off of the phone on the end table, pressing the button mapped to dial Watari’s phone in his office. He held it up to his ear and sighed quietly.

“Watari? I need you to come to my room. My hair is in need of brushing this morning,” L muttered, wincing as one of his fingers caught on a tangle and yanked the strand in that brief instant.

“Apolog--” Quillsh had covered the receiver to try and mask his hacking cough but it still came through the line. “Apologies, sir. It seems I’m unwell. I wouldn’t want to infect you with whatever I have. It’s quite dismal.” He held the phone away to sneeze several times into a monogrammed handkerchief. “You’ll have to make do on your own today.”

L paled slightly, holding the receiver away from his face for a second to stare at it as if it had personally offended him. When he held it back up to his ear, he sighed quite loudly. “I suppose we’ll have to inform the task force that they have the day off, today. However,” he frowned, pushing himself up into a sitting position as he clutched the phone. “Who will brush my hair? Who will prepare my meals? Who will select my clothing?” While he knew the latter was not necessary, the panic in his voice made it obvious he wasn’t thinking clearly.

Light opened one eye to see what all the fuss was about, frowning as he glared up at L. He hadn’t even gotten to sleep until after 3 am because L insisted on bringing his laptop to bed, loudly clacking on the keyboard and munching on panda cookies. The clock on the nightstand said it was just 6:30 am. I’m expected to work on a measly 3 hours sleep?!

“Can you keep your voice down, Ryuzaki?,” he huffed while turning over. “I’m not getting up until 7 and that’s that.”

Quillsh replied to L, “Everything will be fine. You know as well as I do that all your clothes are the same, no selection required. There are cakes and fruit in the refrigerator, and instant coffee if you can’t bother with the coffeemaker.”

He sighed tiredly, barely able to muster the energy needed to argue with L. “As for your hair...no time like the present to pick up a brush and try it yourself.” It was really past time for L to do that anyway but it meant time not focused on work, and was thus always deprioritized.

L gritted his teeth, gripping his own hair in his hand as his anxiety spiked just from the thought of trying to brush it himself. “But-..!” He stopped himself, squirming and making the bed bounce slightly. He completely ignored Light, his attention entirely focused on the call. “…alright. My apologies for disturbing you. Please get some rest and take care of yourself,” he murmured, quietly saying his polite goodbyes before hanging up the phone.

He turned to face forward, glancing at Light out of the corner of his eyes. He stared at the younger man for only a few seconds, moving to the end table and pulling out one of his hair brushes. He took a deep, loud breath to try and settle himself in preparation. However, no amount of preparation could prepare him for the instant pain that followed one frantic and barely-effective brush through his hair. He immediately chucked the item away from himself, hugging his knees to his chest in defeat.

Light snickered into his pillow and looked over his shoulder. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to try?” He turned over to face L, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Don’t tell me that the World’s Greatest Detective has been defeated by an eeeevil tangle,” he teased. He couldn’t help but rub it in a little after all the grief L had put him through lately.

L shot Light a bitter glare, his eyes slightly moist from the shock of pain. “It is painful, and I am choosing to avoid engaging in painful activities. I will just wait until Watari is well enough to brush my hair,” he huffed, averting his gaze. In truth, he knew his hair would only be even more impossibly tangled- potentially unsalvageable by the time the man was no longer ill.

“That is…” Light sat up and leveled L with an unimpressed stare. “...the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just going to get worse if you put it off, and who even knows if he’ll be better tomorrow.” He leaned closer to examine L’s bedhead and let out a low whistle. Somehow, in the span of just 3 hours of sleep, the back of L’s head had gone from normal looking (for him) to a mess of matted, knotted hair. “Ok, I’ll admit that is pretty bad. I think even your tangles have tangles.”

He looked from the chaotic labyrinth of hair to the discarded brush thrown in the corner. L’s going to be a miserable grouch all day if this doesn’t get fixed. That made even the prospect of having the day off seem unappealing given who he was chained to. Plus, every moment they weren’t working, he was denied the chance to clear his name.

“Let me take a crack at it.” He glanced at L, giving him a little shrug like ‘why not?’ “It’s not like I can make it any worse.”

“You could still hurt me,” L muttered, glowering at Light. His expression was similar to a pout at this point, as if he was on the verge of crossing his arms and huffing.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Light sighed, still half-asleep. “I used to brush Sayu’s hair all the time when she was little.” Under his breath he murmured, “Anyway, you’d just tag on an assault charge onto my long list of ‘crimes’.’”

L hesitated for a moment before climbing off of the bed and retrieving the brush. Thankfully it wasn’t too far that the chain would cause any issues. He set the brush down in front of Light and sat down with his back towards the man. This is a terrible idea. However, if he goes out of his way to harm me, I can hold that against him.

Light picked up the brush tentatively, making a face at how overloaded with wiry black hair it was. “Hold on…it’s not going to do any good like this.” He pulled off the hair and dropped it from pinched fingers in the trash can beside the bed. “Ok, now we’re ready. Just...” He trailed off as he blinked at the back of L’s head-- specifically, the tumor-like protrusion of hair sticking out from the back. How could it have possibly gotten this bad?! Maybe I’m out of my depth here. “Um. Do you brush your hair every day, Ryuzaki?”

“Watari brushes it in the morning when it needs it,” L murmured, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. “He brushes it less now that I’m older.” Or now that he’s older.

Light fingered a few tangled tufts but didn’t pull, just surveying the damage to undo. “Have you...thought of using conditioner?”

L had to fight the urge to tilt his head, instead making a soft humming sound as he considered it. “No, I believe using soap for all of my washing is still the most efficient option. I see no reason that liquid soap is not enough to wash both my hair and my body.”

Light made a noise between a choke and a gasp, finally forcing out, “No...no, it’s...no, not at…” He sighed in exasperation, suddenly understanding why they were here. Closing his eyes, he said calmly, “After I untangle this, I’m washing your hair with shampoo and proper conditioner, got it?” He counted to ten and opened his eyes. Well, nothing to do but get started.

Carefully, he focused first on brushing the parts that weren’t tangled (or not as badly) to get a sense for the thickness of L’s hair and how tender-headed he was. Light knew that probably even a normal tug or the slightest discomfort might end this endeavor; he had to tread carefully. “This would be easier if you sat still and stopped fidgeting.” He placed a hand on L’s shoulder to try and keep him in one place, but quickly pulled back in case he’d overstepped.

L stiffened up slightly, biting his lower lip. However, instead of pulling away, he mumbled a quiet apology and did his best to keep his body still. He continued to fidget with his hands, rapping his fingers on his knees as he sat there, flinching occasionally when Light pulled too hard for his comfort. In truth, none of it was comfortable, but the man’s touch was surprisingly bearable. He wasn’t nearly as harsh as he had expected he would be, and it seemed as if he was adjusting to L’s reactions. “If you insist,” he mumbled, huffing quietly.

As Light got closer to the epicenter of the tangle, he started to sweat a little. Wait, is that--? Finally he had spotted the catalyst for the rat’s nest. A half-eaten lollipop was embedded and wrapped up in L’s hair, with the stick poking out at a jaunty and infuriating angle. “Ryuzaki…” He touched the stick, wiggling it slightly. “Did you happen to be eating lollipops in bed last night?”

A deep shade of red bloomed in L’s cheeks, travelling far enough to peek around his neck. “...no,” he mumbled, his tone incredibly sheepish as he blatantly lied. He couldn’t stop himself from squirming now, staring down at his hands as he shifted on the bed. He knew Light would be able to tell, but some small part of him felt embarrassed enough to try and hide it.

Light leaned to whisper in L’s ear, “Liar.” He gave the stick a little tweak. “The evidence speaks for itself, detective.” He laughed and shifted on the bed, reaching for a bottle of lotion in the nightstand. “This calls for desperate measures. That brush isn’t going to help at all,” he said, tossing it aside. “Not until I get that lollipop out.” With Sayu, he’d once used peanut butter to get some chewing gum out of her hair but really anything oily would do. He settled behind L again and squirted the lotion on his fingers, working it into the knots. “This might hurt a little but you don’t want to walk around with candy in your head do you?”

“It certainly sounds like a convenient carrying solution, freeing both of my hands to do work,” L muttered, his lips twitching faintly in amusement at his own joke. His breath hitched and he hissed quietly in pain as he felt his hair being tugged. “Ow...” He whined, his hand twitching briefly with the urge to reach back and swat at Light’s hand. “Be more gentle..!”

“Sorry,” Light mumbled. “Got a little too focused.” He slowed down his pace and methodically peeled away the hair from the sticky candy, nose wrinkling at the unappetizing gloops of lotion and red sugar coating his fingers. But, it was working! Bit by bit, knot by knot, the lollipop finally came free.

“Got it!,” he said triumphantly, holding up the mangled sucker. It was odd how satisfied he felt. Maybe it was because L only complained half a dozen instead of three dozen times, but he was all smiles as he showed it to L. “The accused stands before you. How do you judge?” He giggled and held it over the trash.

L was shaken and tense by the time Light was finally finished. It wasn’t that the man had hurt him- no, the process was quite painless after the first few tugs. However, he kept expecting pain, anticipating it, even though it never came. Once the man was done, he relaxed, staring at the candy. For once, he didn’t have the urge to shove the sweet into his mouth (although that may have been because of the hairs protruding from it).

“…guilty,” he mumbled, plucking it from Light’s fingers and dropping it into the trash can. He reached back to touch his hair, immediately grimacing at the unpleasant texture of melted candy and lotion mixed with hair. “…I suppose I’ll be needing my hair washed after all,” he muttered.

Light frowned a little that his joke had flopped, but what did he expect? “You’re welcome,” he grumbled as he got up off the bed to the length of the chain. “Come in the bathroom then and I’ll wash it in the sink. Need to wash my hands, too.” You don’t deserve my nice hair products but that’s all we’ve got. He’d be damned if he’d use liquid soap like L usually did. Just the thought made him shudder, rattling the handcuff chain between them.

L followed Light into the bathroom, shedding his shirt in the process to avoid it getting wet. He unclipped his end of the chain to remove the shirt completely, immediately latching the chain back on after. “How should I stand?” He stared at the sink in mild confusion, unsure of how to wash his hair in a non-shower setting.

“Over there,” Light gestured with his chin, “until I clean myself up.” He maneuvered around L and turned the water on with his elbow, scrubbing furiously until all the melted lollipop and lotion swirled down the drain. Why am I bothering to help him? I should have just left it there and taken the day off. I need one.

He dried his hands and grabbed his shampoo and conditioner that his mother had brought him from home, purchased from his favorite salon. The sleek bottles only reminded him of how much he needed a haircut, of how much he’d taken for granted all the little freedoms like that. The reflection looking back at him in the mirror-- bangs hanging in his eyes, wispy strands long enough to tuck behind his ears-- reinforced it. L may be a mess but so was he. The realization didn’t help his mood any.

He gave L a cold glance and pointed to the still-running warm water in the sink. “So...just stick your head under the faucet.”

L glanced back and forth from the sink to Light for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. He then moved closer to the sink, leaning down and hesitantly pushing his head under the water. He immediately jerked back when some ended up in his ear, an uncharacteristic squeak escaping his lips as his face scrunched up. He tilted his head, shaking it as if trying to get the water out. His hands rest on the sink, gripping it tightly to keep himself upright. Once he had calmed down, he took a deep breath and put his head under again, this time keeping it there as he closed his eyes.

Light crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one leg. If L couldn’t even stand the water, a molecule of soap in the man’s eyes would send him through the roof. “Hold on, I’ll get a chair and you can just lean back.” He went to do so but the chain tugged him back sharply. How many times will I forget? I’m anchored. “Um, can you release the chain for a moment? I’ll be right back.”

Much to his own surprise, L reached out without even hesitating, unclipping Light’s end of the chain. “Be quick. I think I can feel it hardening,” he murmured, grimacing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wanted to cooperate, he truly did, and he could only hope that was coming through in his actions and words.

Light blinked as the chain thunked to the bathroom floor. He did it? He stared at the coiled chain like it was a dead but still dangerous snake before snapping to attention and heading into the bedroom. It had been over a month since he’d felt 360 degrees of freedom but he couldn’t enjoy it, even though he wheeled L’s office chair into the bathroom slower than necessary. He felt a little shaken that his first instinct had been to run, but why? What did he have to run from? I’m innocent…

“Sit here and lean back so your head’s in the sink.” He rolled up a fluffy towel and placed it on the edge of the counter. “That should make it more comfortable.” He added drily, “Don’t worry, I didn’t stuff any razors inside.” Not that I’m allowed any. A few months ago he’d been the top student at To-Oh and now he was playing hairdresser with a man who wanted to execute him.

L didn’t bother grabbing the chain again, wanting to give Light more space as a gesture of appreciation for what he was doing, since he couldn’t really find the words to verbalize that feeling. He nodded and sat down in the chair, leaning back and resting his neck on the towel. His face scrunched up slightly in discomfort as he tilted his head back, suddenly made very aware of how stiff his neck was.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I trust you.” Of course, that’s partly because it would be too big of a risk for him to try anything right now, but I also don’t think he’d want to…

Light arched a brow at that lie and squeezed shampoo into his hands. “Sure.” Trusts me when it’s convenient for him. He avoided looking at the chain, not wanting to remind L in case he forgot. I know he didn’t forget.

L’s face was as unreadable as ever so he just got on with it, lathering L’s hair into fragrant suds and taking care that no soap got into the man’s wide-open eyes. The smell of grapefruit and sandalwood in the bathroom started to make Light relax, the tenseness falling from his face. After a few minutes, he couldn’t feel any more sticky candy embedded in L’s hair and rinsed it clean. “Alright, sit still. Conditioner’s next.”

The feeling of Light’s fingers massaging his scalp was incredibly relaxing for L. He did his best to keep his face impassive, forcing himself to focus on the feeling of wetness on his forehead, but, eventually, even that wasn’t enough. By the time Light was rinsing his hair out, L’s eyelids were heavy and his expression incredibly relaxed. Most of the tension that was normally present in his body was gone. “This…feels nice,” he whispered, blinking slowly as he stayed still for the man.

Light couldn’t help but smile faintly at the praise. It was gratifying that he’d done well, even at this insignificant task, when it was for his harshest critic. His mood lifted considerably-- maybe this day wouldn’t be a wash after all. Wash, pft. He snickered to himself and turned the water off, then smoothed the conditioner in L’s hair to the ends.

Tilting his head, he said, “Your hair’s longer than I thought.” When wet and not fluffed up by frizz, it looked almost twice as long.

L’s body felt almost loose at this point, and part of him wondered if he would slide out of the chair. Even the feeling of Light barely pulling on his hair was soothing by now. A faint smile curved his lips as he closed his eyes. “That makes sense. It’s been a while since Watari last trimmed my hair. I’m not very fond of the sound of scissors so close to my head.”

“Now we wait. Five minutes and then rinse.” Light glanced down at his watch and leaned against the counter. This might be an awkward five minutes.

L shifted his legs, letting one stretch out and dangle off of the chair. “I didn’t expect that this would be so…pleasant. You’re very good at this, Light,” he mused, his relaxed state loosening his lips ever so slightly.

A little heat rose to Light’s cheeks. “Uh...thank you. I guess I have my sister to thank for that. I was her babysitter for years and her hair gets tangled easily, too.”

He smiled when a funny memory sprang to mind. “One time she managed to get a whole package of modeling clay stuck in her hair and I had to scrub for an hour to get it out before my parents got home from dinner. When my Mom noticed it was gone, Sayu told them she ate it.” He laughed to himself, remembering the horrified looks on his parents’ faces. “Of course, we fessed up before they called poison control.”

L’s lips twitched for a moment before he burst into laughter, holding his hand up in a failed attempt at covering his mouth. His laugh shook his entire body, a big grin forming on his face. When was the last time I laughed like this? Have I ever? I can’t recall feeling this good before now. “That- that’s quite impressive,” he managed to say after a few seconds, starting to calm back down and catch his breath. “What was she trying to do with the clay? Style her hair?” He chuckled, opening his eyes to look up at Light.

Seeing L smile was surprising but when the detective laughed, Light was shocked. But that laughter was infectious and only made Light giggle harder. “I think she was trying to make some kind of space helmet? Who knows, she was only five then,” he said between chuckles. I miss her. I wonder how she’s keeping up with her math homework. His laughter faded away.

He looked down at L, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh and mean it.”

L’s expression softened, turning thoughtful and slightly sad. “Yes, I suppose it is. I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.” He sighed, stretching out his arms for a moment as he averted his gaze. “I guess that’s just something else you’re good at, hm?” He arched a brow, smirking a bit in the subtle, mocking way he usually did. However, there was no malice to his tone. Instead of attacking Light, it seemed like he was attempting some good-natured ribbing, as if between friends.

Light blinked and gave L a puzzled smile, waiting for the barb to come. Unexpectedly, it didn’t, and he wasn’t sure what to say. L being nice was as strange as L laughing.

He glanced down at his watch anxiously. “That’s five minutes.” He turned on the warm water and rinsed the conditioner from L’s noticeably softer hair. Any residual tangles came loose immediately when he combed his fingers through it and he started to get curious about how it would look when dry. “Alright,” he said, turning off the water. “All done. Your tangles are a thing of the past.”

He turned his back to L to dry his hands on a fresh towel. “I guess it seems like a waste of time to use the conditioner but it saves time in the end for brushing. I can give Watari the information if you want me to.”

L shifted in the seat, looking over at Light with a contemplative expression. He sat there in silence for a few seconds, just staring at the other man until he finally spoke. “I suppose you can. That would be nice. But also, while we’re sharing a living space…if you wanted to- ah- do this more frequently…I wouldn’t protest.” He averted his gaze and cleared his throat loudly.

“Wouldn’t protest?” Light turned around sharply, feeling annoyed at L’s assumption. The words ‘I’m not your servant!,’ hovered on his parted lips but died there when, somehow, he saw L clearly. The man was too proud to ask directly for what he wanted. They had managed to connect in a way that wasn’t only detective and suspect, jailer and prisoner. Light had felt it, too, and he craved kindness after his long isolation, this ongoing tense situation.

He watched L for a moment and quietly said, “Alright, but no cuffs when I do it.” He smirked and added, “And no more lollipops in bed.”

“I agree to the cuffs, but I can’t make any promises about the lollipops,” L joked, smiling as he sat up and pulled the towel over his head. He picked up the chain, staring at it for a second or two before clasping it onto Light’s cuff. However, instead of immediately pulling away, his hand lingered on the man’s wrist. “…thank you, Light,” he mumbled, the sound barely a whisper as he lowered his gaze and pulled his hand away, standing up straight.

Light grinned and tossed L a towel since the man was dripping water everywhere. So it didn’t kill you to say it after all.

“You’re welcome.”

[n00dl3gal]

Expiration Date (Father-Son Bonding AU Version)

More of the dad!Spy AU because I’m hooked, y’all. Thanks again to @thetriggeredhappy for spearheading the AU and letting me bounce ideas off of them.

As the name suggests, this is the AU version of the Expiration Date short. I recycle some of the dialogue, too. Basically everything is the same except I guess the final wishes bucket didn’t happen? Warnings for references to canon-typical violence and talks about death.

Reblogs are appreciated!

Spy flipped to the next page of the Spy Tech catalogue. His whiskey sat to the side- a rare indulgence. Typically, he stuck to his roots and drank wine. But with less than a hundred hours left… might as well live a little. 

There was a knock at the door, and Spy sighed. “Go away,” he yelled. Silence. Then the faint but unmistakable sound of a lockpick. In an instant, Spy stood, pulling out his knife. He opened the door to grab the intruder before- “Scout, there are easier ways to get my attention.” 

Scout smirked. “Gotta keep my skills sharp,” he replied, slipping the lockpick into his pocket. He sauntered in, arms behind his head. Spy shut the door.

Jeremy’s arms fell to his side as Raphael took off his mask. “So. Three days. You scared, old man?” Jeremy asked. His voice was light, but his face was contorted with concern. 

Raphael thought. “No, not scared,” he said finally. “Nor am I particularly surprised. I figured tumors would get me in the end, if not in this way.” 

Jeremy snorted. “Told ya you smoke too much.” 

The mirth was short-lived, however. “How about you?” Raphael offered. “Are you afraid, mon lapin?” 

“Nah, not really. But… I dunno, I have some regrets? Stuff I wish I could’ve done.” He scratched at his cheek. “Ask Miss Pauling out properly, finish fixing up that bike with Engie…'' His voice trailed off as his eyes widened. “Um. I-I would’ve liked to meet my Ma.” 

Raphael swore the tumors took him then, the way his heart froze. Every paternal instinct he had fired at once as Jeremy started to tremble. Jeremy took in a shaky breath. It wasn’t enough. The tears began as he croaked out “papa.” 

Raphael quickly pulled his son into a hug, removing his cap to smooth his hair. Jeremy sobbed into his chest. Raphael felt his own eyes water. “I was wrong. My death does not scare me, but yours, Jeremy… that would terrify any father.” 

“C’mon… at least we’re goin’ down together,” Jeremy joked, still crying. 

They couldn’t get off base without a proper ceasefire. Engineer was occupied with testing the teleporters with Medic. But three days was enough to make at least one of his son’s wishes a reality. “And before we do,” Raphael said, “we will be winning Miss Pauling over. Even if it’s just for one date. What do you say?” 

“Dad, you don’t-” 

“Let an old man fulfill his dying wish, s'il te plaît?” Raphael interrupted. Jeremy sighed, but he was smiling. “Then let’s get to work.” 

. . .

Scout blinked as Spy flicked on the light. This damn seat was too small- where the hell did he find a school desk like this, anyway? Scout shook his head, trying to focus on Spy’s dialogue. “Final question. You have a dinner date for seven. What time do you arrive?”

“Seven,” Scout answered automatically. “AM. Case the restaurant, run background checks on the staff. Can the cook be trusted? If not, I have to kill him. Dispose of the body, replace him with my own guy no later than 4:30.” He smiled. 

Spy grimaced. “Jeremy, that’s what you do when having a meeting with a known rival. I’m very glad you remembered, but that is absolutely not what you do in this scenario.” He glanced down at his death watch. “And we’re out of time.” 

Scout groaned, banging his head on the desk. “Then I have no hope, do I?”

“Hmm… the area you set up is fairly nice, but it’s all a matter of getting Miss Pauling here,” Spy said. “If you can figure that out, you might have a shot.” 

It was quiet as both men fell into thought. “Wait- holy crap, that’s it! Thanks Dad!” Scout yanked himself from the desk- not without some effort- and ran out of the training room. 45 seconds later, the briefcase alarm went off. 

Spy pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. He had raised his boy better than this. And yet… well, the security booth would at least let him keep an eye on things. 

. . .

“I was furious. Oh my God, you set off the briefcase alarm and you were having a prom for some reason. But then there was this monster and we shot it and we built a bomb and I think my leg's broken,” Miss Pauling said in a rush, gingerly pushing herself off of Scout. “Can we do this again?”

“Yeah! Yeah- wait,” Scout replied before pausing. “We can’t. I’m going to be dead.” 

“Wait, what?”

Light poured over them as Soldier lifted the bread monster’s corpse. “Good news! We’re not dying! We are going to live forever!” 

“I didn’t say that!” Medic yelled in the distance. Heavy held the monster up as Soldier and Sniper helped Scout and Miss Pauling stand. “I just said we’re not filled with tumors!” 

“Oh thank God,” Scout sighed, grinning. “So yeah, Miss Pauling, I guess it’s a date.” 

Miss Pauling had been smiling, but her expression suddenly fell. “Wait, you mean- oh, oh Scout, I’m flattered, but… you’re not really my type,” she said quietly. 

Scout felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped down his pants. “Uh, wh- what is your type, then?” he asked awkwardly. 

Miss Pauling looked away, straightening her glasses. “More… feminine,” she replied. Her voice was barely audible. 

It took Scout a moment to fully process it. “Oh. Oh! Well that- I mean, that sucks for me I guess, but- um, well, if ya ever need a wingman or something-” 

She blinked, frowning at him. “Scout, are you- are you saying you’re not straight either?”

“Eh, labels, not really- I’m flexible,” he said dismissively. He shrugged, bouncing on his heels. “But yeah! Next time ya head to the Gravel Pit or something, lemme know, alright?”

“I would love to, but today’s my one day off this year. Maybe I can squeeze something in… oh, it looks like I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday,” she said. 

“Really?” “Yeah, that’s the day I have to feed the guy who pressed the briefcase alarm to my woodchipper.” 

. . .

As soon as it was obvious Scout and Miss Pauling were not dead, Spy walked away. The base had sustained heavy damage during the fight with the bread monster. Enough that a ceasefire was most likely inevitable. It would be tight, but Spy prided himself on working on a deadline. 

Jeremy’s regret about Miss Pauling might not have come to fruition, and there wasn’t much he could do about Engineer being preoccupied…

But there was one of his son’s dying wishes he could still fulfill.

Sequel? Sequel. Also fun fact: this fic totaled 1,111 words exactly.

[jikooksgirl19]

My Soulmates 1

Genre:Soulmate AU, fluff,angst, eventual smut

Pairing: Idol Jimin x Lawyer Reader x Idol Jungkook

Warnings: some swearing (Y/N has a trash mouth sometimes)

A/N: I’m so excited to bring you my story. I hope you all enjoy this first chapter.

Please read the teaser and prologue first if you haven’t already.

*********************************************************************

October 7, 2018 4:36pm

The boys had been practicing since 8am that morning with limited breaks, and were tired and hungry. They were all going to dinner and begin making their way to the elevator, laughing and joking with each other. Namjoon was deep in thought when the doors of the elevator opened and a woman came out barreling right into the midst of the group. Her head was down, and she seemed absorbed in something on the iPad she held in her hands when she must have realized what she had done. Namjoon heard her gasp and reach out towards Jimin and Jungkook and thought she might be trying to steady herself as they were reaching out to her as well. He couldn’t believe it when they all began collapsing on the floor, the other boys trying to catch them. He noticed that the three were still grasping onto each other, and a red ring began to encircle their ring fingers and travel up their arms. The other boys were staring at this as well and they looked at each other shaking their heads. All of them mumbled the same thing

...”Oh Shit!”

You felt warm and cocooned for some reason. It was so cozy and you didn’t want to wake up. Wait, when did I go home? Your thoughts were hazy and you were trying to figure out where you were. You tried to stretch and found yourself bumping into something hard. As you started groping around you realized that this was not your pillow at all but felt like a chest. A mans chest. You have never moved so fast as you just did sitting yourself up. “What the hell...!” You look and see you are on a bed with not one but two boys cuddled up around you. Fear immediately sets in as you look around the room and see sleeping figures on another bed and couch.

“What the fuck...!” You said out loud quickly slapping both your hand over your mouth so as not to awaken the men in the room. You are in bed with, and surrounded by BTS. They are the worlds most famous boy band. They are the Nations Treasures. THEY ARE YOUR CLIENTS!!! Your mind explodes right then and there. You think to yourself ’What Tumblr, A03, Wattpad fanfic did I just wake up in.’

‘OH MY GOD IM IN A COMA!!!! That has to be it. There cannot be any other explanation. I’m in a coma and I transported into some sucky ass wannabe Hallmark Movie’.

All you can think of is that you have some sort of brain tumor and have fallen into a life altering, dream fugue-like state and all your teenage and young adult fantasies are blending together therefore you have conjured up some poly bias delusional weirdness in yor muddled brain. This isn’t real...this isn’t real... this isn’t real....... You pinch yourself and...oh shit that hurt. You struggle to get off the bed which isn’t easy by any means when two pairs of arms AND legs keep trying to pull you back down. You debate screaming bloody murder when you hear someone speak.

“You’re awake”. You turned your head and saw someone sitting up rubbing his eyes looking at you. You recognized the leader of said boy band Namjoon from the many many posters around BigHit.

“I am” your voice sounding more calm than you felt. “Can you tell me where I am and why I’m here with all of you like some weird slumber party?” You we’re holding on the the last shreds of professionalism that you could before screaming to the high heavens.

“You don’t remember finding your soulmates” he asked?

“Excuse me, my what now?” You cocked your head like you didn’t hear him right. “What on earth are you going on about? Soulmate, I don’t have a soulmate.”

“Soulmates” he corrected. By now some of the other members were starting to wake up.

“I AM in a COMA”. You were starting to babble incoherently in a mix of Korean and English with some well placed Spanish swear words your mother used to use when you were little and she was mad. You we’re starting to panic and began trying to climb off the bed all the while the two boys on your bed were snoozing away like nothing was happening. You managed to fall off of the bed and skittered backwards like a crab til your back hit the wall. You slapped your cheeks willing yourself to wake up.

Namjoon looked next to him and asked “Jin can you call Yuna? I think she may be able to help out with...” he looked at you realizing he didn’t know your name. Jin got up and walked towards the window to call someone.

“Y/N. Sona Y/N.” I...I..I’m a temporary lawyer working at BigHit on some of your international contracts. I’d like to say nice to meet you but maybe when there’s a less murdery vibe and location.” You were quickly getting your bearings together and began to gather your composure. “Now can you please tell me why I’m here being cuddled to death by those thing one and thing two over there” you point towards the bed. Several giggles and laughs were heard at this. You on the other hand were not sure what was so funny.

A deep voice in the corner answered this time. “Well thing one and two as you called them, or as we like to call them Jimin and Jungkook are your soulmates “ he said matter-of-factly like it was everyday normal. “I’m Taehyung, you can call me Tae or Tae-Tae to piss them off if you want.” His big boxy grin made him look like a mischievous child You couldn’t help but give him a wary smile. Someone else, you think it was J-Hope came towards you and thrust forward a hand. You cautiously took it and he helped you up from the floor. You began dusting off your skirt and straightening your blouse internally thanking the almighty upstairs that you were still clothed while eying all of them suspiciously. “I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi if you want.”

Jin turned around after hanging up and offered you the only chair in the room. You quickly shuffled over sitting down and tried to ask again why you were here. In a bedroom, on a bed with your soulmates and their band mates all in the same room. “ Can someone please just tell me what happened?” Your voice staring to crack as you were close to tears. “This just feels too extrodinary to believe. You keep saying I have soulmates, as in plural. I didn’t even know that was possible.” It was then that you looked at your left hand and saw the red string tatoo. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME....Did I have a stroke? How...what...why...” your words became so jumbled you weren’t making any sense and you were pretty sure a panic attack was just a moment away from tackling your neurotic ass into submission. Jin kneeled in front of you telling you to breathe. “ In through the nose....out through the mouth Y/N. You can do it just breathe in and out, in and out...that’s it, you got it, in...out.” You sat there holding his hands while Tae began rubbing your back in circles as they were trying their best to calm you down. Jin explained to you that he also has a soulmate named Yuna and she is ready to come talk to you about what being attached to an idol can be like.

Across the room you heard a groggy voice “Uugghhhh....get off me Jungkookah. Why are we in bed? What happened” could be heard from the bed you just left. Jimin was sitting up while shoving Jungkook off of him and staring around the room. Jungkook fell off the bed. He jumped up and was getting ready to tackle his hyung who knocked him down when his eyes landed on you. He was confused as to why a woman, a very pretty woman, but a woman nonetheless was sitting in their studio bedroom at BigHit, surrounded by four of his hyungs. “Um, hello” he said quietly making Jimin look in the same direction. Eyes got wide when he also said a quiet hello and then proceeded to ask Namjoon “ What’s going on. Who is she and why are we all in here. I thought we were going to dinner?”

“See, I’m not the only one confused” you exclaimed louder and much squeakier than you meant. “Apparently we are soulmates” you say while gesturing to the both of them and yourself. “Surprise “ you say throwing up jazz hands and beginning to laugh at the outrageous looks on both of their faces.

“Who, who is your soulmate?” They both say at the same time.

Namjoon looks at you knowing you are barely holding on at the moment and answers for you. “All three of you are soulmates”.

They stare at each other then at you then at the group and both start laughing. “Ok ok, good joke hyung, stop playing around. Did you knock us out and this is a mystery mission? “ “Are we on a run BTS episode we didn’t know was being filmed?” They took turns asking like this was a prank or something.

When they see no one other than you are deadly serious they stop and start to freak out as well. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?” They look at each other only to both shout out that they couldn’t be soulmates. Why is it just happening now after knowing each other all these years. Brothers yes, soulmates no. NOPE. NO WAY, WHAT THE FUCK.

You get up and walk over to them. You grab both of their left hands and show them the tattoos. You peek inside your shirt and confirm you have the soulmates date above your heart, and tell them to check their chests as well. You strangely feel calm being around the two of them and less like a victim of some K-Pop Serial Killer drama that you stepped into, and you realize they also both settle down while you’re holding onto them.

Namjoon gets up and begins to explain that though it’s rare, there are known cases of multiple soulmates. They are harder to find because all of the mates must be together for their souls to connect. Once they do connect though the bond is stronger than a normal soulmates bond and can come with difficulties due to the relationship aspect of it. Prejudice often follows a poly soulmate connection due to the narrow mindedness of society and can often be looked down on. He tells the three of you that you should tell management right away so they can have a plan in place. Fans aren’t always supportive of their bias’s soulmates, and Y/N having two of the most popular idols in Korea as hers are going to come with challenges. Especially with you being a foreigner.

You three look at each other and back at Namjoon, silently agreeing to these terms. He also suggests you three need time together alone to get to know about each other because you all three had different lives leading up to today, and it would be best to figure out where you all should go from here. Other people’s feelings and relationships are going to be affected by what has happened and you all needed to be prepared for any backlash.

“Ok, now that this is all settled can we please get some dinner?” You hear from the other bed where apparently Yoongi has been napping throughout all the mental breakdowns.

To be continued...

Taglist: @mrcleanheichou @itsminniekat @dreamescapeswriting @seaoffangirling @4evahevah @sonderkook @bisexualmess007 @chxustuff @aviwasabi21 @skyys-universe @ally22042000 @ramblingsofawolfgirl

[beatricethecat2]

"A road trip? How exciting!" Jeanie exclaims.

"They gave you that much time off?" Warren gruffs.

"I'm still working. Sometimes," Myka explains.

"Often," Helena quips.

"And you're still...doing whatever it is you do? For the Secret Service? You never did explain," Jeanie asks.

"'Secret' and 'in-service of' the government, yeah," Myka answers.

"A-And what do you do, Helena?" Jeanie asks.

"I..." Helena glances at Myka.

"...work at a rare book collection. In Montreal," Myka adds.

"For a private patron, specializing in Victorian tomes," Helena elaborates.

"Dad, you should show her your collection."

"Oh, I don't know," Warren grumbles. "Won't be as fancy as she's used to."

"So you're Canadian?" Jeanie presses.

"No, English," Helena says.

"But you work in Canada?"

"It is a British commonwealth."

"Was," Myka snips. "Was a British Commonwealth."

"Is." Helena shoots Myka a firm glance. "Hence the Queen on their currency. I'm not being—"

"But you are sometimes."

"I'm aware," Helena snaps. "I researched my residence. It was easier to obtain a visa there due to my UK passport."

"You only have a British one?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Why?"

"I thought they'd give you a..." Myka glances at her parents. "Never mind."

A beat passes as the conversation hits a lull.

"How long did you say you've been traveling?" Jeanie inquires.

"A few months?" Myka looks at Helena for confirmation.

"Two and a half."

"And you've been able to leave work that long?" Jeanie asks Helena.

"I've made arrangements."

Jeanie looks between the two of them, wheels turning in her head. "Did you meet in Montreal? When were you there, honey?" she asks Myka.

"We, um, met a few years earlier." Myka's hands twist together on her lap.

The room quiets as both Myka and Helena fail to elaborate.

"Did something happen at work like last time?" Warren throws out.

"No," Myka answers, a little too forcefully and Helena shies away from her shoulder. She looks in Helena's direction, but Helena won't meet her gaze.

"Something else happened. A few things, actually."

"They don't know about your--"

"No. I went looking for you after my surgery. Then this trip happened—"

"Surgery?" Warren blurts.

"Tumor on my ovaries. They thought it was cancer, but it turned out benign. I didn't tell anyone, but Pete knew something was off. He picked me up from my biopsy and a few weeks later, they cut it out."

"Oh, Myka," Jeanie says.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Warren asks.

"Work was so crazy, I didn't have time," Myka says.

"You were still working?" Jeanie asks.

"You should have stayed with us," Warren adds.

"Tracy just had the baby, and I didn't want you to worry—"

"Baby?" Helena looks at Myka, brow raised.

"I told you, didn't I?"

"I think I would have recalled."

"Sorry. He's what," Myka says, looking at her mom, "three, four months old now?"

"Four and a half. Does your sister know any of this? About you being sick?"

"No. I haven't talked to her much—"

"You've not seen your sister's child?" Helena's whole body turns as she glares at Myka incredulously. 

"I-I was recovering. Then I went to find you," Myka says, her tone small. "A-And, it's a baby, right? It just sort of lies there, drooling. I thought I'd wait until he was...walking or something."

"That will take quite some time."

"I saw pictures. I texted I'd see him at Christmas."

Helena and Jeanne share a look of judgement.

"What? I don't get the whole 'having kids' thing."

"You will when you find the right fellow," Warren advises.

"Dad, that's not..." Myka starts, then stops with a breathy grunt. "Helena and I are dating, OK?"

"Oh." Warren's eyes dart to Helena, his expression minimally surprised. "The right woman then."

"You two are dating?" Jeanie asks.

"I thought you could tell."

"You do seem close, which is unusual for you," Jeanie mumbles nodding thoughtfully to herself.

"So surgery and a new beau. Keeping secrets again, Myka? I thought we moved past that," Warren says.

"Helena's not a secre--' Myka's phone rings. "Oh, thank god." She hits accept. "Agent Bering...yes...hang on a sec," she says, striding out of the room.

Helena sits up straighter as all eyes fall on her.

"What's your position on kids?" Warren asks Helena.

"Myka doesn't want them, Warren," Jeanne says, lips pursed.

"Yes, but I'm asking her," Warren points with his eyes to Helena.

"I'm...inclined to agree with Mrs. Bering."

"Oh, Jeanie, please," Jeanie says to Helena. "No need to pressure the poor girl. You have one grandkid already. Be happy with that."

"But Myka's the smart one," Warren says.

"Oh, now you're on her side?" Jeanie quips. "All those years you pushed her—"

"Wells..." Warren interrupts, eyes on Helena. "Myka said your last name is Wells?"

"That is correct."

"Any relation to the author?"

Helena opens her mouth to answer just as Myka swoops in. "Distant," she says and pokes Helena with her elbow as she sits.

"What did they want," Helena asks.

"There's a thing nearby."

"And?" Helena frowns.

"I told them maybe."

"You should have said no. We're otherwise engaged." Helena nods towards Myka's parents.

"You work with Myka at...whatever it is she does?" Jeanie asks.

"She helps out sometimes," Myka explains.

"Often," Helena adds.

"Don't you have to be an agent?"

"She's a former one."

"But she's not American," Warren says.

"It's...a partnership. Of a kind. Not worth explaining."

"Go on," Warren grumbles. "Keep keeping us in the dark."

"You didn't tell me about your cataract surgery."

"We didn't want you to worry," Jeanie says. "They said it was routine."

Myka frowns.

The room quiets again.

"Your shop is quite impressive, Mr. Bering," Helena says, speaking up to fill the pause. "I'm curious about your collection. Myka's told me wonderful things."

"Ach, call me Warren," Warren says, his tone softening. "Let me dig out my Wells first editions. I'll meet you two in the back."

"Sure, Dad," Myka says, watching him leave the room. 

"Be civil with him," Myka whispers to Helena. "This was your idea."

"I'm aware--"

"Should we order Chinese or are you two not staying for dinner?" Jeanie asks, rising from the couch.

"We have that thing," Myka says, flashing her phone at Helena.

"Which can wait," Helena snips. "We'd be pleased to join you."

"Good," Jeanie says, her expression brightening. "Myka can tell us more about her surgery. I'll get you that moo shu pork you always liked."

"I haven't liked that since I was twelve."

"Oh, that's right...before your 'vegetarian' phase."

"Do tell," Helena says, perking up.

"She's thin now, but you should have seen her then. A beanpole!"

"I was still growing!"

"You lived on lettuce and Twizzlers."

"She still does."

"Hey, I pigged out at that barbecue place. You were the one picking at it."

"I wasn't familiar with the offerings."

"They don't have barbecue in England?" Jeanie asks.

"Not in her day," Myka pokes.

"That never gets old, does it." 

"Nope!" 

Helena scowls as Myka grins.

Jeanie looks on, confused.

"Order whatever, Mom. It'll be fine. We should go meet Dad."

"No, I'll bring you two the menu. I don't want to get the wrong thing. Or maybe we should get pizza? You have that in England, don't you, Helena?"

"Not in my day," Helena snips at Myka.

"Myka!" Warren bellows.

"Coming, Dad!" Myka looks at Jeanie. "Whatever you get is fine. Let's go." She grabs Helena's hand and drags her out of the room.

Jeanie shakes her head but smiles to herself as she watches them leave.

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

Bering and Wells: Travelogged ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 6 Title: Colorado Springs: Rocky Mountain Way

Summary: Our intrepid pair travel north-east from Mesa Verde, meandering through the Rocky Mountains, hitting spots both familiar and new. As they descend from Pike's Peak, a last minute decision lands them on the Bering and Sons doorstep, with little, if any, prep work put into what meeting Myka's family might entail.

Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5

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

***BONUS SCENE***

"Why don't you allow me to assist," Helena offers, hovering just behind Tracy.

"What's she saying?" Tracy asks Myka.

"Let her make the tea," Myka interprets.

"It's just tea, Myka. I'm not that sleep-deprived."

Helena looks at Myka, her exasperation evident.

"But she's English," Myka explains.

"So?"

"She can make it better."

"It's tea Myka, not rocket science."

"There is a science to it," Helena says, stepping closer to inspect Tracy's setup. "What sort of tea are you serving?"

"The kind with caffeine." Tracy pours water into the teapot and plucks four unlabelled bags from a silver plastic sheath. She plops the bags in the pot and covers it with the lid. "I don't remember the brand. I threw the box out and stuffed them in this one." She hands the box to Helena.

Helena's face droops.

"Helena's kind of a tea expert," Myka explains. "Maybe not as much as Steve--"

"Why didn't you say so! I have the fancy kind." Tracy rustles around the pantry and hands Myka boxes one by one. "Here's Raspberry Zinger and, um, some mint thing, and Sleepytime, but you wouldn't want that now. And I think..." She reaches deep into the cabinet and hauls out a tin. "African Autumn. I won it at a raffle at Kevin's work. But it's loose, not in bags. Such a hassle."

"Yes, indeed," Helena says, her tone slightly mocking. She takes the tin and scours its ingredients.

"How much sleep are you getting?" Myka asks.

"Not much. The kid needs fed all the time, and I'm the milk dispenser." Tracy cups a breast and jiggles it up and down.

Myka wrinkles her nose.

"Too gross for you, huh sis?" Tracy says.

"This ties in nicely to yesterday's conversation with your parents," Helena says.

"Aw, don't..." Myka says.

Tracy twirls around and faces Helena. "Don't listen to her. What did Mom and Dad say?"

"They seemed surprised...no, your father seemed surprised to hear Myka holds no interest in procreating."

"Myka, with kids? Ha! I'd love to see that." Tracy smacks Myka on the arm.

"I could if I wanted to," Myka mumbles, rubbing the smacked area.

"You'd be an excellent mother," Helena says.

 "You think so?"

"A helicopter parent, totally. She'd have a spreadsheet for every little thing. Dinner now. Nap now. And if the kid went off script..." Tracy gives an eye roll and a dismissive wave. "Do you have kids?" she asks Helena.

"Not at present."

"Do you want some?"

"I've made my peace with the subject," Helena says, adding a sage head nod.

"Too old?"

"Ha!" Myka's hand flies up to cover her huge grin.

"In a sense," Helena says, scowling.

A tinny cry directs all eyes to the baby monitor.

"Annnd he's up." Tracy groans. "Let me go grab him. I'll meet you in the living room."

"OK," Myka says, eyeing the teapot. "We'll just--"

"Go. Sit!" Tracy says, looking over her shoulder before leaving the room.

Myka and Helena shuffle off and settle on the couch.

"I'm sorry about all this kid stuff," Myka says.

"Twas I that 'poked the bear' today, so to speak," Helena says, scooting closer to Myka. "Did you not mention the child earlier because you thought it would upset me?"

"Maybe? I think it's more I felt guilty about not being as excited as everyone kept telling me I was supposed to be. So I just blocked it out."

"I see."

"Look, I know you were an uber-mom and everything, but is it ok with you how I feel? I don't want to ruin this." Myka takes hold of Helena's hands.

"I have made my peace with the subject. You saw the shell of a person I became to live out a fantasy of family."

"Yeah, but...and it pains me to say this, part of you was happy there."

"Fleetingly," Helena says, looking down at their intertwined hands, squeezing lightly. "But I do believe I'll make a better partner to you because of it, if that means anything."

"P-Partner?"

"Is that not the correct phrase? I have much to learn about modern terminology."

"It is if you...if you think I'm..."

Myka drifts towards an already leaning in Helena, their lips barely touching when...

"Here we are!" Tracy blurts, smiling down at the baby as she walks in. "Your nephew!" She displays the child to Myka.

"Hey, little buddy!" Myka smiles a toothy, performative smile, her eyes opening wider and rounder than usual.

"Waaahh," the baby cries.

"Did Aunt Myka scare you," Tracy says, bouncing him in her arms as his cries continue.

"All I did was smile!"

"Weirdly," Tracy grumps. "He's fussy sometimes."

"May I?" Helena asks, rising, holding out her hands.

"Knock yourself out," Tracy says, gently laying the baby and blanket in Helena's arms.

Helena cradles the boy and rocks him back and forth. "Shhh," she whispers from time to time. His cries decrease in length and volume until he gurgles and quiets down.

"There you are, little one," Helena says, her broad smile echoing her shining eyes. She shifts him to one side and pokes a finger into his tiny hand.

"Myka, your face!" Tracy blurts.

Myka stares at the scene in front of her. "You're r-really good at that," she says.

"I'd have suggested a nip of gin if he wouldn't quiet. But this one's an angel," Helena says.

"For him or for me?" Tracy asks.

"Perhaps both," Helena says, passing the baby back to Tracy. "He seems a tad peckish."

"Eternally," Tracy grumbles, settling into the rocking chair.

"Are you alright?" Helena asks Myka as she returns to the couch.

"I've never seen you smile like that."

"And it disturbed you?"

"No, it was...nice. Brighter than usual." 

"Brighter than for you?"

"Just...different."

"I do have a soft spot for infants--"

"So you were about to kiss when I walked in. I knew it!" Tracy blurts.

"Mom didn't tell you--whoa!" Myka shields her eyes as the baby latches onto Tracy's breast.

"All mom said was you were here with your girlfriend."

"Y-You couldn't give him a bottle?" Myka says.

"It's natural, Myka."

"But you're my sister, and that's your boob."

"I'm pleased wet nurses are out of fashion," Helena quips.

"Gin? Wet nurses? How old are you?" Tracy asks.

"Ugh," Myka grunts, face wrinkling as she chances a glance at Tracy. "What'd Mom say again?"

"You were here with your girlfriend. I thought she meant bestie."

"No girlfriend." Myka slips her hand into Helena's and smiles triumphantly.

"Leave it to Mom to understate that," Tracy says, her free hand reaching towards the end table but falling inches short of her goal.

"Allow me." Helena springs up and hands the towel to Tracy.

"Thank you." Tracy blots milk off of the baby's face and her chest. "Ugh, I completely forgot about the tea!" she says, looking up at Helena.

"Not to worry, I'll tend to it. Is there anything else you need?"

"A modesty curtain for Myka?" Tracy jokes.

Myka sticks her tongue out. Tracy reciprocates.

"Milk and sugar?" Helena asks.

"Yes, please," Tracy answers.

"Black for you, I know," Helena says to Myka. "Barbarian."

Myka sticks her tongue out at Helena.

Helena smiles and walks into the kitchen.

"Tell me everything," Tracy says once Helena's out of earshot.

"After you put that thing away," Myka says, pointing with her eyes at Tracy's chest.

"Prude."

"Helena would disagree."

Tracy gasps and throws the milk-stained towel at Myka.

"Gross!" Myka says, ducking away.

"Start talking," Tracy says, buttoning up her top with one hand. "Where on earth did you find her?" Becuase I think I want one, too "

END SCENE

-TBC-

NOTES: No artifacts this time, just a glimpse into family dynamics and H.G. and Myka's budding relationship. I rewatched the episode with Myka's parents to see where that was left in-canon and can't imagine it became more resolved over time. I did a tiny bit of research into Victorian breastfeeding practices and was surprised to have turned up some daguerrotypes/tin types from  the 1840's-60's. Apparently, it was a fashion in the US to have your portrait taken while breastfeeding (infant mortality being what is was back then). Look up Hyperallergic's article, "The Victorian-era Daguerrotypes of Women Breastfeeding" for more info. (And yes, nearly everything leads back to photographs somehow with me.) PS: Two more of these and I'll wrap up season one!

[honeysucklepink]

Personal update:

What a week, eh? tl:dr Mom’s tumor is benign but now BOTH my parents can’t take care of themselves so we’re looking into assisted living or a live-in aide. Read below if you want all the tea because I spent all this time typing it up.

So as y’all know, Mom was diagnosed with colon cancer before Thanksgiving. They did surgery to remove it on 12/8, and we thought we got it ALL, but on the 12/16 follow-up they said 1 out of the ten lymph nodes they had removed tested positive.

I don’t think we realized at the time what a depressive episode this would put her in. Me and sister have been switching off caretaking, and by the time I left her on the day after New Years I thought we were good; she could even drive. Well...

SUNDAY. Early the next morning, Dad fell (in the bathroom AGAINST THE DOOR), and none of the neighbors were answering their phones, so she had to call the life alert/security which sent fire, cops AND ambulance to the house. They got him up, he’s fine, and they went back to bed, of course NOOOOW the neighbors all want to call “oh we saw the emergency vehicles are you okay?” So they were exhausted. I knew Mom had her oncology appt. Tuesday and I BEGGED her to get one of her friends to go with her or even drive her. “I will, I’ll be fine, I promise...”

MONDAY. My first day “back at work” (WFH), I call after and she sounds... well I want to say tired but it’s really incoherent. I ask if she’s called Ann or Sylvia to take her to the doc. At this point I’m convinced she doesn’t WANT to go. I call her two more times and each time it’s worse...she’s forgetting numbers, she says they ordered a pizza and Dad “demolished it,” and she REPEATS THIS, over and over. I tell Hubs “that’s it, I’m going there tomorrow and I’M taking her to the doc.”

TUESDAY. I go up, she seems a little better but not much. She’s still having trouble finding the words for things, and I start to wonder “oh shit is this a stroke/TIA?” We get to the doc, fill out paperwork, and she’s forgetting things like her SSN, dates, etc. We meet the oncologist’s nurse who asks the basic “name, DOB...” Y’all SHE FORGOT HER BIRTHDAY. And yet she recovers, and we’re listening to the oncologist discuss options. She’s old enough that she wouldn’t be hit with a combo therapy, it would be a single-agent, pills or port, for six months. And look...she’s said from the beginning that she doesn’t want chemo and that’s her right. But we wanted her to at least sleep on it. Meanwhile they drew a lot of blood, did a urinalysis, and said they’d schedule a CT and MRI of her head because the memory thing was concerning.

WEDNESDAY. It’s worse. She doesn’t want to get out of bed, when she answers a question she gets stuck (”What time does church start?” “Oh, well before the pandemic, when we still went, it would start at... hmm. It would start... oh dear, um... church would start at... well SHIT.”) I get her on speaker with Sister and we decide to go to the ER. They do the full workup, including a CT, and that’s when we found the mass on her brain. So now we need to talk to neuro, I also talk to the oncologist who thinks we might have to do surgery and see if the tissue is similar to the colon cancer, in other words did it spread, is it a met? So we wait...and wait...and fucking WAIT. We’re stuck in a trauma room because guess what ALL THE ICU BEDS ARE FULL THANKS ORANGE HITLER, and there’s no TV so all I see of the coup is on my social media feed (I even post “if you voted for Trump this is on you” and THEN have to delete it because I’d rather do that than break up a fight on MY Facebook timeline between my Texas in-law and my Berkeley cousin, you make out who’s who...both apologized in my Messenger BTW). FINALLY they have an ICU bed open at 5 pm or so (thoughts to the person who occupied it before) and they take her up. I have to be gone by 8, meanwhile my phone is vibrating with all sorts of family and I have to turn it off. Oh and during all of this were trying to get someone over to look in on Dad! Got a neighbor, and then his brother drove in (a year older but better health, hate to say it but grandkids will keep you young, I fucked over my parents in that regard) to spend the night. I think it...helped? 

THURSDAY. Oh, the reason we hadn’t seen a neurosurgeon yet is they have up to 24 hours to do a consult, so don’t know where this guy was. We’re not a big city but we’re not teensy (give you an idea, population is 24,500, home to a university that adds another 20,000 in students, hospital is 184 beds, plus there’s 3 assisted living facilities and a VA home). I get back to the hospital by seven, we finally see him (note: brown eyes, dark triangle brows, floppy dark curls, sound familiar? The rest covered with a mask of course), and they get Mom to an MRI. He goes over the results and y’all? IT’S BENIGN. It’s a meningioma (which I struggled to pronounce so many times that Hubby told me to “just say Mangione” and now every time I think of the tumor I hear “Feels So Good” trumpeting), radiologist confirms it, and they actually do NOT recommend surgery. It’s pressing on Mom’s cerebellum. But that would affect her BALANCE, and she’s not having that, it’s her LANGUAGE that was the issue. Which BTW is starting to clear up a little thanks to the steroids. And by 6 pm they are discharging us (to the chagrin of my sister who has just driven 13 hours from Florida). We get home, Dad’s greeting up at the door, Mom’s exhausted and just wants to go to bed, Sis gets home, Dad goes to bed, I fill out “A Place for Mom” survey and “someone’s gonna call you in 30 seconds” and I’m all WAIT I DIDN’T WANT TO DO THAT but well we’re doing this. We talk to a lovely guy named Barry about our situation, and he will send us info plus we will be hearing from others.

FRIDAY, AND BOY BARRY WASN’T KIDDING. I’m getting calls from five different facilities, forwarding them to sister while I do laundry, try to get a tax attorney on the phone, check the mail and pay bills, try to get Mom and Dad up and medicated and eating something...and I finally left to come home to my Hubs and my cats and my possum yesterday evening, in the clothes I’ve been in since Tuesday. I am going to spend the next two days doing my annual review for work, and then probably go back Monday, where we will get on the computer and do “virtual tours” of these places, see how Mom is doing mentally.

I. AM. EXHAUSTED. The worst thing for a doc to say is “I don’t know.” We don’t know WHY Mom has taken such a downturn? I wonder if it’s just deep fucking depression... this fucking Covid thing took away all their outlets for socializing and talking to other people. No walks with the neighbor, no eating out, no church, no Rotary or Dad’s “funny hat clubs” as I’d call them. And then Mom just getting hit with bad news after bad news from docs, to the point where she’s just gone feral. But DAD...two days with Uncle Sonny and the neighbor Jack and he’s...lucid? Even asking about the possum and Nubbins? It’s so different, that... ugh I’m gonna say it. I think they both need to be in facilities. But that’s the thing...they are EXPENSIVE. We have LTC insurance but we’re not sure 1) Where the policies ARE and 2) what they cover. Mom was the bookkeeper of the family, responsible for the bill paying and the taxes and the premiums, and now she can’t recall where some of these things are.

Guess it’s a good thing I have DPOA. But with it comes great responsibility (thanks Uncle Ben). I just have hard decisions to make in the next few weeks. I won’t be as active on here... I may pop in for a smile and reblog some Darren stuff (great, now when I think of Darren I’ll think of Mom’s neurologist, my lady boner is forever dead), but no fic or extensive meta for a while. Sorry this is so strung together haphazardly...like I said I am le tired. Love y’all like chicken.

[thewalkingfanfictions]

Revolving Doors -- Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Revolving Doors — Dean Winchester x daughter!reader

Description: At sixteen, (name) has finally found the father she had heard so much about, but never met. Finding him in a bar somewhere, (name) decides to confront him. The big question is, though: Will Dean even want her?

⚠Warning⚠: nothing really, some swearing and mentions of a dead family member

Genre: some angst, some fluff, some hurt/comfort

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Daughter!reader

A/N: I was maladaptive daydreaming and this popped up on the recommended page in my brain, so, here, have this trash. Also, your moms name is Melinda for some reason, I'm too lazy to go change it now. I might end up making this a series if y’all want me too. If you do, feel free to drop some suggestions for some sort of plot for this.

Words without A/N: 2369

Masterlist

<———————>

I could see him now from across the bar. Tannish hair ruffled in that intentionally messy look, a charming smile perpetually on his face as he spoke to the pretty bartender. He was the exact picture of what my mother had described.

I always thought I would be able to know who he was if I ever got to lay eyes on him, and now that I was, I knew I was right. 

My hands trembled and my legs felt like jello as I approached where he sat, a two-seated table towards the back of the dimly lit bar, his back always to the wall, nursing a beer and watching the crowd with intense interest. I wonder if he'll recognise me as I have him? Not that there's really any way he should be able to; he doesn't even know I exist.

Before I can even take a breath to calm myself down, I'm standing in front of him, and gazing at him nervously, his eyes—a perfect mirror of my own—gazing up at me with a startled and curious expression. Words piled up in my throat, and suddenly the thought of talking to this man was much more terrifying of a thought than it had any right to be.

You're not backing out now, (name) you've waited your entire life for this moment.

Swallowing thickly, I clenched my eyes closed for a second before musturing up all the courage that I could, and forcing my voice to come through.

"You, uhm–" great first impression (name), good job "–are you Dean? D-Dean Winchester?"

His eyes widened slightly, and he took on a far more guarded expression. 

"I might be, that depends on who you are."

My entire body flooded with TV static as a wave of anxiety came over me. I needed this to go right, I needed to make a good impression. If I failed...

"Can, u-uhm, can I take a seat?" I gestured lamely at the empty seat on the other side of the table from him. If I stood much longer, I feared I'd faint.

At his hesitant nod, I smiled uncomfortably and moved to sit down. Taking another second to compose myself, I opened my mouth to speak, only to be cut off by his demanding voice.

"Who are you?" It sounded less like a question, and far more like a threat.

Shaking the anxiety out of my head, I opened my mouth and forced my voice to function yet again.

"Sixteen, uh, sixteen years ago, you met a woman named Melinda (last name) in a bar a lot like this one, in (home town, state), do you-uhm-do you remember her?"

This is such a stupid idea, why am I doing this? He probably wants nothing to do with me, this is a terrible idea.

His confused expression answered the question easily enough. 

"I- uh–" pulling the crumpled piece of photo paper from my pocket, I tried my best to flatten it out, and locked eyes with my mother for a fraction of a moment before pulling my eyes away and reaching across the table to hand it to him. "Her, d'you–do you recognise her?"

He looked at me questioningly beneath his brow before looking down to study the photo, his face scrunching up in concentration. After a second, he glanced back up at me, mouth quirked in a slight smirk, eyes glistening.

"Yeah, yeah I recognise her. Melinda, heh, yeah," he smiled fondly down at the photo cradled in his hands before locking eyes with me, "we spent a few wild nights together on my twenty-first, she was hot. That still doesn't answer my question, though. Who're you?" 

Ew. 

"My name is (Name) (Last name), and Melinda was my mother."

...

...

Complete silence. His eyes were wide as he stared at me with an unreadable expression.

"I-I'm, um, I turned sixteen years old a few days ago, and uh, I figured I'd try and find you." He still wasn't saying a word, and the more uncomfortable I got, the more I talked. "She talked about you a lot the last few months of her life, and, uh, I dunno, I just thought maybe I could f-find you, y'know... She, uh, she got a bad brain tumor, and uhm, she, uh, she—" I could feel myself starting to tear up slightly, so I looked away from him, and somehow managed to make eye contact with an extremely tall stranger with criminally pretty hair, who was looking worriedly over at us, and slowly walking in our direction.

"So...uhm...yeah..." he still hadn't responded, just continued to look at me with that unidentifiable expression, which actually started to concern me. "Are you okay?" I waved my hand in front of his face, and when he still had no response, I started to think maybe I'd given him a heart attack or something. Suddenly, the big man from earlier was there by Deans shoulder.

"Whats going on here?"

"I—" well, at least he was starting to say something.

"Dean?"

Growing more and more uncomfortable with the second, I finally came to my senses and realized what I had feared would be the truth all along. 

He didn't want me.

Obviously he wouldn't. Why would he? I was just too childish to see it originally.

Bowing my head for a second to try and push back the tears, I smiled up at the two of them and stood from my chair. 

"Al-alright, uhm... I-I'll leave you be, the-n," my voice cracked sharply.

Turning on my heel, I hurried towards the exit, the entire time feeling my father's eyes boring into the back of my skull.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"—and Melinda was my mother—" my head rang with the words. There's no way.

A kid. I had a kid. There's just no way.

I don't know how long I sat there and stared, but I could see the kid, my kid, growing uncomfortable in my silence. How was I supposed to handle this information? I thought I'd been over this with Ben and Lisa, I wasn't cut out to be a father! I'm not good enough for that, I'd just end up getting her killed.

My kid was talking again, but I couldn't focus enough to hear exactly what she was saying. Sixteen a few days ago? The last few months of her life—bad brain tumor—talked about you—and then her hand was in front of my face, trying to snap me out of it, and then there was a hand on my shoulder, and Sam's voice above my head.

I have a kid? I have a fucking kid, I—

And then she was leaving, looking at me with teary eyes, standing up, and leaving, and I wasn't stopping her. Why wasn't I stopping her? 

"Dean!" Sam was right in front of my face now, shaking at my shoulder and looking at me with worried eyes.

I have a kid. I have a fucking kid.

"I have a kid. The–that– she's my–that...I have a kid!" I watched Sam's eyes widen and he quickly whipped his head towards where she had gone, and was no longer in sight.

The more I thought about it, the more believable it became. Her face was covered in minute freckles, and her eyes were the same shade as mine, bright enough that I could see them even in the darkened bar. Her hair was the same color as Melinda's, I realized, as I gazed down at the photo that still sat in my hands. Brain tumor, something about a brain tumor, and a few months before dying, and... and that means that the kids alone. I-I have a child, and her mom is dead, and she's alone. My-my kid's alone. (Name). 

With energy I didn't realize I had, I bolted up from my seat, knocking it back against the wooden floor, clenched the picture in my hand, and took off towards the exit. 

I refuse to be the same kind of dad as mine was, I don't want to leave her to take care of herself. I can't. But I don't know the first thing about taking care of kids—though she's obviously plenty capable of taking care of herself, if she traveled all the way from (Hometown) to here by herself just to find me. Oh, god, she had to travel all the way from (Hometown) to here by herself just to find me! And–what did she say? Just turned sixteen? God, you're already a shit parent and you haven't even gotten the chance to parent her, you're just gonna fuck her up more than she must already be, having a deadbeat dad like you.

"Wait!" I shouted into the cold air of the night as I burst my way through the bars front doors, though the green-eyed girl was nowhere to be seen. I could feel Sam right behind me as I took off at a jog, looking up and down the street in search of her. She couldn't have gotten that far, right? 

Back to our left, down an alleyway beside the bar, we heard a commotion. Just some mumbled shouting and scuffling about in the trash, but it was loud enough to make an odd sort of anxiety sink its yellowing claws into my chest. Rushing closer, I came to realize that that anxiety had good reason.

A man, no larger than me, but definitely bigger than her, with his arm against her chest and a blade in his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I threw myself through the doors as quickly as I could, I didn't want to be near him a second longer. 

I knew from mom's description that he was a traveler, that he never stayed in one place for long, and that I shouldn't be surprised if he wanted nothing to do with me, but I couldn't help but hurt from it. Fifteen years of wondering, fifteen years of begging mom to just give me one more detail, fifteen years of missing something I never had. I finally get to meet him, and what? I get my god damn heart broken. I get turned away like a stray dog.

Wiping the tears from my eyes in fury, I barely registered when I walked down the wrong alley. I do, however, take notice of the blade being shoved in my face and the cold concrete wall slamming into my back as I'm pushed against it.

"Gimme yer moneh," the man holding the knife slurred, his breath reeking of beef and alcohol.

It took me a good few seconds to understand what was going on.

"Gimme yer goddamn money, I said!" His arm shoved me harder into the wall, knife coming dangerously close to my throat.

"I-I-I-I don't have any, I swear! I'm sorry, I-I don't have any money," I tried to stall as I reached for the mace hidden in my jacket pocket.

"Yer lyin'! Jus' gimme yer—" before I can get ahold of the mace, he's cut off by someone's hand pulling him away from me. A hand that just so happened to be connected to the Dean Winchester. Ripping the drunk guy away from me, he moved to stand in between us, and immediately gave the guy a solid right hook to the jaw, knocking him out immediately (and rather anticlimactically). Kicking the discarded weapon away from the unconscious man, he turned to look at me, his eyes wide with what looked like concern.

His features softened as he looked at me, and he took a quick few steps forward, hand stretched out in front of him, before I jerked back away from him. Taking notice of my hesitance, he stopped moving all together, and a weather-worn look of pain flashed across his face.

"You're bleeding," he said simply, hand once again reaching out towards me, begging me to let him help.

Raising one hand, I drug it across my chin, collecting a palmful of blood and eliciting a hiss from my throat. The bastard cut me! This bitch!

"Listen, I..." he started, "We've got a place not too far from here, I can patch you up and we can try and talk things out, okay?" He spoke, looking almost...afraid? Ashamed?

"Why do you want to help me?" My voice was supposed to sound fiery and demanding, but instead it came out almost too quiet, and shaking with nerves, and sounded absolutely nothing like me.

His eyes widened, and he glanced over at the tall guy guy again, I assume his lover or friend.

"If you really...If you really are my ki-id, then I'm not about to let you walk around hurt like that."

I stared at him for a second, entire body still shaking with adrenaline and fear. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe I'd read him wrong?

I could at least give him a chance, I thought to myself.

Hesitantly, I reached my hand out and grabbed a hold of his outstretched arm, causing a small smile to appear at the edges of his mouth.

He pulled me forward gently, and leaned back to get a good look at me, probably to see if the drunken bastard had hurt me anywhere else, before glancing back up to the cut along the side of my jaw. He reached out towards it again, this time much slower, and when I didn't pull away, he traced his thumb along the gash and winced slightly, the crows feet around his eyes deepening with concern.

"Sammy, go get Baby." His voice was quiet, matching the tone of the moment.

I turned to look at this "Sammy" just as he was beginning to turn sway, and we locked eyes for the second time that evening. Giving me a soft smile and a nod, his long body took off bad towards the bar.

"Here," Dean's voice pulled me back. In his hand, he held a handkerchief and put it up to the cut, which I winced away from on instinct. Taking the rag from his grip, I held it to my face myself, and gave him a shy smile before glancing away. I never had been exceptionally good at meeting new people, even if said new person happens to be my long lost father.

"So... I have a kid..."

[lolathepeacocklord]

Chapter 3 – Helping Hand

  “It’s not safe to be walking around all by yourself. There’s a lot out here that can and probably will try to kill you.” The new stranger took Smith’s hand and started to pull him away down the alley. He progressed down to a dead end and opened up a door to the left, which led to a very dark room inside the building. The place was relatively large, at least compared to other buildings in town. It probably had three floors. Smith was very hesitant on walking into the pitch black room. That guy seemed to just disappear into the abyss.

Why was he even following him? It could be some loony that was gonna kill and eat him. It’s been a damn long time since he’s met anybody nice out here. And the fact he talked normally like him was also a bit confusing. Were sane people more common then he thought they were?

He grunted and inhaled sharply- tightening his grip over to bleeding wound. Oh yeah, he just remembered why the guy dragged him here in the first place.

  The smoker gained the courage to take a step into the house, and hissed when he got a light shined in his face for a split second.

“Sorry, sorry!” The man said, a little bit panicked. “We… Don’t have electricity here really. There’s a backup generator in the basement. It’s out of gas though.” He twisted the flashlight a bit and made it’s spotlight larger so the room could be seen better. Now that more of the place was visible this place looked like a run down motel. Well it was the literal apocalypse, so of course things are gonna be trashed, but he still assumed the highest rating this place ever got was three stars. Even that felt a bit generous.

   The man had gone off to get both that flashlight and seemingly a medkit. “Could you sit down please? I’d like to take care of that sooner rather then later.”

“Yeah me too.” Smith murmured and sat down. At least the guy seemed to know what he was doing. He started to help clean around the wound which hurt like fucking hell. Smith still felt on the cautious side with this man, just because he met him about seven minutes ago. He didn’t even know the guy’s name.

“I’m Alex by the way.” He had a gentle little smile on his face. “Sorry for grabbing you off the street so suddenly. I just didn’t want you to be out in the open too long. Especially if you have an open wound.”

“Smith. Thanks for the help.” Well at least they were getting to know each other. He would have done this mini surgery by himself, but… This was a bullet. He’s dealt with slashes and cuts and stuff, so there was a tiny bit of experience there with stitches. But he’s never taken a literal bullet out of himself before. Or anyone else.

  “Are you… Sure you know what you’re doing?” The smoker asked nervously.

“Yeah! I’ve been having a little practice recently. I got a friend who is a bit reckless. He’s… Been shot more then once definitely.” Alex rummaged through the medkit and eventually pulled out some pliers. They didn’t look… Too rusty. “Just letting you know, this is about to hurt. A lot. So just keep yourself braced.”

Smith tried to force himself to look away from this, but would continue to glance back a lot. The wound for some reason looked bigger then it did earlier. Wider. At least it gave a little more room for Alex to insert the tweezers, and it hurt like hell. Alex needed to grip his wrist just so he didn’t rip his arm away from him. The little bullet was deep in there, and blood continued to pour from the wound again. The smoker grunted slightly and clenched his teeth hard, resting his chin in the palm of his other hand. After several agonizing minutes the little piece of metal clinked onto the tabletop and rolled around in a tiny circle. Alex and Smith both sighed with relief. “Worst part’s over. Good job!” Alex gave a thumbs up and cleaned the wound the rest of the way now. There was a mediocre set of a needle and thread, so he continued to carefully stitch up the wound again. He knew what he was doing… Mostly. The apocalypse has really been helping him learn a thing or two in the medical field. At least enough to treat multiple bullet wounds and occasionally the claw marks and gashes from melee weapons.

    Alex looked up at Smith every once in a while to just kind of... Get a look at this guy. He stared at the hole in the wall nervously, having green catlike eyes. And the schlera was a bright yellow that almost seemed like it glowed. Or maybe it just reflected light well or something, he wasn't sure. His hair went all the way down the back of his neck and curled a bit at the end. The right side of his head was shaved and he had several piercings on his ears, and one on his remaining eyebrow. He had a tiny little scar more on the right side of his lips. He seemed like he was a Hispanic American mix. Definitely an interesting looking guy.

  “There we go, good as new!” Alex said happily, closing the kit again as Smith examined the work with the bandages. Nothing felt loose, and most of the bleeding seemed to be stopping. "Thanks, um... Alex." Smith said, returning a tiny smile. The guy sure seemed optimistic, especially since it was, oh you know, the end of the world. Suddenly Smith felt incredibly awkward.

    "So um... Are you just, like, some tumor guy?" He asked, getting a confused look from Alex. "What do you mean?"

"Well you're clearly not a survivor. Or well, an immune survivor. And you got the whole tumor mess going on there." Smith put his elbow on the table, resting his head in his palm. "Wish I was as lucky as you. Not single tentacle hanging out as far as I see."

Alex continued to stare, looking just as awkward and confused as Smith felt right now. "I'm... Not a smoker. Have you- never seen a boomer before?"

Smith blinked. "A what now?"

  Alex took in a deep breathe and sighed gently. The flashlight on the table began flickering. He grabbed it and smacked it against his palm a few times before getting the regular shine back. “There we go. You should really keep batteries anytime you find them. Big, small, medium- you never know what they’d come in handy for!”

“… Right, uh… I kinda wanted to know what a boomer was? And you keep talking about these other people. Who exactly- what- I’m a little lost right now.”

“Right right, sorry.” Alex quickly put the light back and began to tell the smoker everything he knew.

  “I saw some guy behind a building throwing up everywhere, really violently. I went to see if he was alright. He had these growths starting to grow on his arms and face, and I asked him if I needed to call an ambulance. And then he just… Without any warning at all-” He looked like he might throw up as well. “Dear god, the guy just blew up like a balloon- blood and shit going everywhere. P-People thought I committed a murder, and there was a security camera nearby thank god. I was let off the hook just because people had no idea what happened there. The investigation didn’t last long because, well… Heh. Ahem- I started to get really sick and well, look where I am now. Yeah.”

   Smith felt bad for bringing up such a touchy subject. The guy seemed genuinely ashamed he had become this monstrosity, so that made him feel even worse. He tried to change the subject somewhat and said “How are your other friends doing? They doing… Well?”

The two were quite for several minutes, just staring at each other. Alex eventually grabbed the flashlight and rose from his seat. “Come with me, I’ll introduce you to the others.”

   Smith became increasingly more worried as he was given a tour around the motel. A lot of the walls and doorways were outright demolished, and at this point he was a little scared to ask who and what would have caused that. Alex’s low-context answer somehow made it feel worse.

“For the type of infected Brutus is, he’s actually a bit smaller compared to other infected. Doesn’t mean he can’t cause a ton of destruction.” He said, sounding like he was just talking to himself, because this was not giving Smith the answer he wanted regarding the destruction. At least he made it sound like it was their friend? Whatever this Brutus thing was. Alex eventually turned over to one room and gently knocked on the door before slowly opening it. “… Hello, you awake?”

   There was another destroyed wall (lovely) inside the room, so that was… Something. The room itself was more interesting. Whoever lived here seemed to horde a lot of blankets and pillow, and a big mattress too. It looked a bit squished though, and there was a big blanket that was clearly made by sewing together a bunch of other blankets. More off to the corner of the room was a huge pile of pillows and blanket. The uneasy part was was the fact a hand was sticking out from the pile. A hand with very, very long claws.

   “She doesn’t like super bright lights. So if you wanna wake her up ever, just… Don’t do that.” Alex turned off the flashlight and walked over to speak to the pile of pillows. Smith looked around nervously at the dark building and checked again to see if a hallway lamp was working. The answer was no, and he sighed softly. He suddenly felt a tingling in his throat and put his hand over his mouth, coughing repeatedly. He was doing his best to keep it down, so he tried moving down the hall a bit. Alex then came out and waved at him. “Blance is up! Just- whenever you’re done doing you.”

   Smith forced down the coughing fit surprisingly, and watched a woman walk out the doorway, mumbling something to herself. The claws were really intimidating, and she kind of seemed to have a resting bitch face. That or she always looked angry when she got woken up to meet random strangers. She wore a baggy keyhole sweater that was a bit of a tan color, a dark gray denim skirt, and some pantyhose that were pretty raggedy and torn up. She didn’t wear any kind of shoes. Or at least not at the moment? Yeah, who went to bed with shoes on. And unless you were there to witness it and had a sharp memory, you probably wouldn’t be able to find anything in that room.

“So you’re the new guy?” She asked, looking at Smith with slight distaste. She looked a couple inches shorter then Alex and had long dirty blonde hair that covered most of the right side of her face. She brushed it out of the way to squint at Smith, and Alex turned the flashlight back on by now. She cringed at the sight of him having even more tumors then her friend right next to her. “You smell awful, god.” Well, she clearly wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Smith was glad to see she still had both of her eyes in their sockets, unharmed and everything. She let the hair fall back over her face and Alex asked “Where did Brutus go Blance? I’m sorry to interrupt you starting a nap, I just haven’t heard him.”

“Heard him?” Smith asked.

“Yeah, you can definitely hear him walking around. I’ll show you why in a minute.” Alex said. “But this is Blance! Blance, this is Smith. He is a smoker, and Smith, she is something called a witch-”

“I can already tell why he has that name. Just his voice says it all.” She murmured, and didn’t give Smith time to react to that comment. “Also I’ve been… Asleep. For a while now. I thought you would know where he was.”

Alex stared blankly at her. “No… I said I was gonna check the building next door, see if it had anything there. You were supposed to keep an eye on Brutus. He does seem to hang around you more anyways.”

  Smith watched the two go back and forth, just trying to figure out who the hell had been looking after this Brutus guy. He was starting to get the impression he was some sort of child, but how could a child destroy a building like this? Not like throwing things off shelves and breaking vases- actually destroying the place. He just wanted to know what the fuck was going on with these new infected her was meeting. Was that really so much for him to ask?

And that’s when things really started to go down.

   Alex literally screamed like a girl when they all heard a huge crash outside. Not directly outside, but really damn close. Maybe just behind the building near them. Immediately after the crash a car alarm was going off like crazy. And then they heard the sound of a horde coming over.

“We might’ve just found him.” Blance said, and started running away, and out through a hole in the building, Alex stammered a bunch and tried to stop her before running off in a different direction of the building to get something.

“What the hell’s happening!?” Smith yelled.

  “Sorry, I-I’m so sorry. I haven’t been telling you anything about that, I just- Thought it’d be better to introduce you first.” Alex had gone over to a closet where there were a ton of guns stored. “Jesus, where did you get all these?” Smith asked, staring in awe.

“This city has really dangerous litter nowadays. Here-” Alex just shoved a gun into Smith’s arms. He gave him this heavy baggy too, and when he opened it up he saw why. It had a ton of magazines for the gun. Alex grabbed himself a shotgun and shoved a bunch of shells into his pockets before he shut the door. He started to run off in the same path he saw Blance go, but stopped in his tracks for a minute.

   “You don’t have to come you know! Just keep that on you in case you need to defend yourself.” Alex told Smith, who was keeping close behind him.

“No no no, I wanna come with you. Just so I can know what the hell is happening around here.” Smith said. “You guys may need extra protection, and I’m glad to provide it!

   Alex smiled at him, still seeming very panicked. “I’ll explain all of this later, don’t worry.” He said and patted the smoker’s shoulder. “Just brace yourself- you’re going to see a lot of weird things from here on out.”

Smith didn’t take in how right those words were going to mean in the next several minutes. Alex didn’t even know what was gonna be in store. All they knew was that the witch ran away, there was a horde, something happened with a car, and they just needed to go on from there. So the two kept their guns in their arms, waited for an opening so they weren’t just running directly through a horde, and just followed the zombies over to the noise.

[imagining-supernatural]

The Surprise Illness

Part 16 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: Reporters ambush you outside of the hospital

Word Count: 2,258

The last thing you remembered was Sebastian noting how hot you felt and insisting the two of you call it an early night just a few hours after the almost-kiss in the elevator.

Then you were waking up in the hospital late the next morning.

“What am I doing here?” you rasped out upon spotting Sebastian dozing in a chair next to the hospital bed.

He jerked awake and exclaimed your name. “You’re awake!”

“Yeah, and in the hospital. And that clock and the sun says it’s almost noon? It was just, like, eight o’ clock at night.”

Sebastian scooted his chair closer and grabbed your hand. “You had a fever and would barely wake up around 3 this morning when I tried to get you to take some more medicine. Dr. Chowdhury says it’s most likely a bug.”

“A bug? How’d I get… I’m so careful, how’d I catch a bug?” A muscle in his jaw jumped in anger and you realized, face dropping. “The reporters. They were shoving their microphones in my face.”

“Plus your immune system is super weak because of the treatment; it didn’t take long. And it hit hard.”

“Well, fuck.” You raised your free hand to scrub at your face, surprised at how sluggish your body was. That simple movement required so much concentration. “What does this mean for my treatment? I’m supposed to be getting the shots today.”

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Chowdhury poked his head in. When he saw your open eyes, he strode in. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“Good?”

He offered a smile at your challenge. “How are you feeling today?”

“Tired. My body hurts a bit, like the flu. Um… Surprisingly no headache.”

The scratch of a pen on paper was the only sound for a second while he notated your remarks in your chart. “That’s good about the headache. No pressure in your head either?” You shook your head. “Good, very good. I was worried this virus might have irritated your tumor and caused it to swell. That doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“So, what now?” Seb asked. “Will she still get her shots today?”

Dr. Chowdhury nodded. “And I would like to keep you for a few more hours. You are hooked up to an IV that should help speed your recovery from the bug.”

“Okay.” At your quick agreement, Seb squeezed your hand. “Do you think I’ll be able to go home tonight? I’d like to continue my streak of not sleeping in a hospital bed overnight here.”

“Barring any setbacks today, yes. We will do our best to help you continue your streak until surgery.”

“You know,” you mused with humor, “I’m sure the nurses are okay to hand me something themselves.”

Sebastian shook his head as he unscrewed the water bottle cap before handing it to you. Janessa, the nurse in question, grinned and winked at you before leaving the room. “I’m not taking that chance. They’re touching other patients all day.”

“And I think they know how to not pass on germs.”

“Still not taking the chance,” he insisted with no room for argument. Slipping into the bed next to you, he threw his arm over your shoulders. “I’ve been with you all day, so I’ve only been by your germs all day. They’re around everyone’s germs all day.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, resting your head on his shoulder. “Surprised you let me even hold this water bottle, considering Janessa touched it with her bare hand.”

“Good point.” He moved as if to take it from you. With a loud laugh, you jerked your arm away, keeping it just out of his reach. His lips were pulled into a grin as he pretended to reach further to fight you for the bottle. If he’d been serious, it wouldn’t have been a fight at all. You were still paler than normal and weak as a twig in a hurricane. But you appreciated the lack of effort on his part.

Just before pulling back and settling back into the bed, he kissed the tip of your nose, warming your body in a way the thin hospital blanket couldn’t.

A rerun of How I Met Your Mother was playing on the TV and you turned up the volume. After a few minutes, you started drifting off, completely safe in Sebastian’s arms.

The rest of the day passed fairly quickly. Between reruns of sitcoms, being forced to eat cafeteria food, taking catnaps, and threatening Sebastian until he let the nurse take your temperature herself, you barely noticed the passage of time.

It wasn’t until you woke up and saw Sean with your phone camera pointed at the bed that you really noticed what time it was: just after eight o’ clock in the evening.

“What are you doing with my phone?”

“You two just look so cute right now,” he replied with a wink. “Picture perfect moment. Couldn’t pass it up. I didn’t want the stress of having a picture of you two on my phone.”

“I’d trust you with one.” He handed you your phone and you unlocked the phone to get to the gallery. As soon as you pulled up the photo he took of you and Seb asleep together, you were glad that you had your phone set up to allow your camera to be accessed without your security code. It was a damn cute picture. “Psychiatrist, media specialist, and photographer. Shit, Sean you really can do it all, can’t you?”

“Add bodyguard to that list too. Sebastian texted me that you guys were leaving around eight thirty. I got here a little early and decided to come in. There were a few reporters hanging around when I pulled up. Figured I could clear the way if they swarm again and your man there could keep ahold of you.”

“Damn reporters,” you grumbled.

“You can say that again,” Seb’s scratchy voice sounded from beside you. He shifted, stretching a little as he woke up. “Hey, Sean. Time to leave already?”

“Just as soon as I sign your discharge papers,” Dr. Chowdhury announced his presence, walking into the room. Seb slipped off of the bed to allow Dr. Chowdhury to give you a quick once over. Once he determined that your throat, ears, and nose looked good and that your fever was under control, he signed the papers and a nurse came in with a wheelchair. She assured Sebastian no fewer than three times that the wheelchair was sanitized before he let you sit in it.

Sean split off to bring the car around and you ditched the wheelchair in the waiting room. It probably would have been better to let yourself be wheeled out to the car, but your vanity overpowered your decision. You weren’t too fond of the idea that pictures of you in a wheelchair could be splashed across the internet.

Surprisingly enough, you managed to get nearly all of the way to the car before the reporters started circling. Sebastian and Sean had the one-track mind to keep them away from you and get you inside the car as soon as possible. Once you were scooting across the backseat to make room for Seb, he turned his attention to the vultures.

Seeing they were about to get a quote, the crowd quieted.

“You guys attacked my wife yesterday and exposed her to germs that got her sick when she’s already going through the hell that is cancer treatment. When I requested everyone keep their distance, it wasn’t just for privacy. The next time you prioritize your big story over my wife’s life, my lawyers and I won’t be so nice.” With that, he climbed into the car and slammed the door shut on their questions.

Quick, concise, and to the point. You could tell he’d considered his words in advance. Hell, he’d probably been thinking about them all day.

He was still thinking about them five minutes into the drive. You could tell by the tense set of his shoulders. So, you decided to try and lighten the mood.

“You feel like John Mulaney right now?”

“Huh?”

“Get away from my wife!” You did you best to imitate John Mulaney’s voice during that segment. “No one talk to my wife!”

He cracked a smile and you felt victorious. “I didn’t kill my wife!”

“Ooo. Who’s that fella?” You finished off the segment, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a laugh.

“You callin’ me your fella?” He asked, leaning closer.

The sparkle in his eye drew you in. “Maybe I am.”

“Hey, so…” Sebastian wandered into the bedroom the next morning. You’d been under strict doctor’s orders to sleep in and not come to the hospital until the afternoon for your infusion. So that’s exactly what you did.

And while you were sleeping in, Seb had gone to get a workout in, since he’d missed it yesterday.

Which brought you to now: Him walking in, fresh from the shower, and you on the bed with your laptop, catching up on your finances.

“Hey, how was your run and, uh, weights?”

“How are my weights?”

“Yeah. They doing good? Feeling neglected?”

He laughed. “God, Y/N. You are so smart about so many things but you have no idea what goes on in a gym, do you?”

“Yeah I do,” you replied defensively. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to prove it. “Lots of sweating and, uh, grunting? Guys taking off their shirts to show off. People drinking from water bottles? Probably a lot of regret.”

With an eye roll, he flopped down on the bed next to you. “Once you’re all better, I’m making you come to the gym with me.”

“Does your gym have a spa there? Or a massage room, at least?”

“Yeah. But I’ll only let you use it after you work out.”

You scrunched your nose in distaste. “Pass.”

He closed his eyes, a content smile still on his lips. With a fond shake of your head, you went back to updating your finance plans.

A few minutes later, Sebastian sat up and pulled something out of his jacket pocket. He fiddled with whatever it was for a second before hesitantly saying, “Y/N?”

“One… second…” You finished what you were doing and set aside your laptop. There was a strange tone to his voice. It was serious, but slightly unsure. Whatever he wanted to talk about, you were sure he wanted your full attention. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I was thinking… since your name is out there and we’re not a secret anymore…”

“Seb, it’s me. You don’t have to beat around the bush.”

“I was wondering how you felt about wearing the ring.”

Well. That was not where you’d expected this conversation to go. “The ring.”

He plucked the diamond engagement ring from his hand and held it between his fingers. “The ring. I also, uh, I guess I should have talked to you about this before… but I swung by a jeweler this morning and picked out wedding bands too. For both of us.”

For the longest while, you didn’t know what to say.

It wasn’t like you had to pretend that you’d gotten married for love. He’d told the truth about your wedding on Seth’s show. It was on tape that you’d had a drunken wedding and stayed married for insurance purposes.

So if he had actually purchased wedding bands… a physical tie between you two… that had to mean something, right?

“I-I’m… I’m not against it, I just—why?”

“I don’t really know. Well, I know, but I also don’t, you know?”

“No. Not at all.”

He huffed a sound somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “I guess I just thought that since I’m flying to Georgia on Sunday to start filming the show and we’ll be apart so often… I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid.”

“It is stupid,” you assured him with a teasing smile. “It’s stupid of you to think that since we’re not going to see each other every day that we’ll forget each other. I mean, I know you won’t forget me because I’m pretty amazing and all. Thought I guess it isn’t a long shot to think that I’ll forget you. The guy who bought me oreos. The guy who I’ve slept next to for the last week. The guy who yelled at paparazzi for me. The guy who is literally saving my life. The guy wh—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

Looking at him, nervously fumbling with the ring in his fingers, you realized this was about something more. This wasn’t just him being a good person. It wasn’t Sebastian helping someone survive cancer.

This was about Sebastian and you. You and Sebastian.

This wasn’t about a drunken Vegas wedding officiated by Elvis. This wasn’t about cheating the system to get insurance.

This was about your relationship with Sebastian.

“I get it too,” you said softly. After a moment and a deep breath, you extended your left hand and stilled his anxious fingers. His eyes darted up to yours where you hoped he saw his same hesitance, fear, and hope reflected there. “I get it, Seb.”

Without any further conversation, he gently slid the diamond ring onto your finger. Out of his pocket, he presented you with an engraved gold band and your heart was beating at a million words per minute as you slid the band onto his left hand as well.

RINGS!?! And, gah! Stupid reporters!!!

Also, I wrote this long before this whole Coronavirus and rereading it now was like GEEZ I was ahead of my time with the whole germaphobe thing...

CHAPTER 18: THE WORK CALL

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 61: The Thousand Year Buildup to a Single Moment

Chapters: 61/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Death mentions, Snap flashback Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor(Marvel), Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Stephan Strange Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Communication Is Still Not Their Family’s Forte, Look Historically Vikings Really Got Around, The Descendant Of A Viking Could Come From Anywhere

Summary:  You spill the beans about your dreams, and Loki learns about your ancestors.

You munched apprehensively on a granola bar while the entire roster of Avengers watched quietly. They'd wanted to talk to you about something, though Loki protested. Apparently, a decision had been made over breakfast, which you'd missed, and even Thor didn't seem too happy about it.

It was definitely time to worry, when a god-king seemed put out by his friends.

“All right.” You said once you'd swallowed the last of your granola. “What kind of trouble am I in?”

“No trouble.” Steve said. “Just some questions we need to ask.”

“Does the name Thanos mean anything to you?” Tony asked.

You blinked at the directness, but said nothing.

“It's okay. You can tell us.” Steve encouraged.

“Well...cats out of the bag, huh?” You sighed. “Yeah, I remember. Everything that happened in that whole year. But to be specific, I don't actually know anything about Thanos except for what Thor, Loki, and Mynos have told me. All I know about was the result, what it was like living in that world, and then it suddenly being reversed, and no explanation for any of it. I really thought I was super crazy, you know? People disappearing, the whole world thrown into chaos for a whole year, and then it never happened? No one remembered? No I definitely thought there was something really wrong with me.”

“And there are more like you?” Banner asked. “More people who remember?”

“Yeah, but I can't tell you who they are.”

“Why not?” Steve asked.

“It was all online. I don't know any of their names. We never met each other, we're scattered out, all over the world We only really found each other by accident.”

“Are you willing to talk about it?”

“Well...”

Tara had stopped talking, stopped laughing, an odd expression on her face. It was almost midnight, the two of you had come home from a movie. It was all so sudden, the quiet, the confused whisper, the soft rustling of dust as she disintegrated in front of you, pouring through your hands.

Slamming door and running footsteps on the grass. Hyperventilating in the car, the engine roar loud. Screeching, honking, cars run off the road on either side.

Trees fell across the road, snapping, splintering cracks, blocking your path just long enough for them to decay into dust. People rushing out of their houses, out onto suddenly barren lawns, screaming muffled by the car windows, the growling engine.

It was dark, the land had changed. You almost got lost int the swirling clouds of dust, and empty cars, but you found your father's home.

Momo meowing frantically, scraping at the door. The television on, sitcom reruns, and a pile of dust in the kitchen.

Retching echoing in the tiny bathroom, flushing water swirling, swirling like clouds of dust in the wind.

People in the streets, coughing and choking on their neighbors and loved ones.

The corn was gone.

You spent the next week alternating between hysterics and numbness. You spent the week after that burying those who couldn't go on. You never actually stopped doing that, throughout the following year.

You numbers shrank and shrank, as social services failed; power and water, garbage pick up and deliveries, medicine and perishable items, all dwindling away. Your little town had been forgotten. Or maybe there really was no one else left. After the loss of electricity, there was no more news from outside.

Most people came together, but there were always those who didn't understand how to work together, or who had broken during it all, or were broken beforehand. People who couldn't put their prejudices behind them, or tried to seize control over others.

There were violent acts. Assaults. Murders.

You were a murderer.

You hadn't ceased to be a murderer, because you had never ceased to be. You had never started over like everyone else had. The weight of all of it rested on your shoulders like a great and festering tumor.

You had come now to realize that this burden would never be lifted.

The people who cared for you would do what they could. They would build braces for your legs. They would spread soothing balm. But nothing, not the Avengers support, nor your father's acceptance, nor Loki's affection could ever remove this from you. It was part of you. All anyone could offer was a little relief.

You shrugged. “I don't suppose my story is any different from anyone else. Shit sucked.”

“Fair.” Tony agreed. “So, who's Mynos?”

“Yes,” Thor asked. “Who is Mynos?”

“Uh...” Whoops. “Um. He's an alien. That I've seen in my dreams. He's one of whatever Thanos was. Big purple guy.”

Tony and Peter shared a quick glance. Thor was staring at Loki, who managed somehow to look both defiant and contrite simultaneously.

“Um...Titans are extinct.” Tony said slowly. “I was...there. I saw their world; what had happened to it. There's none left now.”

“You said this is a dream you've had?” Strange asked. “You've dreamed of Titan? Can you tell us what it looked like?”

“Yeah. It's...orange, mostly. Dry. Dusty. But I can breathe there, so there's air. There's clouds in the sky, and dust storms. The people there are trying to set back the clock on a major ecological disaster. I guess they poisoned the land and water with pollution, and now they're trying to figure out how to get plants to grow again. Mynos is the only Titan I've ever seen, I never even saw a picture of Thanos. But in my dreams, I can talk to him, and he told me some things.”

“Dreams, plural?” Strange asked. Thor was looking at Loki with open worry on his face.

“Yeah, it's sorta...” You glanced at Loki, who was squirming. “You didn't tell anybody?”

“Yeah Jafar, you didn't tell anybody?” Tony accused. “What didn't he tell?”

You stared at Loki, trying to discern what he wanted you to do. You didn't want to lie to your heroes. But Loki might have a good reason for keeping this to himself. You didn't want to throw him under the bus, but you'd already started talking about it.

He caught your eyes, saw the confusion there, and sighed heavily, dropping his gaze.

“_____ and I have been sharing dreams since the day we met.” He admitted. “For the most part, they are normal dreams, as odd and unfathomable as any other. But in others...”

“We kind of go traveling.” You finished. “We fly through space, and visit places. We've been to Titan twice. It has the potential to be beautiful, and they're trying hard. I wish we could help. But Mynos seems to be the only one who remembers what happened. He's the only one who even remembers Thanos. According to him, even people who worked for Thanos don't even remember him.”

“But these are just dreams.” Sam said. “Why take them seriously?”

“They might be kinda real.” You said. “Like I said, I had never seen a Titan before this; Loki didn't even describe them or show me a picture. And Loki hadn't been to Titan.”

“The description is accurate enough.” Tony said. “I was there. Me and the kid. It was orange, dry and dusty.”

“And there was definitely a civilization there once.” Peter added quietly. “There were ruins everywhere.”

“But no Titans. They were all gone by that time.” Strange cut in.

“Mynos told us that he remembered Thanos killing them all. Not directly, exactly, but he blew a bunch of them up, and made it so that the rest couldn't get what they needed to live. So I guess they went extinct.”

“We believe these dreams to be at least quasi-real due to the fact that, every time it happens, we bring something back with us. Planetary dust and a leaf, to be precise. These samples both reside with our scientists right now.”

Thor looked momentarily outraged, but got a handle on it almost instantly.

“Why was I not notified about this, Loki?” He growled.

“Because it is firmly within the realm of magic, which is my realm, not yours.” Loki said with sharp imperiousness. “What would you have done about it, besides fret?”

“Still think you should have mentioned it.” Thor mumbled.

“Do you mind if we look at these samples?” Dr. Banner asked.

“You can look, but you cannot take them. As you might surmise, these are very rare materials.”

“Which you got from a dream. Because magic.”

“Well, my magic is teleportation, so that's the only thing I can think that makes sense. We were kinda sorta there, and I teleported them out with us.” You added.

“Do you think it would be possible for you to take someone else with you?” Strange asked. “Into your dream escapades?”

Loki frowned and very conspicuously took your hand, cradling it in both of his. “I don't think that's necessary. We do just fine on our own.”

Strange sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, lovely couple, blah blah blah. But for the sake of what we discussed earlier, do you think you could at least record these dreams from now on? Not every single dream you have; there's plenty that no doubt goes on in your brain that I want no part in. Just these possibly real dreams?”

Loki scoffed, but you shrugged. “Nothing wrong with just writing them down, is there?”

“No, but magic, especially as ephemeral as dream magic, cannot be solved by a think tank! It requires insight, meditation, the mind of a seer-”

“Or the ability to see multiple timelines?” Strange suggested.

“Braggart.” Loki scoffed again.

“Or, like, if we're still debating whether Titans exist again, we could just ask Heimdall, right?” You asked. “Right?”

“Well...” Loki said.

“Yes, we certainly could.” Thor answered. “We can get to the bottom of this. Just write them down as they happen. No doubt you phones have a journal app that you can use. Right?” He asked Bruce, who nodded.

“Yeah, that's a thing phones can do.”

That settled, the group moved on to other subjects, the settlement of Trolerkaerhalla, Tony's missing shipment of Chitauri artifacts, the possibility that they were now on the black market, and the fact that one had shown up just outside of Asgard...

But also about funding Asgardian building projects, integrating Starktech into their computer systems, and donating those very computers so that Asgardians could get training in Earth technology. Of finding the materials for Asgard to continue rebuilding its own technology, of trying to integrate the two.

Of an Asgardian space program.

Thor wanted to mine asteroids for resources, so that they didn't put extra pressure on Earth. Tony was all the way behind this idea, but Steve had reservations. Who owned what in the solar system? Was everything going to be a free for all? Would mining other celestial bodies help ease pressure on the planet, or would it be a race between Asgardians and humans as to who could get the most stuff? Would there be space battles? Would Asgards obvious head start in space travel garner them the lion's share of the systems extraterrestrial materials, and would that foment even more human resentment against them?

Although you loved the cosmos, space jurisdiction was way over your head. You dropped out of the conversation to talk to Peter, a precious boy with boundless energy, who you still thought should be in school instead of super-heroing, but it seemed like he was trying to do both. You briefly wondered if Avenging counted as an extra-curricular.

Between the two of you, you came up with an idea to help with the funding of Asgard. You would record videos and podcasts about Asgardian life and custom. Peter helped you set up a patreon, and you ruminated over ideas. You couldn't wait to get Saldis in on this.

Natasha was the first to leave. She just said she had something else to do in Iceland, and saw herself out. The majority of the others left with Tony, on his private jet. Strange went last; all he had to do to get home was open up a portal of orange sparks and walk through. Loki took him aside and spoke quietly with him for a few moments, getting a long answer from the wizard, and obviously pleased with what he was hearing.

He kept that buzz of excitement all through dinner, while Thor seemed to be caught up in the satisfied silence after a pleasant time with friends. He didn't really seem to notice when Loki took your desserts- cubes of goat cheese and grapes drizzled in honey-and whisked you away to his favorite spot to be with you: The black sheepskin rug in front of his fireplace.

There you ate your desserts with the fancy, tiny ram horn forks provided, and he clutched you close so you could feel the solidity of his body, see the firelight sparking in his eyes.

“I found out something interesting today.” He said.

“Did it have something to do with what you were talking to Strange about?”

“Yes, it did. Do you know what I learned?”

You nodded.

“I learned that, a thousand years ago, an object once called the Tesseract  was abandoned on earth by my father. There was a great deal of devastation around it, caused by people who tried to wield its power, but the humans of the area finally came to the understanding that they could not safely use it, and built a place of secret worship around it. An order of priests rose around it, claiming their sacred duty was to safeguard the artifact until Odin returned to reclaim it.

Now, I'm sure it's been mentioned that it was actually the Space stone within the Tesseract, and these humans being in constant proximity to it...Well, it changed them, over the generations. Each of these priests was allowed to have one child; and that child was to become a priest or priestess to replace those lost to old age.

Well, one of those children decided to do something else. He ran away, and never stopped running, fearing that he was being chased, and would be dragged back to that life he didn't want. He traveled far and wide, eventually married another traveler, and his descendants also traveled. They went everywhere; deep into Africa, to the farthest reaches of Asia, into India, and all through the Mediterranean. They married in those areas, and their descendants also took to exploring the world. And their descendants, and theirs, reaching Australia, and South, Central, and North America, each generation eventually leaving the place and people they were born into, and settling down somewhere far away. Each generation having the influence of the Tesseract in their background, and never knowing it.

And so, your grandmother left her family in the Yukon, and moved far to the south, gave birth to a son who travels endlessly for a living, and gave rise to you; the first in generations to access the power of your far-flung ancestor.

My darling.” He kissed the top of your head. “My darling, we were always meant to meet.”

He took your marked hand in his, pressing the runes together briefly, only long enough to trigger the buzz. “We were always meant to be connected.”

“So, my ancestors were from Scandinavia?” You asked, caught up in his story.

“They were from everywhere, potentially.” He answered. “Stephen followed all of them on their journeys, but he did not tell me exactly which branch led to you. He did find out where your grandmother came from, and that you have many, many distant relations, all over the planet. All ultimately descended from this one man.”

“Wow. I...it goes so far back. And all because your dad left a shiny thing behind, and of course humans loved it.”

“You are the result of devout worship, and of a galactic force older than existence itself. So unique, my little space sorceress. My precious Seidkona.”

“Loki...” You leaned into him, drawn to is earnest gaze. Was this what he meant when he had said that the Norns supposedly wove peoples lives like threads? Had all these relatives down the line spread out across the tapestry, bringing your thread close to his, until they twined together?

As your lips met, you hoped that those threads would not separate, but stay wrapped around each other indefinitely, creating a beautiful new color together.

[koala-soap]

| Big People School |

Woo, the first request on this blog! I love this idea, and ya’ll know I can’t resist a little sister request. Thanks for your lovely request and I hope it suffices  xx

This is very long, but who’s complaining, right? It’s chock-a-block full of fluff.

Story below.

“Psst... [Name].” Todoroki’s quiet voice soothingly wakes you, his hand patting your teeny shoulder under the blanket. He watches you open your eyes, stretch your limbs until you became the shape of a starfish and yawn up at him. Your blankets were a mess, but he fixed them as he used a hand to help you sit up. “Morning, sleepy.” he smiles a tad.

“Morning...” You sleepily reply with another yawn, rubbing your little eyes and grumbling when your older brother picks you up. Your cheek squished up against his shoulder and you wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open. You rocked around for a bit as he bent down to tuck your sheets in and fix your couple teddies. 

“Hey, where’s your Mister Giraffe?” He quietly questions with a quirked brow, walking around the bed to try find the small giraffe teddy. He knew he was one of your favorites, so when he heard an adorable little gasp and felt your head lift, he wasn’t surprised.

Your face was full of worry and you wiggled around in his arm. “Mister Giraffe is missing?” You pout.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find him.” Your brother smiles, and pats your back gently while walking over to your drawers to get your clothes ready. He pulls out the top one, and pokes around for a suitable outfit for kindergarten. “Bunnies or frogs, sweet?”

“Bunnies!“

Most of your clothes had little bunnies or frogs on them, because they were your favorites.He picked out a long sleeved jumper with tiny bunny print and little denim shorts.

He placed you on the ground as carefully as he could, and smiled when he gently pulled your fist away from your red eye. “Come on, now, stop. Your going to dent your eye in if you don’t stop rubbing it.” He was still talking quietly, because Enji was sleeping in the room next door.

You eyes were still closed and your mouth was still drooling while he helped you step into your shorts and pull the jumper over your head. Of course, he didn’t forget the rainbow striped stockings you always wore. It was weird, but everyone knew that the girl with the rainbow stocking was [Name] Todoroki.

After you had your white velcro shoes on, he did his best to tie your fluffy white hair into a ponytail and make it look decent. He was pretty good at it.

“Here, sweetheart.” Shouto places a plate of toast with peanut butter and sprinkles on it onto the dining table, but he looks around for you since you weren’t at any of the chairs. “[Name]?“

He ended up finding you in the hallway calling out for Mister Giraffe with a plate full of chocolate biscuits on it. Apparently chocolate biscuits were his favorite, so Shouto just chuckled and let you put them there so Mr Giraffe would come back.

Just as he was clipping you into your car seat while you sang some song from a kids TV show, his phone chimed and he checked it quickly.

“Bipity, bipity, bomp!” You finished singing the last line of your song, kicking your feet around with a goofy smile. Your hands were flinging Mr Giraffes arms around to make him dance on your lap. Shouto found him under the driver’s seat when you got in the car. Lord knows how he got there. 

You saw Todoroki and asked him what he was reading.

“Ah... It’s mom saying that you can’t go to kindergarten today. You were supposed to get your flu shot yesterday but since you didn’t, they.. can’t let you in.” He sighed, and lent against the outside of the car brushing his hand through his hair. He honestly didn’t know what to do now. He could stay home with you, but UA would probably bust him for it.

He sighed and thought of the last resort. “I think you might have to come to school with me.” ____

 “I know, I’m sorry sir. It’s just for a day before we’re able to get her back in to her kindergarten.” Shouto explained, with his sister’s small hand in his.

“Don’t let it happen again.“ Aizawa stated, clearly irritated with the situation Shouto turned up to school with. Having a kid on school grounds wasn’t exactly allowed, but Aizawa let it slip for a day.

“It won’t. Thank you sir.” Todoroki nodded, and that was Aizawa’s queue to sigh and trudge back to his desk drearily. Your brother looked down to you, a patted your hair and tapped your chin. “Come on.“

You nibbled on Mr Giraffe’s ear and listened to the voices coming from behind the giant class door. You really didn’t do well with new people, or really any people at all. Especially men. You know, with the delinquent father and all.

“Shou, it’s scary.“ You mumble.

He smiles sympathetically and bends down to pick you up and haul you onto his hip. “I’m right here, okay? If you get too overwhelmed, you can tap my shoulder and we can go home.” He kisses your cheek and waits for an answer.

“Okay...“ You pout nervously. And switch from chewing Mr Giraffe to fiddling with your brother’s hair.

He smiles, and goes to push open the door with his spare hand, and the talking got louder when you both went in. You couldn’t see anyone yet, since your head was facing backwards on his shoulder, but as he walked down the aisle to his desk, you lifted your head to see more and more people looking at you with excited smiles.

“Oh my god!” A girl gasped and was shaking and squealing. “She’s so cute!”

A guy with spiky red hair was grinning and tapping his mate’s shoulder. “Look, man!”

Another girl with pink skin and a boy with green hair were both whispering to each other and smiling at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Quiet. Todoroki has brought his little sister in for the day because of valid reasons, so don’t go squealing and crying, okay? This is still a school day.” Aizawa pointed out from the front of the class, getting all the talking and squealing to stop. Shouto sat down with you on his lap at his desk.

While the teacher started talking, he lent back to look at your anxious face. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm.” You nod, looking around the large room while. You felt safe and comfortable in your brother’s arms despite the huge weird room. “He has spider arms.“

Shouto looked to who you were pointing at, and it was Shoji. He actually found it a tad funny and he smiled. “Spider arms?”

You nodded, and giggled. “Spider arms!”

“Alright, do the rest of those pages and don’t do anything stupid. Wake me up if there’s a fire or something.” The tired guy with the black hair grumbled, and seemed to disappear behind his desk.

The girl with pink hair stood subtly, peering as far as she could to check if Aizawa had fully gone down. She realized he wasn’t paying attention, so she jumped up from her desk, jittering and exploding with excitement. She was suddenly leaning on your brother’s desk, and he lifted his head and held you against him by your stomach. “Yes?”

“Oh my god, Todoroki, is this your sister?” She smiled giddily at you.

“Yes, what do you want, Ashido?” He replied, and you looked at her with a teeny pout.

Then another two came to his desk. One had spiky red hair and another had spiky yellow hair. “Dude, this is fucking awesome! They let you bring a kid in her-”

Shouto sighed, and frowned at the frantic yellow haired guy, eyeing him like a pissed off mother bear. “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t swear.”

“Aw c’mon, bro! She’s so freaking cute!” Kirishima yelled, slamming his hands on the desk and smiling. The loud noise startled you and you jumped in Shouto’s arms. “You wanna come sit with us?”

“Why would she want to sit with you?” Todoroki said.

It took a bit of arguing, but you ended up sitting with Ashido, which made her very happy. You thought she was pretty cool, and you loved her pink hair. Todoroki was constantly peering over to make sure you were okay, to the point where he wrote down one sentence in twenty minutes. You were standing in front of her desk, peering over the top as she drew some sort of unicorn. “Huh... This sorta looks like a blob of play dough with a tumor on it’s head.” She frowned.

“Can I color it?” You asked quietly.

She smiled and rotated it around for you. “’Course, cutie!”

She handed you some pencils and you stood there and colored in her unicorn with them. Wasn’t the best coloring, but you were four, so it’s fine. Mina giggled and said, “That’s pretty good, lil’ miss Vincent Van Gogh!”

“I like unicorns.” You smiled. “And I like the ones with the- with the wings!” You grinned, jumping up and down flapping your arms like wings.

“I like them, too!” Mina giggled, watching you bounce around.

“And fairies, and mermaids, and um- and- and Mickey Mouse!” You were just bouncing around talking weird toddler nonsense, but it was cute. “And like bunnies, too! Look, there’s a bunny rabbit on my jumper. Shou picked it.”

You looked down at your jumper, pulling the bottom of it out to get a good look at the picture, which gave you a double chin. “He has a top hat.”

“He’s a fancy bunny.” Mina giggled.

“He needs a mustache.” You stated simply, and reached for one of the girl’s permanent markers, which made Mina laugh and jump to stop you.

“I don’t think your mom will like that, honey...” She laughed, putting the pen back in her pencil case.

The first two classes were pretty fun. You spoke to Mina and colored her unicorn for a while, but eventually went back to Shouto. You and him drew in his book, and you drew a cute little smiley face on his cheek with a texta. When the bell went, you followed him out the class, holding his hand and Mr Giraffe.

“Look at my unicorn, Shou! He has a um- a tuxedo.” You told him tilting your head to the side, flailing your coloring all over the place. Your brother smiled and gently took the page from you to look at it.

“You’re good at coloring.” He said truthfully. He looked at the paper and all the little smiley faces and hearts everywhere. The smiley face was still on his cheek, but he had forgotten. People who walked past him thought it was pretty funny.

“Do you get nap time?” You asked.

You heard a chuckle, as Todo put your picture into his backpack. “I wish, but no. You can have a nap now if you want. Are you tired?”

“A bit.” You say, getting closer to the cafeteria. “Drawing is hard work.”

You ended up falling asleep at lunch, two minutes in, on Shouto’s lap. You managed to eat a couple of bites of your peanut butter and sprinkle sandwich, but that was about it. While you were asleep, everyone was giggling at your divine choice of filling. It was yummy, but sleep felt better.

“You know, I’d imagine it’d taste pretty good!” Uraraka said from the other side of the table, thinking about your sprinkle and peanut butter sandwich.

“Do you think that’s what the teletubbies eat?” Midoriya chuckled.

“Oh my god, yeah! That’s what that elephant vacuum thing makes.” The girl laughed. “What the hell even is that thing, though? Director must’ve been on drugs.”

“She’s eaten so many of those. She had it for breakfast, too.” Shouto smiles, patting your back as you snore quietly.

“Damn, how has she not gotten diabetes yet?” Uraraka says with a smile and a shocked face.

“Uraraka, don’t joke about that...” The green haired boy nervously said.

“She used to like jam and sprinkles, but a commercial on TV showed strawberries with smiley faces on them going into the jar, so she thought that jam was dead strawberries, which is why she hates jam now.”

“She isn’t exactly wrong, though..” Iida said, shrugging. “About the dead strawberries.”

“That is true.” Uraraka said. “What kinda TV advert shows that to kids, though?” She giggles.

“I think I’ve seen that one! With the weird bear in overalls?” Midoriya asked. “His eyes look like golf balls...”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Todoroki replied. He felt your head start to move and looked down at you, seeing your eyes opening and closing again because of the bright lights. In the background, everyone was talking about the weird jam commercial.

“Shou?” You grumble, seeing your brother’s face.

“You fell asleep when you were eating.” He said, smiling slightly at the peanut butter and sprinkles on your face. All over your face. “Here, lets get this off.”

He grabbed a napkin from the table and wiped the stuff off your cheeks and mouth. You were still pretty sleepy, and all the bright lights and talking was a little scary. Shouto got the rest of the stuff off your face and you yawned, reaching for the rest of your sandwich.

“Hey, [Name], can I try a piece please?” The girl with the brown hair asked, with a small smile.

You nodded, and ripped the corner off and handed it to the girl. She took it and put it in her mouth as her eyebrows rose and she nodded slowly. “That is actually Gordon Ramsey menu worthy!”

“Is it really?” Midoriya asked.

“You bet. This stuff is gold!” She muffled, pointing to your sandwich.

“Hey, Todoroki, has she gotten her quirk, yet?” Iida said out of curiosity.

“Yeah, she got it about two months ago.” He said, and Midoriya lit up with a cute little smile. Everyone knew he loved the subject of quirks and heroes, so everyone braced themselves for the giant flood of talking they were about to encounter.

“That’s so cool that you have your quirk!” He smiled, and you smiled back, nodding. “How’d you get it?”

You pulled up your jumper’s sleeve to show a small scar going down your arm. Everyone looked at it and you said, “I froze my bed and my blankies went all hard and cold and then I moved and it cut me here! Shou had to make fire and un-freeze it so I could get out. And then Fuyumi gave me a Little Mermaid band aid.”

“So your quirk is like your brother’s ice?” Iida said.

You nodded dramatically, shooting your arms out and smiling, “I’m like Elsa!” ____

“So, [Name], how was Yuuei today? You get to meet cool heroes?” Fuyumi asked, carefully placing a plate of veggies, chicken and rice in front of you. You blew on it and stabbed the chicken with your fork, which you were holding backwards. All of your siblings sat down at the dinner table around you, thanking your sister for the meal.

“I like old people school!” You exclaimed, shoving the chicken in your mouth.

Natsuo smirked and sat down next to you with his plate of food, ruffling your hair. “Who you calling ‘old’?”

“She froze an entire rock when we were doing hero training in the courts.” Shouto smiled proudly. Fuyumi gasped quickly and smiled at you.

“That’s so good, [Name]!” She said.

Natsuo chuckled and pointed his fork at you. “When I was four, I couldn’t freeze a damn pebble. That’s some pretty good stuff, squirt.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be a hero when I’m big and I’m gonna freeze all of the villain’s butts!” You say happily, punching the air. All your siblings laughed and you sat in your chair for the rest of dinner thinking of ways to sneak into Shou’s backpack to go to his school again, because today was fun.

[lyndsaybones]

All These Years, Part 12 and Epilogue

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Dallas, TX 2011

Mulder looks through the garage door window and sees a tuft of curly dark hair belonging to the same woman who confronted him in Scully’s room earlier.

“You stay here,” he says as he takes Scully’s gun.

Scully nods and wraps her arms around Mike.

He pushes the door open and enters the murky garage. Lucy’s face is tense and tear streaked.

“Luce, it’s gonna be okay,” he says, holding out a hand.

“Why would you tell her something like that?” Katie says with a smirk. “You oughtta know how many times that’s turned out to be a lie,” she says to the side of Lucy’s head.

“Don’t listen to her, Lucy. It’s gonna be alright,” he says. “What do you want?” he asks.

“I think you already know,” she says, still smiling.

“You can’t have her,” he says.

“God, I coulda taken her out anytime,” she says, rolling her eyes.  

“You can’t have him either,” he says, barely containing his rage.

“I just wanna borrow him,” she says. “Just to pick his little brain is all.”

“I’ll bet,” he nearly growls. “Not gonna happen.”

“I can see why you’d be hesitant. You two did a good job hiding him all this time. But then you didn’t know what I know.”

“What do you know?” he asks between clenched teeth.

“That they’re connected, psychically bonded. There’s a gene marker for it, did you know that?” she says. “You’re just a carrier, but those two, they’re special,” she adds.

“You. Can’t. Have. Him,” he spits each word.

On the other side of the door, Scully pulls the boy closer to her, squeezes hard.

“It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you,” she whispers into his hair.

He wraps his arms around her and squeezes back. “No one’s gonna hurt you either,” he says.

“Why don’t you come on out here, Dana?” Katie calls. “It’d sure be a shame if you had another seizure,” she warns.

Scully ignores the threat and begins to rock the boy. “It’s okay,” she says again. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Mike pulls back a moment, places his hands on her cheeks and studies her deeply.

She blinks and just for a moment, can see the soft, sleepy face of her baby.

“I always knew you were alive,” he says, just above a whisper.

“I never wanted to leave you,” she nearly sobs.

He nods and tucks himself back into her embrace. She gasps softly, holding the tears at bay.

In the garage, Lucy struggles to stay upright as Katie tightens her grip. Her shoes slip and skid against the slick floor.

“Let her go, she has nothing to do with this,” Mulder warns.

Katie chuckles again and holds up a phone positioned in her left hand.

“One way or another, I’m gonna get what I want,” she says.

She swipes her thumb across the screen, which comes to life with a strobing white light. On the other side of the door, he can hear Scully cry out.

“A prolonged seizure will kill her,” Katie says.

“The tumor…”

“Isn’t a tumor,” she says. “It’s an implant. And it has one job.”

“Dad!” Mike yells. “Dad, help her!”

“Yeah, Dad,” she mocks. “You just got her back. It’d be a real shame to have her die all over again.”

He slowly backs up and looks through the window. Scully is on her back, jolting and jerking as if she’s been electrocuted. Mike is on his knees next to her, watching in horror as she twitches.

“That bond of theirs means it won’t be long before he starts seizing too,” Katie warns.

That’s all it takes.

He levels the weapon and squeezes the trigger. One shot. The sound makes his ears ring and the echo in the cavernous parking garage is all he can make out at first.

Like surfacing from underwater, things become clear again. Lucy is screaming, bawling for all she’s worth. Auggie is banging on the car window so hard that he could probably shatter it.

Katie is on the ground, an ever expanding pool of blood spreading from the back of her ruined skull. The screen of her phone flickers and goes black.

Two Days Later:

She opens her eyes, slowly, and realizes that she is back in her hospital bed. There is a moment of sheer panic. She can hear the monitors blaring as she sits up and tries to orient herself.

“Whoa, Sarah, slow down,” a voice says.

She looks up and sees the deeply concerned face of Adam Hamilton.

“Wha-” she breathes. “What happened?”

“It’s okay,” he says. “You’re okay now. We got it.”

“Got what?” she gasps.

He holds up a specimen jar and inside, a piece metal, about the size of a quarter and the shape of a river stone, smooth and rounded.

“It was right up against your vagus nerve,” he says as he sits up on the edge of the bed. “Whatever Katie was doing to you, stops now.”

She realizes that her head is wrapped in gauze, prodding gently at the bulk of it behind her ear.

“Where’s...what about…” she doesn’t even know what to ask.

“They’re getting some rest at the hotel...your son and his father,” he says tentatively.

“They’re okay?” she asks.

“Just fine,” he says. “Mike’s been on watch for hours. Poor kid was half asleep in that chair last night.”

“He’s alright? No seizure activity?” she asks.

“We gave him another scan and EEG to be sure, but he’s perfectly fine. Totally normal results,” he assures her.

A tear escapes and she nods.

“You uh...you’re going to leave, aren’t you?” he asks.

“I- I don’t know,” she sighs.

“I didn’t get it before, why you kept your heart so guarded,” he says. “I get it now.”

She nods. “I never knew who I could trust.”

“That’s a terrible way to live,” he says. “You deserve some peace.”

She nods and settles back into the bed a bit.

“How did you know he’s my son?” she asks.

“I knew it the second I saw him,” he says with a chuckle. “He even does that thing with his eyebrow. I dropped a couple of hints to his dad and hoped things would work themselves out.”

“Thank you, Adam,” she sighs. “You’ve always been better to me than I’ve been to you.”

He nods and stands up. “You’ll be discharged in a couple days,” he says. “And if I don’t see you again, I’ll be sad, but I’ll understand. It was a pleasure, Sarah.”

“Dana,” she corrects. “My name is Dana.”

He nods, looking suddenly quite touched. “Dana, nice to finally meet you.”

She sniffles a little as he goes. 

It’s been so long since she’d been called by her name that she felt like Dana Scully might have really and truly died.

The door opens again and it is Mulder, just Mulder, with a skittish smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, his voice quiet, maybe a little awestruck.

“Hi,” she responds, feeling her stomach flip. “Where’s Wi-Mike?” she corrects.

“Making the most of his time in the pool with Auggie and Lucy,” he says as he perches on the edge of her bed.

“Lucy,” she says cautiously. “She’s your…”

“Friend,” he finishes. “Good friend.”

“You two aren’t um…”

“Uh no...I’m not her type,” he says, laughing somewhat nervously. “You’re more her type,” he adds.

“Oh,” she responds, catching his meaning. “And Auggie is her son?”

“Nephew, she took custody of her niece and nephew when her brother and sister in law died. Auggie and June.”

“August and June?” she asks, quirking a little smile.

He nods in affirmation. “Lucy talked me into going to grief counseling after you...after she saw that I was struggling with…” The air shifts, her breath tightens. “I went to your funeral, Scully.”

“And I went to yours,” she sighs. “I know that doesn’t make us even. Anywhere near even.”

“I don’t want to get even, Scully. I just want you. I want you to come home and get to know your son.”

“Don’t you think I would if I could?” she says, her voice coming out in a soft tremble. “Someone paid her to do that. To watch me, to hurt me. Just because Katie is gone doesn’t mean that it’s over.”

“It is,” he says, taking her hand.

She shakes her head and a sob escapes.

“I missed,” he says.

“Missed what?” she asks.

“I took a shot at Katie and missed. Mike did it. Mike stopped her,” he says, very solemnly.

Her jaw bobs and she cannot produce a sound.

“Nothing is going to happen to him. Nothing is going to happen to any of us,” he says, squeezing her hands.

Epilogue:

Woodstock, VA 2013

Coming back from the dead is a process, a long one. It took more than a year to bring the entire Mulder-Scully clan back certifiable legal status.

They left Farr’s Corner, the little house where they were the Smiths and bought a new place in Woodstock. A couple of acres and couple more bedrooms. A fresh start.

Mike still goes by Mike. It’s all he’s ever known. Scully was tearful, however, upon discovering that his middle name was William.

Aside from the mountains of paperwork and legal fees, by far, the hardest part was reaching out to her mother, trying to explain that not only was her daughter alive this whole time, but so was her grandson. They started with phone conversations, quiet, tearful talks, apologies uttered in a litany of sniffles and sobs.

They’ve worked their way up to this moment with painstaking care and preparation. But she can still feel her heart thumping in her spine.

She fusses with her hair in the mirror that hangs in the foyer, simply because she has nothing else to fuss with. The house is immaculate, the evening’s meal is cooking in the oven, there’s nothing else to do but wait.

“You okay?” he asks as he wraps his arms around her from behind. She makes eye contact in the mirror and sighs.

He gives her a little squeeze and hunches to tuck his chin against her shoulder.

“Nervous?” he asks.

She nods, swipes a tear from her eye. She opens her mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He drops a kiss on her cheek and whispers against her skin.

“Breathe,” he says as he pulls away to answer the door.

Her attention is pulled to the sound of Mike thumping down the stairs at mach speed. He looks less and less like a little boy these days. He’s taller than her now and outweighs her too. He’s built like Mulder, tall, lean. They even move the same way. She found herself in perpetual and utter awe discovering all the little things about her son. He stands at the bottom of stairs, bouncing on his heels a little. He’s never had any family beyond his father, this is a whole new world for him.

Maggie Scully is already crying as Mulder hugs her and ushers her inside. Mother and daughter are drawn together like a pair of magnets, wrapping around one another in a fierce embrace.

“Mike,” Mulder beckons, waving his son to come off the stairs.

“Mom,” Scully says, pulling away with a sob. “This is your grandson.”

Maggie wipes her eyes and offers him a wide smile. “Hello Michael,” she says, opening her arms.

“Hi,” Mike answers tentatively before giving her a cautious hug.

“You look like your uncle Charles, do you know that?” she asks with a teary smile.

“Yeah, Mom told me,” he says, a little shy.

They give Maggie the grand tour before settling in at the dining room table. Mother and daughter sit close together throughout, alternating between holding hands and leaning into one another.

They head to the living room for dessert and quiet discussion of the holidays ahead, how to ease Mike into the chaos of a big family gathering.

“Oh I almost forgot! I need to give you something,” Maggie says suddenly.

Scully quirks an eyebrow and pulls back as Maggie stands up and digs into her pocket. She holds her clasped hand out to her daughter and sits back down. Scully holds out her hand to receive a puddle of gold in her palm. She gasps when she realizes what she’s holding.

“Your friend John gave that to me,” she says softly. “I thought you might want it back.”

She can barely stop the tears from coming as she nods. Mulder gets up and takes the necklace from her, helps her secure it at the back of her neck, tracing the scar there as he does.

“I’m never taking it off again,” she says.

“When are we telling Grandma about the baby?” Mike interjects.

“Baby?” Maggie asks, eyes wide.

“I guess now,” Scully says with a shocked chuckle. “We didn’t even tell you about the baby yet, Mike.”

He shrugs and looks down at his tablet. “I’ve known forever.”

She looks back at Mulder, her eyes asking if he was the one to spill the beans. Mulder’s mouth sits in a tight smile as he shakes his head.

“I told you there’s no use trying to keep anything from him,” he says.

“I guess not,” Scully says with a sigh as she turns to her mother. “I’m sorry mom, I didn’t want to spring another surprise on you already.”

Maggie laughs and hugs her close. “Don’t you dare apologize, Dana. Not anymore.”