#BRING BACK SUSAN THE DOCTOR NEEDS HER NOW MORE THAN EVER

[donutdrawsthings]

Some crossovers I thought would be fun and the first doctor and his granddaughter Susan! I've been watching some Classic Who and I cried at her departure :'o)

[myimaginarywonderland]

Maybe it's just me but something about this season of Doctor Who and the whole structure very much feels like it is set up for 3 seasons. Everything about this season and plots of Doctor Who has very much felt like the beginning to a longer season arc and I am curious if that is why they have already finished some filming because they have written it that way.

It would be interesting because we have never seen something like this before but I can not see any other explanation for the limited episodes and some of the storylines.

Here is why I believe it:

Ruby's story is starting to be told. We have sort of uncovered one side to her parentage while another is still a big question mark and both need to/feel like they will be explored. It feels like the end of this finale was clearly a set up for Ruby's actual story of family in the next season where there will clearly be some conflict (maybe her biological father doesn't want her , maybe she is confronted with the two versions of family she now has) that will be the focus of her storyline while also leaving some room for her to still be a companion. It seems very obvious to me that Ruby's story is written for maybe 2 seasons with a special as a last ride and therefore we are already going to be lightly introduced to the next companion once Ruby's story is told.

Ms Flood feels a lot like Lemony Snicket from ASOUE (the TV Show as I have never read the books.) I feel like we will continue to have her be a present point to us as the viewers in some way before the season 2 finale will finally confront her with the doctor and will give season 3 either the chance to be her story as a villain or to explore her role as morally grey character. It seems obvious to me that since the specials she was hinted at being a long term reoccurring character that is clearly part of a much bigger picture. I imagine with the end of Ruby's story will come a split where we finally get to meet Ms Flood on her own and have her actually interact with the doctor for her actual purpose.

Rogar ap Gwilliam. I know we technically had his hints resolved in 73 yards but especially now with his call back in the finale and all the hints we have had for him throughout the season, I am convinced he is going to have a bigger role in season 2. It just feels to continent to have him appear once yet still have him haunt the storyline in some way without there being more to him or his character. I could totally see him especially with his connection to Ruby be the villain or a big plot point of the second season.

Susan. With all the talk, the hints etc. there is no way we are not seeing Susan in some way/form or other. She was already hinted at in 12s run and with 15 she has been more prominent than ever. Not delivering on that, not having some kind off pay off for the suspension and conflict that now has already been built around her would be the cheapest and worst decision ever.

Sutekh. While I fairly confident he won't actually be back, we have now opened this whole can of Gods possibly influencing the story but first and foremost be real. There is clearly more to this than just his one appearance and God's as a conception will clearly return in some way, maybe even bring someone like the Trickster back to make this an ever more present fact.

All these plot points, all these characters have slowly been set in motion, have slowly begun to build up and some like Ruby are finally beginning to have their story told. But overall all of them on their own very much feel like set pieces that are waiting to be moved, like the opening for a play. It feels like we are watching all these smaller plots be developed for a much larger arc. If this weren't Doctor Who, I would have no doubt that this would be a show with 3 seasons that would end there because the structure seems so clear and obvious.

So I am definitely curious to see how this will turn out or if I am insane for this but this could not be 3 season arc any more clearer if it tried.

[umbrellasareforever]

Empire of Death

Alright I'm so fresh off watching it and normally I want to give myself time to think before I say anything but also to think I need to get it out somehow so ya'll are getting my thoughts as I process them and then maybe I'll make a more intelligent post later.

Let's start with things I enjoyed!

Mel was fantastic, as always. Bonnie Langford is a treat and honestly, watching her this episode made me almost wish she could be the series companion again.

The Memory TARDIS! A genuinely unexpected surprise and while it made not have made 100% sense, it was a fun reference and a unique way to get around the fact that the TARDIS wasn't available to them.

I enjoyed the scene with the Doctor and the woman in that ramshackle hut. It was a sweet, somewhat slow moment that let you feel the universe a bit. Honestly, I wish the episode had started with that, it would've been a great hook.

As much as I adore my Paradox Baby™️ theory, I do think that having Ruby discover that her mother is, in fact, just a person was quite sweet. It was nice to see a RTD companion actually have a happy ending for once (although we know she's coming back, but hey, it's still a sweet moment).

Okay uhhhhh let's get into my problems...

If Ruby's mother was really just a person why the hell did it snow every time her mom was mentioned? I get the whole "the more significance you give something, the more important it becomes", and I know that the universe is now more supernatural than it was before, but was that the supernatural bleeding in? And while we're on Ruby's mother, why did she point so dramatically to the sign? No one was looking, no one would've known that's what she named her daughter. Is it just a total coincidence that she ended up with that name? Am I crazy?

The moment Rose died so unceremoniously I knew that it was going to end up being one of those "no consequences" episodes and I felt incredibly deflated. I get that Russell needs to make the stakes feel high but I really don't think this is the way. You can't have every season end with a universe shattering event and then just as quickly put everything back to the way it was and expect me to still feel like there's a threat.

Piggybacking off that, whyyyyyyyyyyy the HELL did Mrs. Flood have to say the whole "end in abject terror" thing? I'm so sick of it. I'm so sick of every season ending with or being advertised with "OHHHHHH this next one is gonna be the biggest threat the Doctor has ever faced! Nothing will ever be the same!!" STOP!!! STOP IT!!!!!! YOU ARE KILLING ME JUST STOP IT ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Speaking of Mrs. Flood, as curious as I am about her and whatever the hell she is (Iris, Romana, Susan, the Trickster, something else entirely), I also think that the lack of any answers about her and the constant cutting back to her really pulled me away from the story as a whole. Whether it was because I'm more interested in her or because seeing her so much made me think her story was going to be more important in the episode, it just took away from the already limited time we had.

Which kind of brings me to my biggest problem; time. All season every episode has felt like we were rushing through, as if we didn't have nearly enough time to actually tell a story, and it sucks. It leaves stories feeling like first drafts and unsatisfying and meh. I know pacing is hard, but there's gotta be a way to make this stuff work.

On another note, the whistle was... uh... yeah. I'll accept the Doctor having Intelligent Gloves™️ and Intelligent Rope™️ and Psychic Earrings™️, but when a whistle falls out of a cupboard and he puts it on with 0 explanation and then uses what we can only assume is a normal whistle to control the TARDIS to *checks notes* shoot a cannon out of the console and fly it over to him and Ruby... Yeah I just... that's a bit much for me.

Also Sutekh's been on the TARDIS for how long??? Since Pyramids of Mars??? What happened to him in Flatline? What happened to him when the Master turned it into a Paradox Machine? Or when it was blowing up constantly in Series 5? Or when House took it over in The Doctor's Wife? He was just straight chilling?? Honestly this is less of a genuine complaint and more of a "Wow, Doctor Who is wild!"

Now this is VERY much a nitpick and I need to get over it, I know, but God I need 15 to wear more Doctor-esque clothes. Seeing him walk around this whole time in blue jeans and a t-shirt or combat cargo pants and a t-shirt just felt so off. Seriously, when he had that leather trench coat outfit back on at the very end I felt a moment of relief.

And while I'm nitpicking, I know they didn't even really play a part in the episode but I want to, once again, voice my frustration with how much UNIT is a part of RTD2 so far and how it feels like there's not even a hint of military critique about it.

Yeah okay, those are my thoughts for now. If you really read all this, I appreciate and applaud you, and I very much hope you enjoyed the episode. I wish I did.

Here's to the Christmas special, I suppose!

[upslapmeal]

The Legend of Ruby Sunday

Can't wait to find out that Ruby's mum is the Rani

they're really going with the flying tardis this series aren’t they

UNIT theme!

‘how’s your uncle’ awww

what a weird way to ask about your other self Doc 

though tbh maybe actually less weird than directly asking how your other parallel split past self is

Lenny Rush is so great!

though quick question Kate do you employ two children

....does UNIT have HR

good thing Fifteen could grab some episode footage for those Susan Twist images. given that Doctor Who Is A TV Show etc etc

S TRIAD……TARDIS?

lol 5 seconds later…there I was thinking I was being clever

‘obviously’ ‘even I got that’ OK NO NEED TO RUB IT IN

SUSAN IS THE NAME OF MY GRANDDAUGHTER AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

IS IT HAPPENING???????? ok I know it won't they wouldn't have brought it up so early BUT!!!!!!

TIME AND RELATIVE DIMENSION IN SPACE BAYBEEE

‘SUSAN SUSAN SUSAN’ yeah me too

Mel!

‘It was 2004’ I feel ancient Rose Tyler is out there somewhere and in a few days will be told she'll have a great year!

Ruby and Rose instant besties <3

ah Mrs Flood our third mystery woman

‘still hoping for that growth spurt’ RIP Ruby lmao

Cherry Sunday and her cup of tea, starcrossed lovers

‘he waits no more’ yikes that was a quick turnabout

what happened to Shirley Anne Bingham?

I’d want to make a copy of that vhs if I were Ruby before it potentially (...inevitably) gets destroyed by a time window

nobody seeing her face is giving 73 yards vibes

.....Ruby is her own mother? [I'm My Own Grandpa starts playing faintly in the background]

the colonel going behind the tardis out of view…..yeah he’s not coming back

turn off the time window!!!

oh that was a Look from Kate

potentially rethinking what she said about the Doctor bringing joy

‘stop grizzling and fix it’ love u Mel

‘Doctor who?’ wahey

'do you ever dream of being an ambulance' line of all time lmao

has susan been chameleon arched???

oh the tardis is NOT sounding happy

that's the same sound from after Maestro took control of it right?

Sutekh! oh they’ve been in classic who haven’t they

pyramids of mars?? four? def one I’ve not seen yet annoyingly

(hehe as of posting I now have!)

oh susan your face 💀

'did you think I was family?' :(((( oh that hurts

And now there's just one left!! V much looking forward to seeing this again in the cinema in *checks watch* just under 2 hours!! It was never going to be Susan was it. but. BUT. I live in hope. One day we will come back!

I do kinda wish there had been a bit more Ruby Sunday in the ep but other than that great fun, very enjoyable setup, big evil dog, bring it home RTD babeey

Also interested to see how Tales of the TARDIS plays into the next ep - are they going to go into it with Ruby suddenly just knowing all about Sutekh??

[moonlitlex]

ok hello. legend of ruby sunday.

i literally can't believe how underwhelmed i am honestly. like i'm not even angry i'm just underwhelmed. i've been pointing to rtd being bad at payoff as a reason i was unenthusiastic for this episode, but this is bad even by his standards.

as that other post i reblogged said, the other first parts of the season finales rtd wrote were actually good STANDALONE episodes while legend of ruby sunday is like a 45 minute long exposition dump. the actual solutions used are kind of questionable but something like army of ghosts or stolen earth is compelling on its own without needing the full season of setup to go with it. legend of ruby sunday underdelivers on its own.

like ok payoff wise i'm only gonna address the decision to use sutekh as the big bad. it's a questionable decision backed up with bad writing. like really... you're gonna pick sutekh.... guy who was in ONE classic who serial? in which he functions perfectly fine by the way! but like.... him?? he's your choice?

and what do we really know about him from this episode? that he's evil? he brings death? you can say that about half the doctor who villains that exist in the first place except the rest of them also come with opportunity for interesting commentary like the being engineered for hatred and killing with the daleks. sutekh doesn't really have any of that. so he's a shallow bad guy.

what he does have that's sort of unique at least in nuwho is that he's a god, and we haven't really done too many god-type antagonists, so that may be novel. unfortunately, rtd already shot himself in the foot by using both the toymaker and maestro recently. it's not novel anymore. it's not new and crazy anymore.

and like, usually the doctor showing real fear actually meant something, but he's been doing that really often recently. he was scared in wild blue yonder, then in the giggle, then in the beatles episode, then in boom, and now he's scared again. this doesn't really help sutekh's case because it seems like all the doctor does nowadays is walk into situations that freak him out.

and what i think this does is make sutekh a particularly bad season antagonist, because nothing makes him special.

do you guys remember how rtd introduced some other season antagonists? in army of ghosts or doomsday (dont remember which one), ten walks into the room and sees the void ship and for once, even the doctor is freaked out by something! he never gets freaked out by things! it actually meant something. when he realizes it's the master in utopia he's kind of terrified and it works because moments of the doctor being scared are reserved for situations that are actually scary. in legend of ruby sunday, he gets scared again, but we don't have that full season of him being unflappable, partly because he just has more occasions of getting freaked out by things than usual and partly because it's just a shorter season and we've only had him for 7 episodes (pre this one) so he's had less opportunities to be delighted at being in some type of crisis situation

and like character wise? does anyone get any character development?

the doctor is basically the same person he's been so far, with the added element of oh he thought this woman was susan. but she's not. so he doesn't really get anything.

ruby wanted to find her mother and was upset she couldn't. which was already her character ever since she was introduced. so she doesn't get anything either.

and the rest of the characters are just doing what they need to to make the story progress or standing around in the scene. and like i don't need mel or kate to be more fleshed out really because i think they're fine. but rose? she already had no character and she still has no character, and also now she works for unit.

and rose noble brings me to donna and ten3. where the fuck are they? like genuinely where are they? it needs to at least be addressed... like are we to understand fifteen is fighting sutekh while ten3 is doing the dishes at the noble household? or did he just wink out of existence at some point between the giggle and now? like there should be at least something about that? and i don't really care if that's going to be addressed later because it's been bugging me in both of the present day episodes we've had this season and fixing it later isn't really going to do anything to fix my initial viewing experience

anyway. this episode was ass. as usual. i can't believe some of you are liking this season i feel like we're watching entirely different shows

[msfbgraves]

So um, can we get a little scene with Daniel and Terry during his “Luna heat”? Daniel is described as looking and being extra lovely at this time. I bet Terry went even more insane than usual!

Insane or inspired, Nonnie?

Impossible.

It's completely impossible.

Yet Yasmin makes a determined little face.

“He told me to come get you,” she repeats, “because he was in heat!”

No time to explain that with six puppies, Mama already has two more pups than the average litter, so it must be something else – drugs?

“Is anybody else behaving differently, babygirl? Did you get a doctor?”

“Mama said to come get you,” she says, a little panicked at the mention of a doctor. “Sam's gone to get nonna -”

“Did she take -”

“Yes Daddy and I took Dutch, Eli and Bobby have gone for auntie Betsy and uncle John and Mama told me to -”

“Yasmin. Who is with Mama right now?”

“Snake and Dennis, but Daddy, hurry!”

None of these are physicians, but he trusts Lucille and Betsy to call for one regardless. No, he needs to find out who has breached security and tampered with his mate.

“You stay here with Dutch, baby,” he says. “Don't let him near the drink, tell Susan I said so. Uncle John will come get you soon.” Home is not a safe space for her right now. She looks pale, so he ruffles her head for one second before he grabs his hat and weapons. “You did good, baby. Keep making Daddy proud today, OK? I'm counting on you!”

He'll run. He knows it'll be faster than any mode of transport known to man.

What poisons simulate heats?!

He's home soon, drenched in a thin layer of sweat, and greeted by Betsy. “Where's John, darlin?”

“Oh, I sent him out,” she says, a half smile on her lips.

He can't harm John's mate, not even with his own in danger. “You what.”

“No Alphas here for miles, Terry, love.”

OK. There's clearly someone messing with the very air, so absolute priorities first. “Where's Daniel?”

“He's in your quiet room. It's still well stocked, but Lucille has gone for some groceries she couldn't bring.”

He's not convinced, but her sweet touch calms him even then. “Go in and take a breath, Terry.” Then she winks. “If I can smell it...!”

It's... gorgeous.

It's different, too, soothed, balanced, contained in a way, several familiar scents mixing into something harmonious-

And all his.

Indeed, he nearly chokes up when he sees what awaits him in the quiet room. Ten year old- Sammy holding her Mama's hand, Robby mopping his brow. He's seen Eli and Gianni, inseperable as ever, outside of the door somewhere. Curled up in Daniel's lap, not a care in the world, is Anthony. Daniel's eyes are closed; he can see him take calm, measured breaths – but Terry can smell the gush of slick, staining the soft bathrobe he's been wrapped in, no doubt.

His mate nudges Anthony. “Look who's here!”

Anthony lazily opens one eye, but then cuddles back in with his Mama. Sammy's worried brown unfurries, and he wraps her into his arms. It dulls some of the itch in him, too, and he kisses her forehead. “Well done, darlin',” he says. “You've taken care of Mama perfectly.” Robby joins her, and he strokes his hair. “Good boy, Robby, love,” he whispers. “Daddy's proud of you!”

“Come on, everyone!” he hears Lucille from the doorway, as Betsy comes in with some extra food, wipes, and heat pads for Daniel. “Nonna!” Anthony calls, and up he sits, paying Daddy absolutely no mind. Terry is happy to see Gianni and Eli already clutching Lucille's hand. “Is Mama going to be OK?” Eli says, looking to his grandmother, Terry and Daniel.

Daniel opens his arms. “Come here, caro,” he says, and Terry walks over to his mate as his other pups are herded outside. “Go and take care of your baby brother for Mama, OK? That would make me very happy.”

Terry wraps his arms around them both, and the heat smell increases. God, he's not going to hold out long. But Eli needs his cuddle, he can see that much. Daniel looks to him as Eli buries his face at his Mama's chest. “Yasmin?”

“She'll be at John and Betsy's,” he says, nodding to Betsy, and Daniel's face relaxes.

“Our brave girl!”

One more kiss for Eli, and even he lets go, takes Betsy's hand. Lucille can hardly contain her grin as she closes the door. Immediately, Daniel falls into his arms. “Terry! Sweet Terry.”

“Shhh, I'm here,” he says, and now the smell is stronger, pumping up his blood. He licks his mate's bitemark, the taste spicy-sweet.

“Ah, God! So good!” But Daniel cuddles in closer, strokes his mate's face. “Oh, Terry, you ran.”

“Yes, mo cuishle.” He kisses him. “My love!”

Daniel pushes him down into the cushions. “Sit, sit! You need a drink! My strong man -”

Terry grabs his hand. “Daniel -”

Daniel strokes his face. “You need to rest, yes -”

He can't believe he's saying this, but his mate looks so resplendent, soft black locks falling into his face, eyes shining and impossibly deep. Golden skin smooth and glowing, lips plump and shiny, but he looks so kind, so impossibly good –

Terry doesn't deserve him.

“My heart,” he says. “Daniel, my love...”

“Shhh,” his mate says, kissing his cheek, “calm now, make yourself comfortable...”

“No.” There's tears in his eyes when he says this. “Daniel, I shouldn't.”

He smiles, showing his adorable bunny teeth. “Why?”

“We have six pups,” he says. “It is too soon – you've only just grown so strong, so -” he grabs him anyway. “Oh, God, you're beautiful!”

More kisses. “And you -”

“No, Daniel,” he says. “You need a rest, your body needs – you deserve... I – it would hurt...”

“No,” and now Daniel kisses him, strokes his face as if he were a mere pup, and has he ever done this, has he ever been this overwhelmingly soft –

“I miss you,” his mate whispers in his ear, and he looks up in disbelief. Daniel kisses him. “Oh, Terry. All these years... I didn't even know what it was. But this ache...”

“You're hurt?”

“In Sicily,” he whispers, breathless. “I thought that I felt my soul, and I lacked my pups, and then you were back, and our little firecracker grew inside me, close to my heart. And I healed, and then our pup was in my arms, and at my breast, and I was well -”

He rubs Daniel's back, kisses his cheek. “And you grew so beautiful -”

“I miss you inside me,” Daniel says. “Oh, sweet Alpha, all these years, you were in my body or my arms at all times... I've been so lonely...”

“Danny – my Danny boy – ” The sense that his sweet mate could miss him like that, it won't do, and it goes to his head completely. “If I'd known -”

“I didn't either,” Daniel says, and his cheeks are wet, and if Terry somehow is on drugs he couldn't be more OK with it. “ But Terry, I need... Please fill me...”

“Blood of my heart,” Terry whispers, delirious, as he undoes the bathrobe and kisses his neck. “Light... light of my soul...”

And they share kisses sweet as wine, sighs as soft as paradise.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

For the whole history of DR. REED RICHARDS, please click here.

← ONCE THERE WAS AN IDEA TO BRING TOGETHER →

There’s been a single minded determination that has driven Reed ever since the accident. He spent the year and a half after doing everything in his power to “fix” the mistake that he made, but it has officially reached a point where he has to face the truth: Ben, Johnny, Susan and himself have been irreparably changed. Reed had been the one to push their space travel because funding was in danger of being revoked. If he hadn’t, they never would have gotten stuck in the multiversal rift. It’s now about learning to live with his perceived failure. In the year since the accident, Reed’s done everything he could to keep their situation under wraps in the Baxter Building. It was hard at first as no one could control their powers and suffered as a result. Now, they’re out in the world once more. The Fantastic Four has officially debuted after Susan was able to nudge Reed out of the labs and back into society. His determination to reverse the changes may be waning, but that’s only because there’s so much more to focus on. The world only grew more fraught during the time they withdrew. For better or worse, they have these powers. Reed can either keep living in his regrets or do his best to help save the day.

←  A GROUP OF REMARKABLE PEOPLE TO SEE IF THEY →

✗ SUSAN STORM (PRIME) is someone found her way into Reed’s busy head and never left. He undeniably had feelings for her even when he tried to skate away from them; it may have made it all the worse when his impetuous actions got them all mutated. In the time since, Reed’s guilt has pushed Susan away. He still feels for her, but he also knows the last year has been hard on her. Susan doesn’t see them as broken in the same way that Reed does, and while she’s rubbed off on him he hasn’t totally been able to change his mindset. He isn’t sure he deserves to be with her in the future. He wouldn’t blame her if she let her feelings die. Susan’s brilliant. She deserved better than Reed’s flawed arrogance.

✗ BEN GRIMM (PRIME) and Reed are best friends. When Ben told Reed he’d pilot the starship explorer that Reed dreamed of building, he likely didn’t imagine it becoming a reality any more than he could have imagine what would happen to them after. Seeing his lifetime friend reduced to rock was hard for Reed at first. Ben was one of the driving forces behind Reed’s bullheaded determination to reverse the perceived curse. It’s been hard for Reed to accept the reality of his friends new life. He knows he hasn’t been a good friend ever since the accident, but he’s going to do better now. Ben’s got enough going on without Reed pushing him away as well. 

✗ VICTOR VON DOOM (PRIME) hates Reed and has ever since they were in school together. It was Victor’s competitive nature and arrogance that led to not only his face being scarred but his immediate expulsion from the State University in Hegeman. NY where they studied. Victor’s blamed Reed for his downfall ever since, but Reed doesn’t know just how deep the streak goes. Victor’s descent into a new persona called Doctor Doom was a surprise to say the least, and he’s made it more than clear he has a bone to pick with Reed. The two are intellectual adversaries. Time will tell who comes out on top on the battlefield. 

← COULD BECOME SOMETHING MORE  →

✗ FANTASTIC FOUR – They’re only now becoming a team and not just a group of afflicted individuals. Reed did everything he could to try and save them, but he’s now realized they don’t need saving. They can hide in the shadows or take advantage of the powers they have. It’s hard for Reed to call himself the ‘leader’ after he’s the one who got them into the mess. Still, their eyes on him and Reed knows he needs to step up to the plate. He owes it to them to give it his all. 

✗ OTHER AFFILIATIONS – n/a

← & IF WE CAN’T SAVE THE WORLD, WE’LL AVENGE IT →

✗ AGE → 30 ✗ MULTIVERSE ORIGIN → earth-prime ✗ SPECIES → mutated human ✗ ETHNICITY → up to player  ✗ SECRET IDENTITY → public ✗ RELATIONSHIP STATUS →  open ✗ FACECLAIM → penn badgley ✗ AVAILABILITY → taken

← FUN FACTS →

doesn’t understand magic

failed his driving test four times

has phd’s in physics, mathematics, aerospace engineering and mechanical engineering & is currently working on a phd in multiversal theory alongside susan

[kirain]

I started playing rdr2 but stopped because like idk but I can't seem to get over the fact that all the women are prostitutes and they don't really have any important roles. Like what's Abigail do? Ooh she's a mother who's always mad? What do the other women do? Oooh they sleep with the gang. What's Sadie do? Oooh she becomes a badly written femme fetale who suddenly becomes a flawless killer. The women are just so badly represented.

I get the feeling you didn't play the game naturally or see any random encounters, because none of what you said is true. There's a lot to unpack here, so let's start with the "all the women are prostitutes" comment.

First of all, none of the women are prostitutes, a fact that deeply irritates Micah. During a coach robbery where he rides with Arthur and Bill, he even says, “Why the hell do we need a gaggle of girls who won’t even fuck you if you put a gun to their head? Is it too much to ask considering they get a piece of every damn dollar I bring in?” Poor baby. He even tries to proposition all of the women (Grimshaw included), but they all insult him and send him running with his tail between his legs. It’s hilarious and I love it. Arthur also responds to Micah with, “Everyone does their share. I don’t see you lifting a finger around camp.”

Now a bit about the girls:

Mary-Beth was a skilled pickpocket, but she ended up being caught by a group of her victims. She mentions this during a conversation with Arthur, where she points out how hard it was for women who came from nothing, and the inequality of it all. RDR2 actually regularly highlights how difficult frontier/outlaw life was for women back then, often pulling zero punches. While fleeing her pursuers, Mary-Beth luckily ran into Hosea, who helped her escape and welcomed her to the gang. You can see Dutch lusting after her a few times, because he's an old pervert, but she always shuns his advances. She was never a prostitute and she was actually underage when she joined.

Tilly was a child outlaw and a member of the Forman gang from the age of twelve. She ended up killing the leader's cousin because he [as is heavily implied] tried to rape her. She was around sixteen at the time and tried to return to her mother after the ordeal, but she unfortunately passed away while Tilly was running with the Formans. Out of options, she eventually joined the van der Linde gang after Dutch saved her from some unspecified trouble. You can find most of this out during one of my favourite side missions, where she gets kidnapped by Anthony Foreman in retaliation for killing his cousin. With Grimshaw’s help, you can rescue Tilly and put an end to it once and for all. She was never a prostitute and was also underage when taken in.

Susan Grimshaw was one of the original members of the gang and one of Dutch's first lovers. They parted amicably and both fell in love with other people (Dutch with Annabelle, and Susan with a doctor who sadly ended up dying), but she stayed with the gang because of their mutual respect for each other. She later became the arbiter of the camp and a kind of surrogate mother to Arthur, John, and the other girls. She was never a prostitute, but rather a rough-and-tumble outlaw.

Karen is a little more complicated. Overall, she was a scam artist (Hosea even called her an “actress”) who sometimes lured men into brothels, then stole from them or picked their brains for leads. That doesn't necessarily mean she was a prostitute; however, it just means she used sex as a manipulation tactic. Out of all the women in the group, she was the freest and most unconventional. She also stood on guard duty and participated in heists. The only man she ever slept with in game was Sean, and his death absolutely devastated her. If you talk to her or observe her interactions, you also discover she’s a raging alcoholic suffering from some very deep-seated issues. She likely did have to do things she wasn’t proud of in order to survive, but in my opinion that makes her one of the most realistic members of the group. She was never described as a prostitute.

Molly was an aristocrat who left her family to be with Dutch. His abusive treatment eventually led her to suffer an identity crisis, where she ended up hysterical and heartbroken. Her story is sad, but she was never a prostitute. If anything, Molly is the best example we have that Dutch views people as items, not human beings.

Abigail is the only prostitute in the game, but by the events of RDR2 she's an ex-prostitute. To say she's nothing more than "a mother who's always mad", I feel, does her character a great disservice. First of all, she left that profession behind to raise her son, to give him a decent chance in life. Unlike John, she stepped up immediately to become a responsible adult. I don't think people realise how impressive that is because, one, she could've easily abandoned Jack at the roadside (which was common back then), two, she could've induced an abortion, and three, she was quite young when she had him; around nineteen years old.

You say the women are "poorly represented", but they're stronger, smarter, and more mature than most of the men. A few of them even become self-sufficient in the turn of the century, something dear old Dutch couldn't even do/accept. Abigail in particular helps Sadie mourn her husband and the two grow very close. Their interactions are both grounded and heartwarming, with Abigail telling Sadie she’ll suffer the loss of her husband, but that it’ll get better if she keeps on living. She takes care of her, and Sadie later returns that kindness. These women are so full of quirks and humour and personality, I don’t know how you missed it.

As for Sadie ... where do I even begin? Badly written? Femme fatale? Flawless killer? Sadie is one of the best written characters. She's not flawless, she's exceptionally flawed, temperamental, and traumatised. It's never expressly stated, but it's implied at several points throughout the game that she was repeatedly assaulted while the O'Driscolls kept her captive. At first, she's petrified and miserable, to the point that all she does is cry and express suicidal ideation. Then, she gets angry. Very angry. Having nothing left to live for, her home and husband torn from her grasp, she throws herself headfirst into danger, which almost gets her killed on a number of occasions.

She's not a "flawless killer", she's a messy killer. She's not an expert death-dealer, and that's made evident from the start -- but she was a hunter who shared the workload with her husband, so it's not as if her skills just magically appeared. You do see how much it weighs on her, however, near the end of chapter six. If you help her kill the rest of the O'Driscolls, she laments what she's become because she thinks her husband would be horrified. She’s extremely complex and struggles between mourning and moving on.

I also can't help but laugh at the "femme fatale" accusation, because Sadie actually defeminises herself, which is understandable considering the hell she’s suffered. She even wears men's clothing, which wasn't illegal [anymore] back then, but it was openly frowned upon. Femme fatales use their beauty and sexuality to their advantage, ensnaring men with their feminine wiles. Sadie never does that and fights side-by-side with the boys. Interestingly enough, that's partially why Calamity Jane, an actual historical figure, garnered so much attention, because of how she behaved/dressed. It’s pretty clear to me that Rockstar might’ve used her as inspiration for Sadie. This was a real woman who lived from 1852 to 1903.

In addition, Sadie plays one of the most important roles, yet she does so without falling into the category of a Mary-Sue. She saves the gang and moves them to a new location when the Pinkertons attack Shady Belle. She hatches the plan that frees John from prison. She helps Arthur rescue Abigail after she gets kidnapped. She tracks down Micah and puts an end to his reign of terror. But most of what she does she accomplishes with a partner--Arthur or John--both of whom she respects immensely. No one, not even Arthur, does everything alone, and when they do there’s usually negative consequences. It's the camaraderie and shared experiences that make these characters successful, and aside from Charles and Hosea, I’d even argue that the women are more well-rounded and fleshed out than the men.

I gather from for comments that you didn't finish the game, so I hate to spoil it, but I kind of have to if you walked away with this mindset. The women of RDR2 are a force to be reckoned with.

[fizzigigsimmer]

The Wish Your Heart Makes

Part 1/2

I love Halloween and was thinking about how I wanted a body swap fic.This idea bit me and wouldn’t let go so I wrote this instead of cleaning my house.

Summary: Billy Hargrove goes to sleep a 15 year old omega in sunny California and wakes up someone else in Chicago. The man everyone thinks he is has everything Billy ever wanted, and everything he never let himself want. Including an adorable little hell raiser and the alpha of his dreams.

Warnings: Neil Hargroves greatest hits, child abuse, racism, sexism, and homophobia.

~San Diego, 1982~

Billy hunched over in his seat, cradling the bruises hidden beneath his sweatshirt and tried to ignore the kid in the yellow raincoat. He looked about seven he thought, but what Billy knew or cared about kids could fit neatly inside a condom. So the kid could be ten for all he knew. Point was, the boy hadn’t blinked for at least twenty minutes and Billy was sure that could not be healthy.

He bounced his knee up and down to prevent himself from biting his nails; and just ended up hunched over in the uncomfortable plastic chair, jiggling his knee like an addict and biting his nails down to the beds anyway. 

‘Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?’

The canned Christmas music pumping out of a speaker on the ceiling of the bland waiting room was giving him a headache. Billy had been sitting there long enough for it to transition from the over produced bubble gummy covers of pop stars singing ‘Jingle Bells’, to stiff churchy sounding hymns. His very catholic mother had loved those. Used to fill the house with the sound of angels bringing in the good news before the dishes had even dried after Thanksgiving dinner. So it was inevitable that he think of her, even though he had a rule never to do that. He hated this time of year. A whole holiday designed around the lie of happy family, goodwill, and a merciful god. What was not to hate?

Besides the creepy kid, there wasn’t much to look at in the waiting room. Brick walls painted the color of oatmeal covered in peeling posters with muted calming colors, depicting heavily pregnant women and smiling doctors. Trust US To Help You Plan Your Family. A bold black headline demanded. Billy felt like giving it the bird, but that would just make him look crazier than he already did.  

“William Hargrove?”

Billy jerked in surprise. Winced as the bruised skin beneath his sweatshirt stretched. But he stood and followed the tall thin woman with the blue scrubs holding open the door into the back hall where the exam rooms were. The nurse introduced herself as Susan and lead him to the second in a long row of square rooms with tightly closed doors. He supposed he would be glad for the privacy himself soon enough, but he still thought it made the place look like a prison. 

Susan got Billy situated on one of those motorized chair/bed things and grabbed a backless gown from one of the upper cabinets that lined the wall above the desk. It was next to a large metal sink. There was a stain near the drain, too faint to discern what had caused it, but for a moment Billy was captivated by it. Was it blood? Bile? Maybe chemical wash had corroded the metal?

“Mr. Hargrove?”  

Billy jumped again. Snapped, “It’s Billy.”

“Billy. The doctor will need you to get into this.” She set the folded gown on the seat beside his leg and gave it a pat. Her eyes dragged over his ratty jeans and the oversized sweatshirt he wore despite the practically balmy sixty degree weather they were having. “You’ll probably be more comfortable.”

No. Billy thought of the bruises covering his stomach and the excuses he’d have to make now to a nosy doctor and thought, no. No he fucking wouldn’t. But he needed those meds, and there was no way to get them without going through this circus. So here they go.

He changed into the gown. Ignored the nurse’s cluck of concern when she got a good look at the job his father had done on him the night before. All because he could smell Billy stronger than usual. His glare dared her to say anything about it. It was a toss up who that worked on. Some people got even pushier when they sensed a locked door. Susan was not a pushy woman. She avoided looking directly at Billy as she prepped the doctors tools and filled out his chart.

William Hargrove, fifteen, male, omega. And what brings him in today?

“I need stronger blockers. Mine don’t work worth shit right now.”

His doctor’s name is Dr. Mehta. She’s a short curvy Indian woman (strike one) and even though her scent is sterile and chemical with perfume, the no nonsense look she gives him is all alpha. And that’s strike two. Billy’s father would hate her. Would probably kick the shit out of him again just for the insult to his sensibilities. Say some shit like, ‘you going to let that curry monkey tell you what to do?’, because the only thing Neil Hargrove hated more than his omega son, were job stealing immigrants and female alphas.

Dr. Mehta pursed her lips and looked down at his chart. Flipped a page. Then another. Billy knew what she was about to say before she even said it, but it still comes as a shock to his system. Like a slap.

“Mr. Hargrove, this is the third time you’ve been here in under six months. It’s natural for traces of an omegas scent to linger, even on blockers. Especially around what would otherwise be a normal heat cycle.” Her grip tightened on the clipboard. The corners of her mouth pulled back like she was bearing her teeth. Billy locked his muscles in place, resisting the urge to curl up on himself and hide from the angry alpha.

“Giving you a stronger prescription so soon will likely have adverse psychological effects, as well as cause irreparable damage to your reproductive – ”

“I don’t care!” Billy snapped. He clenched his hands, fisting the thin cotton gown between his fingers and tried to breath through the feeling of rising panic. She had to give him the meds. She had to, or Billy’s dad was going to kill him.  

Nothing set him off like having to smell Billy and be reminded that his son was a wet assed sissy boy omega. He didn’t care that Billy’s scent and his heat were natural functions that he could not just turn off and on like a light switch. Neil would yell, slap, kick, and punch until Billy was obedient. Until Neil had knocked the bitch out of him and Billy remembered how to be a man.

“I don’t give a fuck about kids or heats or any of it. I won’t fucking regret it someday or change my mind, or – Christ.” Billy grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tugged until his scalp stung, trying to ground himself with the feeling. He was going off the rails and he doubted Dr. Mehta was going to listen to a hysterical omega. Who would?  

“Mr. Hargrove –

“It’s Billy!”  

He wasn’t helping his case he knew that. Knew it was unusual for an omega to hate their own name so much. The reminder of family bonds should have brought him comfort, might have if Billy were normal. If he’d been like all those smiling omegas on the posters, with loving fathers and protective mothers. He’d heard a story on the news about a woman who’d died trying to save her baby from a gang of traffickers. She could have lived, traffickers were only ever interested in unbonded omegas, only she wouldn’t let go of the stroller.

“Billy.” Dr. Mehta amended, softer. “I’m obligated to ask if there is any reason that you do not feel safe at home.”

She paused but it was obvious that she did not expect Billy to be truthful. He shook his head and she nodded. “Right. But am I correct in assuming that for a personal reason it would be unsafe for you to detox from prescription suppressants and allow your body to go through a natural cycle?”

Billy shuddered. With his eyes closed he almost forgot to nod. Only did so when her soft voice prodded him once more. No. No Billy could never let himself go through heat.

~*~

After having burned through most of the morning Billy left the omega free clinic twenty minutes later with a little brown bag full of white pills. ‘These are much stronger than you’re used to Billy’ the doctor had warned him. ‘You’ll need to wait a full twenty-four hours to make sure your system is clean before you start them. Absolutely do not double up on dosage and I’m going to schedule a follow up in week to check your progress.’ Billy sneered at the memory. Yeah right. Like he was going to give his scent even more time to get stronger and then go home to Neil.

He stopped at a corner store near the bus stop and bought a bag of chips and a soda with the last of his money. Billy cleaned pools and mowed lawns to make money when he wasn’t in school since he didn’t get an allowance like the rich kids and the idea of Neil giving him omega pin money was laughable. He was saving up for parts to fix the car his grandpa had promised to buy him when he turned sixteen.

He felt sort of bad that his grandfather was using part of his pension to buy Billy a car (even a used one) but Pops wouldn’t hear no. He said it was because he worried about Billy traveling downtown to the free clinic without an alpha, but they both knew it was more than that. Pops was old and wouldn’t be around forever. Having a car of his own meant that no matter how bad things got Billy would always have a way out.  

Billy washed his first pill down with a mouthful of Dr. Pepper on the city bus and ate half a bag of chips because the label recommended taking the drug with food. And for about ten minutes he felt fine. He sat slumped in the uncomfortable seat with its torn cushion, his head resting against the window and watched the colorful streets of San Diego pass by. Glazed eyes took in brightly lit shop windows decorated in silver, gold,red and green tinsel; couples walking arm in arm with their shopping bags, bouncing children with drippy noses trailing alongside them. A pair of old men ambled along the sidewalk together bickering, even as one helped guide the other with an arm snugly around his friend’s back. Billy blinked back tears… we two have run about the slopes and picked the daisies fine… and frowned. This fucking song again.

He looked up toward the front of the bus, thinking he might beg for the driver to change the station to literally anything else, but his head swam with the movement. He did not feel so well anymore he realized as a pounding set in. He gave up any thought that wasn’t laying his head down and slumped down again, letting the motion of the bus lull him. By the time he got to his stop in the burbs Billy was sure he was ill and all he could think of was getting to his bed.  

He forced his tired legs to put one foot down in front of the other, glad that he knew the way home well enough that he didn’t have to pay much attention. His head felt like it wasn’t attached to his neck, like it was liable to roll right off if he didn’t hold onto it with two hands. Distantly he thought that if someone were watching him now with an eye to snatch him and sell him on the black market he’d be easy pickings. He’d be a story in the newspaper that the omega wives would cluck their tongues about and the alphas would sigh over. ‘What was he doing out by himself when he should have been in school? Drunk too, by the sounds of it.’

Billy might have looked drunk stumbling down his street in the early afternoon but he didn’t feel it. He mostly just felt sick. It was strange but he could almost feel something pulling at him. The feeling reminded him of being caught in a riptide. He tried to push against it but it was a struggle just to keep his eyes open long enough to reach his house and find the extra key they kept under the pot with the dead plant in it on the front step.

When the door opened to the empty living room a sob caught in Billy’s chest. This might be the first time he could remember in years that he wished his father were home. He was scared he’d fucked up with the pills and poisoned himself and there was absolutely no one to help him. Falling onto the sagging couch in the middle of the living room, Billy told himself he just needed sleep. That it was a bad reaction, because he should have waited, but he’d be fine… he’d be… for auld lang syne, my dear, for… for the love of god! He fucking hated Christmas.

Billy tried to shout for the driver to turn off the radio but he couldn’t get his mouth to move. He was caught, and the tide was pulling him down, down, down, into the dark. The chorus of singing voices were still echoing in his head as he passed out.

~ Chicago 2002 ~

The first hint Billy had that he was not in Kansas anymore was the softness. It felt like he was laying on a bed of clouds, so fluffy was the pillow resting under his cheek and comfortable the mattress that cushioned him. He couldn’t help burrowing deeper into that warmth and softness. He’d never been allowed to make anything approaching a nest, but he imagined that if he had it couldn’t have felt better than this. The comforter lying over him was buttery soft… but it smelled strange.

The smell was the second clue. Because it smelled like omega. Ripe. Dense. Like he’d sweated out his blockers and rolled around in the sheets for hours. And that wasn’t good. That was dangerous. Billy had jerked awake and already started to scramble out of bed tearing the blanket and the sheets off the bed thinking, get them in the laundry and get in the shower right now right now, when he froze. Because it wasn’t just his scent that wasn’t what it should be.  

That couldn’t be right though. Could it? His heart picking up pace in his chest Billy tentatively brought a corner of the comforter to his nose and sniffed.His senses were flooded with the scent of a strange alpha. It was so strong he couldn’t figure out how he’d missed it until now. The whole room smelled like toasted almonds and and…Billy kept sniffing. At first it was to try and identify what else it was making that scent smell so good, so masculine and warm, but he kind of forgot about that along the way. Fuck he’d never smelled anything so good.

A low rumbling sound filled his ears and Billy yelped, dropping the blanket. He whirled around to face a threat that wasn’t there. The room – this big ass room that wasn’t his – was empty. He’d been startled by the sound of his own purr. Fear began to numb Billy as he realized that he was in a strangers house, with an alpha off his blockers. His frantic brain kept screaming that he’d been trafficked and that any minute now some huge ugly asshole was going to burst in here and try and knot him whether he wanted it or not. No. Fuck no. He was big for an omega. Hadn’t spent all that time bulking up and honing his body just to wind up a sex toy. If he stayed calm he’d find a way out. Billy forced himself to breathe and to look around the room for an escape route.

The room he was in was… well strange. There weren’t chains on the bedpost or anything weird like that. It was the ordinariness of it that was off putting actually. It was like he was Goldilocks and he’d stumbled into the house of some unsuspecting alpha and fallen asleep in their bed. Maybe he had? Billy strained for a moment to remember. He’d been so out of it, had he accidentally gone to the wrong house? Picked up the wrong key from under the wrong potted plant?

But no, even as he thought it Billy knew he hadn’t. This bedroom was the size of his living room. There weren’t any houses on Battle Creek road that could accommodate a room like this. The big four poster bed looked like it had been bought out of a catalogue. The heavy oak furnishings were obviously well made and the carpet beneath his toes was white. Only rich people had the time or the money to keep white carpets clean.  

He noticed there was a rack of dumbbell weights tucked in the corner near the closet and a pair of running shoes had been left haphazardly near the closed door of what was presumably the bathroom – if the sound of running water behind the door was anything to judge by. Oh fuck oh fuck – Billy wheezed, realizing that the sound of the shower meant there was a naked alpha with very big feet behind that flimsy looking door. Some sick pervert who had to kidnap underage omegas just to get his knot in.

Billy shook his head sharply and made himself focus. The door was sure to be locked but there were large windows on either side of the bed. He hurried over to the one on the right side, shocked to find it not only unlocked but cracked open to let in a biting breath of air. Billy pushed the window open as far as it would go and stuck his head out, dismayed by the sight of the ground too far below to jump and covered in a white blanket of snow.

“What the fuck?” he stumbled back from the window, struggling more and more to keep the panic at bay because that was fucking snow outside! Where the fuck was he? Drugs. It had to be drugs. They’d have kept him unconscious while they transported him across state lines, or god fuck, maybe even out of the country! That would explain why the blockers were gone and his scent was so strong too.

Abandoning caution Billy ran to the bedroom door to try the knob. He couldn’t believe it but it turned easily under his hand and the door opened to the hallway beyond. He saw the flight of stairs at the end of the hall almost immediately and made a beeline for them. But when he reached the top of the stair a soft sound made him stop. It was music, slightly tinny in that way it got when it was being pushed through a speaker, and it was coming from a bedroom near the stairwell. The door had been left open just enough for Billy to glimpse pastel blue walls dotted in daisies.

It was just a tinkling tune without words but Billy already knew them by heart. He heard them in his head as he crept closer to that door and pushed it open, pulled by the distant memory of his mother singing in the kitchen some Christmas long ago and her scent blooming bright with happiness. Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and old lang syne?

Billy had walked into a nursery. There was a changing station next to a white wardrobe that bore small colorful footprints up the side, marking the growth of a child. There were toys and books lining a stack of shelves near a window covered in gauzy curtains, and an old rocking chair set beside it. Billy blinked, taken back by the sight of the big purple octopus that had been shoved onto it. The stitching on one of its eyes was mostly gone, giving it the appearance of winking. Someone had taped a small red squirt gun to one of its arms and pointed it at the door. What the fuck is going on? He thought even as his feet carried him to the edge of the toddler bed overflowing with pillows and stuffed toys. In the center of what was obviously a tiny nest even to Billy’s untrained eye, was a small girl.

Honey colored lashes rested against a round cheek. Her hair fell down her back in soft blond waves that curled a bit more in the back. She had a lot of it. Billy didn’t think kids that size usually had so much hair. Did they? He wouldn’t know. Didn’t like kids! But something about the pup asleep in the bed had grabbed ahold of him and wouldn’t let him go. Was it her scent, milky and baby powder soft with a hint of omega sweetness? Was this some kind of weird omegean baby fever because he was off his meds?

“Hard to remember why we set the limit at two when they’re asleep like this isn’t it?” A voice said softly behind him and it was only years of living with Neil that kept him from jumping out of his skin. He froze like a deer in headlights because that was the key to survival sometimes. If he didn’t move (didn’t breathe) Neil might not find anything that needed correction. But Billy could feel the alpha’s eyes burning into his back and the weight of his expectation. His skin was crawling thinking about having some strange guy behind him so…

Billy turned slowly, and gaped at the man – because it was decidedly a man – he found leaning against the door frame in nothing but a towel. Blushes and shy glances were for sissy omegas and girls, but he found his eyes darting away from the sight of the slick hair clinging to the alpha’s well defined chest and then back again for another look; because fuck me, the guy was hot.

“Babe?” Mr. Chest hair asked, that single word imbued with so much significance that Billy’s fear started to resurface. There was just no good reason for some old guy to be standing there calling Billy ‘babe’ like they’re in a sitcom and Billy’s June Cleaver. They’re strangers to each other and the guy has to be at least forty. Billy doesn’t see any grays but he’s from California sacred home of implants and hair dye so that means nothing.

“Where am I and who the fuck are you?” Billy demanded. He didn’t know what sort of reaction he expected from the alpha; but it wasn’t for the bemused smile on his handsome face to disappear and for his eyes to narrow on Billy in speculation. The alpha had pretty eyes Billy noticed, if only because they were rounder and softer than was typical for alphas. Billy didn’t think it detracted from his appeal one bit, but then again Billy wasn’t the typical omega either.

Disturbed perhaps by the sharpness in Billy’s tone and the scent of omega distress filling the room, the sleeping pup shifted in her bed drawing both their gazes. Billy held his breath and prayed the kid wouldn’t wake up. He didn’t know why, but whatever this was going to be he didn’t think a pup that young should see it. The alpha seemed just as relieved as he was when the girl settled and slept on.

“Well that’s one crisis averted.” He muttered before looking back at Billy again like someone gearing up for a chore they weren’t particularly fond of. “Why don’t we get dressed and then we’ll sit down and talk. Okay? I’m sure you’re very scared right now and have lots of questions.”

He knew it wasn’t a logical response but Billy resented that look and the implication that he could be handled like he was the one who was three-years-old.

“I’m not scared of you old man. I’m pissed and I’m leaving!” Billy declared, lowering his voice halfway through when he remembered the kid. But he wasn’t going to wait around either. The guy was taller but Billy had him beat for muscle, plus he was younger so that had to count for something. He barreled his way past the alpha but the guy didn’t try and stop him. Probably because he seemed more concerned with shutting the door of the kid’s room and making sure she wouldn’t see or hear whatever was about to happen next.

Billy took off down the stairs at a run.

“Damn it. Billy! Billy wait!”

He ignored the guy calling after him and took the stairs as fast as he could, hopping the last two to land at the bottom and bolt toward what he hoped was the front hall, judging solely by the brighter daylight he could see spilling across the stretch of wood floor beyond the archway. Thankfully he had guessed right. Dominating the short little hall between the stairs and some kind of living room was a set of big doors with fancy window cutouts.  

“Billy!” He could hear the alpha behind him over the drumming of his heart. He made a desperate break for the doors, praying, praying, oh please god please.

Billy stumbled out into the blindingly bright snow, his saint Christopher’s medal swinging and slapping against his skin from the momentum. That was when it sank in that he was without a shirt or shoes. Fuck, fuck fucking fuck! Billy took several hopping steps as the chill speared its way through the pads of his feet and up his legs. It was so fucking cold!  

A dog barked and Billy looked up to see an elderly woman in a set of pink hair rollers walking a fluffy white dog on the sidewalk passed the drive.

“Help!” Billy called out, waving his arms. “I need help!”

The woman looked up startled, her wary expression melted away into one of recognition and then scandal. Her face scrunched up disapproving, as if the sight of half dressed teenage omega in obvious distress was some kind of stain on the neighborhood.

“Mr. Harrington! Does your alpha know you’re outside in your underwear?!”  

Billy ran. He had no idea who this Harrington guy was that the old bat had mistaken him for, but he knew the woman would be of no help to him. She didn’t have a single question about why a teenage omega would run out of a house barely clothed making a scene besides did his alpha know. If that alpha caught up he could say whatever he wanted and that old woman would take it as gospel.

So Billy ran as best he could in his bare feet down the drive and into the street, ignoring the woman’s increasingly frantic calls.  

“Mr. Harrington?! William!”

Billy bit his tongue to stave off the knee jerk instinct to turn and correct her. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.  

‘Your name is Billy.’ He told himself, bare feet pounding against un-shoveled sidewalks as he ran. ‘You might be an omega but you won’t be a victim. So fucking run.’

Billy ignored the pain in his feet and the cold gripping his body as he ran down the street, passing block after block of picture perfect homes with pruned shrubs, long driveways, and two-car garages all covered in cotton cob webs, pumpkins, spiders, and ghouls. What the fuck was going on? He’d heard of people holding onto their Christmas décor but who kept their Halloween decorations up past November?

Billy slowed as he reached the intersection of what looked to be a main street. The cookie cutter houses had given way to shops, and he could see what looked like a gas station two blocks down to the left. Billy stood at the intersection unsure of which way to go, watching the cars pass while he waited for the light to change. It was an odd thing to do maybe, wait for a light to change when you were being chased, but Billy’s thoughts were no longer on what was behind him but what was right in front of him.

The cars were all wrong.  

He couldn’t explain how in so many words. They were just off. He saw too many models and makes that he just didn’t recognize. It seemed excessive even for a rich neighborhood that so many people would be driving foreign cars. And the ones he did recognize looked weird. A slimmer body here, a rounder trunk there. And the ones that were the same, that should have just rolled off the factory floor for some Bob or Ted to show off in, they all looked old. Well used and ready to be handed down to some eager teen.

The light turned green. Shaking, Billy crossed the street. He was no longer thinking of running but of reflections. He needed to find his, because the cars were all wrong, and maybe it was just in his head but he thought that maybe his voice was wrong too. He’d been so scared before that it hadn’t registered, but his voice sounded different in his ears. Still recognizable but off. Just like the cars.  

A book store was the first shop on the strip. The window had been decorated in fake cobwebs and a paper witch riding a broom hung from a hook in the ceiling along with a trio of ghosts. But the window was clean and just lit enough that he could see his reflection in the glass.

Billy bit his lip, cringing away from the glass. The stranger had the same colored hair as his, but it was cropped short till it was longer in the front than the back, one annoying lock of hair still long enough to curl across his brow. Crawling over abs that looked like the ones Billy worked so hard to develop were a network of thick scars on the stranger’s abdomen, like he’d been in a fucking knife fight and come out the loser. But honestly it wasn’t the scars that Billy found the most upsetting. It was the fucking stretch marks on the man’s stomach, fuck, and the lines on his face. The stranger in his reflection was old.

A car pulled up to the curb behind him, it’s engine purring softly, and Billy just stood there. He was too numb to run. Too numb to do anything but stare down at the legs of the body that was somehow his but not his and wonder how he could have aged so much in a single afternoon. He had to be dreaming, he decided. There was no other explanation for it. Dr. Mehta had warned him increasing his prescription might have psychological effects right? Boy did he have a story for her! He started to giggle despite everything. Because it was kind of funny when he thought about the doctor asking him if he’d noticed any adverse side effects.

“Billy?”  

One of those side effects was a tall handsome alpha, now dressed in a long coat with smart looking buttons. He had a ratty pair of shoes in one hand and the coat was unbuttoned. He’d also left the car running and the door open, Billy noticed, as if he thought he might have to leap back in again at a moments notice. He needn’t have worried. Billy wasn’t going anywhere. It was fucking cold and this was all a dream so…nowhere to go.

“I’m old.” Billy said the only thing he could think of that seemed to matter in that moment.  

The alpha’s mouth quirked a little, like he might smile and replied softly, “Yeah. Fucking ancient.”

He waited, but when Billy didn’t say anything else and made no attempt to move he heaved a sigh and ran a trembling hand through his thick head of dark hair. “What’s the plan here B-Billy?” the alpha asked, stumbling in a way that made Billy think he’d been about to call him babe again. “I know you’re scared, but you’re gonna freeze out here. Will you at least put these on? They’re your favorites.”  

He held his arm out and wiggled the tennis shoes like somebody would wiggle a steak in front of a hungry dog and Billy rolled his eyes.

“You give me shoes and then what? Are you gonna let me go home?” Billy thought he should ask, on the off chance that this wasn’t a dream. Maybe he was having some kind of psychotic episode. Fuck for all he knew he was wandering around downtown San Diego right now talking to himself.

“I’ll tell you what. Let me get you somewhere warm and dry – your choice!” he added hastily when Billy tensed and looked liable to bolt again. “We don’t have to go back to the house. We can go anywhere you want, this bookshop even, Billy, anywhere. Just let me get you warm and I can explain.”

Billy shivered. If this were one of those dime novels they made for omegas he’d be saying some shit about how it was the quiet intensity in the alpha’s eyes that did it, or the way he said ‘just let me get you warm’ and so clearly meant ‘let me take care of you’. But the truth was, Billy was really fucking cold and these shivers were bonafide freeze your balls and shake em off shivers. He was probably going to start crying like a little bitch if he didn’t get warm soon.

Stiffly he reached out and took the shoes from the alpha’s hand. It fucking hurt to lift his feet and slide them inside the trainers. The soles of his feet had long since gone numb. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d torn them up until they were raw and bloody. Bad as it stung, Billy had suffered way worse and wasn’t about to be a sissy about it so he forced one foot in after the other.

The alpha watching him swayed a little, and Billy noticed the way he had to physically stop himself from trying to  stop him. That intense focus on him was a little unsettling, but not as scary as Billy would have imagined it would be. It was kind of nice in a strange way, watching the alpha bite his lip and wring his hands, all to keep himself from touching a distressed omega. Nobody would have blamed him for trying to help. Nobody would have stopped him either. A few, I’m sorries, it’s just my omega having an episode, and everyone would crown him alpha of the year and go about their business.

Shoes on, Billy stood up as straight as his stiff bones would allow. “How about we go to a police station?” he suggested just to be an asshole, but the brown haired alpha nodded easily and almost immediately agreed.  

“Sure. I can drive us there, only… you’d have to get in the car.” Hands dove inside his pockets looking for his keys before he seemed to remember he’d left them in the engine. This was definitely a dream Billy decided. Because this was starting to feel like a fantasy. A gorgeous alpha who didn’t posture or immediately try and put Billy in an omega’s place, who was so worried about him apparently he couldn’t even think straight? Billy snorted. He wasn’t born fucking yesterday.

“Here’s fine.” He jerked his head toward the bookstore and turned to walk inside.

“Wait! I uh –” The alpha turned and darted back to the car. Billy watched shivering as he turned the engine off and slammed the door behind himself. He came running back with something slung over his arm and Billy saw that it was a coat, similar to the one the alpha wore but in a darker coal grey. Billy snatched the coat warily from the alpha’s extended hands.  

“You had a coat the whole time?” he accused once he’d wrapped the stupidly soft thing around himself like a burrito wrapper. He immediately felt better in it. Like the sheets it smelled strongly of Billy, but it also smelled like the alpha too, and Billy had to resist the urge to rub his cheek against the collar to saturate his face in it. It smelled so good. Fuck. Why?!

“I figured if you did another runner the shoes would be more useful?” The alpha grinned sheepishly and shrugged. He was trying to subtly edge Billy toward the door of the bookshop, practically squirming in place, and Billy could smell the anxiety twisting through his scent. The guy was clearly going to pop if Billy didn’t get inside where it was warm, and yet he’d brought Billy running shoes instead of a coat…

He was so cute. And Billy was so screwed.

Neil had made it clear what would happen if Billy ever even thought about letting an alpha close to him. So it was probably for the best that the alpha of his dreams was just the product of a very vivid drug dream.

[forgedroyalseal]

Happy FanFiction Friday

Please don’t leave me: Chapter Two

TW: blood and death

In her fifteen years of midwifery, Susan had seen a lot of death, infant and maternal. It was the worst part of her job, delivering a stillborn or holding a dying mother’s hand. But today, she saw something that was just as bad, if not worse.

Susan had heard all the stories about the handsome young ranger who lived in the cabin in the woods. Stories of his heroics and his ingenuity. So when she was woken up in the middle of the night to assist the doctor at the ranger’s cabin, she thought she knew what to expect. Any man with that much fame and courage would be arrogant and emotionless. She figured she’d find a stony, proud faced man who’d stand outside while she and the doctor attended to his wife. She had met more men like that than she could count.

That is not what happened.

Instead, Susan found an absolutely terrified young man. The fear made him look almost like little boy and it made her desperately want to wrapped her arms around him and tell him everything would be okay. But she had a job to do, so Susan push that foolish urge to the side got to work assisting the doctor. It wasn’t until Alyss’ heart had stopped beating and the physician stepped back that she looked over at the man in the corner. Hearing Ranger Treaty beg his wife to stay alive was the most heart wrenching experience she has ever had. And his wild, pained, scream after was the second.

“Go fetch Lady Pauline and Ranger Halt back at Castle Redmont Susan. I will stay with Ranger Treaty until they arrive. Also bring a wet nurse back for the child.“ The doctor instructed. Susan nodded, she had forgotten about the baby. Poor little one, she thought, what will happen to her now that she didn’t have a mother? It was rare that men raised a child by themselves. Even more so when the child was a daughter.

Will hadn’t spoken a word since he had stopped talking to Alyss. He just got up on the bed and cradled his wife’s lifeless body. Her blood saturated his clothes and coated his hands. It was cold and sticky now as it started to dry, going from a sharp red to a rusty color. The doctor tried to speak to him, but the only thing Will could hear was his own heart pounding in his chest. It echoed in his ears and he wished it would stop. Wished it was Alyss’ heartbeat instead. He had no clue how much time had passed by when he felt a familiar hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up at Halt’s face, grief and pity etched deep in the lines around Halt’s eyes.

“You need to let go of her son. The physician is going to help the undertaker bring her over to the cemetery at Castle Redmont.”

“No.” Will tightened his grip on Alyss. Halt cringed at the hoarseness of Will’s voice. He was certain that Will’s throat was dry and sore. He was also sure that Will hadn’t even realized he was in pain. No doubt the crying and shouting had been murder on the young man’s vocal cords.

“I am going to brew some coffee. Then when it is done, we will sit together in the living room while the doctor and the undertaker do what they need to. “ Halt wasn’t expecting a response and he didn’t get one.

“How is he?” Pauline asked her husband as he left the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself.

“Awful. He is in shock. He doesn’t want to let go of her body. But Pauline, it’s like a warzone in there. He is drenched in her blood. He need to bath and eat and sleep, but I don’t think he is even capable of standing up right now. “ Halt sat down next to his wife at the kitchen table. The wet nurse was with the baby in the other bedroom, which Will and Alyss had been making into a nursery. Will had even made the crib, carefully carving laurel branches and oak leaves into the posts. Halt remembered how proud Will had been when he showed it off to Halt last week. How much things can change in such a short amount of time.

“We will need to organize a list of things that need to be done and how we can help him.” Pauline said, practical as ever.

Halt stood, “The first thing is a hot cup of coffee, heavy on the honey.” Halt filled the pot and placed it over the fire. Then he grabbed some paper, ink, and a quill from Will’s desk. He set it in front of Pauline. She layed the supplies neatly out, ready to get started. When she picked up the quill however, Halt noticed her hands were shaking.

“Pauline,” Halt gently placed his hands over hers, “we don’t need to do this now. We can just take sometime to ourselves while the coffee brews.”

Her husbands soft voice was all it took for Pauline to burst into tears. Halt pulled her into an embrace and just held her as she cried.

“I-I just can’t believe she’s gone Halt. She was like my daughter, and I’m never going to see her smile again. Or hear her laugh.” Pauline’s words were garbled as the tears poured but Halt could still make them out.

“She was still so young. She had just become a mother. There was still so much for her to do in this life.” Pauline continued. Hearing his wife’s pain was like a dagger to his heart, but Halt had nothing he could do or say that would make it better.

Pauline and Halt stayed like that, holding each other, until she was all out of tears and was drying her cheeks with her handkerchief. The coffee was done and Halt stood up to pour it into two mugs. He knew that Pauline wouldn’t drink any now, it would only make her shakier than she already was. He added an overflowing spoonful of honey to Will’s cup and stirred it in, careful to not let any of the coffee spill over the rim. Then he stepped out onto the veranda where the doctor and the undertaker were waiting.

“I think it’s time we get started.”

They both stood and followed Halt inside and to the bedroom. Will hadn’t moved since Halt had last seen him, but the air in the room had begun to smell and grow stale. Halt was familiar with all stages of death, all rangers were, and he knew that the longer they left Alyss’ body with Will, the worse things were going to get.

“Will, let’s have some coffee by the fire while these men do their job.” Halt tried to sound authoritative, like he had when Will was an apprentice, but it didn’t come out with nearly enough power. Because Will wasn’t an apprentice who need to but down his bow and do his geography lessons. He was a man who need to put down his dead wife and let her be taken away.

“I already told you that I am not letting anyone take her away from me. She’s safe here Halt. This is her home, she belongs here with me.”

“I know Will. But that’s not Alyss anymore. She’s already gone.”

Will stared blankly up at Halt. Halt sighed turned to the doctor and undertaker, “I don’t think that we are going to convince him to leave with me. We are all going to have to work together to take her body away from him. I’ll keep a hold on him but we will need to do it as quickly as possible.” Halt spoke in a low voice. The two men nodded. They both had experience with widowers who were in denial, and they knew that, unfortunately, sometimes the only way to remove a body was by force.

Halt walked over to Will and wrapped his arms around the young mans arms, pinning them to his sides. As soon as he did, the doctor and undertaker took hold of Alyss’ body. Will shouted and tried to fight Halt off but he couldn’t manage to get his arms away. The other two men covered the body with a sheet and quickly left the room. They had a horse and wagon outside to carry her back to the graveyard. Halt didn’t loosen his grip until he heard the wagon rattling down the path towards town. Without Halt’s support behind him, Will collapsed, sobbing into his hands. Halt rubbed his back as he cried. Will was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, it was no wonder that he hadn’t been able to think rationally when it came to the undertaker removing Alyss. Halt waited until the sobs had stopped and Will ran out of tears.

“How about that coffee? Then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

Halt guided Will up and into the living room. He was going to have him take a seat on the sofa, but diverted him to a kitchen chair at the last moment. He realized that if Will sat on the fabric of the couch, the blood and grime he was now covered in would ruin it. Halt pushed the still warm mug into Will’s hands, then sat across from him, next to Pauline. While Halt was in the bedroom with Will, Pauline had put out a plate of bread and jam. She set it in front of him and said, “Eat something dear.”

Will robotically took a bite of the bread. Then his face went pale and he leaped up and rushed outside. He had barely made it out the door when he threw up the megar contents of his stomach. Halt and Pauline shared a look. If Will couldn’t eat something as simple as toast without it upturning his stomach, then they weren’t sure how they’d be able to get some calories in him.

“Perhaps we should get him cleaned up. It might have been the smells of… everything.” Pauline suggested. Halt nodded, but he knew it wasn’t the smell that was rolling off of Will, and it wasn’t the bread either. It was the terror and grief over what had happened.

After he was sick, Will went straight to a couch and fell on it, asleep before he even hit the cushion. So much of trying to save the sofa, Halt thought drily.

“He needs to get clean Halt, her blood is caked on him like a cloak.” Pauline wore a worried frown.

“I know, but I think sleep is the most important thing right now. We can clean him up once he wakes. And while he sleeps, I have a letter to write.”

“Should I go fetch someone to deliver it?”

“Yes. Find someone who can bring a letter to Castle Araluen immediately. Will is going to need all the support he can get. He needs Horace.”

[hargrove-mayfields]

this was requested by @deardmvz ! based off of this lovely post!!

Billy is released from the hospital a few months after he’s out of that place, having been dragged back to his own world a bloody mess by a group of government men in hazmat suits.

They said he was lucky to have spent as long as he did in a toxic environment and come out of it only needing a weekly breath treatment and a couple of bandages. But he knows it wasn’t luck.

Because if there was such a thing as lucky, Billy Hargrove was not it.

Rather, it was because he’d learned how to give the monsters over there what for. Didn’t hide and come whimpering at the first signs of rescue, begging for their protection like everyone was expecting him to after dealing with monsters and breathing polluted air for six months.

Six months. He couldn’t believe that. To him, on the other side, it had felt more like years.

But he’d stumbled out of that place all the same, dripping axe still gripped tight in hand, in case this was his mind giving up, in case his hell wasn’t really coming to an end after all, and in the end, he was tougher, more resilient, unafraid.

But the doctors didn’t really believe that, did they?

As soon as he was given the clear in the emergency room, onced over for physical injuries he’d thankfully avoided and the doctors having given him something that made him cough up most of the gross stuff that’d been collecting in his lungs, he was sent straight to the psych ward.

Because he could kill as many monsters as he wanted, and he could spend months as a survivor, doing what nobody before him had been able to without super powers, but he was never going to be able to shake the isolation, the uncertainty of everyday he spent over there. Not without help.

The upside down was a no man’s land, he didn’t have the time of day to think about what he’d done, who he’d lost, what had happened to him. But the moment he’s free of it, he’s back to reality.

Back to being the kid down on Cherry, with years of baggage to carry even before all this interdimensional bull that he’d never worked through. With a sister who thought he was dead, and a father who probably wouldn’t care less whether or not he was.

They see all of that, so he pushes them away, refusing every attempt the nurses make at helping him. He doesn’t want their help anyways, he doesn’t want to be in the hospital anymore, and he sure as all hell doesn’t want to be a part of some government conspiracy.

But with enough personal questions and screenings, they’re able to, a couple of weeks into the program, coax it out of him, working him up to the breaking point and the following outpouring of guilt.

Pushing him to admit things about himself he’d never had to look in the face until that hard shell he’d had to build up to protect himself from monsters of all kinds since he was just a kid dissolved away, and he was left a sobbing mess in a support group, going on and on about having chased his mother away, how he was working on chasing his little sister away.

About the way he treated his peers and the way he let others treat him. About Heather Holloway and everyone else and how he’d killed them.

Straight away they get him in to see somebody, something he doesn’t really like the sound of at first, but they say they’re willing to release him from the psych ward if he agrees to go regularly, so it’s worth a shot.

That is, until he realizes he has nowhere to go except back to his house. 5280 Cherry Lane, where Neil Hargrove, the very first monster he’d ever had to fight, would be waiting for him.

He tries to get out of it, to go back to who he was before he’d let all this stuff get to him, but it doesn’t last. He’ll bark out nasty things at the nurses and refuse to cooperate when they get to trying to evaluate his head again, but there’s no bite behind it, and he can’t keep it up.

That seemingly infinite well of hatred and pain had been drained by his time on the other side, until he just didn’t have it in him to be angry all the time anymore.

Billy tucks his tail and goes to the shrink, signs the release papers at the hospital and goes straight to that first appointment like he isn’t terrified of what will happen the minute they let him go home for the first time in forever.

Some part of him knows it’s no different than what he’d already been dealing with in intensive care, but there’s still something about being out there on his own, shooed away from what had become his sanctuary after escaping just to have some government approved doctor tell him he’s mentally unwell, that doesn’t sit right with him, and he walks out of that office even more nervous, more jittery to return than before, but he can’t avoid it forever.

The house isn’t too far from downtown where the office is, so he just walks home. He thinks of stopping at a payphone and call ahead, to let them know he’ll be coming home, but he hasn’t exactly been carrying pocket change with him, and he thinks it might be better if they’re not expecting him anyways.

It’s bitter cold outside, a dusting of snow on the ground making him walk slow over slippery sidewalks, unused to the conditions, but it’s the most fresh air he’s gotten in a long time, out in the kind of cold he can appreciate.

Over there, it was a clammy kind of cold, the type that clung to his skin and seeped into his bone, like he was under water. But this is different, the sun shining overhead taking off some of the bite, a cross wind that blew his hair back in his face and made the tip of his nose go numb.

By the time he reaches the door, he still doesn’t know exactly what he’ll say. How does one go about breaking the news to their family that they aren’t really dead?

The general idea is this: ring the doorbell, hope against hope that Neil isn’t afraid of zombies, appeal to his inner anti-government conspiracy theorist, and pray that he’ll buy it for long enough not to shoot him dead and maybe let him inside.

First step goes smoothly, and he’s ready to move on to blocking punches in the case of a kinemortophobic, but when the door is yanked open, it’s not his dad, and the rest of the plan goes out the window. It’s Max that answers, and before he has time to even process that, she wraps her arms around his torso in a hug tight enough to knock the wind out of him.

He doesn’t know what to do, this wasn’t what he’d been anticipating, so he kind of just, awkwardly pats her back and tries to ask her if he can come in, but all she does is squeeze him tighter.

Susan peers around a corner in the house, “Max, who was at the…” They lock eyes, and she trails off, a mix of relief and apprehension and maybe something like fear on her face. “Bring him inside, dear.”

Max pulls away and lets him in, wiping at stray tears with her sleeve pulled up over her hand. She waits for Billy to sit on the couch, and sits down right next to him, pressing into his side. “Where were you? We watched you die.“

“Wasn't me.” He eyes Susan, trying to communicate to Max that this was top secret, don’t tell your step-mom immediately after leaving a government facility information, but Susan chimes in.

“She told me everything. After what happened she was too upset to remember her agreement. We both signed the NDA.”

And for a second that pisses him off. Not at Max and Susan, but the agents who knew what was happening and still had the nerve to bring them in to threaten them without even bothering to mention he was still alive.

Right now that’s the part he tries to focus on. That he was still alive, and had better things to worry about than what he couldn’t change. “It was a clone. A fail safe made by the shadow in case your merry band killed me. When he died, I was trapped.”

“In the upside down?” Max’s eyes were wide as could be, the color drained from her cheeks. “But-but that almost killed Will and he was only there for like, a week.”

“Do I look like a scrawny twelve year old kid?”

“Muscles can’t protect you from toxic air, jerk.”

Susan’s looks frantic in that way she used to around Billy’s dad, who is notably not present, as she scolds, “That’s enough, Max. He’s been through a lot to get here, let’s let him ask some questions.”

It wasn’t like Billy really minded Max’s questions, he was sure he’d have quite a few himself if it was Max who had come back from the presumed grave, but he did have one of his own sitting heavy at the front of his mind. “Where’s Neil? He get his work schedule changed or something?”

“He’s gone.” Max deadpans.

At her tone, Billy feels his stomach drop, his heart stutter. “He died?”

“Heavens no. We got a divorce three months after we buried you, or what we thought was you.” Susan looks at Max tired, remorseful. “He was never the same without you.”

Things had been close to boiling over even before everything, he worried who had filled his shoes. He nods towards Max. “How bad was he?”

“Better and worse. He never laid a finger on us, but he was…”

An overdramatized shiver runs through Max as she finished her mother’s sentence, “Creepy.”

Susan nodded in agreement and explained, “So nice, so reserved, it was like we were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“And he’s not coming back?”

“Why should he? He didn’t even tell us where he was going.” Max scoffs, missing the implication of what he asked. Seeing her still be so clueless made Billy infinitely grateful that Susan had finally given his old man the boot, even if that meant he was somewhere in the middle now.

He figures that was something he was willing to deal with if it meant Max was okay, and Neil wasn’t anywhere near her. Now he just needed to know if Susan would be expecting him to go find his dad on his own and move in with him.

He doesn’t mean to let as much tension into his voice as he does when he asks, “So what’s all this mean for me?”

“What else? You are never leaving me again, asshole.”

So it was settled, and judging from the look Susan gave him, she agreed with Max’s answer. Which was, overwhelming, to say the least.

Not that Neil had exactly been a family man, but the fact that they were willing to accept him back into their home without him around was more than Billy knew how to process just yet.

His room had already been converted into a storage space as Neil had been moving out, dragging everything that had never been unpacked in the first place out into the one space he viewed as disposable.

They thought he was dead, he couldn’t have expected them to keep his room the way he left it, and though it did sting a little when he found out half of his stuff was missing, either taken by Neil or thrown out in the process, it was soothed by Max giving him a box of all the things she knew were the most important to him, having snuck in and gone through his belongings herself.

Billy decides to let Susan keep her little storage room, it had been too drafty in there to make for a decent bedroom anyhow, so he moves into the carpeted corner of the basement, which he notices is finished now.

Before, the ceiling had been wide open, half built wooden slats coated in years of dust and cobwebs, a single exposed light bulb offering the only source of light. Now it looked like an actual room, and it made him feel something tight in his chest.

Because Neil had retiled and painted the upstairs bathroom when his first wife left him, and he had finished the basement when he thought his son had too.

Billy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about his dad anymore. He’d been dreading the moment he would have to walk through the doors of his own house out of fear and hatred of that man, but learning he wasn’t even there, he almost missed him.

Almost. But then he thought about the way Susan and Max were now, so distinctly different in the comfort they exhibited in their own space, no longer having to constantly cower in fear of the overbearing head of the house, the person he’s free to be now that Neil isn’t around, and suddenly he’s not so remorseful.

Though he does catch Susan once, standing in the kitchen one morning and crying over an old photo of her and Neil.

He’s pretty sure, from the glimpse that he gets, that it’s from the first church registry photoshoot they did as the Hargrove-Mayfields, when the photographer had mindlessly said something like “now just mom and dad,” making both him and Max gag, which made Susan cry after it was over.

That night had been her first taste of the real Neil Hargrove when Billy got a beating in the parking lot. He still remembers the horrified look on her pale face as she told him it was alright when he apologized, snotty nose and bruises on his skin.

He knew the feeling was the same for her, torn between the man they needed Neil to be and the man he had actually been to them, so he pretended not to see her tears. Silently, she agreed to do the same, and ignore the way he sometimes sat in Neil’s chair with a glazed over look in his eye, or sighed and trained his gaze to the floor when he passed the family photos still hanging in the hallway.

It takes a long while for the three of them to settle. Max is a constant ball of excitement, reminding Billy so many times a day that she’s happy to have her brother back that he might just cry about it once he’s alone, and Susan and him are nervous 24/7, pinballing off one another as they try and fail to forget the ghosts of the house.

He thinks about leaving for a while, moving in somewhere all on his own, but his therapist tells him it’d only make things worse now, to lose his support system. Besides, he didn’t have a penny to his name, so it wasn’t like he had much of a choice but to just suck it up and stay with the Mayfields.

In the meantime, he gets himself a job working stock at Melvald’s. They had an open position after Mrs. Byers skipped town, and he thinks they would’ve hired just about anybody to try to get back on their feet after the now demolished mall almost put them out of business, even zombie boy 2.0. His boss is understanding enough, doesn’t say a word when he has to go into the back and have a panic attack when a grieving family member comes in.

They tell him that’s what’s best for him, getting out there and doing something, even if it’s not the something he would ideally be doing at this point in his life. It had never been his intention to stay in Hawkins after graduating, he wanted to go to college back in his home town, but he had to admit it was growing on him some, and setting up roots there was supposed to be good. Maybe that was just the fact he wasn’t allowed to leave talking though.

The guy they’re sending him to, he thinks is somewhat of a quack. His advice is shaky at best, and he treats Billy like some kid, giving him tasks and a reward system more fit for Holly Wheeler than an eighteen year old with enough trauma for the whole town.

So even though he does cooperate, does everything last thing the guy asks of him, he doesn’t particularly feel the need to go beyond that, face the deeper set issues his therapist doesn’t even know about.

Billy’s lack of cooperation makes the whole thing more complicated, gives him less that his therapist can tell him to work on, so he asks him just to talk to Susan.

They’re closer now than ever before, far beyond all the tension and avoidance and misplaced resentment, but they still don’t really talk about any more than what’s necessary. Things like, how was your day, could you help me with this, are you okay, but nothing substantial.

It should be easy, they’d been living under the same roof since he was twelve, so they should have plenty to talk about, it just never seems like the right time, though he has been thinking about it a lot, the way he treats her despite how much she’s done for him.

He doesn’t really have a plan to bring it up, he’s fully prepared to go back to another appointment the next week reporting no dice, but there’s one morning where the clock keeps ticking and the both of them are still wide awake in the living room, like a stalemate of who’ll give in to sleep first.

They both look like they need it, Susan’s hair is frazzled, the bags under her eyes as dark as the coffee she drinks. Billy knows he’s not looking so hot either. He doesn’t remember the last time he could go to sleep without his subconscious taking him back to that place, so he doesn’t even try anymore, just waits until he gets so exhausted he’ll pass out into a dreamless sleep.

He doesn’t know what it is that compels him to say anything, because it’s not awkward or even tense silence really, but he does, his tired voice cutting into the quiet.

“I dunno how to make it up to you.” He’s looking down at his hands, at the barely there scars that still litter the skin there. He thinks for a moment about how much worse it could’ve been, before looking to her. “I mean, I’d get it, if you didn’t want me around.”

Susan looks back at him, not having expected him to say anything really, let alone something so heavy. “What’s this about, Billy?”

“M’not even your kid, Sus. I just- I dunno. Why’d you let me back in?”

She looks baffled. “Should I not have?”

“I’m an adult. don’t need to be moochin’ off my ex-stepmom.” He feels like he had the very first time he ever met her, scared to look her in the eyes, only this time for an entirely different reason. “M’not your burden to carry.”

“Honey, you’re not mooching. You go to work, you help around the house, you help me with Max. That’s more than I could ask for.” She hesitates, unsure of how wide his boundaries are, then adds, “And, maybe you aren’t my son by any stretch of the imagination, but you will always be Max’s brother.”

He had been expecting something about his dad, always had some suspicion that he’d forced a dependent on Susan after he left, but the total opposite seems to be true, and that makes a lump rise in his throat.

In the absence of a response, Susan continues, “If there was one thing you could do for me though, I know you lie to your therapist. Don’t.”

He doesn’t have it in him to fight it, has enough sense about him to know she’s right. All he can manage is a breathless, “Okay.”

She pats him on the shoulder gentle as can be, and stands up from the couch. He doesn’t look up as she retreats to her bedroom, afraid the tears that had welled up in his eyes would spill over if he did.

When he hears her door close softly is when he lets the tears fall. It’s still a lot for him, to have someone be so casual in looking out for him in that way he still hadn’t quite grasped was possible.

The very next day Billy fesses up, and to his surprise, they don’t immediately cart him off when they hear he’s been faking. That had been his biggest fear, with the power that these people held. They’d threatened to lock him up if he ever ran his mouth, so he didn’t know what to expect.

He did feel stupid though, opening the damn for the same guy who gave him stickers for taking his meds about all the things he’d bottled up. But it works to get him into a better program than what they had him doing before, and he realized he’d had it backwards.

The fear of what they were going to do to him kept them from doing anything at all, and it gave Billy a deep sense of relief, that he’d finally broken free of that.

So instead of being assigned things like brushing his teeth or going outside for five minutes a day, which was decent advice, but completely irrelevant to what he needed, now his therapist had started telling him things like throwing out the razor blade he’d been saving for a rainy day, dumping the last of the nonprescription pills he kept in his night stand.

The more he did, the more complicated they got, until he was told that, in exchange for completing his tasks, he would only have to visit the office once or twice a week instead of every day. His last assignment before that could happen was to make amends with his past.

The most obvious thing the doc wanted him to do was forgive his parents, but Billy didn’t know where to even begin on that one, or really, if he had or hadn’t already done as much, so he went with the other way first, apologizing to everyone he had, or felt he had hurt.

He started at the cemetery. Max came with him and held his hand as he broke down graveside, begging his repentance for all the people who’d died last July. Talking to their survivors was strictly out of the question, they still thought he was the hero that tried to save as many as he could and was killed in action, not the one responsible.

That had been the story spread it the public by the people who had known all along he wasn’t really dead, monitoring his activity on the other side while they turned murderer into martyr. The more time he spent in the shrink's office, the less sure he was that even he knew what side he was on.

Apologizing to the living proves to be easier. He starts with the Sinclair kid at one of the weekly nerd meetings Max holds at their house, now that it’s safe, pulling him aside for a few to say his piece, which, judging from his reaction, Max had already done most of the heavy lifting for him.

When they came back he got fixed with a glare from the unfamiliar little girl that was always around these days, and he realized he and Lucas had that in common, a weapon of a little sister.

Next came minor inconveniences, people like Tommy who he used as a punching bag just because they were friends. Most of them blew the whole thing off, they were in high school when it happened, didn’t understand the moral dilemma of it all, and everyone but maybe one kid who he might’ve punched a little too hard when a fight broke out after football practice forgave him.

Last on his list, the one person standing in the way of what was supposedly the next step of his healing process, was Harrington.

Steve’d had his own fall from grace, and Billy fell much, much harder than he had, so it could be the easiest apology he has to do, but there were reasons it might be the hardest too. He didn’t think he deserved forgiveness for the way he’d treated Steve, which he’d never even apologized for in the first place, and it seemed like a cheap shot to be doing it now, more than a whole year after beating his face in.

He tracks him down at work, rifling through shelves lined with tapes he wasn’t interested in until he had the guts to approach the counter and ask Steve to follow him outside. The bastard doesn’t even look suspicious, doesn’t hesitate in giving him his warmest smile and inviting him behind the counter instead with a, “What’s on your mind, man?

It should be awkward, uncomfortable at the very least, they're having a conversation that should be happening anywhere but in two folding chairs behind the counter at Family Video, and yet, Billy feels none of that unpleasantry, just a conviviality he’d never expect to have with Steve Harrington, of all people. T the one apology he’d expected to be turned down is accepted with a simple, “It’s okay, Billy.”

That’s what made him different. He wasn’t like Tommy, who’d told him to forget anything ever happened, or Susan, who was adamant that it wasn’t his fault; Steve actually forgave him without ignoring what he did, and that, that was what this was about.

He finds himself frequenting the video store on his off days, trying to make friends with the one person other than Max he felt like he could trust, who trusted him, and from there it turned to swinging by Steve’s place after work, going out on the weekends together, falling head over heels in love.

That last part Billy tries to deny, tries to rationalize that maybe he’s just clinging to something constant after so long in isolation, but the longer he spends around Steve, the more he knows there’s no way around it. Billy was so gone for him and his stupid hair and his stupid laugh and his stupid little family video vest.

There’s a while where he tries to distance himself a little, feeling guilty about crushing on the only person to extend the olive branch back after he got out, but then Steve starts showing up at his door, and Max would hide a guilty smile behind her hand.

Once summer hits, just a few short weeks shy of the anniversary of when the shadow got Billy, Susan and Max get more and more careful around him, like they don’t want to set him off, and he gets that. Sometimes Max or one of her little friends would mention something that had happened last July, a sort of ‘hey, remember when we,’ and he would get a little, off.

Never violent, never cruel, never the Billy he had been before, just, reserved.

He thinks they’re afraid he’s going to snap. That they’ve gotten the wrong impression from all this recovery stuff. The very last thing he wants is for Max to think just he’s a shmooze, faking being better to get on her good side.

But they’re not. They’re just want to give him his space, after everything, and he knows he’s got to get out of his head about it.

For now though, when he’s afraid he might break his promise, he takes off, but it depends on what kind of day it is where he’ll go. Sometimes it’s the pool, at the picnic table on the other side of the fence, or to the cemetery again, making the rounds between all of the markers, the ones he put there, or even to visit the totaled Camaro, sold to a junker and kept in the corner of some private property, his blood still on the seats.

Once, he’d made the mistake of going to the steelworks, just to sit on a railroad tie outside of the place for hours, having a panic attack alone as he tried and failed to forget bad memories, bruised ribs, falling fast, losing control.

None of those were particularly healthy places for him to be spending his free time, so per therapist recommendation, he starts finding better spots to hang out, places that weren’t just a way to retraumatize himself.

The problem is that in Hawkins, there isn’t anywhere really to go unless he wanted to spend all day in a dingy old diner or in half abandoned shops downtown. He liked taking Max to the drive-in on the outskirts, but the point is he needs somewhere to go away from his step-family.

When Steve finds out about his new assignment, the rides to and from work and quick drop ins just to say hello turn into days off spent at the quarry together, nights spent in front of Steve’s huge TV set.

One day after a double shift at Melvald’s, they end up out back by the pool. The air conditioning in Steve’s old house was not the best when it came to humidity, and Billy doesn’t like to be too hot. Something about the feeling is too familiar, too much like being on the floor of the sauna, sweating bullets and pleading for his life.

Heat is also one of the many things that triggers coughing fits, making him hack up his lungs from the months he spent without clean air to breath, so Steve’s ushering him outside to dip their feet in the pool and get out of the stuffy old house before he gets sick.

The smell of chlorine wading off of the pool isn’t all that much better. The strong chemicals make his nose and his throat and his whole chest burn like fire. Just the smell of it is enough that he has to try to remember that that hasn't been his reality for almost a year now, that he isn’t in the storage room at the pool downing bottles of poison.

It doesn’t bother him so much though, because the bad stuff, that’s all in the past now, isn’t it?

He tries instead to focus on the good things, on the breeze that they do get in the beating down sun and the way it carries cool air off the surface of the pool, offering more relief from the heat than they could get inside Steve’s inferno of a mansion, and on feeling the sunshine warming his skin again, the cold water and the smooth liner against his calves submerged in the pool. He even tries to focus on Steve, leaning all his weight back on his hands outstretched behind him, sitting so close to Billy their knees bump in the water every time Steve kicks his legs out.

And quite frankly, it’s not particularly hard, paying attention Steve with the way he’s practically glowing in the summer sun. As much as winter was his season, his forever pale skin and how he could rock a sweater didn’t even hold a candle to the way he looks now.

Maybe he is wearing preppy khaki shorts and a sun visor, but the way his back freckles in the summer, the skin on his cheeks and his shoulders flushing from the heat, his long hair sticking to the back of his neck with sweat, it’s a sight that makes Billy's heart pitta-pat.

Still, as nice of a view as Steve makes for, nothing can distract him from the nagging feeling that has Billy on edge. That sense that his flesh will start burning if he stays out here too long, that he’ll lose control of his body. That he’ll hurt Steve.

If Steve’s old nail bat propped against the pool shed, or their newer method of self defense, a machete from the hardware store purchased after Billy's last panic attack, hidden underneath of the chairs, offer any indication, the feeling may be mutual.

Despite the aviators perched on Billy’s nose, Steve must notice that distant look in his eye, because he offers Billy a quaint smile and, using one hand to stand up, he announces, “Be right back, gonna go get us some stuff.”

Billy nods and vaguely wonders what ‘some stuff’ means before turning his attention back to his surroundings. Back to following his therapists advice and watching the ripples in the pristinely kept water, listening to the rustle of untrimmed grass when a breeze comes through, bumble bees in the neighbors yard, anything at all that might stop his mind from wandering.

He’s almost feeling grounded again when he feels a chill run down the back of his neck. Goose pimples fan out across his skin, a deep seated cold to contrast the heat. He knows the feeling well, he’d gone through six grueling months using it as his only advantage over the monsters out to get him.

Some rational part of his mind tells him it’s just a bead of sweat rolling down his back, a loose strand of hair from the messy bun Max had put in his hair that morning brushing against his skin, the fact that his legs are still submerged in the 70 degree water, but he isn’t feeling rational after that, and he feels panic setting in again.

He wants to go run and tell Steve, wants to grab something to defend himself, but he can’t, he’s just, frozen to the spot.

The feeling is gone as quickly as it came, but everything else feels different now.

The pool water feels sticky and warm, almost like it’s sucking him in. The cement surrounding it feels rougher against his palms, and so hot to the touch. He’s scared to even blink, afraid that on the other side of that calm darkness, he’s in that hell again, and this has all been some delusion.

There’s a bang from behind him, and he’s on his feet, heart racing a thousand miles a minute. He’s just short of reaching for the machete under the chair when he notices it’s just Steve.

He’s standing by the sliding door, having pushed it open with his knee so far that the glass hit off the other door, and balancing way too much. Feeling like his legs are going to give out from under him and bringing one hand absently to his chest, Billy breathes out, “Damn it, Harrington.”

“Sorry.” There's a sheepish smile on his face, which has gone pinker than even the sunburn with a hint of embarrassment. He has a bulky radio balanced on his hip, a glass of something in each hand, and a deck of cards tucked under his chin. “A little help?”

Hurrying up the steps, Billy takes the radio before Steve can drop it and smash it to bits on the concrete. Steve takes the opportunity to explain himself, “I made lemonade, my gramma's recipe, and I thought we could use something to do.”

Maybe it’s reckless, maybe it’s the exact opposite of what he should do, but he puts the radio on the table and lets Steve distract him from that creeping feeling with mundanities.

It’s almost funny, how getting out of the house for him used to mean partying and sneaking out to wreak drunken havoc on the town. Now it meant sipping lemonade and playing double solitaire and go-fish with the fallen King poolside, like he was in some retirement community or something.

The only thing that kept him from feeling too ridiculous was the radio, which was playing a decent selection of rock music, not too much of the glitzy stuff he pretended not to like or the poppy stuff Steve definitely did.

Once the sun went down, the smallest bit of orange and pink sky disappearing behind the thick trees, and all the breeze had died out, they moved away from the pool's edge to the plastic chairs, pushing two together and sitting cross legged so they were facing one another. The night air was thick with the smell of a burning citronella candle and chlorine.

The cards had been long ago abandoned, both of them favoring just being in each other’s company, swapping stories of how bad work had sucked that day, and things like plans for the week. Billy sort of just likes having an excuse to look at Steve all night.

It’s more calm than Billy’s had in a long while since coming back, and he almost get to appreciate it before the chill comes back, this time accompanied by the distant rustling of leaves.

He could’ve pretended it was just a critter moving around or the trees settling, but then they hear the unmistakable sound of a monster's trill further out in the woods, and there’s no longer any doubt about it.

Steve freezes, looks to Billy with eyes as wide as saucers and, slowly as can be, reaches blindly behind himself until his hand closes around the base of the wooden bat, which had been moved closer as night fell.

He rises to his feet, stopping cold when the chair creaks as his weight lifts off it, trying to make as little noise as possible, an action mostly pointless with the radio still on. It’s too late anyways, they’d already been seen. Billy could feel it.

“Stay here. I’m just going to check it out.”

“No way, out of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s ever killed one of those things.” Steve looks like he wants to argue, wants to be noble and brave like he has to be for everyone else, so Billy tells him sternly, “I’m coming with you.”

And maybe Steve doesn’t refuse his help, but he isn’t looking at Billy either. His gaze, empty and exhausted, is trained on the trees, searching for signs of the monsters they’re both used to handling on their own. He leans into Billy’s side as they start into the woods, and he can feel him shaking.

The leaves and twigs all along the ground that crunch under their tennis shoes as they move deeper into the woods sound impossibly loud, drawing enough attention to their location that this was guaranteed not to be a surprise attack.

Billy would’ve preferred it that way, they were easier to kill if they weren’t expecting a fight, but he supposed he should just be grateful that they’d found them before they could make their way into Steve’s backyard and take them by surprise.

They reach a clearing and he gets a dreadful feeling like his entire body has been dipped in ice water, and he knows they're right in the middle of a swarm. Instinctively, he puts his arm out across Steve’s chest. “Stop.”

“What?” Billy doesn’t respond, but as Steve’s eyes adjust, he notices them too. About six or seven demodogs, behind trees and bushes, hiding from their prey. He whispers harshly right into Billy’s ear, “Do you think they see us?”

“No shit.”

“Then what the hell are they doing?”

“Waiting for their chance. But we’re not gonna give it to them.” He digs the heels of his Chuck’s into the dirt, grip tightening on the machete. He glances over at Steve and tries not to think too hard about the apprehension written across his features, “You ready for a fight?”

Steve pales, like he was never expecting it to get that far, but they were about thirty feet, maybe further, into the woods already, they wouldn’t be able to book it back to Steve’s house in enough time. The damn things were much too fast. He swallows hard, whispers, “How do I kill one?”

“Aim for the base of its skull. Never let it get your weapon in its mouth. Always pay attention to your surroundings.” His voice is quiet, but stern, trying not to let any fear slip into his tone that might make the other boy more afraid. He was the experienced one, if he were to let it show that he was scared, Steve might go running for the hills. “And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Plant your goddamned feet.” Steve nods, furrows his brows and tries to force a breathy chuckle at the call back, but he barely manages a huff, and Billy can tell he’s terrified.

They don’t have time to think about it though, in the middle of a swarm he can’t let him dwell on it for too long, so he turns his attention off of Steve, and whistles, shouts “Hey, assholes! Come and get us!”

There’s a breathless second where the dogs don’t move an inch, he can tell Steve is about to say something that could’ve gotten the both of them killed so he cuts him off, “Get ready, Harrington.” One of the demodogs, he’s guessing the leader of the freakish pack based on the sheer size of it, shrieks, the cue for the others to start charging them.

These ones are fast, probably faster than even he’s used to, and he doesn’t like how close the first one gets to Steve before he brings his bat down it, so he pulls him closer by the back of his shirt, presses their backs together so there’s less room for a surprise.

The big one comes after Billy, the bigger threat of the two. The sense works as a two way street, if he can tell where they are, they can tell where he is, and they don’t like that.

It only takes him a few swings to get it stumbling, two more to finish it off, but in the time it takes him to kill the one, he loses track of where Steve is. Frantically he looks around, taking note of the location of the dogs, until he finds him in the dark a few feet off from where he is, swinging his bat at the runt over and over, making sure it was good and dead.

And Billy would be impressed, except for there was another dog charging him, just a few seconds off from closing its teeth around Steve’s arm on the backswing. It’s too close for him to try to kill it, so he kicks it, making it hiss and tumble across the muddy ground.

Steve looks over at him, blood spattered on his face and fear in his eyes. Billy wishes he could stop and appreciate the close call, but it’ll come back, and there’s another charging from the other side, so he settles for shouting, “Just remember what I told you and you’ll be alright!”

With the biggest out of the way it’s easy pickings, Billy takes out the next one that tries him quick, but another catches him off guard, clamps it’s teeth down hard on the machete, lodging it in its mouth. It gets cut bad, but not enough to really do much damage to it. If he lets go, he’s defenseless, if he doesn’t, he’s going to lose his arm.

That’s a call he’s almost willing to make, wrenching his weapon free at the risk of getting himself bit, but he doesn’t have to, because Steve takes it for him, running over from somewhere and bringing the bat down hard on the back of its head.

It would be too distracting to thank him, so he just nods his way and turns back to the last two dogs still alive, Steve taking the one that was still hiding and leaving the other for him.

At this point, he’s feeling pretty confident, one dog on its own is nothing much to worry about, and it seems it knows it too, because it stops a few feet off, daring him to come at it first. He takes his own advice and plants his feet in the dirt, daring it right back.

It charges him, and he stabs it straight through its head. It was a weak one, a last line of defense they didn’t expect to need, and it hisses out it’s final breath after only one go.

Billy hears the one Steve went after scampering off too, judging from the uneven drag of its weight across the forest floor, hurt badly enough it won’t last long.

He tries to feel for any others, but they don’t travel in packs that big, not without an order to follow. He rolls his shoulders and relaxes his stance, but he doesn’t dare dream of letting go of the machete yet. Even as it drips sticky slime and gore in thick drops onto the ground, even if it feels so heavy in his hands, also splattered with gooey blood.

There’s a moment of disturbing calm, the bodies of maimed demodogs scattered all around them as Billy tries to remind himself that they’re in his world this time, instead of him in theirs. He closes his eyes to shut out the panic and just listens.

Listens for gentle reminders that he’s in the real world. The sound of the katydids in the trees. A stray breeze rustling the leaves, dry from the relentless heat. The distant scratch of tires on pavement. Softly bubbling water from the jets in Steve’s pool.

He notices that the radio is still going, making the whole thing feel somehow more eerie, as if interdimensional monsters lurking in the neighborhood wasn’t bad enough on its own. Like when a car goes off the road, still playing a reckless teenager's final anthem. Billy wonders what song he’d like to be playing when he died. Maybe some Misfits.

But he isn’t dead, not yet anyhow, and that’s not the music that’s drifting out to where he’s still standing stock still in the woods, waiting for reality to hit him.

REO Speedwagon with Can’t Fight This Feeling carries softly out to their location, probably one of the lamest songs to fight monsters to if you were to ask Billy.

I can't fight this feeling any longer

And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow

What started out as friendship has grown stronger

I only wish I had the strength to let it show

Though he’s got to admit, it’s not a horrible song for this thing he has going with Steve. After that close call of the dogs stalking so close to his house, Billy doesn’t think he has it in him to let the chance to bring it up with Steve slide through his fingers again. He’d never forgive himself.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever

I said there is no reason for my fear

“Harrington.” When he opens his eyes again Steve isn’t there, and for a second he’s got to fear the worst. To wonder, if the dogs aren’t the only thing he’ll find dead. “Steve?”

'Cause I feel so secure when we're together

You give my life direction, you make everything so clear

“M’here, Bill.” He's leaning against a tree, his bat still held close at his side, looking winded, but alright, from what Billy can tell at least. “Just needed to, to catch my breath.”

And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight

You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night

And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might

“You scared me, asshole.” Billy gathers his courage, rides the wave of adrenaline to take a step closer, until he’s hovering right in front of him, dangerously close, to say, “Listen Steve, there's something I’ve been thinking about for a while, and after this I just, I can't fight it anymore.”

He gets the memo, half-lidded eyes focusing on Billys lips, making him flick his tongue across them on instinct, tasting remnants of strawberry chapstick and lemonade dulled by the scent of copper. “Then don't fight it.”

And I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

It's time to bring this ship into the shore

And throw away the oars, forever

Their weapons are tossed to the ground before Billy closes the small gap that was left between them, ignoring all the muck and goo and blood splattered on their clothes and their skin to cup the side of Steve’s face, kiss him as soft and as sweet as he knows how after a fight like that.

'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore

I've forgotten what I started fighting for

And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door

Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore

Steve pulls away too soon, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he leans forward, forcing his weight onto Billy. The magic of the moment comes crashing down, when he notices how dreadfully pale Steve is, even in the darkness of the woods, untouched by street lamps or moon light.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Through gritted teeth, he mumbles into Billy’s shirt, “I think one got me.”

“Jesus, you're telling me this now?” He helps him lean back against the tree again, feeling he has the right to fret over him after a first kiss. “Where at?”

“My leg.” He says it so casual, Billy’s expecting nothing more than a nick, a last attempt at a scratch from a dying dog, but it’s bad.

Skin and muscle are torn through in a gash probably five inches long on Steve’s leg, deep enough he swears he can almost see bone. It’s already bruised dark, deep purple and black under all the blood, and bent just a little, like the bone had been cracked, but not quite broken.

Billy has to fight the urge to wince, to gag, to let any sort of panic over the severity of the bite show, because he knows Steve hasn’t seen it yet, that he’s maybe even in shock right now. The moment he let it show how bad he thought it was, Steve could pass out on him. Or worse.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Thought we were having a moment.”

“Well I’d like to have at least a few more, if you wouldn’t mind.” He sighs, but he drops the attitude. Stressed as he may be, Steve needs him level headed right now. “Can you walk?”

“Sure, yeah.” Something about the way his voice sounds like he’s struggling for air makes Billy not believe him, but he offers him his arm to let him test his weight anyways. It doesn’t go well, “Son of a mother bitch!”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take that as a no.” Billy figures it’d be better just to come back for their weapons later than to wait around for a second attack with an injured Steve, or to get sliced to ribbons carrying them and Steve back to the house. Because that’s what he’s going to have to do, from the looks of it.

He bends down and lets Steve wrap his arms loosely around the back of his neck, and hooks his hands under his knees to lift him. With his leg off the ground, he’s guessing Steve must catch a glimpse of how badly it’s torn up, because he throws his head back and mutters an “Oh shit.” to the stars.

Billy wishes his voice sounded more certain when he assures him, “You’ll be alright, just don’t look at it.”

There’s blood dripping from Steve’s leg on the grass, all on the concrete steps from the backyard that lead into Steve’s house and then the hardwood floors. Billy tries not to think about how they’re leaving behind a trail that would lead the monster straight to them.

They’d killed the dogs though, so he tries his damndest to believe that his biggest worry right now would be not being able to get the stains out before Mr. and Mrs. Harrington got back.

“Where do you keep the first aid around here?”

“Upstairs bathroom, third door on the right.”

Billy frowns. Trying to get him up the stairs was going to be awkward, the space between the wall and the banister so narrow, and Steve’s legs so long. The only way he can keep from dragging his wound against anything, which he’s almost positive would kill Steve at this point, is to turn sideways.

It feels like it takes forever to get up the steps and walk down the upstairs hallway, dodging side tables and potted plants until they reach the bathroom.

Even once they get there, Billy winces, taking in the tall, but thin door frame. “M’not fitting through here with you, Stevie. Gonna have to let you down.”

“Okay.” His jaw tightens, like he knows it’s gonna be hell to put pressure back on his leg, and Billy thinks about how he’d rather knock out the entire wall than have to watch Steve hurt himself.

But slowly, with Billy’s help, he gets his good foot back on the ground, and his arms unwrap themselves from the back of his neck. Billy keeps one hand holding tight on his hip, to keep him from toppling over while standing on one leg.

“Let me go in first, okay?” Turning around so they’re facing each other, he gives Steve both of his hands and kicks the half opened door the rest of they way open to reveal the dark bathroom behind him. He gets Steve to use the doorframe as a brace long enough that he can turn the light on, then gives him his hand again.

Steve takes the first step, hopping on one foot and making barely any progress. A steely look crosses his face, like he’s already decided what he’s about to do, and he lets his other foot down to the ground.

“That’s it, Stevie, just like that,” Billy mutters little encouragements under his breath, tries anything to keep Steve from thinking about walking on a broken leg. “Keep it coming, baby, just a few more steps.”

The closest thing to the door is a double tiered wooden shelf with magazines and towels on it, so Billy pushes the towels onto the floor with one hand and helps Steve sit down on it with the other.

Maybe it’s the wallpaper, but his complexion looks ghastly, all green and grey where he should be flushed and lively. Before he starts getting everything together, Billy puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You good?”

It was a stupid question, Steve scoffs and says, his voice strained, “No.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Steve groans and stares up at the ceiling, ignoring his leg and the puddle of blood spreading on the tiled floor. “Shouldn’t I be at the hospital right now?”

“Normally, I would say yes,” Billy crouches down by the sink, digging in the cabinets underneath it for the first aid and a rag, “But closest hospital to us is the general hospital, and they’re not going to be thinking about demodog infections. They’ll put a cast on this thing and kill you.”

“Oh.” A poor choice of words, because Steve whispers, “I’m not gonna die, am I?”

“Not if you let me take care of you.”

He soaks through three wash rags with blood before the bleeding slows down enough that Billy can clean it, and slowly the shocked state of mind he was in starts to wear off. At least, judging from the way he’s gripping the edge of the shelf he’s sitting on so hard his knuckles turn white, it’s starting to hurt him pretty bad.

But Steve stays agonizingly quiet as Billy works anyways, hardly even wincing, despite the obvious amount of pain he’s in. Billy clicks his tongue, “I know you’re holding back on me, Steve.”

“You’re one to talk.” He’s defensive, borderline hysterical. “Mister pretending to be tough just because you’ve been through this once.”

“Next time I’ll just let the dogs get you, then.”

Ignoring Billy's rudeness, Steve mutters, “It just hurts so fucking bad.” A tear he’d been trying to hold back slips past, running a track through the dirt and blood that had gotten on his face.

“I’ll get some pain meds in you in a minute, just need you to be alert for this.” 

He swallows thickly, like he’s scared. “Ready for what?”

“Well, you’re gonna need stitches.” 

“Do you even know how?” 

He didn’t. The most he’d ever sewn was a tiny hole in a jacket sleeve, but he didn’t feel it wise to tell him that. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” 

“No way. Absolutely not.” Steve grabs his hand tight to emphasize his point. “You are not coming anywhere near me with a needle.” 

“Look, the alternative is it gets infected and you lose the leg. Or, you know, since nobody has ever survived a bite, your life.” He’s not trying to be snappy, but the more blood Steve loses, the more nervous he’s getting about wasting time arguing.

“Man, could you cut back on being an asshole for like, five minutes.” Billy rolls his eyes and tries to reach for Steve’s leg again, but he pulls away from his touch, blinking real slow like he made himself dizzy or he’s getting sick, before he tacks onto the end, “I’m wounded.” 

“I know, I'm just trying to help you, Stevie. Please.” 

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair, he puffs his cheeks out with a sigh and gives in with Billy’s pleading. “Whatever, just, get it over with quick.” 

He goes back to not saying anything, biting his tongue while Billy tries to do a decent patch up. It looks somehow even gnarlier than before, with crooked and sloppy sutures, but it stops the bleeding for long enough that Billy can wrap it as tight as he can with some gauze and an ace bandage.

He sits back on the balls of his feet, and takes note of how they were definitely going to have to go to the government hospital where he’d been treated in the morning. Steve’s quiet so he asks, “Steve?” 

“M’good.” He assures halfheartedly, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. “Doin’ just peachy fucking keen.” 

They stay upstairs, Billy completely unwilling to try to get Steve back down to the main living room on a busted leg. He'd have to worry about showering and getting the stains that’re all over the Harrington’s floors off later, right now he was just worried about making sure Steve made it through. 

There’s a second living room, a foyer, Steve calls it, at the end of the hall, so he takes him in there, lets him sprawl out on the couch while he goes to get a phone and something for Steve to take from the first floor. 

He snatches up the rotary off the coffee table, and goes digging in the medicine cabinet for pain killers. Near the back is a bottle of Vicodin, thank god for Mrs. Harrington’s many ailments and her equally surplus supply of pain pills. 

Before making his way back up to Steve, he remembers to make sure to lock the sliding doors. Not that it would do much to really stop a demodog, but it’s the thought that counts. He decides to tack a blanket up to block the glass too, in hopes that it might make their scent at least a little harder to track. 

Steve is hesitant to take his mother’s prescription, afraid of the side effects, but then he tries to drag his leg up from the floor to prop it on the coffee table so he can get more comfortable, and his mind changes right quick. He almost convinces Billy to let him take more.

Next is letting somebody know. Part of him wishes they could just sweep this whole thing under the rug and forget it, but this was a small town. The woods behind Steve’s house stretched all the way to the now empty Byers’ residence, to the Wheeler's, and from there to Hop’s cabin. 

Keeping this a secret would cost lives, that he could be sure of. One measly pack of demodogs weak enough to be taken out by the two of them was guaranteed not to be the last. This was the start of another battle, and they needed as many people as possible to be ready for it.

He sits down with the phone next to Steve on his own cushion, careful not to jostle the couch too much. “Do you know Hop’s number?” 

“Just give it here.” 

Billy watches Steve dial the number, not a fan of how instinctual an action it seems to be, and as he barely gets a word in edgewise over Hopper on the other end of the line. When he get the chance to breaks the news, the call is over almost immediately, Hop getting ready to warn everyone else. He hangs up with tears in his eyes and a defeated posture. 

The instant the phone is discarded on the side table, Steve tells him, his voice thick with tears and exhaustion and pain, “I don’t wanna do this again, Bill.” He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and shakes his head. “Just, last time, we were so close to losing Hopper, losing you, and I just- I can’t do it.”

“Hey. Look at me, Steve. It's not gonna be like last time. You got me now.” Steve does look over at him, his eyes wide, but he only cries harder. 

Not knowing what else to do, Billy tosses an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close, and Steve leans into his touch, but there’s a deep frown on his face. Billy thinks his heart breaks clean in two as he insists, in a voice so worn, so dejected, “That’s just one more thing for me to lose.” 

“I say it’s one more person looking out for you.” His heart fluttering in his chest, he prays the kiss in the woods wasn’t a heat of the moment thing, and presses another to the side of Steve’s head. 

As best he can with his leg up on the coffee table, Steve settles up against Billy's side, sighing heavy through his nose. 

Long enough passes that he thinks Steve’s fallen asleep, the pain meds would hopefully knock him out soon, but then he breaks the silence with a quiet, so gentle Billy almost doesn’t hear it, “Will you?”

“Will I what?” 

“Look out for me?” The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s embarrassed to ask, so unable to believe that somebody would care about him instead of the other way around. 

“‘Course.” Billy smiles despite the way seeing Steve so broken makes him feel, lets the fingers on one hand trail lazily up and down Steve’s arm in a way he hopes is comforting. “Even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight, remember?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but he presses himself somehow even closer to Billy and sighs a little laugh, sniffling. “God, you're never gonna let that go, are you?” 

“Hey, I’d rather remember our first kiss as being to REO Speedwagon, which is super lame by the way, than with you bleeding out in the woods, so.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve sits up a little straighter so he can look him in the face. There’s still some sadness in his expression, but there’s a hint of a smile too, and Billy will take that as a win any day. Teasingly, Steve says, “Maybe you’ll like the second one better.”

“We’ll just have to see won’t we?” He leans in, but it’s Steve who initiates the kiss this time, leading with more heat behind it than before. He tangles his hands in Billy's hair, deepening the kiss with the press of his tongue against Billy’s. 

The angle isn’t very comfortable, a crook forming in Steve’s neck to reach Billy, and they pull apart for a breath. Face flushed beet red, Steve whispers, “Hey, Billy?” 

Billy hums in response, too flustered to get his words in order, “Hm?” 

“REO Speedwagon isn’t that bad.” 

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - The Girls and Their Ghosts

For @evaroze, a sweet gal who inspired me with her super kawaii art. I hope you enjoyed it! And a special shout out goes to @stephreynaart and her comic, who never fails to make me laugh and I couldn’t help but include it in this piece. (There may or may not be a part 2...)

(slight name change to better fit a cute headcanon)

~~~~~~~~~~

“MOVE! MOVE! OUTTA THE WAY!”

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

“Oh, dear me!”

“SHADDUP! MOVE!”

“Stanley, calm down.”

“PICK UP THE PACE, SIXER, I AIN’T MISSING THIS!”

Ford rolled his eyes with a smile on his worn face, weather-beaten and tired, but he continually ran after his twin. Despite the fact that their bodies would hate them for this later, they ran through the hospital as fast as they could. They weren’t this late when Soos had his son. Luck just hadn’t been by their side this time.

After battling a fierce storm to reach the coastline, finding the Stanmobile and having to explain why they were picking it up earlier than scheduled, racing to the center of the state, and parking in an emergency handicap spot, the old sailors in their mid-eighties used all of their strength to reach the Gravity Falls Hospital in time. While Ford was beyond jubilant, Stan was the most frantic and spirited, but that didn’t mean Ford didn’t punch three jerks in the face when confronted at the docks and that he would have no issue using a recovered memory gun to wipe some cops’ memories of a speeding Diablo.

Stan jammed the button for the elevator a few times, decided it was too slow, and bolted to the stairs. Ford followed, pulling out his magnet gun, and called, “Stanley, grab hold of me!”

Inside the stair-covered hallway, Stan grabbed his brother tightly and Ford shot upward, zapping them up a few floors and they landed like cats at the door to the sixth floor. They ran down the hall and Stan counted the doors. “Four… five… six… damn it, where’s eighteen?!”

“Grunkle Stan?”

Stan would recognize that voice anywhere. He ran faster (Ford didn’t think that was even possible) and around the corner Mabel, Gideon, Soos, and Dipper and Mabel’s parents were in a small waiting lobby. Mabel skipped to the old men happily, letting her orange-haired fiancee stay behind at a safe distance, and she hugged them tightly. Ford and Stan squeezed her tightly, haven’t seen her since the summer, the old tradition of a long reunion still going strong, and they soon let her go to have a look at the beautiful young lady with long brown hair, eyes that matched their own, and black lips with pink eyeshadow.

“Well?” Ford huffed, low on oxygen.

“She’s fine, everything’s okay.” Mabel giggled and patted their shoulders. “Any minute now.”

“We did miss it?” Stan checked hopefully.

“Nope!” Mabel said cheerfully. “They wanted to be alone for this, but when the baby’s born we can all go in.”

Stan held his pounding chest and collapsed into a chair. Soos was there to pat his shoulder and welcome him home, to which he immediately asked where his grandson was and if he was too cool for him now, but Soos just laughed and said that Melody would bring him once everything had calmed down.

An hour or so passed before nurses and the doctor started to leave the room. A few more minutes passed with everyone watching the door carefully and soon a very tired-looking Dipper emerged, pinching the bridge of his nose with a bandaged hand. It was amazing how much he resembled the men before him, sturdy and strong like his Grunkle Stan, but still fluffy and favored layers of clothing, like his Grunkle Ford. Like most men in the family, he required glasses, which he happily sported, alongside a small golden band on his left hand and a brown fur coat an old friend had given to him as a wedding present. Dipper had a little bit of stubble, promising a short old dutch beard and possibly a mustache (Stan prayed not a stupid mustache), and despite the bags under his eyes and the tiniest bit of redness that circles his soft brown spears, the windows to his soul sparkled with pure joy and his smile was radiant.

In an instant, his twin sister ran to him and he engulfed her in a huge hug, one that swept her off her feet and spun her around and made her giggle like the child she was at heart. Mabel eventually let him go to ruffle his hair and then asked, “So…”

Dipper grinned, his eyes sweeping the area to see who had arrived in time, and he croaked, his throat thick with emotion, “It’s a girl.”

Mabel squealed and bounced like there were springs at the bottom of her heels. Their parents high-fived and the new grandmother looked close to tears. Soos punched Gideon’s shoulder with a smile. Stan sneakily handed Ford a ten dollar bill, both grinning widely at the arrival of their first great-grandniece. God, that made them sound ancient.

“Congratulations, Dipper!” Ford cheered and clapped a six-fingered hand on his shoulder.

“So when can we see the little princess?” Stan asked with a huge smile.

“Right now,” Dipper said and opened the door for the small crowd.

Stan slipped his beanie off and held it with hands that trembled with excitement. Every time he was allowed in a delivery room had been special. Dipper and Mabel being born had been both painful and joyful, being the first new family members that didn’t hate him or pity him. Jacob Stanley Ramirez’s birth had been honorable with tears and hugs and no hint of pain, though Stan never became a father like he had once dreamed, he was now a grandfather. Now, his own little niblings had a baby to call their own. Stan had been terrified that he might not live to see this day, so he was grateful that not only he got to be here, but that Ford was here with him.

In the bed, freshly cleaned, tired, and glowing with pride and love, Pacifica held a pink bundle in her arms. Dipper was by her side soon enough, rubbing her shoulders and kissing her forehead in thanks. Her smirk immediately went to the old men, but it was too distracted by a trembling, squealing woman her age.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! Paz, she’s perfect!”

“You haven’t even seen her yet, Mabel.”

“Don’t care, she’s my niece, therefore she’s perfect!”

“Well, come here and meet your goddaughter.” Dipper chuckled.

Mabel was suddenly deadly still, the still-est she had been all day. With the color drained from her face and making her look like a vampire thanks to her mixture of pink and black outfit, she whispered, “I’m… I’m…”

The new parents nodded with supportive smiles. “No one’s better for the job, hon.” Pacifica said earnestly.

Mabel could only bite her lip as she stood by her twin and peered down at the bundle.

Stan and Ford stood by her side, now at the foot of the bed, and awed at the sight. A teeny tiny head was swaddled in the midst of the soft blanket. It was like when Stan saw those newborn twins all over again. A blank canvas with small resemblances to their parents. Stan swore this gal had that Pines’ baby button nose and she somehow already had that perfect Northwest skin complexion. His opinion may be biased, but who cares? This baby was the most beautiful Stan had ever seen (right next to his other kids, duh).

“Wow…” Stan choked. “She’s p-p-pretty.”

“Stanley, are you crying?” Ford chuckled.

“Shaddup.” He said weakly and wiped his wet eyes with his arm.

Pacifica smiled warmly and offered, “Wanna hold her, you old fart?”

With a quick cough and a clearing of his throat, Stan nodded and sat in the offered chair by Pacifica’s side. At this point the old man was an expert on accepting babies and how to hold them properly. He had been practicing since he was seventeen and got to hold Shermie’s son, who today became a grandfather and looked ready to fight Stan for a chance to hold the baby.

However, this time was different. Stan couldn’t be selfish with his time with her. She had tons of other people to love her and make sure she was happy. She didn’t need him. So much unlike Stan, who fought Shermie for five more minutes to hold the twins, and who held Jacob for hours as he cried silently, he let Ford hold the newborn after a few minutes and was content in watching. The rapid trip had tired him out.

“What’s her name?” Ford asked his grandnephew.

“Angelina Susan.” Dipper said proudly.

Everyone was merciful enough to ignore how wet Pacifica’s eyes were.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford had been having a conversation with Dipper over mugs of coffee while Stan entertained Angel when the conversation accidentally morphed into a monologue of Dipper explaining the progress of his ghost-hunting show to his old idol. Ford was listening. Or, half-listening.

As it was customary, Stan found a new snuggle buddy by letting Dipper’s daughter sleep on his chest, a hand over Angel protectively. The baby was almost a year old now and slept with her thumb in her mouth with dirty-blonde hair that she inherited from both parents. Ford smiled at the bright child. While Stan had always been amazing with children, there was something special about Angel that Ford couldn’t quite shake. Seeing her so happy and at peace made him feel the same way.

Later that night, Ford was in the kitchen for something to drink when he heard the start of a baby’s cries. He and Stan were staying with Dipper and Pacifica for the holidays this year while the Mystery Shack was undertaking repairs, and so the old sailor had no issue assisting with the baby if he could to repay the parents for their hospitality by letting them sleep. In his cozy blue flannel pajamas, Ford quietly entered Angel’s nursery and peeked inside, his ears cursed with the stressed cries and he was determined to solve whatever problem the baby had and to put her at ease.

Angel’s cries morphed into whimpers at the sight of the old man above her crib. Her lip trembled and she held her little arms up for him. Ford chuckled and gently scooped her up. “Oh, it’s alright, my dear. It’s alright. I’m here.” He cooed softly and rubbed her back, letting Angel rest her tiny head on his shoulder. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Ford ran through his big head for a diagnosis of Angel’s distress. No bad smells, no sign of pain or injury. She might be hungry, Ford thought, but just as he was about to leave with her for the kitchen to try to find some milk to give her, the aged scientist noticed something. Angel was holding him very tight. Though she was no longer wailing, she was still crying, even trembling a little, but she did not feel cold. Ford re-positioned Angel to feel her forehead, but she did not feel warm. He then saw her beautiful baby blue eyes and knew what was wrong. Angel had been terrified by something.

Ford smiled softly and held her by his shoulder again to rub her back and he swayed slightly where he stood. “It’s alright, it’s alright, my lovely. It was only a nightmare. They all go away eventually, trust me.”

He and Angel slowly settled into the rocker for restless babies and Ford gently pushed back and forward. Angel was no longer crying now, still clinging onto her uncle’s pajamas tightly, like he was a lifeline, but she was starting to calm down and understand that she was safe. “That’s it, my little angel, that’s it.” Ford praised her quietly.

A quick glance outside told him that it had started to snow in the middle of the night. He smiled at the idea of playing with Angel in the morning, wrapped up like Eskimos and enjoying the gift nature had provided. An old song came to mind and so Ford hummed it quietly to the baby. Perhaps Ma had sung it a fair few times, or maybe it was a brand new tune Ford had made up. Who knows? Regardless, soon Angel was fast asleep and the old man had no strength to get up, so Dipper would simply have to find them in the morning and sneak a picture for jokes and memories.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three years passed. Angel was a bubbly, curious child with a pair of baby twin sisters, Stella and Estelle. It was nice to know Dipper and Mabel wouldn’t be the only set of twins in the family. Mabel and Gideon had their own family, Jacob had even grown up and graduated high-school just a few weeks ago. Stan was beyond proud, and the last four years on land with Dipper and his family to help around the house and practically work at the Mystery Shack had brought its own joys as did sailing around the world. But he was tired.

Ford held his hand when he didn’t have the strength one morning to get out of bed. They had been silent, simply enjoying each other’s presence, for they had already said everything that needed to be said. Not only said it, but said it a million times in the years they had spent sailing around the world and retiring in Gravity Falls together. But Ford wanted to assure his brother of one thing, detecting how hard he was fighting to stay.

He cleared his throat, squeezed his twin’s hand, and croaked, “You can let go, Stanley.”

Stan chuckled weakly. “Nah, I ain’t ready to go. Believe it or not, there’s still something I wanna stick around for.”

Ford smiled at that. He had feared that after so many years of neglect and only staying alive because he had something to do, that when there was nothing to do, he wouldn’t have the will to stay. He was beyond relieved to discover he was wrong. “What is that?”

Stan gave his brother a cocky look, despite being so tired and weak. “My family, Sixer. I’m not leaving them anytime soon.”

Ford found that he completely understood, and privately agreed. “Neither am I.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Not many people thought Ford would last long after Stan died, but the eldest twin managed to stick around for five years before he died of a peaceful heart attack in his sleep. The Pines family were saddened, but they were also happy that the brothers were reunited and that they had both lived full and happy lives. And they knew them well enough to know they would not have been pleased if everyone was sad and made their names taboo.

Angel remembered her grunkles vividly. She was eight when Grunkle Ford died and she took it hard, being very close to him and admiring him like her father before her had, but her family helped her get through it and Dipper assured her daughter that he was happy. That was all Angel cared about.

There were times she enjoyed being a big sister, and times she didn’t. Stella and Estelle caused so much trouble and were the biggest handful anyone had ever seen. Ford once said before he died that the girls gave him and Stan a run for their money. It was like the girls had unknowingly accepted a challenge, and now were pure trouble-making terrors that kept Gravity Falls interesting thanks to their father’s curiosity and their mother’s attitude.

One night, when Angel was ten, she left her room for a glass of water or milk, something to satisfy her thirst, and she tiptoed across the dark house with a smile, the glow of the moon creating squares on the floor through the windows, perfect for quiet hopscotch. Angel stopped at the fireplace that showcased so many old photos. There was the picture of Mommy and Grandma Susan in the diner, waitresses together, and pictures of weddings, fishing trips, holidays, and just hanging out with Aunt Mabel and Uncle Gideon and Uncle Soos and Jacob. One picture Angel carefully picked up and smiled at.

She was only a baby in this picture, maybe a few weeks old, and Grunkle Ford was holding her as he sat in an armchair (she had seen that same chair at the Mystery Shack), with Grunkle Stan leaning against the seat, ruffling his brother’s hair and smiling at the baby. Angel became a little sad; she didn’t remember Grunkle Stan as well as she remembered Grunkle Ford, but she loved them both and missed them. She took the framed photograph with her into the kitchen and looked at it as she drank her water at the table, remembering all she could.

Angel could remember the sound of Grunkle Ford’s voice. It was low and heavy, but soft and comforting, like a weighted blanket. He used that voice to read her stories, using a different voice or accent for each character and even doing the sound effects, whether Angel asked him to or not. She could also remember him and Aunt Mabel knitting and showing Angel how to do it. She didn’t have the patience to learn, but she liked watching the yarn magically turn into clothing and listening to the two swap stories.

Angel can remember Grunkle Ford’s shadow puppets. He was the best at it, and sometimes he would shine a light against a wall, build a mini pillow fort for Angel to rest on, and make pictures on the wall with his special hands. Susie had a vague memory of once saying she wishes she had six fingers so she was more like Grunkle Ford. And he may or may not have started to cry, though Angel to this day had no idea why.

As for Grunkle Stan she mostly only remembered him through Grunkle Ford; Angel was only three when Grunkle Stan died, and all she could remember independently was a very distinct laugh and his smile, but she could remember everything Grunkle Ford said about him and the stories he told. Everyone always said how great Grunkle Stan was, despite being a conman. Angel grinned at the idea of having such amazing relatives, both old men cunning and crafty and willing to do anything for their families. She really missed them.

Angel sighed and left her empty glass alone to put the picture back on the fireplace. As she passed the TV, a video tape fell out of a box below the screen, though she could have sworn she had never touched it. Angel grinned at that; she had a feeling something funny had happened before, but she told herself grief was imagining something that wasn’t there.

She picked up the tape and grinned to find a familiar cursive handwriting on some tape on the top of the black box. Angel quickly slid it into the very old machine and turned on the TV quietly, then sat on the carpeted floor before the glowing screen. What she saw made her jubilant and she had to bite her lip to keep from squealing.

Thirty minutes later she hurried to her sisters’ bedroom and shook them away, climbing on the ladder of the bunk-bed to reach Estelle and kicking Stella awake. “Girls! Get up!”

“What?” Estelle snorted, rubbing her eyes.

“Why?” Stella groaned, burying her head under her pillow.

“There’s something you gotta see, now c’mon!” Angel urged and eventually pulled the twins by their wrists out of bed and practically dragged them out of the room.

Stella and Estelle were a bit less pissed when they saw the TV was on and all Angel wanted was for them to watch something, so they settled on the couch with their sister and Angel re-winded it to a certain point. The twins gasped to find an uncle they didn’t remember on screen.

“My name’s Stanley Pines.” He said seriously, in his beanie, boxers, slippers, and stained undershirt, sitting in his famous armchair. “I was sixty-seven when I made this tape, but now… I’m dead.” He said in a low voice with a strained face and wide eyes, then wiggled his fingers and asked with laughter in his throat, “Trapped in a box underground! Pretty spooky, huh? Haha!”

There it was! That laugh Angel could so distinctly remember. She grinned at hearing that laugh again and glanced down at her sisters, both wide-eyed with wonder.

A sharp voice that was slightly more recognizable interrupted Grunkle Stan’s laugh. “Stanley!” Grunkle Ford scolded behind the camera, while Grunkle Stan rolled his eyes. “Stan, this is for future Pines generations, the children Dipper and Mabel will have that we might not get to meet, their grandchildren! Surely you have a message you want to leave them.”

“Alright alright, I do.” Grunkle Stan said and smiled at the camera as he pointed at his audience. “Remember to work hard and that family always comes first. Also,” Now Grunkle Stan grew slightly more serious again. “I have several pounds of gold and millions in unmarked bills in a safe buried under the Shack, next to the…” His face suddenly dropped, and then their grunkle went on to over-exaggerate, putting a hand to his chest to fake a heart attack, then proceeded to limp over his chair with his tongue sticking out, making dying noises.

As the twins were laughing loudly and probably waking up their parents and Angel tried to shush them but was giggling nonetheless, the camera spun around and Grunkle Ford appeared on screen. “I’m sorry, kids, but this is what I have to work with.” Then he raised an eyebrow annoyingly as Grunkle Stan continued to make dying noises.

Angel paused the TV as the girls tried to silence their laughter, but despite Stella biting her shirt and Estelle holding her breath until she was blue, all three couldn’t help but laugh, not only from the comedic scene recorded for them, but the overwhelming joy they had from seeing their grunkles. Not only seeing their grunkles, but via a message they had created just for them.

Stella wiped a teary eye and asked, “Is that it?”

Angel shook her head. “No, there’s thirty minutes of Grunkle Ford just talking to us and showing us their favorite things, even the Stan O’ War. That was just my favorite part.”

“Forget sleep!” Stella said and ran off for the kitchen. “Start the movie over! I’ll make popcorn!”

“I’ll get the drinks!” Estelle volunteered and followed her twin to the kitchen.

Angel smiled, loving the idea of seeing her family again, and alone in the room, she could feel a presence she couldn’t quite explain, but she looked at the old men in the photograph above the fireplace and whispered, “Thanks, guys. I miss you.”

Meanwhile, invisible to the Earth they dwelled on, Stan stood by his niece with his brother by his side. Proudly grinning, he clamped a hand over Ford’s shoulder and said, “They love us!”

Ford smiled and chuckled, his eyes still on his little angel, who looked at the picture hungrily. With any luck, she won’t miss them for much longer.

[riversmithmelody]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: The Doctor/The Master/River Song, Thirteenth Doctor/River Song, Missy/River Song Characters: River Song, Missy (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor, Susan Foreman, Irving Braxiatel Additional Tags: Reunions, Happy Ending, Fluff, riverdoctorpromptweek, Sunsets, Happily ever after only means time Series: Part 6 of River & Doctor Prompt Week 2021 Summary:

“Everyone is asleep even mother.” Susan said and there was humor in her voice. “Well Hope and Melody are still in the kitchen and talking about stuff I don’t want to know about, but they don’t count.” River shot her granddaughter a look that was more fondness than the warning it probably should have been.  “Don’t be mean to your sister.” She scolded lightly and Susan beamed.  “Grandfather would be proud of me.” She countered and River didn’t need to ask which one Susan meant. She just shook her head.

*** River waits for the sun to set and her spouses, but this time she isn't alone and she knew's she's loved.

--

This kind of is a continuation of my first Prompt "The Price of Freedom" Excerpt beneath the cut!

River watched as slowly, the sun set. Turning the bright orange sand of the Gallifreyan desert into a bloody red sea. Once upon a time she had feared this. Sunsets and what they brought, because after all there was only one night left with her husband. Her beloved idiot, before her story would end. She never anticipated that her story would only begin with a sunset.

It started with 24 years and ended with her waking up in the cluster of Gallifrey with the voice of a woman in her head.

Thank you for showing me love .

The words still rattled her from time to time. She would wake up to them. With the taste of time vortex on her tongue and the happy laughter of a child in her ears. Especially after first Theta and then Koschei left her alone on Gallifrey to see the universe and live the live River already had lived through. Still the voice haunted her more and more often the closer they came to the Time War.

“Aunt Patience's!” A cheerful voice called and River turned just in time to catch the little body of her youngest niece.

“Hello darling.” River said and pressed a kiss to the Child's cheek.

“Aunt Patience's grandfather said I would meet my uncles today?” The child Ana as everyone called her, because nobody liked the name her parents had given her, was Brax’s youngest grandchild and like everyone in the family, beside her own kids and grandchildren, just called her Aunt Patience.

River’s smile faltered a bit and she sighed. “I sure hope so, but then remember what I told you my dear. My spouses do tend to forget that they have a time senses. Ana giggled and wiggled out of River’s grip to run over to the other children of the family.

“So it’s time?” Brax’s voice was calm and yet River could hear the slight excitement in it. He might not like to admit it, but he sure as hell was excited to see his little brother again.

“Mhm…” River muttered. It wasn’t the first time they stood here together. Next to the barn River had turned into a house for herself and her family. Looking at the desert for the whole night waiting for the sound of brakes and a blue police box. River sighed and leaned back against her brother-in-law. They had come a long way until here. Casual touched off affection. Nights curled up together in the hope of finding comfort. His spouse had died in the time war and River, who had been already alone for so many years at that point, had offered him the comfort of understanding. Their family hadn’t said a word about the closeness between them.

Understanding after all, everyone had lost someone. No matter how much research River had done. No matter how long she had talked to the high council. She hadn’t managed to save everyone.

It was one of the perks of being an archeologist with a focus on the Time War and more importantly Gallifrey. River, who was a child of the TARDIS and connected to every single TARDIS in Time and Space, had made the impossible possible and found a safe place for the children to hide. For everyone who wasn’t equipped to fight,she had found a hide out. She had saved billions of people by finding the cave system beneath the desert and hiding her people in there. And yet there had been so many lives lost. No matter how much regeneration energy was filling the air.

“Two-hundred and twenty-four years after the move.” River muttered. “That was mothers message that day. Meet me at sunset 240 years later.” River sighed and relaxed even furthering to Brax, when his arms came around to embrace her. “24 it’s…him. Only he would use that number. Only he knows the meaning of it, especially combined with the sunset.”

Brax hummed and then called out for the children to stop it. River smiled. In the beginning she hadn’t told anyone about the message she had gotten from the TARDISes when Gallifrey had been quantum locked. It was too personal and at the same time she had given up hope of seeing them again. But then just about a hundred years after the move as everyone called it, her husband had come. Her husband with the eyebrows. Furry burning in his eyes. Challenging Rassilon and eventually, banning him from their planet. River had watched all of it, from the shadows smiling. She had told the old man that he shouldn’t challenge her husband and shouldn't use his friends as pawns, but of course she was only a halfling. Not a full Gallifreyan no matter how many lives she had saved. River had watched her husband and led him through the Cluster, after all that was her territory. Nobody knew the cluster better than her. She had lived in it for centuries after all. Hidden away by Cal, until the voice had freed her.

Only after her husband had fled with another stolen TARDIS had River found it in herself to hope. Hoped to see her spouses again. After all he already had done it once, why wouldn’t he do it again? So River had waited for the 240th year to arrive and then spent every day next to her home staring at the dessert. Waiting night after night for them to arrive.

After a few weeks Brax had started to stand next to her and after she had told him what she was waiting for. Who she was waiting for, the rest of the family had started to stand with them. Rivers children first. Her two brilliant daughters, although one of them was a boy now. Then her grandchildren. Susan, who almost bounced with excitement over the thought of seeing her grandfather again. Hope next and then Melody. Melody, who never had met her Grandfather, even though he left long after the Doctor and Susan. The rest of her grandchildren, nieces and nephews soon started to play around them in the sand filling the silence with laughter and happiness. It was so much better this way. No heavy silence and sadness, that had been with her in the nights she had stood here alone.

“Stop worrying.” Brax muttered and then shouted for his grandson to stop harassing his cousins. River giggled and shot him a look.

“He’s becoming more and more like Koschei.” She teased and her brother shot her a look.

“Don’t you dare bring that up. It’s worse enough that Tony somehow managed to be nothing like his father, but Melody is the worst kind of mix of you and Koschei.” River only grinned. Oh yes her granddaughter was a whirlwind of mischief and trouble and she was way too clever for everyone's nerves.

“He will be so damn proud of her.” River muttered and looked away from the gangle of children to look back at the blood red sky.

“They will come soon.” Brax promised, but there was doubt in his voice. River understood, Brax hadn’t seen the way the Doctor had fought no matter the odds. River had seen him try and find a solution for her ending for years. Cal was connected to the internet and so was the TARDIS. She had spent centuries watching her husband brood over plans. Had seen them all fail and yet he never stopped.

“They will.” She said and it sounded so much more believable from her.

“Mother?” Rory came up the hill with a smile on her face. “The council just failed again to change the protocols.” Her daughter said once she was close enough and River started laughing. Brax too was smiling and Rory beamed with them.

“Did you take a picture of their faces?” River asked, still giggling and Rory nodded.

“Of course mothers, who do you think I am?” River brushed through the brown curls her daughter had in this regeneration. Rory looked so much like her fathers fourth regeneration this time around. Unlike Tony who was a perfect replica of his fathers first face down to the stupid goaty.

“Grandmother?” Susan came up to them now too. “I’m taking the children into the house.” She said quietly holding her little sister, Jane, in her arms. The four years old was peacefully sleeping against Susans shoulder. River nodded.

“Do that Susan.” She said and gently brushed a smudge of dirt from her grandchild's face. “Use the large living room and set it up so everyone can sleep there.” Hope, who had come up behind her sister, smiled brightly.

“Can we build a blanket fort again?” She asked and River nodded, winking st them.

“Of course. Your uncle and I will stay a bit longer.” Rory went back with her daughters to help bring all the children inside and River watched the large group disappear into the house.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Andromeda |  Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 1865

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR 03x05 AND THE SECOND HALF OF SEASON 12, prison Reid, mentions of trauma/anxiety/therapy.

A/N: Remember this post?  I was talking about this fic. Anyways, the concept of both Spencer and Reader being groomed for the BAU was one that intrigued me so I wrote this. One day I’ll get tired of writing for this universe but today is not that day. Enjoy!

GALAXY MASTERLIST (not needed to understand the plot but there’s similar content here if you liked this fic!)

You had seen a lot of bad things in your life, but hands down the worst thing you had ever seen was Spencer Reid sitting on the other side of the partition in the prison visiting room. As always your proximity to the doctor cleared your head and relaxed you in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks, but due to the circumstances you knew it was only because he was alive.

“I don’t like this,” you wasted no time making your feelings known.

“I know, me neither,” even though he was alive, you could tell your friend was in rough shape, “how are you doing?”

You breathed a laugh, “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m the same as I was when Garcia visited last week, and we both know she called you as soon as she left here.”

He was right, Penelope had filled you in on everything he had said when she had gone for her visit the week prior.

“Have you gone back to work yet?”

“Yeah, but I’m still not allowed in the field. My therapist keeps telling Emily I’m compromised,” you rolled your eyes, “I think being back in the field would help me compartmentalize better than doing paperwork in Penelope’s office.”

“What have you been doing outside of work?”

“Has my therapist talked to you too? Yeesh,” you rolled your eyes again, causing Spencer to crack a smile, “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Luke, he reminds me of some of the guys from my Platoon. He lets me watch Roxy when the team is traveling, and we go to a veteran’s support group every Tuesday. I don’t think he actually needs the support but he definitely knows I don’t go if he’s not there.”

Spencer sighed, “support groups are good, is it helping?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “I already did the work to cope with my time in the military years ago. The problem isn’t my military trauma, the problem is that my best friend is in prison and the constant anxiety is dredging up old wounds.”

Your eyes narrowed, aware that he was definitely doing a light psych eval of you in that brain of his. You half expected him to start spouting exactly what was happening in your brain that was causing the increased frequency of your episodes, but it never came.

“Will you keep going, for me?”

“Sure, but only because you asked. And if Luke says anything about it you can’t tell him I don’t think it’s working.”

“Deal,” the light banter was the most normal thing that had happened to you since bringing Spencer home from Mexico.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I know you’re a super genius and everything, but do you ever feel like you weren’t cut out for the BAU even though you were groomed for it?”  

“Yeah, I had to get waived on every physical part of training and failed my gun certification an embarrassing number of times even after I was hired. I wouldn’t have gotten the job if Gideon didn’t do some serious vouching for me. Do you… do you feel like that?” You thought it was ironic that Spencer was concerned for you when he was the one in jail.

“Out of everyone in my class at the Academy, Rossi and Hotch picked me. There were at least four other agents that were better at profiling than I was, I was not the obvious choice. My entire career has been defined by joining the BAU and yet I still get hit with some serious imposter syndrome, especially since you’ve been gone. Sometimes I wonder where I would have ended up if I hadn’t been picked, what kind of agent I’d be.”

“You would have ended up with the Hostage Rescue Team,” you knew Spencer was a know-it-all, but you were surprised at his confidence and quick response.

“How do you figure?” you questioned, watching the tips of his ears turn red as he blushed.

“Garcia and I overheard Hotch and Rossi talking about you when they came back from recruiting. We did some… ‘spelunking’ and found your file.”

“Anything juicy in there?” you teased, thoroughly amused at the image of Spencer and Penelope huddled around her desk investigating you.

“No. It said you were ex-military and had been psychologically discharged. We didn’t dig deeper into that, but I could see signs of anxiety the first time I met you so it wasn’t really going to be a secret anyways.”

“Fair, so how did you know about Hostage Rescue?”

“There was a note from their unit chief that they wanted you. It makes sense, you passed the field tests in the Academy with flying colors and you’re exceptional in the field. You would do really well on a tactical team.”

“In theory, until I have a panic attack and get thirty people killed,” you joked, “they probably asked Hotch to take me because I’d have the smallest chance of being a liability in the BAU.”

“Actually, Hotch said he liked how you had approached the exercise they had given you.”

You remembered that day like it was yesterday, Hotch and Rossi had come into your class with the bare bones of a case: an abducted child in a mall a week following a prior abduction of a similar nature. As a collective you had to solve the case, asking the right questions to get the information you needed from the two Supervisory Special Agents.

Your previously mentioned classmates that had a knack for profiling were quick to build a few theories and get a bit more information, including a glimpse of the girl on a security camera, but there were still a lot of missing pieces. Something about the whole thing felt off to you, so you finally spoke up.

“What if it was someone in her family?” Your classmates looked at you in confusion, a few of them jumping up to reiterate the evidence against your suggestion. “I see your point, and I’ll support the group if you still think I’m wrong, but hear me out. There’s evidence of the abduction being personal. I don’t think it’s related to the prior case at all.”

“The family has been with us the whole time,” one of your classmates argued.

“The father?” someone else suggested.

“No, not him,” your brain was working hard, “I think it was the aunt, Susan.”

“Well done, Agent,” you heard Agent Hotchner over the clamor of the room at your suggestion.

“Do you want to back up your theory?” Rossi asked once your classmates had settled down.

“Her husband shows signs of grooming Katie: he knows more about his niece than he does his own kid. If his wife noticed, she might be trying to protect her family. She was probably ashamed that her husband was a pedophile, her son had a record, and her marriage was falling apart. Susan already said she worked retail in a mall, even if she didn’t work at this mall she’d at least have knowledge of how malls work and where she could hide a body. The abduction from the previous week would have given her something to pin Katie’s disappearance on, and Katie would have trusted her enough to go somewhere without an obvious struggle.”

“Bingo, Agent…?” Rossi looked at you for your name.

“(y/l/n),” you offered.

“Susan took her own pain out on Katie. Our agents were able to recover Katie’s body and resuscitate her, and both Susan and her husband were brought into custody.”

Later, as class was dismissed, you were approached by the two men.

“What was it that made you look deeper into the family as suspects?” Hotch had asked.

“I just had a feeling, sir,” you told him honestly.

“What kind of feeling?” Rossi seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying.

“A gut feeling. I know we’re supposed to use the facts, and all the facts were presenting themselves as becoming a serial abduction, but it just didn’t feel right to me. When I started exploring other possibilities the relevant evidence jumped right out.”

“Sometimes we get cases with barely enough information to make decisions from. Following instincts can lead to breakthroughs that solve the whole case. Keep up the good work,” Hotch shook your hand before walking away with Rossi right behind him.

“Yeah, I went out on a limb with that one. I’ll tell you about it later,” you shook your head, knowing you didn’t have enough time to tell Spencer the whole story. He was quiet for a minute, glancing around the room before he spoke again.

“If I can’t get out of here, I think you should look into transferring to Hostage Rescue.”

“You’re not serious, are you? You’re getting out of here. I’m seeing to it personally,” you said it like it was a fact. His face told you he wasn’t kidding.

“Let me ask you this- if I’m found guilty at my trial, how are you going to take it?”

You wanted to tell him you would be fine and continue to fight for his freedom, but you both knew there was a reason your therapist wasn’t clearing you for field work that would only get worse if your best friend had to serve upwards of 25 years in jail.

The BAU without Spencer Reid just wouldn’t be the same BAU you fell in love with when Hotch and Rossi had hired you all those years ago.

“Do you really think the brass would approve a transfer to an anti-terrorism tactical unit when I can’t even get cleared for field work now?” you countered.  

“I do. Your coping mechanisms are well developed. If you separate yourself from the BAU… and me… I think you could pass their psych eval just fine. And everyone knows your tactical skills are off the charts, even after you’ve taken time off.”

“You’re not a very good genius if you think you can get rid of me that easily,” you were quick to point out, “even if I did transfer, I’d still be here as much as possible. Penelope wouldn’t let me cut myself off that easily from the rest of the team either.”

“Just think about it, please.”

You sighed, “I’ll think about it, but I’m still holding out that we’re proving your innocence and you and I will be back to our shenanigans in no time.”

“I’m looking forward to it. How’s my mom doing?”

“She’s been ok, I visit every day and JJ usually comes with me. Cassie’s been really great for her,” you told him.

“Good, will you tell her I-“

“Prisoners line up!” a guard yelled.

“Will you tell her I love her?” Spencer said quickly as he stood. You nodded, watching as he lined up with the other inmates and walked away.

As you left the prison you told yourself you were never getting used to this, and you were going to start working double time on proving Spencer’s innocence. There was no family like your BAU family, and whoever had framed Spencer was not going to destroy that so easily.