#HOWEVER i’ve replaced him with JACK before. so if they were there for THAT they’d expect SKELLINGTON

[hershelwidget]

something really funny happened

[vronism]

What does Jess and Johnny's post-game life look like? <3

ooohoHOHOHO OKAY

don’t think I’ve ever laid out what my post-game headcanon looks like so I’m gonna do it here, thank you!

Jessie’s canon ending is the Sun, after (Don’t Fear) the Reaper ending, which kept everyone alive basically.

In Mikoshi, she made him a promise. She said one way or another she’s gonna come back for him, come back *to* him; and she spent whatever of the little low-quality life she had left to plan just that. With the help of Panam, Rouge and Kerry, the only three nutcases insane enough to go with this, she was able to find out that Johnny wasn’t buried in the oil fields like they were told. His body, a pelt to precious to discard, trophy worth hanging above Saburo’s fireplace was held in Arasaka’s Bodybank, nearly untouched since 2023. It let her form a very straightforward plan; get the body, jack them both in to the net, give Johnny back to Johnny and give herself back to herself— what happens later, with her especially, would become a bridge they’d cross when they get to it. If Johnny was comfortable there, beyond the blackwall, however, she didn’t plan to rip him out—she’d rather stay there with him, as a construct, just a tangled string of data. But as it was her choice the first time around, she wanted him to have a choice too. She couldn’t live without him at that point. Her head was too quiet, and she was too alone. She was losing her mind in addition to losing her life.

So she planned a heist. The swan song of the legend, her body was failing her, she had only few weeks left. She knew that if she’s not gonna make it, if she’s gonna get killed half way, it doesn’t cost her anything, just a few days of excruciating agony. Vik equipped her in some under the counter boosters, Panam ensured a getaway, Rouge ensured a way in, Kerry… Kerry was an emotional support, and so off Jess went.

It went smoothly. To an extent. Got the body, dragged it, cold and rather slimy, to a net core, plugged them both in, and—

And well, the decision making on Johnny’s side had to be quick, because that conversation truly was the last thing she ever did. In a desperate attempt to save her Johnny pushed them both out, Jess managed to grab another booster, they somehow made it out, got taken to the Aldecaldos’ camp; when they got there, though, Jess was way too long gone.

Only several long surgeries that replaced most of her organs with cyberware granted her about ten extra years of life. It took a toll on her, though, she’s been in a coma for about six months before she was in decent talking condition again, and Johnny was around, waiting, getting used to his own body again.

In the end they both got a lease on life. They live as nomads, with Aldecaldos, off the grid and virtually dead to everyone except the two people in Night City that know they made it out. It is a good life they’re having, and they love it, don’t think any of them has a particular urge to go back to the shitshow that NC is.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Nineteen-Part Three)

Summary: (Y/N), Jack and their friends finally face off against Leviathan and the Secret Empire.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers:  None

A/N: Ya girl wrote this while dealing with sleep deprivation, cramps and the after effects of the vaccine, so I hope it’s good ‘cause at this point I can’t even tell lol Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen (Part III) Leviathan’s Weapons Facility, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic (Previous Chapter)

While the two of them were ushered down the staircase that led into the crate-filled warehouse by Michael and Dottie, (Y/N)’s mind raced as she struggled to think of a way out of their current conundrum. I’ve been in plenty of tough scrapes before but even I’ll admit that this one’s the toughest one yet, she thought to herself, her eyes rapidly scanning the large room; there were large, frost-covered windows towards the ceiling, several boarded-up skylights and the two metal doors she spotted were both guarded by Leviathan soldiers. By the time they reached the base of the stairs, (Y/N) had counted a total of twenty armed enemy operatives – seventeen Leviathan guards, Attwell, Underwood and Michael Carter – and from the brief glimpse she’d gotten of their friends hidden behind a stack of crates, it looked as though both Pinkerton and Sawyer were badly injured and the others were trying to bandage their blood-soaked wounds. So, we’re out-gunned and out-numbered, she concluded with a sinking feeling as she bit her lip in worry.

“So, Chief Thompson did survive his daring escape!” Attwell grinned, walking out into the empty space amidst the crates and standing before the two of them. “Truth be told, I was hoping that we’d meet again; I detest leaving loose ends, and killing the SSR’s golden boy once and for all would’ve been a genuine pleasure.”

Beside (Y/N), Jack’s shoulders tensed but he tilted his head to the side in mock contemplation. “What, you couldn’t do it without your Leviathan goons backing you up? What a real tough guy.”

Attwell’s fist quickly connected with Jack’s stomach and when he doubled over in pain, the man struck him across the face and sent him sprawling to the ground. “Stop it!” (Y/N) started towards her partner but the sudden feeling of a pistol barrel against the back of her neck stopped her cold; tearing her eyes away from Jack, she met Attwell’s gaze and struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke, “He’s not the one who’s screwing up your deal with Leviathan, I am.”

“Of course, of course, the infamous codebreaker.” Attwell stepped closer but she held her ground, raising her chin in defiance and refusing to look away despite how uncomfortable his stare made her feel. After a tension-filled moment, his face broke out into a stomach-churning smirk. “It’s a shame that such promising talent’s being squandered by the SSR, by those who dismiss and condescend you at every turn. I was very much like you before joining Hydra; I was overshadowed at Cambridge by my perfect older brother and his two brilliant flatmates; while William, Michael and Adam flourished in their respective fields of study, I floundered and was subsequently expelled but as luck would have it, I was approached by Hydra and offered a chance to unlock my true potential; and here I stand before you, Agent (Y/L/N), to offer you that very-same chance. With the new Leviathan, your immeasurable skills would not only be recognized but they’d also be celebrated. You and Michael could work side-by-side in our efforts to break through as the world’s leading superpower and once we achieve our goal of fully weaponizing Zodiac, Agent (Y/L/N), you’ll have everything you’ve ever truly desired.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Jack’s hand resting on his waist and while Attwell talked, her partner’s index finger had tapped away. It only took her seconds to realize he was sending out a message in Morse Code on the walkie-talkie still clipped onto his belt and once she did, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy. You fidget too much.”

If Jack can think up an off-the-cuff plan to get us out of this mess then I can buy us all a little time by being a good spy, she thought with resolve just as Attwell finished up his speech. Taking a page out of her partner’s book, (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow at the man as the corner of her mouth curled into a humorless smile. “There was a time when I would’ve given just about anything for people to recognize me and my skills, to appreciate just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am today. But then I grew up and realized that the only person whose appreciation I needed was my own. Mr. Attwell, I don’t need to be celebrated or appreciated by anyone, but especially not by a pathetic imitation of the Red Skull.”

The man’s expression instantly grew cold at the comparison. “Then it would seem that you’re of no use to us.” His gaze shifted to look at whoever was holding her at gunpoint and he nodded. “Shoot her, Michael.”

“Stop!” All of them looked over just as Peggy jumped out from behind their makeshift barricade with her rifle pointed directly at Attwell. “I’ll give you the key.”

“Peggy, no!” The barrel of the pistol pressed harder into (Y/N)’s neck and she winced in pain. However, her horror was quickly replaced with dawning comprehension when Peggy flashed her a pointed look before briefly glancing in Jack’s direction. She knows about whatever Jack’s planning, she silently realized, playing along with her old friend’s ruse by rearranging her features into a look of righteous indignation.

Moving to stand beside Attwell, Dottie raised the hand that wasn’t holding her rifle and gave the younger woman a small wave. “Hiya, Peggy. You know, you really should’ve listened to me back in New York; I told you there were currencies in the world stronger than money. I practically spelled all of this out for you! But the great Peggy Carter couldn’t figure it all out on her own, so she needed the help of…” Dottie turned to (Y/N) with a frown. “What’re those revolting nicknames you call each-? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know.” Turning back to Peggy, the spy shrugged. “Well, I suppose not everyone’s perfect, are they?”

“No, they’re certainly not.” Attwell agreed, gesturing with his head for Peggy to lower her weapon and holding out his hand once she’d set it on the ground. “No tricks, Agent Carter. The key, and you and your friends are free to go; it appears that at least one of them is in need of medical attention, so I’d be quick about it if I were you.” When Peggy’s eyes flicked over to where Michael was standing behind (Y/N), Attwell chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I don’t think dear old Michael’s going anywhere but by all means, Agent, go ahead and ask him if you don’t believe me.”

For the first time since they were ushered into the warehouse, Peggy looked directly at her older brother. Her hardened expression slipped and for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) recognized the vulnerable young woman she’d known all those years ago at Bletchley Park who mourned her beloved brother’s death. While her lower lip trembled, Peggy finally addressed Michael. “Not too long ago, I had a dream about you and you told me that you’d be right alongside me if you could. I didn’t believe it was possible, even when (Y/N) and Jack told me it was, but now we have a second chance at being a family again. Michael, you can finally come home.” She blinked away her tears and gave him the ghost of an encouraging smile. “Please, Michael, come home with me.”

(Y/N) could feel the pressure on her neck ease up but just as she was beginning to think that Peggy had succeeded in getting through to him, Michael coolly replied, “This is my family, Agent, the only family I have in this world.”

Peggy’s face crumpled as Attwell laughed in amusement. “I told you so! Now, the key for your friends.”

God, I hope that whatever Jack’s planning happens sooner rather than later, (Y/N) silently prayed, sucking in a breath while the younger woman approached Attwell. Once Peggy reached into her pocket and withdrew the familiar Arena Club pin, the man looked over at Dottie and gave her a nod; the spy slung the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and made her way over to one of the many wooden crates near them, kicking the lid off of it and lifting a small metal box out of the loose excelsior. The box looked innocent enough but as Dottie walked it over to Attwell, (Y/N)’s blood ran cold and she knew that the moment Peggy handed over that key, Leviathan would possess one of the world’s deadliest weapons and they’ll have lost.

“Get up, Chief Thompson,” Michael barked and while Jack got to his feet, (Y/N) was roughly pushed towards him. “And you, stand over there with him.”

(Y/N) did as he said, standing beside Jack and keeping her eyes on the scene unfolding before them as she murmured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Peachy-keen.” She watched Dottie hand the metal box over to Attwell, her anxiety steadily building within her while he examined the box’s intricate lock. “Are you going to fill me in on the plan or what?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curled upwards and he quietly replied, “Patience is a virtue, Specs, just be ready for it.”

“Be ready for wha-?”

Just then as Peggy’s hand stretched out to give Attwell the Arena Club pin, the warehouse wall opposite them exploded. Rubble and splintered pieces of crates flew through the air but before (Y/N) could fully react, gunfire broke out all around them. Amidst the chaos, Jack latched onto (Y/N)’s hand and ran, yanking her behind the nearest tower of crates as bullets whizzed past their heads; both of them crouched on the ground and peeked around the wooden crates, and her eyes widened in amazement at what she saw. The explosion that had knocked down part of the warehouse wall hadn’t been an explosion at all but rather one of the Howlies’ trucks and as (Y/N) watched, Daniel and Henry used the truck’s doors as barriers while they exchanged fire with the Leviathan guards. Moments later, she spotted Peggy dart out from one of the aisles to join her boyfriend behind the open truck door.

“Wa-Hoo!”

Dugan’s deafening war cry from across the warehouse was punctuated by a fresh barrage of gunfire, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but revel at the familiarity of it all; her eyes were suddenly drawn to two men sprinting down the aisle towards her and Jack, and it took her a tense moment to recognize them through all the chaos.

“There you guys are!” Howard exclaimed before ducking down beside them, followed closely by an anxious-looking Edwin Jarvis. Reaching into the satchel that was slung over his shoulders, the inventor withdrew two handguns and offered the weapons to them. “You know, you two’ve got a real habit of gettin’ into trouble…”

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Says the man who was mind-controlled into almost gassing all of New York last year.” Springing up, he fired off several shots before ducking back down. “How’re we looking, Jarvis?”

“Well, Chief Sousa’s dramatic entrance provided enough of a distraction for Mr. Fieldman to escort Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Sawyer out the front; their wounds aren’t life-threatening, but Mr. Fieldman promised he’d help treat them once they reach the clearing.” The butler set another satchel on the ground in front of them. “And we’ve brought more guns and ammunition, as per your request.”

“You know, Thompson, you said in your message that you needed a big diversion, but that whole entrance was my idea; I actually took it from one of my studio’s newest scripts, where a gangster steals-”

“Of course, Mr. Stark, your genius knows no bounds.” Edwin hurriedly interrupted the inventor’s rambling, glancing over at (Y/N) with his brow furrowed in worry. “And have you broken Mr. Carter out of his brainwashing? Where is he?”

Looking around the edge of the crate, (Y/N)’s heart dropped when noticed that several important people were missing from the gunfight. “Where the hell did they go, Jack?”

Jack craned his neck to see what she was looking at and swore loudly. “Shit, I-wait, they’re on the stairs!” By the time (Y/N) spotted them, Attwell, Dottie and Michael had reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared around the corner. “Jarvis, stay here with Stark and cover us, then go help the others.” Edwin nodded and her partner turned towards her, his blue eyes scanning her face for any signs of trepidation as he asked, “Are you ready, Specs?”

“As I’ll ever be,” (Y/N) pulled an extra ammunition magazine out of the satchel and tucked it into her pocket before giving Jack a determined nod. “Let’s finish this once and for all, Flyboy.”

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

Compared to the chaotic warehouse they’d come from, the rest of the facility was eerily silent and it wasn’t at-all difficult to follow the footsteps of the fleeing trio through the deserted hallways.

“You know that this is probably a trap, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

Before (Y/N) could get another word in, a figure she soon recognized as Dottie dropped down from above them and began attacking; the spy kicked the guns out of their hands, ramming her knee into (Y/N)’s stomach and knocking the wind out of her before spinning and using her leg to slam Jack into the wall beside them. (Y/N) took advantage of Dottie’s momentary distraction and aimed a side-kick at her thigh, but the spy merely turned her sharp fall into a somersault; she stood and threw a punch that (Y/N) was quick to duck, and then she grabbed the spy’s extended arm with the intent of wrenching it behind her back. Dottie predicted the move, yanking her arm free only to wrap her hand around her throat and roughly shove her back against the wall.

The back of (Y/N)’s head erupted into a sharp pain while Dottie flashed her a condescending smile. “I already told you, you’re too easy! It’s almost pathetic to see you try so hard to be as good as Peggy.”

“Don’t need to be as good as Peggy,” (Y/N) choked out as the fingers around her throat tightened. “Just…just good enough to keep you distracted.”

Dottie frowned in confusion and that’s when Jack slammed the butt of his gun against the back of her head. The spy tumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap and (Y/N) doubled over, her hands firmly clutching her knees as she coughed and gasped for air. “(Y/N), you okay?” She nodded and allowed Jack to take hold of her shoulders, his soothing encouragements helping her finally regain her breath; once he was sure that she was fine, her partner handed over her dropped gun and rested his hand against the small of her back to urge her forward. “C’mon, let’s go…”

They left the motionless spy behind and continued down the hallway, turning the corner and finding themselves at the entrance of a dimly-lit boiler room. Beside (Y/N), Jack shuddered and she recalled the story he’d told her of the mission he and Peggy had conducted to investigate one of Leviathan’s training facilities; she nudged him with her elbow and gave him a brief smile, wishing that she could offer him more comfort but not wanting to distract them both from their mission. Jack nodded as if to say he was fine, but his shoulders remained tense while he silently gestured for her to go left into the room while he went right.

(Y/N) crept behind the various boilers and pipes, careful not to slip on the slick ground as she did. If I end up surviving all this, I think I’m going to sleep for a week straight, she thought to herself, her heart rate steadily increasing with each step she took. While she edged herself around another heavy piece of industrial furnacing, she found herself trying to think of how to break Michael out of his mind-control long enough to save him; Jack insisted that cognitive re-calibration was the only way but after being present for Peggy and Michael’s reunion, she wondered if reminding him of his past or even recent actions would also do the trick. But a sharp skid noise right behind her made her forget her train of thought and turn, dodging the knife just in time.

“You really should’ve taken my offer, Agent (Y/L/N),” Attwell spat out, slashing at her with the knife again and forcing her to stumble back into the center aisle of the boiler room; the blade sliced against her forearm and she stifled her cry of pain, dropping her gun and leaping out of the way as he aimed for her again. “Soon, you and your foolish friends will be dead and Leviathan will have more power than you could possibly imagine!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own damn voice?” (Y/N) retorted, her hand shooting out and twisting the red-colored knob beside them; a pipe next to Attwell spewed out pressurized steam and he let out a shriek of pain as the steam enveloped the right side of his face. Not wanting to stick around, she turned and sprinted further into the vast room, a part of her hoping that she’d bought herself enough time to save Michael. Skidding around a corner, she was immediately met with the sight of Jack and Michael engaged in a vicious fight on the floor; her partner was trying to wrestle something out of the other man’s closed fist, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he didn’t see Michael’s other hand brush the handle of a nearby gun. (Y/N) kicked the gun away from him, pinning his shoulder to the ground with her knee and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Visions, light, cheered, night, dream!”

As she finished reciting the five words he’d used to encode his final message to Peggy, something shifted in Michael’s dark eyes and his clenched fist relaxed, allowing Jack to snatch the Arena Club pin from him. Before any of them could say or do anything more, a fiery ache erupted along her shoulder blade and she cried out in pain as she pitched forward. “(Y/N)!” Jack looped his arms underneath hers and dragged her over to half-lean against a pipe; her vision was partially clouded by the pain, but she could still make out the bloody knife he’d just pulled out of her upper back and tossed onto the ground beside them. “No, no, don’t look at that, just keep your eyes on me!” He pressed his trembling hand tight against the wound and when she nearly whimpered, he held the side of her face with the other and frantically nodded, his blue eyes steadily filling with panic that he struggled to control. “I-I know it hurts, baby, but I have to keep pressure on it; it’s not very deep, but I can’t have you fainting right now so keep your eyes on me, c’mon-”

“How touching,” Both of them looked up to see Attwell and Michael standing before them, the former with a self-satisfied smirk on his half-seared face and the latter staring stonily down at them. “Let’s make a new deal, Chief Thompson: Give me the key, and I won’t let Agent (Y/L/N) slowly bleed out on the floor of this boiler room.”

“Bastard.” Jack spat back, but his hand left (Y/N)’s face long enough to retrieve the Arena Club pin from his pocket and throw it into Attwell’s waiting hand. “You better start lookin’ over your shoulder now, Attwell, ‘cause I won’t rest until I kill you myself.”

Attwell shrugged and ran his fingers over the pin, twisting it sharply to convert it into a key. “Such fiery attitude in the face of doom was precisely why I was looking forward to killing you. But then I realized, forcing a man like you to live with your mistakes is a far worse punishment than death; and to make this victory sweeter, I plan on unlocking Zodiac in front of you both, so you can see just how spectacularly you failed yourselves, your agency and your country.” He turned to Michael with his brow raised in expectation. “Are you ready to make history, old chap?”

Michael nodded. “Of course…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal box containing Zodiac; (Y/N) tried getting up, unwilling to sit back and let Leviathan win, but Jack’s strong arms held her in place against him. When she met his gaze, he gave her a barely-discernible head shake and with her jaw clenched tight, she watched Attwell push the key into the lock and turn it clockwise; the lid popped open and the man breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into the slightly-smoking box and holding an electric-blue colored vial with strange etchings carved into the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? So much potential for war and destruction, and it fits within the palm of my hand.” Attwell looked up at Michael and continued, “My brother never appreciated such things, you know. He never truly appreciated you, either; once you were found out to be a deep-cover spy for the SOE, I saw an opportunity to mold you into the person you were always meant to be. Do you remember the first thing I told you after you came out of Hydra’s operating room?”

Michael’s hardened expression faltered, almost as if he was struggling to control his actions, and in an instant, he drew his gun and shot Attwell directly in the chest. There were tears in his eyes as he finally replied, “‘Michael, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

The box and the vial slipped out of the dying man’s hands and as he began to sway dangerously on his feet, (Y/N) lunged forward and caught both in her hands before they could hit the ground. While Attwell’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground in a heap, she and Jack hurriedly placed the deadly Zodiac back into the box and slammed the lid closed; she let out a shaky breath, unable to grasp everything that had just happened. Michael dropped to his knees, tossing his gun to the side and rubbing his head with one hand; still mindful of her now-oozing wound, Jack held her a little closer as they both warily watched the unsteady man turn away from Attwell’s body to look at them. “I-It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent (Y/L/N). I’m Michael Carter, SOE.”

A smile slowly stretched across (Y/N)’s face and a sense of relief was beginning to wash over her as a familiar voice called throughout the boiler room. “(Y/N)? Jack?”

“We’re back here, (Y/N) needs some medical attention but we’re okay!” Jack called back, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze and flashing her a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna be fine, Specs, you hear me?” With a relieved chuckle, Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her sweat-covered brow before resting his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re all gonna be fine.”

“Hey!” The first person who rounded the corner was Daniel, whose gun was already at the ready when he pointed it at Michael. “Hey, get the hell away from them!”

Jack held out a placating hand to the chief. “Easy, Danny Boy, he’s good right now; he’s the one who killed Attwell.”

Lowering his gun, Daniel limped over to where they sat against the pipe and knelt down as best he could to examine her knife wound. “Looks like the knife missed everything important, thank goodness. What the hell happened down here?”

Jack detailed everything they’d dealt with after hurrying out of the warehouse as their friends joined them; Edwin began treating her various wounds with Henry’s assistance, Howard carefully stowed the box containing Zodiac and its key into a satchel and Dugan worked on locating a weak point in the wall to blow a quick exit for them. There was a flurry of voices and activity surrounding (Y/N), but all her attention was on Peggy and Michael; they were talking to each other in low tones, Michael looking heartbreakingly unsure and Peggy trying her hardest not to cry, until they both surged forward and hugged one another. For the second time that day, (Y/N) was reminded of Freddie but while she watched the Carter siblings finally reunite, she didn’t feel sadness or envy, but rather pride. She was proud of herself, for having helped stop Leviathan’s plans and for having made-do on her promise to reunite her oldest and dearest friend with her beloved brother. If anyone deserves a second chance at happiness it’s those two, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath and resting her head against Jack’s strong shoulder.

They did it.

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

A/N: Only one more chapter left!! Like I said, idk how I feel about this chapter as a whole so I’m sorry if there’s mistakes/it’s bad, but next week’s is gonna be great! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and it’s linked down below!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Twenty

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent​ @momc95​ @brooke0297​ @kinda-c0nfused​ @outoftheregular

[starrybouquet]

On Seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1

A note: I wrote a series of essays several weeks ago, when I was feeling particularly crappy. I'm not particularly proud of them--they're pretty dramatic--but they do explain several of my more personal fandom feelings. I know I don't always tend to be the best at explaining things on the spot, so I'm posting these with the hope that I can refer people to them the next time that happens.

Um, I mentioned they're a little dramatic. I'm really, really sorry about that. But hey, if I can't be dramatic on Tumblr, in fandom, where else is that gonna go?

But still - if you're feeling a little sensitive today, maybe you wanna skip this. Or not. Just a light warning. :)

This piece is on seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1, but they aren't all Stargate-related. I'll be posting them in the next few days, hopefully.

To those of you who like s9-10: I have nothing against you. Some of you I know better, some less well. In general, though, I like you, you seem like fine people. This is not about you, I hold nothing against you for liking those seasons. In fact, I envy you. This is more a personal post about why I'm an idiot. If you want, feel free to scroll down past this. I won't be offended. I'd put it under the cut but I'm on mobile.

Okay. Why, hello, those of you willing to read this rant...

No matter how much I denounce and ignore it, I cannot get past the pain of seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG-1. I've never watched them in full. Seen a few episodes here and there.

I cannot, repeat, CANNOT stand the thought today. It hurts.

It's an old pain, and it's not just SG1. SG1 is just one of the highlights in a long line of books and shows that have repeatedly broken my heart by being SO GOOD and then taking an, uh, precipitous right turn, shall we say. Because a hard right seems too kind, and a precipitous drop too harsh.

I love SG1. I love love love it. I like the plots and I love the science, but what I really fell in love with was the characters.

I loved all of them. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if Sam, Daniel, or Teal'c had been on any other show, I guarantee you they would have been my favorite by far. Jack is just so...Jack that he has to be my favorite. That's SG1 for you.

I've never had super close friends. I have good RL friends, don't get me wrong. They're nice people. But we don't have much in common.

That's okay. That's been my experience forever--really nice folks who maybe didn't always get me or have anything to say to me, but were good, decent people.

And this is good. Really, it is. It's just that SG-1, for me, has always represented the promise that there *are* people out there that are your true friends, and you will do brave and brilliant things with them. It will happen.

It's naive, I know. But I haven't been able to let it go. Maybe someday. But not right now.

Which brings me to s9-10 of SG1. It hurts.

It hurts that SG1 scattered to the wind.

It hurts that they sent Jack away from a place where he was happy, where he'd found friends and meaning in life again, away to fucking DC. To be...what? A politician? I could write a whole post just about this. Actually, I have. I could still write more posts about it!

It hurts that Sam went to Area 51, and nobody seemed to mind, the 'Gate didn't spontaneously combust as we were always led to believe it would.

It hurts that Daniel's personality supposedly changed that much, in the absence of his friends. Though some of his lines are funny, they aren't the earnest, idealistic, thoughtful Daniel I fell in love with. I get the idea that new-look Daniel would roll his eyes at s3-8 Daniel, and beat up floppy hair Daniel. And floppy hair Daniel is my baby and anyone who doesn't appreciate his brilliance can face my wrath. That includes you, buff s9-10 Daniel, and also whoever decided/approved that change in characterization.

Really, the only one who doesn't hurt is Teal'c. Because it feels like he's moving forward, toward happiness.

So...here we are. Season 9. Mitchell, Landry.

I often say I hate Mitchell. Do I resent him for replacing Jack? Yes. I do. We can talk about plot reasons and all that, but at the end of the day, I was going to hate anyone who tried to be Jack.

This is true in real life, too. You can't try to be anyone else. You've gotta walk your own path.

Now, people say that I didn't give Mitchell a chance. I say that the way he was portrayed, in the few episodes I've seen, tells me enough.

I can think of lots of ways Mitchell could have been interesting. How would Daniel and Teal'c react to an old, actually bad tempered (not Jack bad tempered, actually bad tempered) hardass after eight years of their best friends leading them? Or--start with his actual character. Mitchell, he hasn't been at the SGC. Wouldn't he get some flack from the longtime team leaders of SGs 2-5ish? They'd be insulted, right?

Or we could've gotten a nice Daniel Teal'c episode arc and then we could've had one Samantha Carter as team leader, though we won't get into that.

Bringing me to my next point. Co-leads?? Seriously?? You're trying too hard, folks. Telling me Sam used to know Mitchell does not actually make me like him.

Same thing with Landry. Unlike Mitchell, I guess I don't really have an opinion on Landry. He's just....there? No character development for this man.

Anyway, back to the team.

One of the things I love about SG1 is how the humor and friendship was so damn natural. Other than a few episodes (Urgo comes to mind), the plots weren't intentionally humorous. They were campy sci-fi plots sometimes, sure. They were funny because Jack was funny, yeah. They were lower budget than some other sci-fi. But they were as serious as sci-fi gets. It was how the characters reacted that made it funny.

Similarly, we were never told SG1 were found family. We just Knew. Because of the way they acted with each other. Because of the way Jack would "order" them to do things.

And hey, by the way, they weren't always family. Sam used to be less willing to ignore Jack. Daniel used to be less willing to trust Teal'c. Jack used to be a little more stern.

So...they meshed together. Like all found families do.

Every time I see a photo of new-look SG1 in seasons 9 and 10, I can't help but feel that they're trying too hard. I don't get the family feel because they aren't a family, damn it. It doesn't matter how many times you *tell* me they're super close. One of the reasons the original team got so close is because they all needed each other. Jack was depressed, Daniel was grieving, Sam was alone and had lost her mom and wasn't speaking with her dad and had never opened up to anyone in her life, Teal'c was an alien fighting for freedom after spending 100 years essentially as a slave.

And partly because of that, by season 9? Daniel and Teal'c (and Sam, when she comes back) don't need a family the way they used to. They have each other. They have Jack, or at least they *should*. *Glares in angry at Jack in DC vibes*

So...they simply don't have the relationship with Mitchell they do with each other.

It'd be different if Mitchell needed a family. It's not that SG1 hasn't added people before--I think Jonas is a perfect example of this. He wasn't Daniel, and that always hurt. But he was young, and naive, and innocent, and he needed SG1 because he'd left everything he'd ever known.

And that worked.

Without needing family, Mitchell is just a coworker. He can be a friendly coworker. A friend. But if he wanted to become better friends, family, he needed to show depth and vulnerability. He needed to need SG1.

And he never does, from what I've seen and heard about and read about. Or if he does need SG1, he doesn't need them badly enough to show more than an occasional bout of thoughtfulness before returning to his normal pale-Jack-imitation ways.

Now, I don't know why that is. I lean toward bad writing. I haven't watched Farscape (it's on my to watch list) but it seems like Ben Browder is a fine actor.

So, seasons 9 and 10 are probably fine TV. I'm never going to watch them through, so don't ask. I've tried and failed and every time it just tears my heart a little more and I'm won't be doing it again.

Those seasons...they just lost everything I watch SG-1 for, and so...yeah. I feel the hate strongly. Not because they're bad--I think they're different, not necessarily bad. My hate is only because in creating those seasons, they tore down the parts of SG1 that I loved most.

So s9-10 show me a few nice hugs and laughs? That's nice. I like comedies, I do. However...that's not my Stargate. Not the one I love. I liked the sarcastic one, the one full of wonder, the one where they had to scrape and claw their way through the galaxy with naivety and courage and brilliance. The one where they ate together, fought together, died together, were resurrected together.

It hurts, man. It hurts when the things I love turn into something that's lukewarm. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

That's why we have fanfic. And, with any luck, I'll actually start that AU I've been talking about.

It's fanfic, and so it'll be my Stargate. The ending I wanted--which really wasn't an ending at all, more of a closure of one chapter of the story.

Damn, did that turn dramatic. Um, sorry about that, and also sorry for spilling my feelings all over you guys. Thanks for reading, if you got to the end of this.

[fuckyeahscienceparty]

Fighter (Lover)

Call me fighter, I'll mop the floor with you

Call me lover, I'll take you for a drink or two

You'll get older, and maybe then you'll feel some control...

-

HOO longest thing i've ever written lads :V hope y'all enjoy! title/description based on fighter by jack stauber bc i thought it was very fitting lol

-

Engie let out a strangled yell as he finally managed to land a solid hit on RED's Spy with his wrench, the familiar sound of crunching bone and the squelches of blood that accompanied it filling the air and splattering his overalls in French flavored crimson.

Not a very pretty way to die, and he almost felt bad for the fella, knowing from.... rather painful experience how excruciating it was to go through respawn after having your skull caved in. But almost was the keyword here, especially considering the fact that the bastard had unfortunately managed to sap both his dispenser and his sentry in the process, leaving him not only vulnerable to his fellow REDs but without the resources to actually get things up and running again.

What was extra unfortunate was that before he could get to either of them, they'd both managed to practically destroy both affected buildings, causing his dispenser to spark and sputter to a halt and his sentry to explode, sending components and pieces of shrapnel flying everywhere and barely giving Engie a chance to shield himself while hanging on to less than half of his health points.

Great. Just great.

He let out an annoyed grumble, anger rising in himself as he began to at least attempt damage control by basically tearing the sapper off of his dispenser with his bare hand. He didn't even care about all the little metal bits in his skin that tore through his shirt and were starting to make blood ooze out, staining his already sullied uniform. What he cared about was making sure that RED didn't take their final point and not having sentry up, even if it was just a level 1, was going to make that exceedingly difficult.

That being said, if he made it out of this alive, he was gonna have a field day getting all these stains out he mused to himself as his pried open the side panel of his dispenser. He reached for his toolbox, rummaging around for his wire cutters, twist on connectors, and a new set of wires to replace the ones the sapper had fried as he heard a chorus of bullets being fired from somewhere around the next point over.

He frowned. Those were much closer than they were 15 minutes ago. Better pick up the pace.

With a deft hand, he pulled out the wires and snipped out all the unsalvageable ones, tossing them in his toolbox to properly dispose of later. Twist on connectors wasn't exactly a Good fix to all the problems he knew that damn shock box had caused, but it would be good enough to last him until the end of the round.

...He hoped, at least.

After making quick work of the internals and closing the panel back up, he flipped the switch back on, waiting a few agonizing moments before the dispenser beeped at him a few times and whirred back to life.

Engie let out a weary sigh of relief as it slowly started healing his wounds, giving it a couple whacks with his wrench to get it into somewhat working order. It may have been knocked back down to level 1, but hey, at least it actually started up again! Finally, he had one thing was working in his favor!...

...But only the one thing. Now was the issue of getting his sentry back up, and with his dispenser back at level 1, just waiting around for metal wasn't exactly going to be an option this time.

After scanning the battlefield a few times, a disgruntled noise escaped him. Pyro was nowhere to be found. Just his luck. He grumbled to himself more as he picked his dispenser up and moved it to where he thought it would be at least a little less visible so he could go search for an ammo kit himself, keeping a hand on his pistol and his wits about him as he ventured into a nearby building.

He hated to leave any of his buildings unattended without Pyro around to cover for him (usually in return for a joyride into town the following weekend along with the sugariest fruit flavored item they could get from the local candy store), but he really didn't have the time to sit around and hope for the Chance that they'd 1). be in his field of view and 2). not be too busy to play guard dog for 5 or so minutes (5 minutes they could very understandably use to set some REDs running for the hills. or a fire extinguisher).

And as much as he would love to just waltz into BLU's resupply and pick up all the things he needed with little to no effort, he was currently stationed at second to last and the time it would take him to get there and back would be more than enough time for the REDs to not only destroy BLU's hopes and dreams but also to give way for his teammates to complain about how he hadn't been there to defend them.

(As if he wasn't doing enough for this damn team already.)

So taking a gamble with getting an ammo box was objectively his best bet at the moment. Was he happy about it in any metric? Absolutely not. Sure, he knew his way around the place and he actually knew that the building he was currently in housed the largest ammo kit you could find out in the field, but he also knew that other people knew that too. And that meant that there was a very real chance of running into one of them and not only failing to defend BLU's points and having to put up with his teammates' negging but also dying and gettin sent through respawn in the process.

But that's as if anything was really going his way today.

He hopped up the wooden stairs two at a time, knowing that the ammo kit was somewhere up on the top floor. He'd actually passed by the Medkit on the first and as tempted as he was to heal himself up a little, he also knew that any more time he wasted in there was time that could be used getting a sentry back up.

When he'd reached the second floor, the ammo box was just where he expected it to be, sitting next to a window that looked out over the battlefield, giving him a front and center view of BLU's second to last point. He could just about see a sliver of his dispenser, silently relieved that it was still there. From what he could see, RED and BLU were still fighting it out over the mid point, both teams having captured and then recaptured it several times already, only for the other to take it back.

Currently, it was still BLU's but something told him that if he didn't hurry, that was going to change soon.

He quickly scooped up the ammo box, eyebrows furrowing when the top of it came off with relative ease. Odd. You usually need to do at least a little prying with these suckers to get the tops to pop off. He then rummaged around in it to make sure it had what he needed, confusion deepening when he realized that there weren't any syringe cartridges in the box.

And that's when he heard a slight rustling from somewhere just out of his peripheral vision.

He immediately dropped the box, bullets and miscellaneous parts spilling everywhere as he turned around and reached for his pistol.

However, he ended up getting a spray of syringes to the arm, letting out a strained cry as he instead grabbed his pistol with his other hand and randomly fired it in the direction of where the syringes had come from.

His guesswork was pleasantly met with a very loud "FUCK", his eyes finally focusing on a very irritated looking RED Medic who now sported a bullet wound in his non dominant shoulder.

"You wanna dance? Let's fuckin' tango, buddy," Engie muttered mainly to himself, only just about bearing the pain as he tore anywhere from 4-7 syringes out of his arm and dropped them to the floor.

He tried to shoot his newfound opponent again but his bullets made splinters rather than punctured flesh, Engie fully aware that his normally serviceable aim was probably off thanks to the searing pain in his... well, everything, cursing under his breath regardless.

However, before he could even process what to do next, the enemy Medic made a dive for him, the two of them tussling to the floor and struggling with each other for the right to end someone's life.

Engie was able to momentarily able to wiggle his arm out of the other's grasp, managing a solid hit on RED Medic's face that he was pretty sure ended up breaking his nose.

That really only seemed to make him angrier though, the two of them continuing to wrestle it out until Medic finally managed to come out on top, having practically straddled Engie's chest as he pinned down both of his arms to the ground. The both of them struggled to take in air, Engie still making feeble attempts to escape his captivity with little success.

If this weren't a life or death situation, he probably would've told RED Medic that he was rather handsome, even with a broken nose and blood dripping out his mouth and onto Engie's shirt. Truth be told, Engie had always thought him attractive and if the two of them weren't enemies by uniform color, he probably would've asked him if he wanted to go out for a drink some time.

But even if life or death prevented him from attempting to woo the man who he'd just shot, Engie couldn't help but be immensely frustrated with himself, eventually just letting out a wheeze of defeat as he gave out from exhaustion.

"Just- just fucking do it please, I'm really not goddamn having it right now," He growled out, causing RED Medic to squint and tilt his head at him. After all, it wasn't every day that your enemy practically begged you to off them after they (quite understandably) just tried to strangle you.

"Hey, Stitches, you hear me? Just cut my head off or steal my organs or whatever, make my godawful day into an even more godawful one," He reiterated, Medic unable to suppress a chuckle despite how tired he was.

"Sorry- steal your organs? Do you really think I'm going to do that?" He grinned incredulously.

"Dunno. You just seem like the type," Engie said dryly, Medic letting out a cackle.

"Well just because you made me laugh, I'll make this quick. You don't seem particularly happy right now," Medic vocalized, shifting so that he could pin both of Engie's arms down with one hand and reach for Engie's pistol that had gotten knocked out of his grasp in their scuffle with the other.

Stronger than he looks. Engie couldn't tell if his heart beating faster because he was literally about to die or because an item was added to the list of "reasons why I want to take my enemy out to dinner."

...Might be both.

"Golly gee, what gave that away?" Engie deadpanned, feeling the muzzle of his own pistol pushing against his forehead. RED Medic chuckled again.

"No hard feelings, right my friend?" he smiled at him, almost apologetically. At least Engie thinks it's apologetically. Kinda hard to tell with all the blood that wasn't in his body.

He closed his eyes, bracing himself.

"Nah. None at all."

...

BANG!

...And not even 20 seconds later, he suddenly materialized in BLU's main respawn room, immediately grimacing from the skull splitting headache he was saddled with; the unfortunate side effects of being shot in the head. Respawn could only do so much, after all.

He moved to open the resupply cabinet to just get what he needed and get the hell out of there before he was startled by the intercom crackling to life, Engie's stomach sinking when he heard the very familiar "YOU FAILED" accompanied by almost comically sad music.

Had he really been gone that long? He didn't even hear the Admin announcing that mid had been capped, let alone second to last, and surely he would've heard it even if he was being held up by RED's local handsome devil.

But his teammates slowly filing in with various injuries seemed to confirm their defeat, Engie sighing as he reached into the cabinet for a bottle of aspirin instead of a case of bullets.

"Hrr Mrnrph!" Pyro mumbled out as they made their way in, Scout with his arm around their shoulders for support as he hobbled in as well.

"Yo, Engie, where the hell were you?" Scout frowned, clearly peeved about losing that day's round.

"Yeah, maggot, we thought you were on second to last! Their damn Scout somehow slipped by us and ended up capping both of ours after RED capped mid again," Soldier added, Engie sighing. Of course this was going to be blamed on him.

"Sorry, fellas. Spy managed to sap both my sentry and my dispenser and their Medic got me when I was tryin' to get supplies. I was hoping y'all would be able to hold mid long enough for me to get back but that. Obviously did not happen."

"Oh, so it's our fault now?"

"Hey, I'm not sayin' it's anyone's fault, I'm just sayin' that they got the best of us today. We'll give it another go tomorrow, like we always do."

Scout obviously seemed unhappy by the notion but decided it best to shut his trap when Demo gave him A Look because even Scout knew that Demo was not one to fuck with. Engie knew he didn't actually intend real harm, he just tended to run his mouth with things he didn't necessarily mean. Didn't make his life any easier, though.

"Listen, I think we've all had a long day. Let's just get patched up an' relax before tomorrow," Demo interjected, the rest of the team making various sounds of agreement as the final members of their menagerie made their way in.

As he walked past, Medic gave him a conciliatory look that Engie could only give him a knowing smile in return for. They both knew what it was like for the entire team's failure to be blamed on their shoulders alone. Usually it was Medic who received the brunt of it, especially when he'd just been transferred in, but Engie was no stranger to complaints on his off days about how he should've been better or how could've done more.

It made him want to tear his own ears off. Not only because it was annoying as all hell because you didn't see him out here blaming the entire team's loss on one damn person's slip up, but because it was the kind of shit that he told himself when he was younger and it brought him back to times he didn't necessarily want to remember.

He was suddenly brought out of his brooding by Pyro walking up to him, Scout seemingly having limped his way back into base on his own.

"Mrr rrhrrh hrrph phr nrr rphmm hrr rr phrrhrrk phr rrr," They mumbled out sadly, holding their arms out to offer an apology hug and very much looking like a kicked puppy. Engie let off a soft "aw."

"Shucks, Firefly, it ain't your fault. Can't expect ya to baby me all the time, can I?" He joked, pulling them in anyways. Only a monster could refuse Pyro hugs, after all.

Pyro squeezed him tightly, nearly lifting him off the ground despite the fact that they were only a couple inches taller than he was as Engie was momentarily overwhelmed with the familiar scent of kerosene and singed rubber.

When they finally let go, Engie gave them a gentle pat on the head.l

"You go inside now, hey? I gotta check if my dispenser's still out there and you probably got your own injuries you should have Doc look at," He told them, Pyro nodding at him and giving him an affirmatory wheeze. They then gave him another quick squeeze before waddling their way inside, boots squeaking every so often.

Engie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Oh well. Nothing he could do now but prep for tomorrow.

He sat in respawn for a little while waiting for the aspirin to kick in and only decide it was time to get going when he finally felt like his brain wasn't trying to squeeze itself down his spinal cord.

After making the trek to second to last, he was pleasantly surprised to see that his dispenser was still on. And also there at all.

(To be fair, RED and BLU had been fighting over mid for so long that RED's Scout probably hadn't bothered to destroy what wasn't shooting at him in a desperate attempt to end the godforsaken match already. He couldn't say that he'd blame him.)

He was also surprised, though not as pleasantly, to see someone waiting for him. Specifically, someone in glasses and a tie that, even though it was covered in blood, had a face that was both painfully smug and oddly endearing.

Though they were technically now in ceasefire until battle tomorrow, he still instinctively reached for his pistol, blinking and looking down when he realized his holster was empty.

"I believe you're looking for this?" RED Medic asked as he picked said pistol up off of his dispenser, Engie nodding cautiously.

"Relax, dummkopf, I'm not going to shoot you. The bullet that was in your head was actually the last one in the magazine anyways," Medic snorted, demonstrating by pulling the trigger while pointing the weapon to the ground and coming up with nothing but empty clicks.

Regardless, he still offered it to Engie butt first, Engie himself still wary but a little less hesitant as he took a few more steps forward and took it in his hand.

"Apologies. I actually meant to put it back into your holster before you went through respawn but I didn't have adequate time. You pack quite a punch," Medic smirked lightly, Engie's attention suddenly being drawn to his still broken nose.

He grinned sheepishly.

"Heheh, yeah, mama taught me well... No hard feelin's though, yeah?" Engie sticking his pistol in its place and his hand out to the doctor, Medic letting out an amused huff at his own words being used against him.

"No hard feelings," He assured, shaking Engie's hand.

"I should probably be off now, I can practically hear my gaggle of idiots begging me to heal their boo boos from all the way out here," He then snorted, Engie letting out a chuckle.

"All good. I should prolly get the ol' girl back to the workshop. Damn sappers always do a number on the internals," He grimaced, thinking about all proper rewiring and circuit board replacement he was going to have to do, not to mention normal maintenance and cleanup.

"As I've heard. Our own Engineer has some particularly... colorful words on what he thinks of your Spy."

"Bit of a wily bastard, that one. Can't say I blame him," Engie shrugged, leaning against his dispenser for support and suddenly feeling face flush as Medic did the same, the two of them now so close that their elbows touched in the middle.

If Medic noticed, he didn't immediately let on, merely smiling at him.

"That we can all agree on, I think. What is it with Spies and deciding to be bastards? Is it a profession thing, does it just come naturally to them?" He said mirthfully, leaning in close enough that their noses were close to touching.

...Never mind, he absolutely noticed.

"'s gotta be, right? I mean, it's the only explanation for why they're all so dickish. That or the ones we've been in contact with just happen to be persnickety lil fucks," Engie grinned, Medic laughing loudly in response.

It only made him grin even wider. Medic's laugh had to be in a class of its own. Borderline obnoxious in nature but somehow brash and unapologetic while still being absolutely ridiculous.

Man, was it just something to die for (which he.. technically supposed he did).

"Ah, look at me, babbling about. I really should get going before I waste any more of your time," he said when giggles finally stoped threatening to rise out of his throat, Engie feeling a sudden pang of disappointment in his chest. He merely waved him off with a soft "shucks, weren't nothin'" as he tipped his hat, Medic giving him a firm pat on the shoulder.

"It was nice talking with you, Herr Engineer. Perhaps we can meet again some time," He smiled before turning to make his leave.

Engie closed his eyes. This was a bad idea, this was a bad idea, don't do it, don't do it Dell, don't FUCKING do it-

"Hey, uh. Stitches."

Medic paused before turning around again.

"Are you... free this weekend?"

An amused glint suddenly appeared in Medic's eyes.

"Well seeing as we all have weekends off, yes, I should be. Why do you ask?"

"You, uh. You wanna grab a drink with me, this Saturday, maybe? I know this pretty good place not too far out and uh. I dunno, 'd be fun to uh. See ya again outside of work, I guess," Engie stumbled out, putting a hand on the back of his neck.

"...I'd like that. I'd like that a lot," Medic smiled, Engie's face lighting up.

"Great! Uhm. I uh, I guess. Meet me on y'all's second to last at about 6? I know how to avoid all the cameras, so," Engie offered, Medic raising an eyebrow at him.

"...Hey, when you live out your days fighting people to the death for an old dinosaur who would skin you alive and turn you into the coat given the chance, finding out where her cameras and all their blindspots are isn't that much of a hassle. We're actually in one right now. Wouldn't've asked you out otherwise," He shrugged, Medic holding his hands up in response.

"I'm not one to judge. Whatever gets me out of playing team mama for the night. I'll just tell them I joined a book club or whatever. And if they don't believe me... well I think a saw to the skull might convince them," Medic said, suddenly pulling out his Ubersaw with a malicious grin.

Engie had to physically restrain himself from saying "hot" in response.

"Heheh, yeah, I bet it might. I'll uh. See you later then," He coughed out, moving to put his dispenser into compact mode and pack it back into his toolbox.

When he stood up with it resting on his shoulder, however, Medic was standing right in front of him, nearly causing it to slip out of his hands.

Medic barely stifled a laugh at his shock, gently removing his hardhat and leaning down to give him a kiss on the forehead.

"It's a date then," He hummed cheerily before putting Engie's hardhat back on his head and making his return to RED, leaving Engie with his hat slightly askew and his face moderately flushed.

And that's when if hit him. A date. He had just asked his actual, literal enemy who had shot him in the head about 30 minutes ago, on a date. And he said yes.

He didn't know if he wanted to scream, punch something, or throw himself off a bridge. Probably all three, if he was honest.

Despite all that, he practically forced himself to turn around and begin making his way back to BLU, readjusting his tool box every so often so it wouldn't slip out of his hands. What the hell was he doing, breaking contract like this? He means sure, he wasn't particularly one for rules anyhow, he's pretty sure he's committed more than a few atrocities against the heavens in his lifetime, and the Admin wasn't always on his case for every little infraction he'd ever made anyways. But between her and God, it was the Admin he feared more and he knew that if there was one rule that the she enforced, it was that cross faction relations were NOT tolerated and were more than a warrant for termination.

Termination of contract or termination of your life? Depended on how nice she was feeling that day.

Needless to say, he was very frustrated with himself.

But then he remembered how drop dead (haha) gorgeous Medic was even when he was bleeding all over Engie's shirt and the way hearing his laugh had made him felt and the way that glint made it look like he had stars in his eyes and...

...Aw hell, if he was going to get fired (or die! both was very possible) for this he might as well go down after having had a good time.

Now all he had to do was make it to Saturday. While also not giving anything away.

Piece of fucking cake.

[snarkymonkeyprime]

An idea I’m playing with; Castiel is a police detective who’s hunting for a serial killer in the year 2099.  Dean is a local black market dealer who also happens to be an Alter; a cybernetically modified human.  The killer is also an Alter and appears to be targeting specific Alters.  Dean’s the first that Castiel has met that is not outwardly modified.  Meaning, his modifications are all internal, courtesy of his zealot father, John.

Castiel pushed open the rotted door, not surprised to find the appearance anything but.  What looked to be a warped, molded entryway was in fact a carefully fabricated façade.  The door behind the stained wood was solid and dark; stank of fresh metal.  Recently replaced or updated; hard to say which.

He let the door slam behind him, eye roving the dim confines of the shop.  At the far end, he heard the rapid click of keys and caught the flicker of chromatic lighting.  As he rounded a stack of old twentieth-century screens, he found the source.

A man stood behind a counter, fingers flying over an projected keyboard, the red keys flickering as his own digits flew.  A low-profile jack emerged from the back of his hand, wires protruding into the the data brick at his left.

“What?” he asked, not looking up.  “This is a legit shop, Spook.” 

Castiel nearly smiled at the old term.  The man either had a penchant for the prior centuries’ colloquialisms or Castiel wasn’t worth his badge any longer.

He tapped the digital readout on his jacket, the screen flickering through his ids to land on his police card.  “Agent Castiel Novak.  I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Only then did the man react.  His green eyes, tinged with the red of the lasered keys under his fingers, flicked to Castiel and then down to the data brick.  “That so?” he murmured.  He swiped his left hand across the lights and the data brick shut down.  He yanked the wires from his hand and the jack recessed, vanishing behind false skin.

Castiel’s brow quirked.  Whoever had Altered this man, was damn near an artist.  Granted, the shop was poorly lit and the man stood a good ten feet away but even then, nothing Altered stood out about the man.  Anyone one Altered tended to have a perverse need to announce it.  As though pride increased with each modification.  This man, however, clearly didn’t want that.  He had to wonder how much had been done beyond the power jack.

He stepped closer, careful to keep the man’s eyes on him.  “I’m looking for a man who might have been in the area recently.”  He pulled out a small tablet, tapping a code before turning it to face the clerk.  The image was hazy but it had been a win to even find that on a functioning CCTV in the area.

Tall, gaunt, and vile.  That was all Castiel ever saw when he looked on the image.  The man in it was an Alter but one that appeared to revel in the more grotesque methods.  One eye was gone, replaced by a silver lens.  Half his jaw was jet black, likely an fabricated nanocarbon implant.  Given how the recent victim had had her arm chewed away, Castiel knew why he’d chosen that particular option.

The clerk didn’t react.  “Never seen ‘im,” he grunted.  He folded his arms.  “That all?”

Castiel dropped the tablet to his side, head tilting in observation of the hostility across from him.  “You’re an Alter, yes?”

The reaction was immediate.  The man’s jaw tightened, his green eyes flashed and his entire demeanor turned into a gated fortress.  “Your point?” he growled.

“I only point that out because I assume that’s why you are lying.”

He didn’t move.  Remained frozen in his defensive posture.  After a moment, he took a heavy breath and let it out.  “Not that I care, but why are you after him?”

“He’s killing people.”  Castiel looked away as he tucked the tablet into his jacket.  “I’m not exactly a fan of that.  Nor is the Department as a whole.”

The man’s mouth quirked but he only remarked, “I have no loyalty to other Alters,” he stated, tone flat.  Another moment of tension and his shoulder dropped a fraction.  “But I’ve honestly never seen him.”

Truth.  Castiel lifted his chin.  “Might I ask who your modifier was?”  Given the skill, perhaps the artist in question might know of others who could do what his killer had done.  The few modifiers he’d spoken with - when they’d deigned to acknowledge him - were reticent at best.

But the rage that filled the man’s eyes at the question startled Castiel and he stepped back involuntarily. 

“We done?” the man asked.  The voice was quiet, belying the anger that surged off him in waves.  “I have a business to run,” he added, the chill in the tone nearly aching.

Castiel tapped his badge screen, sending his information to the docking station behind the man.  “In case you do see anything - or remember anything - my card.”  He stepped back, keeping the man’s eyes on him.  “And be careful.  He might be targeting your kind.”  He paused and turned around, heading out.

On the street, the door firmly shut behind him, he frowned.  He knew some Alters didn’t necessarily celebrate their modifications but he’d never met someone who clearly hated what had been done.  His frown deepened as he glanced at the grimy sign inset in the rotted exterior.

Winchester Station.

“Winchester,” he murmured.  It clearly had no bearing on his case but Castiel’s natural curiosity often got the better of him.  He made a mental note of the shop’s name before moving back to his squad car.  The pneumatic doors closed around him in a hiss and the car floated forward, zipping quickly onto the main freeway line.  As his car moved, he pondered the reaction again.

If he’d have to hazard a guess, he’d assume the modifications had been unwanted.  Which made little sense.  The modification economy was strictly regulated.  Granted, plenty of black market options existed but the surgeries themselves were highly scrutinized.  He’d never run across anyone with unwanted mods.  Maybe poorly installed or faulty ones, but never forced mods.

“Troubling,” he murmured aloud.  But no matter.  He had a killer to find.  An Alter’s regrets had little impact on his current search.

[fl0ating-tree]

spoilers for tommy’s stream (03/01)

Wilbur Soot can confidently say he’s experienced some boring things in his life. When Phil would leave for his trips he would lazy around the house, snacking on the food Phil stocked up for him, bored out of his mind. The days in Pogtopia before the festival announcement when he still had a grip on his mental health, when he would lounge around with Tommy after hours of ranting about Schlatt. There was only so much planning and preparing they could do in those first few days without Technoblade, so the nights were filled with boring small talk. Hell, even those months after they won independence, before the election, where he would wander L’manberg and get bored of talking to the same five citizens. 

So yeah, Wilbur was well versed in all things boring. Which is why he can also confidently say that the afterlife was the most boring of them all. 

There was no heaven, no hell, just wandering eternally. At least insanity had it perks of having things to obsess over. Now, he simply wandered through white voids and black tunnels and hoped he found his way to a memory. Occasionally he got to watch things from Ghostbur’s perspective, though he quickly learned anything he got to see was something the ghost wouldn’t remember, aka something awful. Watching Dream abuse Tommy, arguing with Fundy, seeing the aftermath of Phil and Techno’s destruction, Techno’s execution. The only glimpses he got of his friends and family were the worst parts. At first it was depressing, then it was somber, then it became a routine and now it’s just boring. 

The memories were nice, at first. Taking Tommy under his wing and watching him grow. Sparing with Technoblade. Adventures with Phil. But there’s only so many times you can watch yourself do things that have already happened. And knowing the outcome of these memories, watching himself promise to never leave Tommy or never use Techno for his fighting abilities and knowing he breaks the promises just becomes sadistic. They became boring, just like everything else in the afterlife.

Schlatt was there sometimes. Wandering just like him. Sometimes they’d meet after a fun memory of their challenges against the sky gods, sometimes they’d meet after Wilbur gets pulled into the present by Ghostbur. They never stayed together long. 

He could’ve sworn Jack Manifold was there, if only for a split second. And if he wandered long enough without finding a memory he could hear distance Mexican music playing. But maybe he was just going insane all over again. Those events never peaked his interest for long, though, and he went back to his mindless wandering.

The only thing that broke through the monotony was when he felt pulled, physically pulled, and suddenly could think of nothing but Tommy. Him growing up, always mature for his age but then maturing too quickly as he was thrown into war. Selfless Tommy, giving his prized possessions and two of his lives for Wilbur’s dream. The boy he came to see as his brother never giving up on him, even when he should’ve, in the end. The sheer loneliness Wilbur felt was overwhelming. It felt like he was missing someone, not just emotionally but physically. Like Tommy was supposed to be there, in the afterlife, with him. Suddenly he could smell fresh air and lingering gunpowder and heard a familiar disc. 

Tommy and Tubbo were on the bench, listening to their discs, beaten and bloodied but smiling. Tommy must’ve gotten his discs back. He was proud. 

And he told Tommy just that. Something must have thinned the veil between the living and the afterlife because finally, finally, Wilbur could talk to Tommy. The two boys seemed nervous, but Wilbur could do nothing but smile and run his transparent hand through Tommy’s hair. For a split second, the loneliness in his chest eased.

But once he was thrown back into the afterlife, that ache doubled. For the first time in what felt like year (time passed weirdly here) Wilbur wasn’t mildly annoyed and bored, he was curious and confused and horribly lonely. Schlatt stopped showing up quite a while ago, and he hadn’t been pulled into one of Ghostbur’s visions in a long time, so he had nothing but himself as he felt physically ill from loneliness. 

However, it was an illness he was willing to suffer. The pull in his chest felt almost like there was something trying to push Tommy into the afterlife, and Wilbur would be damned if he let Tommy give up yet another life. So he wandered some more, watched memories that seemed only consistent of Tommy now, and tried to pretended like he was still bored instead of horribly worried. 

He was watching a memory of Tommy, now. It was in the hto dog van, Wilbur had just been working on setting it up. Tommy came up behind him and scared him senseless. Jokingly, Tommy threw a carrot at him to try and calm him down. He wonders if this silly little bit that Tommy seemed to find hilarious is where Ghostbur got his “calm yourself, have some blue” catchphrase from. The idea doesn’t help the loneliness in his stomach. 

He was honestly enjoying the memory when it started to shift. He felt his stomach drop, like he was reaching the peak of a rollercoaster. 

“Schlatt? He’s fuckin’ dead,” Tommy says in front of him, still holding the carrots. This isn’t how this memory went. “His grave? I’ve seen his grave, his grave is real his corpse is there,” There was blood pouring down from a gash on Tommy’s head. A bruise was forming around his temple. 

When watching memories, it felt less like a memory and more like a dissociative episode. Wilbur felt like he was watching himself move from afar, no effect on his own actions. But now, Wilbur could feel himself be grounded back in reality (can he even call it that?) as he grabs Tommy by the shoulders. 

“Tommy what’s happening?” He cries out, shaking Tommy by the shoulders. Tommy’s completely unresponsive. More bruises and gashes appear all over him.

“No, no no no-” Tommy’s eyes are wide with fear now, the carrot gone and his appearance changing. He looks older now, he looks about the same as he did when Wilbur saw him after the end of the Disc War. “Stop it, stop it!-” Tommy was yelling now, before his voice harshly cuts out into a choke. He crumbles to the ground, Wilbur going with him. 

“Tommy! Tommy holy shit what happened?!” Wilbur yells, clutching Tommy by the upper arms as Tommy grips onto the sleeves of his jacket. The boy is shaking like a leaf, blood gushing from his head, bruises all over him body and a black eye. The eye that isn’t swelling is blown wide, pupil no larger than a nail. “Tommy?!” 

He inhales sharply, and as quickly as they appear the bruises start to fade. His eyes dart up, and connect with Wilbur’s. Tommy’s body feels heavier somehow, his presence stronger rather than a wispy memory. Every rational part of Wilbur knew what that meant, but he refused to believe it.  

“I’m dead,” Tommy whispers, like it’s a secret. Like the idea isn’t shattering Wilbur’s perfectly constructed, boring world. 

He doesn’t have some witty response, no jokes to crack to lighten the mood or counterarguments. But he knows Tommy wouldn’t be there, wounds fading and very much corporeal in the afterlife, if he wasn’t dead. 

“What-” Wilbur doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

“Dream,” Tommy whispers again, “I was stuck in the prison, I pissed him off, I-” he chokes on his tears. “After everything,” anger quickly replaces the dispare, Tommy always coped with anger easier, “after you destroyed L’manberg,” Wilbur winces at that, but keeps his hold on Tommy strong, “after Logstedshire, after Techno fucking blew L’manberg up even worse than you did. After Dream nearly killed Tubbo. After fucking everything. What the fuck-” 

“I’m so sorry, Toms,” Wilbur sobs, pulling Tommy to his chest, “I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve it. You never deserved this.” 

“Why?” Tommy asks. Wilbur can’t tell who it’s directed at, or what exactly he’s asking why about. Him, for all he dragged Tommy through? Whatever God that abandoned them, for forcing him to die young? 

Wilbur didn’t have an answer. He wished the world was boring again. 

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 35 - The Fifth

Title: Irreverent Pt. 35 - The Fifth Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 5130

Irreverent Series Masterlist

It's the middle of the night after a long case away involving a family annihilator, after which you and Aaron had picked up Jack and more or less collapsed into bed from sheer exhaustion. You're woken up suddenly and for a second you're not sure why until you feel Aaron shift erratically behind you. You turn slowly towards him to see his face contorted and a thin layer of sweat covering his brow. He's having a nightmare, and knowing everything he's been through, you can only imagine what it's about.

Reaching out slowly, so as to not startle him, you softly shake him. "Aaron, honey, wake up." It takes a bit more shaking to really get him out of his sleep. He wakes with a start and a shout and you worry he'll wake Jack. "Shh, it's okay, you're okay." Your hands are running over his chest and face, trying to help him calm down.

Aaron had been having the Foyet dream again. The dream where he's driving and driving and he hears Haley and he hears Jack, except now it's not just them, it's also you. He's driving and the car isn't moving fast enough and he hears that first gunshot that hits Haley. He hears yours voice - your voice asking him why he didn't make the deal, your voice telling him to hurry - and then a second gunshot.

He's shaking as he realizes that he's in bed, that you're there, and reasonably he knows that Jack is in his room down the hall. You're saying something and he's nodding but not sure what he's saying yes to. He feels cold and clammy and your hands are softly brushing back his hair as his breathing starts to become normal again. From the nightstand, you'd grabbed the glass of water and are handing it to him, your hand cupping his as he brings it up to his mouth.

"You're okay, you're alright. Everything's okay. Jack's alright. It's okay."

He nods, hearing you this time, and allows you to help him lay down, his head against your chest and your hands running over his arms and through his hair. It's helping. Reminding him. Grounding him. This is the first time he's had someone around for this nightmare. He's used to waking up alone and then getting up to check on Jack - just in case. But he has your voice in his ear, assuring him that Jack is alright.

He closes his eyes and focuses on the steady beat of your heart.

You're there.

You're there.

You're there.

*------------*

It had been a short case and it had ended relatively well all things considered - the Unsub was apprehended before he got his hands on his next victim. Sometimes you just take the wins you're handed, and so the team had flown out of Phoenix in good spirits, looking forward to a long weekend off. Rossi had already planned a barbeque at his place on Sunday and you and Aaron had plans to take Jack to the new Dinosaur exhibit at the Smithsonian on Saturday. Monday - if you all made it that far without a case - would be dedicated to introducing Jack to the Toy Story series. You'd ordered him a little Woody outfit and toy as a surprise and just received the notification that it was delivered, so it was perfect timing really.

"I'm just saying, he wasn't too far off the mark," you hear Spencer's voice as you're sitting sideways on the couch, your legs in his lap.

The latest Unsub had formed unhealthy attachments with women who he helped provide tech support to, so the conversation had turned to that again, as far as you could tell. JJ thought it was creepy how the guy had essentially used his access to the customer log to stalk his victims that fit his fantasy and the two of them had been talking it over as she was typing out her report. Her and Will had plans for tomorrow and you knew she wanted to get home early tonight so was doing her best to wrap up her work before you even landed.

You debated starting yours too as you saw that Hotch was working on some paper work as well. Emily and Derek however were sitting and chatting about something or the other and Rossi was reading a newspaper. Who did that anymore? You really needed to introduce him to a kindle or something. Maybe for Christmas. Then again he's a published author. He might take offense at having the feel of a real book be replaced with technology.

You decided to join JJ and Spencer's conversation - maybe you'd learn something to add to your report that you would type soon and not wait to do until after you landed. Of course not.

"What're you guys talking about, Spence?"

"I'm just trying to explain to JJ, that while the Unsub might have gone about it in an unorthodox manner," you hear JJ scoff at Spencer's description of the murders, "he wasn't wrong about the initial premise."

"Which is?" you prompted, trying to take mental notes at the least.

"That many people find love through work - be it a customer, client, or coworker. We spend at minimum, 40% of our waking hours at work. Add in the fact that many people tie their work to a facet of their identity, it makes sense that relationships formed in workplace settings have a high degree of success."

You nod along, taking a drink from the bottle of sparkling water you'd grabbed earlier.

"I mean, just look at you and Hotch - you two seem to be making it work."

You felt yourself choke on the water and cough, enough to get everyone's attention. No. You'd misheard. He hadn't said that. Why was it so quiet on the plane all of a sudden? They're all looking at you. You and Hotch. Emily and Derek had entirely stopped talking. Rossi had put down his paper. No one was saying anything really, as if they were waiting.

You meet Aaron's eyes and see the same question reflected there. Do they know?

You're about to contradict it, really, you are. You're going to ask Spencer what he's talking about. Because you and Hotch are not together - no sir. He must be mistaken. He must have you confused with someone else.

That option is taken from you, however, when Aaron straightens, putting down his pen, and asks Spencer, "How long have you known?"

It's JJ who answers however. "We didn't actually. Not for sure at least. Thanks for the confirmation." There's a smirk on her face and a knowing glint in her eye. You look around and see that they're all wearing pretty much identical smirks.

You can feel the incredulity building in your head. You'd been had. Actually no. You had not. Aaron had. You were all set to deny deny deny. He had to open his big mouth and ask a self-incriminating question. I should pull up the Virginia Bar records and check if he's still licensed because he's really losing his touch.

Aaron had the good grace to look a little ashamed at having been tricked so easily.

You're supposed to say something, but this isn't how you'd planned on telling everyone that you were sleeping with the boss. Well not just sleeping with, but still! There had been a plan. A carefully orchestrated plan involving dinner and copious amounts of expensive alcohol so that no one could be upset at having been lied to. It was very hard for people to be upset with you after you've fed them. Especially if you made your tiramisu. The tiramisu had been part of the plan!

You can feel your face heating up the longer the silence goes on. Realistically it's only a few seconds at most while both you and Aaron process that everyone knows now. But it feels like a very long stretch of quiet in which they're all just looking at you as if they expect you to start making out with one another any minute now.

"How'd you figure it out?" you finally ask, hoping that question would urge Spencer to talk and distract everyone from staring at you. You sneak a peak at Emily. She doesn't look mad or upset really. That's good.

"Well, I've suspected since Hotch got shot," Spencer explains. "I was pretty sure you made a large donation to the surgery department to get Dr. Kepner instead of Dr. Wilson, which didn't really make sense as something someone would do for a friend or a coworker. Though sometimes I do tend to misread those types of situations so I asked JJ and she agreed with my interpretation that it was unlikely you'd make a large donation for just anyone like that."

You look at Aaron and see him color just slightly. The two of you had had a bit of an argument about you throwing your money around to get your way, but you'd reminded him that his bullet wound had healed remarkably and there was barely a scar at all. Plus, it was your money and you could use it however you wanted and then you'd said something about how scared you'd been and how you didn't know how else to help and could he please just not be mad at you for doing something that was good for him. You weren't sure if it was what you said or the fact that you were sat in his lap pouting and upset when you'd done it, that had made him finally relent.

You still refused to tell him exactly how much you'd donated.

"We won't hold that against you, though," JJ says kindly. You can see the humor dancing in her eyes.

If the jet were to suddenly rip a hole and pull you clean through, you wouldn't be all too upset about it.

"You also said no to a date with Charlie," Derek adds. Detective Charles Bass was a friend of Derek's from the Chicago PD whom you'd met on the case prior. "You and I both know he's your type, princess." Derek has a teasing smile on his face that helps you calm down a little bit.

You rolled your eyes but didn't refute his claim. He wasn't wrong. Detective Bass was incredibly good looking and charming and exactly your type if you weren't already completely head over heels for a certain unit chief. Aaron had laughed when you told him and then proceeded to remind you exactly why you said no to dates with other men. You two were lucky no one had heard you with how thin hotel room walls could be. Though now you have to wonder if they had indeed heard you but were adding it to the pile of evidence they'd been collecting.

"And then," Emily decides to finally contribute, prompting you to really look at her, "when I was taking the lunch order, and Hotch was busy, you knew his sandwich order exactly. When I handed it to him he asked how I knew that he didn't like mayonnaise on his roast beef sandwiches. I didn't know that. But you sure did." Emily has a smug look on her face and there's a promise in her eyes that the two of you will be discussing this later. In detail.

You're just sitting there now, shaking your head. It was embarrassing to have your profiler coworkers point out things that you really should've known to be more careful about. You're sure Aaron feels similarly awkward because he's just silently looking at each person as they speak, a flush coloring his face and neck.

Rossi looks like the cat that ate the canary, however he is conspicuously quiet. You have to wonder how long he's known that the others suspect you and Hotch were together. However none of them seem upset really or even surprised so that has to be of some solace to Aaron. He'd had the ridiculous notion that Derek and Emily would think he was taking advantage of you or some nonsense. As if anyone could possibly think that of him.

"And finally, there was the case in LA a few weeks back when we got called in late and both you and Hotch arrived around the same time. Which in and of itself wouldn't be too odd, but you were wearing an emerald green cocktail dress with off the shoulder sleeves and Hotch was also dressed up and wearing a tie that matched your dress exactly. Hotch doesn't have green ties." Spencer relays all of this as though it's all oh so obvious and you really want to call him a weirdo for knowing what ties Hotch does and doesn't have - but he's right. You'd bought him that green tie because it was your favorite color and he'd matched your dress when the two of you had gone out to dinner on a rare night off. "Plus, the two of you often tend to match. Is that on purpose or subconscious - I've been wanting to ask."

You look down at your red blouse and then across to Aaron's red tie. Well, if any of them hadn't believed it before, they sure did now.

You might as well have been caught red-handed.

*------------*

Sunday was a nice and sunny day. You and Aaron had arrived at Rossi's together with Jack. In the same car. That was a definite perk of everyone knowing - the two of you had been growing tired of always bringing two cars to and from places and trying your best to arrive a few minutes after the other.

Jack had immediately found Henry and the two of them were playing in the shallow end of the pool with Aaron and Will keeping watch nearby, while Rossi and Reid manned the grill. Well Rossi was doing the grilling. Spencer was spouting facts about the origins of barbeque which Aaron had long since tuned out from.

He looks over as you lay in a deck chair near the girls and Derek. Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia had all opted for bikinis and were working on their tans. You'd taken off your coverup and were wearing a wine colored one piece swimsuit underneath, your hair tied up in a high ponytail reminiscent of some pop star whose name he could never remember. Last week, he had come home to you and Jack singing along to her teeny bopper tunes and when he'd complained you'd told him that music didn't stop with the Beatles and it was good to have balance. He'd had the song stuck in his head for days.

All in all the team had taken the two of you dating relatively well. They'd all said they were happy for the two of you and no one seemed too upset at having been kept in the dark about it. He supposed he was grateful given the group's history with secrets. He was also pretty sure he'd seen some money exchange hands afterwards, however had decided to not bring that up with you - he had a feeling you wouldn't be thrilled to know your coworkers were betting on your personal life.

On the other side of the pool, you were getting settled in and enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin. Emily's lying next to you on her stomach after you'd finished lathering her back with sunscreen.

"Derek, where's Savannah?" JJ asks, taking a sip from the giant margarita glass that Rossi had handed each of you as you entered. She's sitting up in her chair, sunglasses perched on her head  and an eye on Henry the entire time.

"She's on call, but she says hello," Derek answers. You know it's been rough on them trying to see each other despite both of their busy schedules. That's one thing you're grateful for with you and Aaron working on the same team - you get to see him at home and at work. Though, you suppose you might as well enjoy it while it lasts. McKinney has been hinting at getting you working - part time at least - with some local task force groups to increase your exposure. You'd end up splitting your time between that and the BAU.

"Alright, let's talk about what we all really want to know more about!" Penelope turns to you, her face a mixture of curiosity and childlike glee. Heat and alcohol were not a good mix. "Y/N, tell us more about you and Hotch!"

You'd been dreading this. You'd told Aaron as much when the two of you were getting ready that morning and at this moment you resented him for being on the other side of the pool with Will. Will who wasn't nosey and minded his own business.

Sighing, you prop yourself up to take a sip of your own drink. "What do you guys want to know?"

"How long have you been together? Officially."

"A few months - since the career day conversation."

"That long?!" JJ's eyes widen in surprise.

"Didn't you hide Will from us for almost half a year?" Derek raises an eyebrow at her hypocrisy however she doesn't seem perturbed.

"Yes, but that was different. Hotch and Y/N are both around us practically 24/7. I'm surprised they managed to hide it that long."

You laugh. "Well we obviously weren't that good at the hiding if you guys figured it out."

"Don't sell yourself short, princess. If pretty boy hadn't told us all about the hospital thing we wouldn't have given it too much thought."

"He's right," Emily agrees. "You and Hotch being together isn't like a surprise, but it is also."

"What do you mean?" You're intrigued by that because that's something that's bothered you since you declared your relationship to Strauss. She hadn't been surprised and she'd said no one else would be either. You hadn't really taken her word for it.

"I mean, you guys were basically a couple already - all the stuff you did with Jack, always partnering up together, not to mention the fact that Hotch has been in love with you forever."

You roll your eyes. Everyone's said that - Emily, Rossi, even Aaron when he told you that he'd loved you for years. You couldn't help but be a bit skeptical. Years? Really? Deep down you knew the reason why you're bothered  - it's because you can imagine how painful that must've been for him if it was true - you'd flirted with other men, you'd dated, and then there had been the time when you two were barely speaking. While that had been awful for you as well, you couldn't imagine how much worse it was for him knowing he was in love with you and you two were barely talking.

"But also it was a small surprise," JJ continues, drawing your attention back. "Like, none of us thought Hotch was your type - at least based on the other guys we've seen you date. We honestly thought about setting him up a few times just to help him get over it and move on."

That was news to you. No one had ever mentioned wanting to set Hotch up with anyone to you. "Why didn't you?"

You see JJ and Emily exchange a look. Emily's the one who answers, though she seems hesitant. "Well, we did. Once. We set him up on a blind date with my friend Sarah. Apparently all he did was talk about the team and Jack…and you."

You raised your eyebrows at that and looked over at Aaron, throwing Jack into the water. "He talked about me?"

"According to Sarah, it seemed like he was hung up on some girl named Y/N," JJ teases, "and she was pretty upset that we wasted her time."

You can't help the pleased smile or the slight color that comes to your face. You wanted to ask why none of them had told you, but you knew the answer. They wouldn't betray Aaron like that.

"So," and you can tell this is Emily's way of changing the subject back to what she really wants to talk about. "How's the sex?" Her mouth is twisted into a smirk, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Derek takes that as his cue to excuse himself from the girl talk and walks over to join Rossi at the grill. As if you'd talk about that with him there anyways.

You shake your head. "Emily he's your boss."

"He's your boss too, and you're sleeping with him. I just wanna know what it's like."

JJ and Penelope are also looking at you expectantly. You bite your lip, and with a sigh you admit, "It's the best sex of my life."

Their loud ooohs and teasing squeals catch the guys' attention and you meet Aaron's gaze as he's walking over.

Aaron can sense the girls' eyes on him as he walks over to you to grab the keys to the car. Jack wanted to grab the waterguns to play with.

"Hey, the keys still in your bag?"

You nod as he grabs the bag from the other side of your chair and looks for the car keys. You'd all become far too quiet the second he'd approached. Emily was stifling a dirty smirk very very poorly and both JJ and Penelope were still giggling behind their drinks.

"Were you talking about me?" he asks, a small smirk on his face as he fishes out the keys.

"Yes," Emily replies, flipping her sunglasses up to meet his eyes. "Now go away so we can continue."

Aaron chuckles and shakes his head. He's about to walk away, but as he passes the back of your chair, you suddenly feel a light tug at your ponytail, and before you can react he's pulled your head back and captured your lips in a sweet kiss that takes your breath away.  Letting go, he throws a wink at your shocked face before strolling away.

You take a second before you look back at the girls and you're met with three identical faces of outright surprise.

Emily recovers first, fanning herself with her hand. "Has Hotch always been this hot?"

The four of you can't help but laugh again.

Yes he has.

*------------*

You'd changed out of your swimsuit and into a dress after playing waterguns with Jack and Henry in the afternoon. The food and drinks had flowed throughout the day, and everyone had moved into Rossi's large living room as the sun set. It was pretty much assumed that no one was  in a state to drive back home that night.

Jack had eventually tuckered himself out and fallen asleep in your lap before Aaron picked him up and took him to the guest bedroom to lay him down next to Henry. You were feeling a little sleepy yourself, tucked into Emily's side on the large couch, lazily holding a glass of wine, and trying to follow the conversation.

"So, he just said you weren't good? Like, straight up?" JJ looks appalled that anyone could be so rude to someone's face.

"Yeah, can you believe it? I had an off day and still went down on him and he comes at me with that," Emily replies, the rage clear on her face. Her latest paramour had been less than appreciative of her skills and she had been filling you all in on the aftermath.

"You did dump him, didn't you sugar?" Penelope was equally worked up, her nostrils flaring.

"Of course," Emily assures her, "And then," she continues a bit hesitantly, "I did something…else."

That definitely caught your attention. "Oh God…what'd you do Em?"

"Well, I may have gone through my contacts and obtained more personal feedback." She's not looking at you and instead speaking into her wine glass. You're pretty sure it's her third and that was after margaritas all afternoon.

You blink as you process what she had said. However, Penelope beats you to it. "You called up your exes and ASKED?!"

"How else am I supposed to know? I was feeling insecure and I needed to know if he was right. There isn't exactly a Yelp to rate blowjob skills."

You groaned. Of course she had.

"Emily, you can't just call people and ask them that." You couldn't believe she'd done that. You could not even fathom.

"Why not? I feel better and I know he was wrong."

You just shook your head, smiling in spite of yourself. Suppose you do have to admire the confidence.

"Maybe I should do that," Penelope says, twirling her phone in her hands.

"Alright, you're cut off." You grabbed her glass from her hand and moved it to the table. "We can't all just go around asking men to rate us." This was an entirely alcohol fueled conversation at this point.

JJ agreed with you, making a grab for Emily's glass as well, which she dodged. Damn those undercover agent reflexes.

"I don't know Y/N," Emily teased, "you always like being the best. Wouldn't it be nice to know for sure."

You narrowed your eyes at her.

Before you could say anything else, however, she'd already called out. "Hotch!"

You watch Aaron turn from his conversation with Reid, beer bottle in hand. He looked a little flushed from the day drinking, his hair flopping adorably to his forehead. "Yes?"

"Does Y/N give good head?"

You feel your jaw drop and your eyes widen in horror. You're already shaking your head at Aaron. You're waiting for him to say that it wasn't appropriate. Waiting for him to ignore it and roll his eyes and turn away. Instead he looks at you and the look in his eyes tells you exactly what he's thinking about. You can feel yourself heat up under his gaze.

Aaron, in his defense, was a few beers in and his guard had been down. He'd spent the entire day watching you in your bathing suit and when Prentiss - blatantly - asked him if you gave good head, his mind went immediately to a few weeks back.

A few weeks back when you'd woken up before him - which you rarely did. He had woken to the feeling of little kitten licks on the tip of his cock and the sight of you knelt between his legs. He'd shifted, alerting you to the fact that he was awake, and you'd looked up at him with the cutest smile.

"Good morning." He'd raised an eyebrow, at your position.

You'd hummed in response, taking him into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head, and released him with a kiss on the tip.

His eyes darkened as he shifted to sit against the headboard and watched you move with him.

"What do I owe this wakeup call to?"

You'd appraised him, still knelt between his legs, as if debating exactly what to say. He knew you weren't incredibly experienced in this particular area and he'd been more than happy to forego it altogether in your time together thus far. You bit your lip, and spoke slowly. "You know that I haven't done this much."

He nods, watching you fidget with your hands.

"Will you teach me?"

He felt a jolt of need that went straight to his cock. He was about to imprint this image of you to his mind forever - kneeling between his legs, doe eyes looking up at him from under your lashes, mouth pouty and lips glossy from his precome coating them. This would be the image that he would forever bring to the forefront anytime he was unfortunate enough to spend a night without you.

He lets out a shaky breath before nodding yes.

You were an incredibly fast learner.

You watch as Aaron tips the head of the beer bottle to his mouth and takes another drag, before lowering it. He looks right at you when he finally speaks, deliberately slow. "I have no complaints."

You let out a breath of disbelief and the girls started laughing around you as he turned back around to his conversation amongst jostling from Derek and Rossi. Cocky little…

When you walked to the kitchen to grab some water, you could feel his eyes on you and you're not surprised when he joins you a moment later, arms circling your waist from behind.

"Hi." His breath is warm against your neck and you can tell he's just this side of drunk because he's very loosely holding himself to you.

You simply hummed as he pressed his lips to your neck. He had been very touchy today and to be honest, you hadn't expected this level of PDA from Aaron. You'd expected him to be much more reserved, though that's likely exactly what would happen once everyone was back at work.

"Was that the right answer?" He mumbles into your skin, leaving open mouth kisses along your neck.

You smile, rolling your eyes. "The right answer was I plead the fifth. I thought you were a lawyer."

His chest rumbles with laughter behind you and you can hear the teasing smile in his voice. "Well, your honor, I think I'm a few beers in and allowed to appreciate my girlfriend's skills. Any chance I could talk you into another demonstration?" Oh he was really pushing his luck.

You bite your lip to prevent the grin that's threatening to break out. "I thought you were drunk."

You try to turn to face him but he pushes you into the counter, grinding against you. "Not that drunk."

He moves his hand to cup your jaw, turning your face towards him, and capturing your lips in a wet, dirty kiss that leaves you moaning and grinding back into him.

You're grateful the kitchen is hidden from view of the living room and no one has walked in on you both yet.

"Aaron, we can't have sex in Rossi's house," you whisper urgently when he gives you a moment to breathe.

"You're kidding, right? He told me where the condoms are."

You scoff. As if the two of you even used condoms.

But he's looking at you earnestly and you chance another look in the direction of the living room. It sounded like everyone was talking and distracted. They probably wouldn't miss you.

He can see the wheels turning in your head, and he smiles triumphantly as he sees the acceptance in your eyes.

"You're a bad influence Agent Hotchner," you say as his lips meet yours again and the two of you start making your way down the hallway to the back of the house.

[occasionaloneshots]

Club Mom- Losers Club

 Sequel to Gang Mom (technically I’m writing them together so I don’t lose interest in my own writing.)

 summary/blurb

words 557

    Everything felt wrong that year, seeing her on her own like that. The pink jacket that once covered her arms now abandoned, no one had seen it since before the, bowers incident. The old leather replaced by a green sweater that made those who took pity on the girl frown in her presence. Those who didn’t take pity on her however, let the rumors spread like wild fire. Some said she asked Henry to kill the others, a last result out of the friend group. Others thought it had been a trap for her that she barely escaped. There was even some of rumors that she planned to run off with Victor Criss and Henry killed him to stop it. And there was nothing she could do to stop them, because how do you tell the whole town that an evil clown possessed your first grade best friend to kill the other two? That would get her locked away with him for sure.

    It was even more confusing when they saw who she was around now. The losers club tided to her hip and in ways, the group seemed to fit her more. The gentleness that once seemed to out of place beside Henry and Patrick made perfect since between Mike Hanlon and Stanley Uris. She still would carry snacks and band-aids in her bag but they changed, picking up new things and being careful of allergies she never had to worry about before. Now a spare inhaler would fall from her bag from time to time, obviously not hers and people just, knew. And then there was little things that made new rumors fly, just like back when she was with bowers. People seemed to believe she moved on to younger guys. It was in the way she would ruffle Eddie’s hair, the gentleness of her helping Mike by picking him up to carry his deliveries. That blue trans am she bought off Ms. Higgins being his god sent when he needed to run deliveries in the rain. It was in the way that Bill looked to her to relax when his stutter seemed to worsen and the way that she seemed to be the only one that could make Richie quiet. The times you’d find her in the library with Ben or the park with Stan. She was always there with one of them, many wondered if it was guilt, making up for what Henry did. But those rumors that she would be with one of them never truly faded no matter what group the girl found. 

     Everyone in town remembers the day she graduated, six boys all pretending they weren’t going to cry in the crowd next to her parents. And the day she left, no one out side of the losers club ever saw her cry that hard, and they hadn’t seen it since ‘89. Then it was University of Maine and moving to Atlanta. And for the first time, in her middle school classroom, Hailey felt at peace. Becoming friends with the aunt of one of star students who introduced her to accountant husband (who was truly a big help during tax season). And something about the two of them felt so safe and nostalgic, the friendship just seeming to click. But then there was the phone call, and Hailey Black realized she may never truly have the peace she craves. And she could never have a happy ending with childhood friends. 

Hailey “Hales” Black

“I bleached my hair in college and I just remember thinking ‘He’d say you were copying him’ and to this day I’ve been trying to figure who it was. But, Victor, it was Victor.” 

nostalgic (luvsick) - renforshort

“ Always thought that we weren't like the rest/But I guess the world knew we were bluffin'/Lookin' back, we were all that we had/How did that just go and turn into nothin'?/Now every time that I drink Jack/I get those flashbacks/And go down a rabbit hole.”

Richard "Richie" "Trashmouth" Tozier

“You see, that sign never stopped me as a kid, can’t stop me now. Dance with me, ladies!” 

The story- Conan Gray

“ And when I was younger/I knew a boy and a boy/Best friends with each other/But always wished they were more/'Cause they loved one another/But never discovered/'Cause they were too afraid of what they’d say/Moved to different states”

Stanley “Stan” Uris 

“You will be at dinner next week right? Patty will be disappointed if you aren’t. So will I, of course.” 

27 - MGK

“What is a beautiful life without a beautiful death?/What is a beautiful mind, how is our beauty defined?/Is it for you to decide, is it my duty to die?/No matter how I’m remembered, just let me be remembered”

Beverly “Bev” Marsh 

“They really did grown into a handsome group of old men, didn’t they?” 

Love song- YUNGBLUD

“ All I learned growing up/Was that love chewed me up/Spit me out on the pavement” “ Sweetheart, you are/Changing my mind/Nobody taught me how to love myself/So how can I love somebody else?/There ain’t no excuses/I swear that I’m doing my best”

Michael "Mike" Hanlon

“You know, I always knew you’d end up working with kids, you were always so, maternal.”

Long Story Short- Taylor Swift

 “ Actually/I always felt I must look better in the rear view/Missing me/At the golden gates they once held the keys to/When I dropped my sword/I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door/And we live in peace/But if someone comes at us/This time, I’m ready”

William “Bill” Denbrough

“You know what Mister? She was fast enough to beat the devil.” 

Almost is Never Enough- Ariana Grande

“ If I could change the world overnight/There’d be no such thing as goodbye/You’d be standing right where you were/And we’d get the chance we deserve, oh”

Edward "Eddie" Kaspbrak

“That’s going to take forever to burn”

favorite crime- Olivia Rodrigo

“ It’s bittersweet to think about the damage that we’d do/'Cause I was goin’ down, but I was doin’ it with you/Yeah, everything we broke and all the trouble that we made/But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face/Oh, look what we became”

Benjamin "Ben" Hanscom

"I mean, it's weird right? Now that we're all here everything just comes back faster."

Best Friend - Rex Orange County 

“ I should've stayed at home/'Cause right now I see all these people that love me/But I still feel alone/Can't help but check my phone/I could've made you mine/But no, it wasn't meant to be and see, I wasn't made for you/And you weren't made for me/Though it seemed so easy”

[five-rivers]

Cloak/Plague

Zombies!

.

.

.

The night was dark beyond the fire, pitch and clinging, as if someone had dipped the world in black paint.  Jacob stood at the edge of the light, on watch, one hand resting on his gun, the thumb of the other hooked around its shoulder strap. Behind him, either Sharktooth or Jade—He wasn’t sure which woman was which—tossed another log on the fire.  

He was nervous.  This was the largest group he’d been in for a while.  Over fifty people.  Little groups squished together by circumstance and the fact that scavenging only got harder as time went on.  There was talk of finding a town somewhere, one that hadn’t been damaged too badly, and making a settlement.  Something permanent.  Something secure.  

Jacob’s stomach turned over.  He’d tried that before.  The Coliseum.  It hadn’t worked out well, even if that was where he had met Mack.

Some of them were talking about trying for Sacramento or Rock City or the Valley.  There was civilization there, just a touch of it, according to radio waves one of the techies picked up on good days.

Jacob had tried that, too.  Sacramento, at least.  That hadn’t turned out well, either.  

Of all the things to fear during a zombie apocalypse, other humans were definitely at the top of Jacob’s list.  Heck, he was only here in the first place because of Mack and how much they needed information.  

“So,” said one of the women, Jacob thought it was Sharktooth, languidly.  “Who’s bored?”

Bored was probably the wrong word to describe anyone living through this mess.  At the same time…

Well, Sharktooth got quite a response.

“We’re from all over, right?  So, we’ve probably all got stories.  Tales.  Places we’ve seen or hear of.  Might as well share while we’re here, right?  Who knows when we’ll be around this many people again?”

“You’re not staying?” asked Jade, clearly taken aback.

“Haven’t decided yet,” said Sharktooth, shooting a glance at leader of the largest of the gathering’s constituent groups. “Maybe if there was a plan…”  She shrugged.  “But, hey.  All of us are here, now, right?  We might as well make the best of it.”

“Why don’t you start, then?” asked Mack, a little belligerently.  So, yeah, that was definitely Sharktooth.  She and Mack had been having a thing since Jacob and Mack joined the group. Not a romantic thing, Sharktooth had to be a decade older than Mack, but still a thing.  

“Sure,” said Sharktooth.  “Why not?”  Jacob watched her crouch down next to the fire out of the corner of his eye.  “Ever hear of the phantom city?”

There was muttering.  “Everywhere’s a ghost town, now,” said someone, a little louder than the rest.  “You don’t need to rub it in.”

“And we don’t need more nightmares,” added another.

“Nah, this isn’t a ghost story.  Just a weird story.  Well, the town was supposed to be haunted before, but I’m pretty sure that was just a tourist thing.  Anyway, they’re a broadcaster.  You know, radio spam.  All that ‘Hey, here we are’ stuff.  Like Sacremento.”

“Yeah?” prompted someone.  “What’s the city called?”

“Amity Park.  And if you’re in Illinois, you can probably catch their broadcast.  But good luck finding it.  There’s a reason it’s called the phantom city.  When I was going up through Ohio, I met people who’d tried to find it.  Never could.”

“Why were they in Ohio if they were looking for a city in Illinois?” asked Mack.  “Seems kind of dumb.”

“Well, they’d given up,” said Sharktooth.  “Couldn’t justify searching anymore.  They were mad about it, too.  They had maps, they had coordinates, radios to pick up the broadcast, everything. Heck, they said they had road signs. Exits off the highway marked with the name.  But as soon as they got close…”  She waved her hands dramatically.  “Nothing. Even the broadcast went silent.”

“Hey, hold up, I think I’ve heard of that!” interjected a member of Sharktooth’s audience.  “There was just a hole in the ground or something.”

“Yep.  But when they got farther away, the broadcast started up again.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t a ghost story.”

Sharktooth shrugged.  “Might not be ghosts,” she said.  “Might be people trying to lure people in.  A trap, or something.  Or maybe they had some kind of automated broadcast set up, and it kept going after the town got wrecked.  I don’t know.”  

Jacob looked over his shoulder just in time to see a corner of Jade’s lip twitch up.  “If you want to talk about ghost stories, why not the Phantom?”

Jacob groaned.  He wasn’t the only one.  

“Oh, come on!” said Mack, protesting.  “Don’t be like that, he’s real!”

“Have you ever met anyone who actually said they met him?” asked Sharktooth, practically.  “It’s all friend of a friend stuff.”

“So’s Amity Park,” muttered Jade.

“I’ve met him!” protested Mack.  

“Wait, what, really?” asked Jade, sounding like she’d just been slapped.  

“Yeah!  It was before I met Jacob.  I was traveling with…”  He trailed off.  “Some… People.  We got jumped by a pack, and I thought I was going to die, but Phantom showed up and he fought them off with just a machete!  It was super cool.  And, like, I got bitten, but he injected me with that green stuff, just like in the stories, and I was fine!  Well, not completely fine.  I was kind of sick, after, but I didn’t turn, obviously.  And then he brought me to Mastersoft Coliseum, because it was, you know, before it got wrecked.  That’s where I met Jacob!”

“What did he look like?” asked one of the younger members of the group.  

“Well, I never really got a good look at him, to be honest?  He was sort of wearing, uh, layers.  Not quite one of those, um, hazmat suit type deals, I don’t think, but he had a mask. And his eyes were super green!  It was wild.”  He shrugged.  “Also, I was kind of out of it…  Like I said, I was pretty sick.  Barely remember what he said to me…”

“Cool story, bro.”

“Yeah, maybe if you told it better, we’d believe it!”

“Hey!  I’ve got the scars to prove it!”

“Whoa, hey,” said Sharktooth, mercifully stopping Mack from stripping.  “You don’t have to—"

“Hello the camp!”

Jacob cursed and brought up his gun, his action mirrored by the others on watch.  That voice was far too close for comfort.  Even in the dark, someone should have noticed something.  

Why was this guy wandering around in the dark?

“I come in peace!  I bring medical supplies and zucchini!”

“Show yourself!” barked Jacob.  

“I’m just—Ah.  I’m just right here.”  

Finally, movement.  Jacob thumbed on his flashlight (and tried very hard not to think about how soon he’d have to replace the batteries).  

“Ow.  Bright,” complained the teenager in front of him.  Jacob stared.  The kid was even younger than Mack.  

Was Mack even a teenager anymore…?  It had been years.  They’d missed some birthdays.  

Point being, there was no way this kid was out here on his own.  

“Where are the rest of you?” demanded Jacob.  

“Uh,” said the kid.  “Nowhere?  I’m out here on my own.”  He waved his hands back and forth expressively but was careful to keep them in Jacob’s line of sight.  His poncho flapped back and forth in the night breeze, concealing his figure.  

The kid could be wearing anything under there. Guns, bombs, swords... anything.

“Poncho,” snapped Jacob.  “Take it off.”  He was aware that the whole camp was tense and awake behind him, searching for other enemies, bracing themselves to run at a moment’s notice.

“Okay,” said the kid.  “I really am alone, you know.  Sorry to startle you all.”  He pulled the poncho off, revealing that, despite it being the least likely thing on Jacob’s very short list of possibilities, the kid was wearing a sword.  No, he was wearing two of them.  

“What are the swords for?”

“Uh,” said the kid, giving him a look like he was an idiot.  “Killing zombies?  I mean, what’s the gun for?  Who walks around without a weapon, these days, right?”

Closer to the fire, the group’s illustrious de facto leader was giving orders to search for whoever the kid was with.  

The kid rolled his eyes.  “Do whatever you want to make yourselves feel better, but I am alone.  I’m not bait, or whatever you’re thinking.”

“You’re, like, fourteen,” said Sharktooth.  “You would have been, what, eleven when the plague hit?  No way you’re on your own.”

“Excuse you, but I’m eighteen, thanks.  I blame my permanent baby face on my parents. Speaking of, you don’t happen to have a Jack or Maddie Fenton anywhere in there, do you?”

“There’s no one out here!” shouted one of the searchers, voice echoing slightly.  

The kid shrugged.  “I told you.  I mean, I get why you’re cautious and all, I’ve been jumped a couple times, but still.”

The group watched him uneasily.  

“You’re looking for your parents?” asked Sharktooth, finally.  

“Yep.  For a while, now.  They were away from home when, you know, everything went down.”

Alright.  Now this was just getting awkward.  And a little pathetic.  

“Do you know where they were, at least?” asked Mack.  Of course, Mack would sympathize.  He had his own parental issues.  

There was something odd about his tone, however. Something off.  

“Yeah.  Nevada. Specifically, Phoenix.  But it’s been years, so they could be anywhere.  Hence the searching.  I’ve actually been to Nevada.  It kind of sucks down there, to be honest, because, well, it’s a desert, but that also means there aren’t as many zombies, because apparently they get dehydrated, too, after a while.  So. That’s interesting.”

“You’ve been to Nevada?” asked their wise leader.

“Yeah.  A bunch of other places, too, like I said, I’ve been searching.  I can do a story swap if you’d like.  Also, I have zucchinis.  Yesterday, I stayed at this one house and there were just.  So many zucchinis.  Like, the entire yard was overrun with zucchinis.  Zucchinis are edible, and you can’t turn your nose up at fresh produce in this economy, but I have no idea how to prepare zucchinis, and they’re honestly a little, uh, bland?  Let’s call it bland.  To just eat raw.  So, I’m willing to trade for, you know, not being shot.”

“You said you had medical supplies?” asked Jade.

“Yeah, a bit!  Not, like, a huge amount, but it seemed like the thing to say.  Is anyone hurt?”

Their heroic leader took a moment to consider this. “Not right now.  But, alright.  We can swap stories.  What’s your name?”

“Danny.  Danny Fenton.”  The kid made a motion that might have been intended as a salute.  

“Right.  Jacob, you can stop it with your tough-guy act.”

Very reluctantly, Jacob lowered the gun.  The kid, Danny or whatever, was way too cheerful for an eighteen-year-old walking through a zombie apocalypse on his own. Something was up.  

Of course, that something might just be godawful coping mechanisms.  

“Anyway, here are the zucchinis.”  The boy held out a bag, a hopeful smile on his face. “So, uh, stories?  Preferably about places where there’s a bunch of people, because that’s the kind of place they’d go.”

“Right, sure,” said the man who claimed leadership. “What are your parents, anyway?”

“Ah, they’re doctors!” said the boy.  “I want to bring them home, so they can figure out a cure.”

Okay.  So, the kid was delusional.  Right. Well, it happened.  

“I mean, we’ve had some success, but they’re specialists, you know?  When I say ‘we’ I mean Amity Park as a whole, by the way.  I’m the one who had the basic idea, I guess, but I didn’t have any way to follow through on my own.  Observing a fact doesn’t mean you can take advantage of it, after all!”

“Amity Park?”

“Yep!  That’s where I’m from.”  Danny shot finger guns at Sharktooth.  “We’ve got an environmental deterrent for zombies.  Chemical in the air screws with the virus.  Some get in every once in a while, but they usually die in a week, even if you leave them alone, which we don’t.  It’s pretty safe, there.  I can give you a map.”

“Is this a joke?” demanded the ‘leader.’

“Um, no?  Why would it be a joke?”

“I met some people who tried to find your town, but it was a crater,” said Sharktooth.  

“That’s still going on, huh?”  Danny shook his head.  “Yeah, we don’t really know why it does that, either.  Or was that a couple years ago?  We were trying to fix it…”  He trailed off.  “What?”

“You said you had medical supplies?” prompted the man trying very hard to stay in charge.  

“Ah, right.”  The kid reached into his bulkier bag and pulled out a large box. “Speaking of, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone else trying to make a cure?  Mom and Dad could be working with them, and if not,” he shrugged, then flipped up the lid of the box, “collaboration is always good.”

Half the box was full of various bottles, packets, and smaller boxes.  Normal enough. The other half, though…

“Is that radioactive?” asked Jacob, unable to stop himself as he stared at the…  God, were those epi-pens?

“Not in the sense you’re thinking of, but yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Mack.  “I knew it!  You’re Phantom!”

Danny looked up.  “Um.  I guess we’ve met?”

“Yeah, you took me to the Mastersoft Coliseum! That’s the stuff you injected me with!”

“Oh, you were the kid the Boom Box Raiders were dragging around!”

“Oh.  Yeah,” said Mack, weakly.  “That’s me.”

“Nice to see you’re still around.  Anyway, to answer your next question, this is the prophylactic.”  He picked up one of the glowing green injection pens.  “At least, that’s what some of the doctors back home call it? If you get it within a minute of being bitten or scratched or whatever, preferably in the area near the wound, you have an eighty percent survival rate.  Sometime more can help fighting off the disease, but if you’re not acclimated, you can go into shock with too much, and there’s really no way to get acclimated out here.”

“You’re willing to trade something like that?” asked Jade, dubiously.  

“Why not?  Like I said, it’s environmental where we live.”

“But you’re not there, now.  You’re out here.  Same as the rest of us.”

“That’s true.  But I’ve got enough of this in my bloodstream to straight-up kill any zombie that wants to bite me.  Really. I can show you the scars if you want.” He raised an eyebrow.  Then he turned to their ever so brilliant leader with a sharp smile.  “By the way, you should rethink robbing me.  I am very willing to trade, but if you attack me, I have dozens of ways to kill you.  Most of them don’t even involve my swords.”

“It’s true,” said Mack.  

“You know what?” said Jacob, stepping a little closer to Danny, or Phantom, or whoever this kid was trying to be.  “Why don’t you show us those scars.  Then we can decide if we even want to trade with you.”

Phantom shrugged.  “Fair enough.”

[the-kings-of-games]

SFW alphabet template: Kizunashipping

(slight NSFW, oops)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

They're very affectionate with each other, but it doesn't necessarily stands out. They like to do a lot of things quiet and/or privately. Like leaning against each other every chance they get, and always having to hold each other when sharing a bed.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

It started when they were kids! Jack and Yūsei met each other first at Martha's orphanage and got close because they were both duelists and also had these rare, one-of-a-kind Synchros, and they felt that connection right when they found out about each other's dragon. Crow came a little bit after, and Jack picked picked him out for being so small, to which the bird said the equivalent of, "I'm seven, not a baby. Go away." Yūsei decided right then he liked Crow and asked to duel, and Crow was also really good too. The three of them stuck together like glue after that.

Individually, all three of them would make really good friends, though Jack might be a little more high matainence; however, like Yūsei and Crow, he highly values his friends and is grateful to them for being his life. Kizuna is very protective and supportive, and they only want to see their friends to be happy. They'd do anything they can to help.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

All three of them love to cuddle. Whenever one of them feels like cuddling, he'd just come into another's room, and space would be made for him on the bed. (This in particular when it comes to nightmares.) Words don't even need to be exchanged, this is a habit they developed while growing up. They shared the bed together a lot when they were with Martha.

Jack likes to be the one holding the others when cuddling because it tells him that he has them again and that they're there. Crow and Yūsei are smaller than him, so he can reach his arms over the both of them at the same time if he wants. He also likes it when either one of them are on him because he likes feeling their weight. Crow, on the other hand, likes being held and pressing his face against his brother's body, whether it's his shoulder or chest. He also likes to hold to, gripping a shirt or a tank top. He likes being able to take in his friend's scent. Yūsei is fine with anything as long as everyone's comfortable because he just likes being together. His only thing is probably that he enjoys naked cuddling a lot.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The way they settle down post-series is that Yūsei buys a big house and invites Akiza and the twins to live with him, and Crow and Jack come home in-between tournaments, trips, and competitions as pro leaguers. They all have their own rooms, and Kizuna share beds whenever they feel like it. Everyone has a fair amount to chores to do and picks up after themselves, but he'll out each other if needed. There's less to do when more people are home.

During their time in Poppo Time, Jack takes care of cleaning upstairs (past the garage) and laundry; Crow with bookkeeping, shopping, and cooking; and Yūsei with cleaning the garage, keeping track of inventory, and keeping Missus Zora happy. When Bruno moves in, he takes over inventory and some of the cleaning and cooking.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

They die. The foundation of their relationship isn't romance or lust; it's family and friendship. Even if they stop sleeping together, or if time and space are wedged between them, they'll always still be each other's friend and brother. They'll still stick together. Their love for each other doesn't run out, it's just a part of who they are and who they are together. They're together because they want to be; if someone wants to leave, he can, but he won't.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

They already are very committed and dedicated to each other, so marriage isn't exactly the next big step. It's not necessary for them. After Neo Domino and the Satellite are finally one again, Jack suggests they go into their records and have them officially recognized as adopted brothers, so that covers the family-only restrictions that some places may have. ("That's the first good idea you've made in, like, forever. Who are you, and what have you done to Jack?" —Crow)

If they ever do something like a wedding, it'd be a small and another excuse to have everyone come over and hang out. (Not they need one.)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

They all can be gentle; they adore gentle. Physically, they do things like hold hands, cuddle, and linger in their touches. Crow likes to gives kisses and loves all forms of I love you. Yūsei looks adoring eyes. Jack is the most verbal of the three and quote passages he'd read (in the original language too). Emotionally, they're there for each other and can read each other pretty easily. They know a lot of each other's habit and how they think.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

They love to hug. As mentioned before, Jack loves to hold his brothers, so when he has the chance, he pulls Crow or Yūsei onto his lap and wraps an arm around their waist. Yūsei comes up from behind when Jack or Crow and wrap his arms too, pressing his cheek on their back. Crow's hugs are more of nurturing because he cradles you to his chest, his arms over your shoulders.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Well, they met as kids at Martha's orphanage and got close almost immediately. I'm going to say that it took a bit of time, maybe a year or so, because that was how long it took for Kizuna to acknowledge each other as family and to finally voice it. Yūsei said it first, when another orphan asked why he was so close to Jack and Crow. He replied, "Because we're best friends. They're like my brother and sister." (My 5D's Crow is afab and masculine leaning genderfluid, he didn't do he/him until age 10 so he was their sister the first three years they met.) Yūsei was a bit surprised when he said that, and he told Jack and Crow about it later.

"That's fine with me," Jack said. "I think of us as family too."

And Crow, overwhelmed with joy, was the first one to say it. "I love you. You make me forget what it's like to be alone," she told Jack and Yūsei right there and then, trying not to cry. "I've always wanted a family."

Since then, Crow loves saying I love you, and he's the one of the three who says it the most in those exact words. Yūsei and Jack have other ways of expressing their I love you; Jack quotes passages and says things that shows how much he loves, and Yūsei tells through his eyes and expressions.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

They're not exactly in an exclusive relationship. If they have someone else they're interested it, it's fine; again, the foundation of their relationship isn't found in romance or lust, it's family and friendship. They stay together because they want to be together, and whoever they bring into their lives won't upset the others. It's not as of they're replacing each other by having more people in their lives. Their worlds will always cross each other anyway.

Really, it's only really Crow who does things with other people. If he likes you, he'll ask to kiss you. (And he's a great kisser too. He's kissed many people.) If he wants to go any further, he will.

(There is a small amount of jealousy only when they see someone is hitting on one of them, especially Jack. He just doesn't like seeing people trying to suck up to his brothers with the intention of getting something out of them.)

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Jack's kisses are the one that last the longest that it's borderline making out. He doesn't want to let go sometimes, and he sinks into the moment pretty easily. He likes to kiss lips and shoulders, and likes to be kissed on the chin, cheeks, and arms.

Crow's kisses are plenty, little pecks and butterflies because he's playful. He's the least patient so he always wants to put in another kiss before you have to go or he does. He likes to kiss faces, and likes to be kissed on the back of his neck and breast.

Yūsei's kisses are light and lingering, like a ghost passing by. He is persistent but stays long enough that when he pulls away, it's like he's still there. He likes to kiss lips, inner arms and thighs, and backs, and likes to be kissed on the hands and forehead.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

They're really good around kids. They learned a lot while growing up at the orphanage because they took care of the younger kids and Martha taught them everything she knew. They see kids like younger brothers and sisters, so they are very much big brother figures. They each have their own way of wowing and entertaining kids, and they'd throw themselves in front of a train if it meant protecting a kid. Kizuna thinks every kid should be smiling and happy.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Jack's usually up at the same time every morning. (He likes routine.) But it doesn't necessarily means he gets out of bed soon after. No, the morning he wakes up after sharing the bed for the night, Jack likes to stay and watch his brothers continue to sleep. He fixes the blanket and pillows if they're out of place. Next would be Crow some time later, and he sees Jack is awake so he turns to him for a morning kiss. (Their breath might be terrible, but they don't notice.) Their kiss is soft and slow, reaching a natural pace. The little noises they make is enough to wake Yūsei up, and he pulls closer, waiting his turn.

When they are satisfied, they finally leave the bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Sometimes, it's quiet; sometimes, it's lively. Sometimes, they're together; sometimes, they spend it alone. It's based on their mood.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Again, they met as kids, so they kind of told each other everything, mostly in the passing; however, they end up keeping their biggest insecurities from each other, like Crow only finding out about Yūsei's wish that he was never born in his duel against Roman (canon), or Crow keeping the fact that he felt so left behind when Jack and Yūsei left Satellite for the first time. I suppose it's because they try not to burden each other while saying they'd help shoulder anything the other is carrying.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Crow and Jack and rule each other up easily, and they argue together the most. Yūsei is harder to piss off, but he does get exasperated by his brothers fighting. (Pissing him off requires being a little shit that knows his weak points, and Crow is that kind of brother.)

When it comes to other people, they are bit more patient. Crow doesn't take shit lying down, but if he knows it's his fault, he'll accept the consequences. Jack is a bit more stubborn and kind acts like he can get a free pass when it comes to faux pas. Yūsei, again, it difficult to piss off, that is unless someone is hurting/insult his friends and cards. Despite his "calm and mature" nature, he's the one who holds grudges the worst.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about [each other]? Do they remember every little detail [ ] mention[ed] in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Jack remembers dates the best because he does best with time management and likes these kind of details. Crow remembers what they need and should have. Yūsei remembers things he'd observed and heard. Collectively, they all good at remembering, amongst other things, each other's likes and dislikes, embarrassing childhood stories, habits.

The reason they don't forget much about each other is because they grew up together, so all of this is second nature.

R = Remember (What is [one of] their favorite moment[s] in [their] relationship?)

For Crow, it's the time they first kissed. Some boy came up to her and kissed her on the lips, and so she punched him and gave him a black eye. It really upset her because kissing someone on the lips meant you liked them and wanted to have a family together. She did not want that boy. Jack said, "It doesn't have to count if your don't want it to." Hearing that, Crow decided she wanted one that counted, and Jack and Yūsei gave in quickly to cheer her up. She had them kiss too.

For Jack, it's when they finally came back together again, after he made the mistake of leaving everything he knew and loved behind for fame and glory. Majestic Star Dragon saved them from falling to their deaths and carried them back home to Satellite, and they made their dream of uniting with City come true. And Crow and Yūsei forgave him.

For Yūsei, it's the time he and Jack first met Crow because the look on Jack's face was so funny. Not many of the other kids could confront Jack back then with his mildly inflated ego and his great dueling skills, so it was a good idea to befriend the one kid who didn't tolerate being pushed around, even if you're better than her at something. Yūsei thinks he made a good choice that day.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect [each other]? How would they like to be protected?)

They're pretty protective of each other, a lot of their protectiveness is shown through support. They just don't let one brother face the consequences on his own, even if it is his fault. They refuse to let each other be treated badly too; however, they understand that sometimes, one of them must face the issue head-on, but the other two will always be right behind him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Not much; it's enough to just stay home and relax in each other's presence. They'll go out too, but those are mostly impromptu or spur of the moment. They don't have to have reasons to put in effort. Dates are important (birthdays, visits, etc.), but anniversaries not so much. They've been together since they were kids so a lot of things are hard to pinpoint. Gifts are more because they thought of each other and less because they have an obligation to fulfill.

Nobody is allowed to slack off on everyday tasks because Martha raised them right.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Yūsei easily loses track of time and assumes he'll catch himself the next time. (He doesn't.) Jack spends like he's still being sponsored by companies. Crow tells Akiza things that should be kept in the bedroom. Yūsei sweats a lot, and grease and oil don't make it better. ("Take a shower!" —Jack) Jack spends way too much time in the bathroom. Crow sometimes forget to add spices when cooking.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not really. Crow has a lot of confidence in himself, Yūsei doesn't care about what people think, and Jack knows he looks great.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without [each other]?)

A little, yeah. They'd miss each other very much when they're apart and wish they were together again constantly. Yūsei gets really good at waiting for Jack and Crow to come home.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

(Slightly NSFW, I don't know how to follow rules.) After their daughter, Sky (my Kizuna OC baby), Jack and Yūsei kind of has an impregnation kink (because Sky is beautiful and who would say not to more baby birds running around? Not those two). They might tease Crow about it when things get hot and heavy, and Crow calls them perverted for it. Jack wants a boy next so he can have both a princess and a prince, and he hopes that if they do have another kid, it'll look like Yūsei next. Yūsei is fine with whatever, he likes taking care of kids and a pregnant Crow.

Crow says if he gets pregnant again, he'll castrated the both of them. ("Listen, labor hurt more than real battle damage, and it lasted for tweleve hours. If you want any kid, you carry it." —Crow)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

They wouldn't like someone who actively hates/dislike children, or someone who tries to take advantage of others, especially those who should be helped and protected. They wouldn't like anyone who don't respect or treat their cards well (especially Yūsei).

Jack wouldn't like it if Crow stopped nagging him or if Yūsei got hurt. Yūsei wouldn't like it if Jack decided to cut ties again or if Crow stopped saying I love you. Crow wouldn't like it if ether Jack or Yūsei stopped loving him entirely.

Z = Zzz (What [are some] sleep habits of theirs?)

Crow likes being in the middle and to cocoon in blankets. Jack produces heat the most so he doesn't really use a blanket. Yūsei mumbles in his sleep. They also end up right next to each other no matter how much space they put between each other beforehand. Crow likes to hugs pillows too. Instead of counting Scapegoats, Jack likes to count the circles he caresses into his brother's skin. Yūsei is always the last one to fall asleep for one reason or another.

[imagine-darksiders]

Part 1: Imagine there being a baby born in the Maker Tree. Strife can't bring himself to be near the huddled group of humans all cooing over newborn, he feels that it isn't his place to be with them. One of the humans notices that Jones is sitting so far away from the group, and walks over to ask him if he's okay. When Jones brushes him off saying that he shouldn't be up there, they assume it's because he's mourning the loss of his own child. They offer to simply sit with Jones and keep him

Your lips stretch into a knowing smile and you tip your head to one side, casting a curious eye over Jones’s hunched shoulders and the dusty, orange hood that’s pulled down low enough to cover most of his rugged features, yet not low enough to keep him from observing the peaceful scene playing out on the other side of Ulthane’s latest piece of stonemasonry. 

“What’s the matter? Don’t like kids?” 

Jones gives a start at the unexpected intrusion of a voice in his ear and he swiftly braces his hands on the ground, ready to push himself to his feet. A second later however, he looks up and finds a familiar face smiling down at him. 

“Y/n? What-?” he blurts out, letting his shoulders go slack once more as his body recognises that you aren’t a threat. 

Your lips stretch even further whilst you turn and lean against the tree wall, sliding yourself down the wood to sit beside this strange but friendly man. In a flash, Jones is getting up to lend you a hand, though you’re quick to wave him away, eventually settling down next to him and letting out a puff. “I asked what the matter was,” you say again.

Jones leans back and twists his head to regard you curiously. “What d’you mean?” He always did wonder how some humans have the innate ability to just....know when one of their own nearby is troubled. 

Then again...He isn’t exactly one of their own, is he? 

You spare the man an amused glance before jutting your chin at a group of humans gathered in a small circle on the opposite side of the tree. “Well for starters, you’ve been staring at Ingrid and her baby for like, twenty minutes.” 

Jones opens his mouth to argue, only to let it snap shut again once he realises you have a point, and it irks him that he hadn’t even noticed he was being observed. Swallowing down his pride, he turns his attention back to the gaggle of humans. A few of them have made ample room for Elanya to squeeze herself in among them where she sits cross-legged with her elbows resting across both knees, a luminous beam plastered on her face. 

A small part of Jones envies her that wide-eyed wonder. He still remembers how he’d been the very same that first time he laid eyes on a human newborn. 

His smile that had blossomed at the memory fades as he takes in the group. 

A young woman - Ingrid - sits among a throng of other humans, each of whom are marvelling over the tiny bundle she’s cradling in her arms. The baby had been born just last night, and its arrival sent the entire tree into an excited frenzy. 

Jones himself had even been caught up in the giddy energy, so much so that he’d actually forgotten that he wasn’t one of them, even if it was only for a few minutes. Soon enough however, he remembered himself, what he is and what he’d done to this species. Like the flip of a switch, he grew uncharacteristically quiet and withdrew from Ingrid’s bedside while the humans who had all piled inside to offer her help and congratulations were herded out by Ulthane, with a gruff order that the new mother be given time to rest. 

Everyone was so busy over the course of the following day that nobody noticed the lonely figure observing them from the back of the tree. Nobody, that is, except you.

“Not a big baby fan, are you?” you murmur suddenly and cause Jones to flinch yet again. He hardly seemed to notice you’d been next to him whilst he was busy drifting off. Gathering himself, he glances at you. “What? Oh, no, no. It’s not that. It’s.......” He trails off, working his mouth silently around words that had almost come out. Eventually, he drops his head and sighs. “It’s...something else.”

“Cryptic,” you chuckle but once he’s turned away, the smirk falls from your face and a crease appears between your eyebrows. There’s such a look of despondency plaguing Jones’s features that you find yourself wondering what he’d really meant by ‘something else.’ It suddenly occurs to you that there might be a very unhappy reason as to why he seems to be avoiding the baby. Everyone in this tree has lost somebody, mothers, fathers, siblings, friends....children. Perhaps Jones belongs in the latter group. 'Shit,' you think, pressing your lips together, 'No wonder he's so upset.' You imagine you'd be upset too if you'd lost a child and had to watch somebody else love theirs, knowing that just holding their baby is something you'll never be able to do again.

A sudden weight lands on Jones's shoulder, solid and firm but uninhibiting, he can easily shrug out of it if he wants to. 

He doesn't. 

Slowly, he swivels his eyes around to look at your hand where it rests in the space between his metal pauldrons and the collar of his coat. And then he looks up and meets your pleasantly guileless gaze. For a split second, you look as if you know, and he nearly balks at the horror of somebody finding out about his past.

But how could you know? How could you possibly know that half of Jones’s head is here in the tree whilst his other half is going over events of the past. The group of humans in front of him are......Well, they remind him of another group - now long since dead - but only because they’re entirely the antithesis of one another, polar opposites in human form, and it both throws and makes him proud to see how much the species has grown and overcome the effects of the Animus and learned to manage their anger, fear and everything else Lucifer had unleashed upon them....

....Everything Strife had helped to unleash....

The hand on his shoulder gives a comforting squeeze. “It wasn't your fault, Jones,” you whisper.

Creator, he nearly comes undone then and there. You're guessing, of course, caught under the impression that he's most likely blaming himself for the loss of a child. In a cruel way, he almost is. How many humans had died because of him, children among them?

Jones clenches his jaw and taps a finger restlessly against his bent knee. He doesn't say anything back to you, just turns away and watches as Ingrid passes her baby off to another human, who appears nervous, yet delighted at the same time, if their mile-wide grin is anything to go by. In seconds, those nerves are gone, and they’re gazing down at the baby in their arms with as much adoration as the mother herself is. In fact, all of the humans gathered are changed somehow. The worry shadowing their eyelids has lifted, their lips turn up at the corners instead of down and they all have an air of serenity about them that even Strife can’t understand.  Memories of the hatred he'd once seen all those years ago is being slowly replaced by faces filled with love and compassion. He had watched humans tear each other apart, spilling the blood of friends and of family members without remorse, be they grown adult or small child. It had been a massacre.

Now, he's seeing that very same species stand together without a shred of animosity between them. Just love. Nothing but love.

And the trust-!

As if she'd read his mind, Ingrid turns abruptly towards Elyana, asking, “Would you like to hold her?”

Jones has to stifle a laugh at how quickly the maker's face can go from joyous to downright terrified.

“You know, kid?” he murmurs, feeling your hand slip off his shoulder and pretending he doesn't miss the gentle touch, “You didn't have to come and check up on me. You ought to be over there -” He nods at the others. “-with them.”

You follow his gaze, idly watching as the baby is placed in Elanya's trembling hands. Even from here, you can see the maker's throat bob and her fingers slowly curl around the precious lifeform, her eyes wide as saucers. After you allow several seconds for a flutter of warmth to come and go at the sight, you reply, “Oh, I've already said my hellos, and besides, they all have each other as company for the time being.” Carefully, you cast a sidelong glance at Jones. “But you? You were out here all by yourself. And....and I don't know. I was worried about you.”

Jones stares at you like you've grown another head. Before he can stop it, a question slips from his tongue and comes out sounding far more perplexed than it was meant to. “Why?”

You huff out a laugh and shoot him an incredulous grin.

In response, he merely continues to stare and raises a brow, wondering why his question had been so amusing for you.

After a while, you lose your smile when the realisation hits you that he's being serious.

He doesn't have any idea why you'd worry about him.

“Well....Why not?”

It's such a simple reply, one that has a thousand answers but none that he can voice aloud because his throat is suddenly clogged up and he finds that air isn't getting down as easily as it once had. 'Why not?' Those two words hold a revelation for an aspect of humanity that Jones hasn't ever considered before. You worry by default. Care comes as naturally as breathing. It's just....automatic. Like a reflex.

“It's not just me who's worried, you know,” you tell him matter-of-factly, “Ingrid noticed you weren't your usual self, and Jack, and Ollie...They mentioned it and I realised I wasn’t imagining things, so I came to make sure you’re okay.”

Crossing your arms behind your head, you gaze out over the tree and thusly miss the way Jones's brows are knitted together and he's looking down in a daze, mouth slightly agape. He avoided them, didn’t seek to be part of their group and they....cared? They noticed that a member of the tree wasn’t among them and they found a wrongness in it, enough that they’d send someone over to ensure he’s alright. He - in spite of his own feelings - is a part of their group, at least so far as they’re concerned. 

One of Jones’s hands flies up to his chest and he presses the palm flat against it, feeling around desperately for the odd yet familiar thudding that’s suddenly gone off with a fervour underneath his skin. You continue to ramble on, your voice drowned out by the pounding in your companion’s ears. ‘What’s happening to me?’ he asks himself. 

“Jones?” 

His head snaps up and finds you’ve ventured closer, leaning around to peer into his face. 

“You sure you’re okay? Now you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Oh, I’m fine,” he shoots back with that cocksure grin firmly in place. “Uh, just...wandering what the kid’s name is.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard it yet?” You give him a meaningful look. “Ingrid’s decided to call her Hope.” 

Jones releases a breathless laugh, his chest squeezing. “It’s perfect.”

Nodding your agreement, you fall silent for a time, content to exist simply basking in the tree’s warm atmosphere. Then...

“Do you want to go meet her?” At the question, Jones stiffens, so you add, “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

However, he surprises you by shaking his head and saying, “No, I - I do want to, I just...” One of his knees begins to bounce rapidly in place. “I just don’t know if I should.” 

“Well of course you should,” you exclaim, “You’re one of the few humans she’s ever going to meet!” 

“But, what if-?” 

“Jones.” You give his side a nudge with your elbow, cutting him off. “She’s going to love you.” 

He lowers his eyes to the ground, not feeling even half as sure as you sound. At that moment though, you shift at his side and he glances up to see you’ve gotten to your feet. “Listen,” you tell him, “At the end of the day, it’s your decision. You don’t have to go anywhere near that baby if you don’t want to. But just know that whatever you’re....going through, you don’t have to go through it alone. We’re all here for you.” 

And without another word, you spin on your heel and meander over towards the new mother and child. 

It only takes a few seconds of hesitation before Jones gets up and follows you.

[petrichoravellichor]

Written for Day 19 of the Supernatural Deserved Better Creative Challenge (prompt: angels and demons).

Title: An Angel and a Demon Walk Into a Bar

Characters: Gabriel & Meg

Rating: T

Warnings: mild alcohol consumption (by angel/demon standards, at least; no one drinks enough to get drunk)

Summary: After escaping from the Empty, Gabriel wanders into a bar, where it turns out he’s not the only one back from the dead.

(Read on Ao3)

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

Gabriel needed a drink.

A real one, not just something he could conjure up himself. It’d been a little under a week since he’d woken up in the middle of a field, dazed as all get-out and weaker than he’d ever been, but somehow alive. He’d done it. He’d actually gotten out of the Empty.

At first, Gabriel hadn’t known exactly how he’d managed it. He remembered dying—getting stabbed by an alternate version of your brother in a parallel universe wasn’t exactly a forgettable experience—and then he was waking up to some sort of explosion somewhere he’d quickly realized had to be the Empty, because hellooo, he was dead. There’d been a lot of commotion then, with Gabriel and literally thousands of other angels and demons clambering and fighting at once as a loud, pained voice screamed for them to BE QUIET, and the next thing he knew, he was lying face-down in a puddle of mud, alone except for a nearby cow. Gabriel had stumbled along until he’d found a small motel in the middle of nowhere, where he’d used what little power he could muster to charm a free room off the oblivious owner and then collapsed into bed the minute he’d locked the door behind him.

A few days later, he’d jolted awake when angel radio had all but exploded in his head. Word on the wire was that his nephew, Jack, had replaced Gabriel’s dad as Heaven’s new big kahuna, and apparently the entire world had been gone for a while but Gabriel had slept through it, and wait, Dean Winchester had finally pulled his head out of his repressed bisexual ass and was last seen kissing the shit out of Gabriel’s younger brother Castiel, who was also back from the Empty?! Whaaat???

Needless to say, it had been a lot to take in. Gabriel had spent the better part of the day listening intently and muttering “holy shit” as he caught himself up on all that had happened while he’d been out of the picture. When at last it seemed that there was no more new information, he’d dialed down the volume and decided that yeah, he was long overdue for a drink. He vaguely remembered seeing a bar on the other side of the motel parking lot, so he headed in that direction, opting to walk the short distance instead of flying—he was feeling much better after a few days of rest but still nowhere near full power, and there was no sense wasting energy.

As he drew near the bar, however, he noticed that although the lights were on and country music was drifting out into the night, the front window had been shattered; a few pieces of jagged glass were still hanging in place, but the rest was nothing but shining shards on the ground outside. Gabriel paused; then, feeling more curious than concerned, he crept up to the sill and peered inside.

The place looked pretty much like what Gabriel had been expecting, with bad lighting and wood-paneled walls and a couple of old pool tables off to one side. At first, he thought it was deserted; then he noticed a lone figure at the bar.

It was a demon, but not a particularly powerful-looking one. She was sitting on a barstool, a bottle of Jack in front of her and a glass in her hand as she gazed off into space, nursing her drink. Gabriel reached out with his mind, quickly scanning the premises for any potential friends the demon might have brought with her, but no, she was the only one of her kind anywhere in the area. If push came to shove, Gabriel had no doubts that even in his current state, he could still best her in combat; however, he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. After all, it had been a hell of a day in a hell of a week, and he’d come wanting a drink, not a fight. He headed over to the door and walked inside.

The demon must have sensed his presence, because she looked up the moment he crossed the threshold. Her eyes flashed black momentarily before snapping back to her vessel’s natural brown; however, when she addressed Gabriel, she sounded more annoyed than afraid. “If you’re here to kill me,” she said, fixing him with a glare, “at least let me finish my drink first.”

Gabriel arched a brow: she might not have been more than a run-of-the-mill black-eyed demon, but she had spunk; he’d give her that. “Simmer down, kiddo,” he drawled, “I’m not here to kill you, just looking for a drink.” He gestured toward the bar. “Mind if I join you?”

The demon raised a brow of her own, apparently surprised by his response, but eventually, she shrugged and turned back to her whiskey. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks.” Gabriel headed behind the counter, rummaging around until he found a clean glass; he plopped in two ice cubes and poured himself a drink. “Where’s the bartender, anyway?”

The demon waved dismissively in the direction of the restrooms. “Knocked out and tied up. He’ll be fine.”

“Mm, and the front window?”

“There was a biker gang when I first got here. They got handsy and didn’t want to leave.” She smiled darkly, adding, “That is, until I threw the biggest one out the window. They got the hell out pretty fast after that.”

Gabriel snorted. “Nice.”

“‘Nice’?” the demon repeated, then scoffed. “Thought you were an angel.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers, manifesting a stool on his side of the bar; he sat down across from her, drink in hand. “I am. So?”

“So, last I checked, your kind and my kind didn’t exactly see eye to eye on what constitutes nice.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I don’t see eye to eye with lots of people, especially not when they’re dicks. Sounds like the biker guys were, so yeah, nice. Besides,” he added, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile, “I’ve done way worse.”

The demon regarded him, then smirked. “Nice.”

“So,” Gabriel said, taking a sip of his drink. “You got a name?”

“Meg. You?”

For a moment, Gabriel considered inventing an alias; after all, it was in his best interest to keep a low profile until he decided just how involved he wanted to be in this whole post-Dad Heaven business. Still, he wasn’t really in the mood for lying, and besides, he could always erase himself from Meg’s memory if he had second thoughts. “Gabriel.”

Meg narrowed her eyes. “As in the archangel?”

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” Gabriel said, flashing a grin; then, noting the wariness in Meg’s expression, he added, “Hey, I’m just here for a drink, remember? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Easy for you to say: I can’t kill you just by thinking about it.”

Gabriel snorted. “No offense, kiddo, but if I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it before I even walked in. Suffice to say, I’m not thinking about it.” Then, seeing that she was still eying him suspiciously, he lowered his drink and looked at her frankly. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Would you?”

“Sure. I’m not one to stay where I’m not wanted, and last I checked, whiskey bottles are pretty portable. Just say the words, and I’ll get out of that pretty blonde hair of yours.” He smirked, adding, “That is, unless you’d rather throw me out the window.”

Meg was silent for a moment, apparently weighing her options; eventually, however, she shook her head. “Whatever. Like you said, if you were gonna kill me, I’d already be dead. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Gabriel cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

"I mean that up until a few days ago, I’d been dead for years.”

Gabriel sat back on his stool. “No shit. You were there too?”

Meg gave him a confused look. “The hell do you mean?”

“In the Empty,” Gabriel clarified. “It’s where we go when we die. Whole bunch of black goo and eternal nothingness. That is, up till about a week ago, when the whole place went Chernobyl. Sound familiar?”

Slowly, Meg nodded. “Yeah. It does.”

“From what I’ve heard,” Gabriel continued, tapping his temple, “at least a couple of us got out, on your side and mine. Seems like the place stabilized eventually, though.”

“Any word on what caused it?”

Gabriel snorted; he reached for the whiskey and refilled both their glasses. “You ever hear of the Winchesters?”

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

One hour and three-fourths of a bottle of whiskey later, and Gabriel had discovered that not only had Meg had close dealings with the Winchesters during the years leading up to her death, but she’d also apparently known his younger brother Castiel—and that, Gabriel gathered from the way Meg’s eyes softened when she asked about him, Castiel had been important to her, although she never explicitly said as much. Gabriel filled her in on everything she’d missed from the time Crowley had stabbed her up to the most recent updates he’d heard from angel radio, and by the time he was done, Meg was shaking her head in disbelief.

“Damn,” she said at last. “So, this Jack kid—Lucifer’s son—he’s the new God?”

“Yep.”

“Wow.”

“Tell me about it,” said Gabriel, swirling his drink. “Should be interesting, seeing as how he’s only three.”

“And Castiel.” Meg met Gabriel’s gaze. “He’s...with Dean now?”

“Yeah. Seems like it.”

Meg nodded, looking down at the bar. “Huh. And here I was thinking they’d just keep dancing around each other like a couple of idiots.” She let out a hollow sort of laugh and reached for the bottle of whiskey. “Serves me right for getting my hopes up.”

Gabriel studied her, the pieces clicking into place. “You had a thing for my brother.”

Meg’s jaw clenched, and she filled her glass all the way to the rim. “Not one I ever got to do much about,” she muttered, “thanks to Crowley.”

“I’m sorry,” said Gabriel, a little surprised by just how much he meant it.

Meg shrugged him off. “Yeah, well,” she replied, not meeting Gabriel’s gaze. “It’s not like it was ever gonna work out between us. He was always so caught up in whatever Dean was involved in, it wasn’t even funny. Besides, the hell would an angel want with a demon, anway.”

Gabriel found himself frowning; damn if there wasn’t a part of him that wanted to kick Castiel’s ass right about now. “For what it’s worth,” he said, leaning forward onto his forearms, “my brother never was the brightest bulb in the lamp; and regarding Dean, I once killed him over a hundred times just for kicks.”

That got Meg’s attention. “Really.”

“Yep, time loop, back before the whole Apocalypse thing went down. Took Sam forever to figure out what was going on and get them both out of it.” Gabriel smirked, adding, “And in the meantime, I got to play quirky death bingo with his older bro. Oh, and a few years later, I zapped them into TV Land for a bit. They looked like absolute idiots; it was fun.”

Meg looked at him for a moment, then scoffed and shook her head. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Eh, I have my moments.”

And Meg, to his surprise, actually gave him a slight smile. “Apparently. So, feathers,” she said, raising her glass, “you going back to Heaven after this?”

Gabriel shook his head. “No way: too messy, and I’m not in the mood to help clean up. Figure I’ll keep lying low for a bit, then maybe see what things look like in a year or so. What about you? Hellward-bound?”

Meg scoffed. “Yeah, because I’m just dying to get stabbed the minute I walk in the door. No thanks. Thinking of just keeping to myself for now.”

Gabriel thought for a moment, then decided aw, the hell with it. “Need a place to stay?”

Meg shot him a look of what might have been amusement. “Why? You offering?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, yes I am." He nodded toward the front door. "I’ve got a good thing going on at that motel. If you want, I can set you up with a room while you figure out your next move.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. All I ask in return is that you keep the fact I’m alive to your smoking little self, because like I said, I’m looking to keep a low profile. So, what do you say?” Gabriel raised his drink as though to toast. “Deal?”

Meg studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Deal,” she said, and clinked their glasses together.

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

(There's No Place Like) Jake's House for Christmas

{I’ve decided to post some Holiday one-shots during this Holiday season!! Leading up to Christmas, I’ll post a one-shot for a few different King Ships so be on the look out!!}

Summary: Cuthbert’s toes were going to break off in a few seconds if he didn’t switch positions but the glittering Christmas lights would never get put up that way. He continued to stand on his tip-toes, pressing the green wire of multi-colored bulbs against their wall. 

He glanced over his shoulder to spot his husband digging through the box of dusty decorations with something like pensive curiosity on his face. Almost as if he had trouble seeing the point in decorating at all, which Cuthbert knew was a very likely possibility. It might irritate him if Roland didn’t flash him genuinely warm smiles every twenty minutes. 

Fandom: The Dark Tower

Ships: Roland/Cuthbert, Jake/Benny, Susannah/Eddie 

Word Count: 6,773

The year of Jake’s 13th Birthday had so far been the busiest one in the Deschain-Allgood household. The husbands had finally managed to gather a regular crowd at their own bar which they’d opened just the previous year (despite all obstacles from outside and inside sources). And just a few weeks shy of Jake’s big day, their old, ‘We’re Homophobic but won’t say it out-loud’ neighbors moved out of the sweet brick house to their right. Roland had helped carry out boxes just to make them uncomfortable one last time. Loving Father and darling son had played an extra long game of catch there in the front-lawn while the old sweethearts ‘politely’ hid their scowls. 

From that point on, dead silence was all that came from next door. Roland had been pleased with the idea of having no obnoxious neighbors coming to replace them but just days before Jake’s birthday, a large moving truck rolled down the street. It had hiccupped like an old man before parking up against the Robinson’s old curb. Cuthbert had just enough time to spy on them through the safety of their large Livingroom window before he was due to open their bar for the night. “Young enough to be our kids, maybe.” He’d wrinkled his nose as Jake observed the couple for himself. 

“You sure that one isn’t yours, dad?” Jake bumped Cuthbert’s arm and gestured to the skinny long-haired man pushing his girlfriend up the walk-way in her wheelchair. They’d stayed silent again for a moment or two, father and son kneeling on the breaking couch. The neighbor turned to get a box then, showing off a t-shirt which read ‘Somebody who hates me went to Colorado & all they got me was this dumbass shirt’. 

Cuthbert and Jake fell into eerily similar sounding hysteric laughter while Roland finally attempted to sneak some glances. 

They’d had to order in that night because Roland burned their dinner. 

More time began to pass and Jake realized he’d have to save himself from the embarrassment of having 1 one incredibly recluse father and 1 overly-social dad and make the first neighborly move all on his own. 

That had been accomplished by playing out in the backyard with Oy on the finest of autumn afternoons. He kept himself busy until he suspected someone on the other side of that wood fence had come out to enjoy the weather. So...

He picked up his catching ball and ‘accidentally’ tossed it over. 

What he hadn’t known was that his neighbor, later introduced as Eddie Dean, had been sitting in a lounge chair positioned perfectly for him to get popped in the shoulder. 

However, Eddie of New York hadn’t cared. He played about 15 minutes worth of catch with Jake until gathering his girlfriend, Susannah, for a formal family introduction. 

Jake didn’t get to hear much of that first conversation they’d had with his Father’s but he didn’t need to. For he’d always had a knack for sensing certain things. What he felt from Eddie and Susannah was an outpour of warmth and determination for life...Jake supposed that was exactly what tied Roland to them so instantly. 

: : : : : : : : : Time had slipped through young Jake’s fingers like the fluffy snow which now fell from the gray clouds hovering above the neighborhood. Silver bells were ringing out for Christmas and the upcoming New year. 

He passed through the cold, dead eyes of many Snowmen on his walk home from the last day of school. He pulled aimlessly at his heavy coat (old and comforting, passed down from Cuthbert) when he felt a sudden jolt of shock that took a bit of his breath away. He didn’t have to look to know who that was. 

There against the white fuzzy sky and curling Jake’s back in a forward hunch was Benny Slightman and his familiar toothy grin. “Merry Christmas Jake!” 

“Gee, thanks Benny.” He did his best to hide his amused expression, trying to look back at him as best as he could. Benny shifted and looped his arms around his neck with ease. “Happy Holidays, here’s a broken back.” He huffed yet hiked the slightly smaller boy up to keep steady. 

Benny only chuckled happily, he felt the breath on his ear as he wiggled his feet. “This isn’t the way to your house...?” 

Jake rolled his eyes as he started to turn around. “Astute observation Benny.” He reached up to move his friend’s hand down to avoid being choked. “I was going to walk past your house to see if I’d run into you and....” 

Another laugh. Benny tightened his grip and enjoyed the sounds of crunching snow under his friend’s feet. He nuzzled his face into the dip between Jake’s cheek and shoulder. 

Those same snowmen from before, with eyes of dull black, watched again as Jake padded back with a boy caught on his back. They, of course, said nothing but stared one. Sometimes from under knit hats but more often they sported simple bald heads. “I have a question for you, Benny.” 

His friend hummed but spoke nothing. 

“My dad’s are having this Christmas party tonight.” He shoved the boy farther up his back, gently. “Our neighbors are coming and everything. Do you wanna come?” The slight hiccup of nerves in his voice was obvious only to him. 

“Sounds fun to me!” 

Jack smiled, holding onto the boy’s legs a bit tighter. ‘Yes. Benny could come. Yes, he could come and play.’

Benny had yet to actually come over to his home. He’d never even seen Roland or Cuthbert--not that Jake had been afraid for such. Benny was purely sweet. Older in years but younger at heart. Jake had no doubt that the boy would be impressed by his fathers. There weren’t very many people in town these days that weren’t. It sounded braggy but Jake took pride in his family. He just didn’t want them to think...-

He’d mentioned his buddy to his parents a few times...at least enough for Cuthbert to insist he invite him over. But for an odd reason, Jake kept on keeping Benny to himself like his own special secret friend. Cuthbert sensed as much considering he gave Jake mini-looks whenever the subject came up. He liked for his son to let-go and behave like a carefree boy and if getting to spend some time away from home with a new friend was the way to this, he’d be ok with that. 

Benny sniffled into his mitten as snow continued to flurry down all around them, standing out against the colorful strings of lights around the streetlamps. Christmas was upon them now but would be over just as quickly. Boy boys silently hoped for a long stand-still pause; one to make the Holiday last much longer. 

“Wanna walk to the Dunkin’ Donuts for hot chocolate?” 

Jake attempted to look back again. “Yeah! I’ll even buy you a doughnut.” He looked both ways once they reached the busy street and allowed Benny to slide off his back and plant his feet on the concrete. 

“What did I do to deserve that?” He teased but Jake just shrugged. 

“Nothing.” He looked off down the distant right and felt a knot of pure joy hit his gut. 

: : : : : : : : :

Cuthbert’s toes were going to break off in a few seconds if he didn’t switch positions but the glittering Christmas lights would never get put up that way. He continued to stand on his tip-toes, pressing the green wire of multi-colored bulbs against their wall. 

He glanced over his shoulder to spot his husband digging through the box of dusty decorations with something like pensive curiosity on his face. Almost as if he had trouble seeing the point in decorating at all, which Cuthbert knew was a very likely possibility. It might irritate him if Roland didn’t flash him genuinely warm smiles every twenty minutes. 

The humble green tree had been set-up in their living room for a week previous to the day Cuthbert announced he wanted to have a Christmas party. Roland had lifted Jake off the floor to hang the star. 

The home--their home--was sort of small but fleshed out with the strapping personalities of the men who’d bought it years ago. It shined during each Christmas season because they had a young boy--who was now a ways past young...

Slowly, he lowered himself down and came upon his husband to kneel next to him. He briefly admired the box which turned out to be filled with the ghosts of Christmas past; macaroni noodle ornaments made by the hands of a boy not too much younger than Jake. “Our son is a teenager.” 

Roland scoffed, thumping his hands past several tongue depressor reindeer. His eyes--heavy with sleep--blinked thoughtfully. 

“Seems like just yesterday he was following you wherever you went.” Cuthbert gently reached for Roland’s hand. “Remember him walking around the house with your boots on-?” He paused, feeling that memory deep in his chest. “I look at him and I see you, Roland.” He began to rub his thumb in smooth circles against the rough skin of his husbands palm. “Being a father looks good on you.” 

“Better on you.” Roland gently slapped Cuthbert’s hand. For a moment they just leaned on each other. “I’m gonna miss driving him everywhere. I already don’t get to tell him stories at bedtime anymore-” Roland shrugged, to anyone but his husband he would only look indifferent but Cuthbert knew he was broken up. 

“There’s time left, Roland. Lots. Do you good to remember that.” He kissed him quickly. “We’ve done good. Combing knots out of his hair...taking him to school.” This time he had to stop himself with a purse of his lips. “You’ve come a long way from the boy who told me he didn’t know he could be a father.” 

Roland looked a mixture of touched and sad. “I still think about that day I dropped him.” 

Cuthbert rolled his eyes but his stomach dropped at the memory-echo of little Jake’s screaming mixing with Roland’s horrified gasps. It’d been shortly after the adoption process. That baby had wiggled his tiny body right out of his new father’s arms and tumbled to the floor. Carpeted but still just about the scariest sound in the world. “That was a long time ago. You wouldn’t ever let him fall again.” He teased but with a genuine smile. 

Roland only smiled back, kissed Cuthbert’s temple and continued to sort through the box. Together they separated what was worth keeping out & what needed to be thrown away. Cuthbert’s dancing snowmen were in the garbage pile for two-minute intervals every twenty minutes before Roland finally gave up.

“Bert?” Roland frowned as he watched his husband carry the snowmen into their bedroom. No answer. “Cuthbert?” still nothing. He frowned, hopping up to chase after him. 

Cuthbert was rooting his hands through their sock draw and occasionally pulling out a few pairs and folding them together. The snowmen were dancing and singing just at his eye-line. It was obviously very amusing to him which Roland couldn’t help but admire. 

Cuthbert’s broken nails caught on threads every few minutes so he’d pull and pull until the thin string would just snap. But on the eighth time he grew a little bit restless and snapped the string. Quickly shutting the drawer afterwards. “Roland?”

He turned to his husband, who was still lazing around behind him like he wasn’t sure how to decorate without direction. He gave him a small smile and walked towards him, putting his hand on his back. Roland looked up at him, waiting for him to speak whatever was on his mind. “Do you think-” he paused for a second before shaking her head. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

Roland smiled up at him and chuckled. “You say a lot of stupid things, I won’t mind.”

Cuthbert gave him a look that he’d seen a lot of wives give their husbands when they were younger and felt a genuine thrill that he had a husband to be annoyed with now. It was a look of amusement and familiarity. “Well, I was just wondering…” he began again, going back over to the drawers to root around for Christmas socks. “Do you think Jake has something to tell us?” he asked, a little unsure of himself. 

Roland cocked his head to the side and looked lost. “Like what?” He asked, swirling an extra mini string on dead lights in his hand. Cuthbert sighed and leaned back on the drawers behind him. Clasping his hands together, he spoke again.

“Well, he’s been spending a lot of time with that Benny kid….” he trailed off, waiting to see the glaze of realization in his husbands eyes but Roland just smiled.

“Yeah, that’s great. Isn’t it? I’m glad he’s got someone to hang out with, I was getting worried-”

“Roland!” he crossed his arms and the corner of his mouth raised into a small grin. “I mean, do you think the boys….”

Roland still had that clueless look on his face so Cuthbert tried to specify with a look what he had actually meant. “….like each-other?” he finished. 

“No.” Roland answered, definitively. Just like that. Cuthbert was actually a bit hurt by the quick rejection. He raised his brows. 

“That was decisive.” His head shook just the same as the snowmen behind him. “I was only asking because he’s just seemed so happy-”

“Because they are friends.” Roland shrugged. 

“Yes but he keeps him away from us-”

“Jake probably doesn’t want us to embarrass him.” 

Cuthbert scowled at the contestant interruptions. “Yes but they go down to the woods all the time-”

“And? We used to do that all the time too.” Roland shrugged again which defused some of Cuthbert's anger into laughter. 

“We’re married now! We snuck down there to make-out! Don’t you see my point here?” He hunched over to get the last of his hearty laughter out but Roland looked completely annoyed by the whole show. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“Good.” He rolled his eyes, shoving the string-lights aside so he could leave the room. 

Cuthbert followed him like a lost puppy, same hurt expression too. “Why is this making you so uncomfortable?” 

Roland turned, just now noticing that Cuthbert had stuck an old (probably rusty) Christmas pin through the earring hole he’d first given himself in the sixth grade. He sighed with a soft expression, now reaching over to unclasp the damn thing before it got infected. 

Cuthbert just moved back as if burned. The pain that cause Roland was obvious on his face. 

“I don’t want to think about him growing up right now, Bert.” His partner’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. There was more to the issue, that they both knew, but it was have to wait for a later period. Now, Cuthbert just brushed his hand against his love’s face and smiled. 

Outside the snow pelted down harder and covered their lawn in a cold blanket of slush. The picture of their son’s growth would surely not freeze but the air surrounding their home most defiantly would. So, Cuthbert decided it was time to make some hot chocolate and cuddle with the man he’s been enamored with since they were small.

“You want a candy cane in yours?” Roland asked, as if reading his thoughts. 

“Yes please.”

A few kisses and a laugh later, the men were guzzling down their warm drinks and waiting for their company to come.

: : : : : : : : :

'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose …’

Benny’s nose twitched almost as if taking cue from the song and Jake thought it had to be the most adorable thing he’d ever seen...He looked back down at his sad little doughnut and sighed. Hot chocolate burned it’s way down his throat while he wondered just what his parents were doing. 

The two boys sat in the lonesome corner of the Dunkin Donut’s where he knew for a fact Benny had once spilled a bottle of strawberry milk all over himself when he was nine. The picture of the incident in his mind made Jake want to giggle. Instead, he watched Benny pull his sweater sleeves over his hands and drink tiny sips of his hot drink.

“Quit your looking at me.” Benny chuckled almost self consciously--though he needn’t be--and tried to flip Jake off with subtlety he never had. It only made Jake feel alive with joy; he kept looking. “You can get a cup of whip-cream for dogs, look-!” Benny cast his eyes over at a couple feeding their little furry-friend at the counter. “We should’ve brought Oy.” 

Jake loved the way Benny absolutely adored his dog just as much as he did. It almost made him feel like they were part of a little unit. “I think you only like me for Oy.” 

Nat King Cole changed to Paul McCartney and Benny bounced a little atop his stool. “He’s a nice bonus.” He chuckled. “But you’re my honest favorite.” Benny leaned in closer over the table. 

Jake surprised himself by letting a blush bled into his cheeks. He quickly looked away.

Benny, as carefree as ever, didn’t seem to notice. “What are your dad’s gonna think of me?” That question shocked Jake. He nearly choked on his doughnut. 

“I guess what they already think of you.” He finished chewing and swallowed carefully under Benny’s watchful eyes. He wanted more, obviously. Jake pounded his fist to his chest. “I’ve never been very good at making friends, to be completely honest Benny. My parents are pretty happy with you.” 

That earned him a smile as white as the snow. “And they haven’t even met me yet!” He struck a bit nervous to Jake in that moment. 

Honestly, Jake couldn’t see how anyone in their right mind could dislike Benny. There was so much the boy found to love in his friend--his openness, appetite for fun, his willingness to work hard when there was chores to do. And there was that yodeling laugh of his--to name just a few things. “I have your Christmas present ready for tonight.” 

Benny was aglow at just the mention. “Me too.” He tapped his bag, which was currently close to sitting in a puddle. Jake chuckled lightly and allowed himself to admire his friend. 

He thought back to the time not so long ago when they’d met. When Jake had been introduced to Benny’s kindly personality. He’d been deeply afraid he would only lose the friendship they had developed so quickly. He’d been a boy who constantly lived in his head and not many kids his age liked him. But surprisingly, Benny had grown quite attached to Jake. Reminding the boy of that John Denver song that Cuthbert sometimes sang around the house... ‘Follow me where I go what I do and who I know. Make it part of you to be a part of me’

Jake let a quick release of air pass his lips in the way Benny used to do when they slept close together at the Slightman household. He was growing attached as well...

“Jake!” 

The boy did not jump...not in the slightest. But Benny nearly jumped to the ceiling, it was quite funny considering the man who shouted was just Father Callahan. The man from Salem’s Lot who now lived here in town with them. 

He was dusting powdery snow from his shoulders and juggling a few bags as he strolled past the counter (for now) to say hello. It looked like a scene straight from the print of a Christmas card. “Good afternoon.” Jake hopped off his stool to help the man set his bags on a nearby table. 

“Oh, thank you.” Callahan smiled, taking off his gloves with an appreciative expression. 

“No problem, Father.” He shrugged then looked back to Benny, looking a bit...shy. Which was a bit odd. “This is my friend, Benny Slightman.” 

Callahan held out a hand and shook with the boy before digging through his bags. Jake watched him with amusement. “Would you like to come to our Christmas party, sir?” 

The man turned, looking a bit touched. “If your parents would have me.” He nodded to himself. “I believe I carry a gift for your Roland in one of these bags.” He huffed. 

“I hope you’ll promise not to have one of those long religious debates with my dad.” Exasperation was hard to keep from his voice. Benny looked like he wanted to chuckle but...he held back for whatever reason. 

Donald Callahan held up his hands in mock surrender. “I promise.” 

: : : : : : : : :

The twenty-three year olds had much more energy than Roland imagined he even had left. He watched--gleefully if you asked Cuthbert--as Susannah and Eddie Dean made their way up the walk to the door. 

They were chuckling already, Roland could hear Eddie singing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’. He smiled and opened the door before they could even knock. 

‘Life was funny. Sometimes it delivered you two of the greatest friends a person could have. But it also gave you the inability to voice your genuine thankfulness for their being.’

“Merry Christmas!” Eddie leaned in to smack a kiss against Roland’s rough cheek before moving on to Cuthbert. Roland did not have the time to playfully shove him back before Suzie approached with that special little smile just for him. 

“Happy Holidays old man.” She smiled and accepted a gentle hug before wheeling herself in the open spot next to Cuthbert’s rocking chair. 

Eddie Dean was admiring the tinsel surrounding the kitchen while mixing himself some kind of Christmas drink. Roland watched his friend for a few moments, only meeting his eye when he spilled the eggnog into the sink. He took the time to be grateful that he could share Eddie’s laughter. 

“Where’s Jake?” Suzie craned her neck towards the bedrooms. As she did so, Oy padded his way out of Jake’s and scampered over to jump into her lap. He didn’t usually take to strangers but Eddie & Susannah seemed to be exceptions. 

“Out with his friend, Benny.” Cuthbert took the same drink order which Eddie handed to him without hesitation. “Think he probably invited him over for the party.” He hushed his voice like the topic was a secret. 

From the kitchen, Eddie noticed that with ease as he stirred Roland’s hot chocolate. Standing there in his neighbors--friends--house with his fuzzy snowmen socks pressed against the cold tile, Eddie Dean felt at home. “You ok, big guy?” He slapped the back of his hand to Roland’s hard chest. 

The big guy in question wiped down the splash of eggnog he’d gotten on his shirt and shrugged. He would speak nothing of the stirring inside him, that much Eddie knew. 

“I brought a classic Christmas movie.” He changed the subject for him, popping some kind of snack he’d found into his mouth. He pulled free a DVD case from his back pocket. 

“Star Wars...” Roland squinted like an old man to read “Is not a Christmas movie. Put that away before Cuthbert thumps you.” He chuckled, sipping hesitantly at his drink. 

“Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, thank you very much.” Eddie scoffed. “It takes place on a snow planet. That’s close enough.” He shrugged. “Plus, I’m still mad at your husband for saying the Prequels are better.” 

Roland smiled at the mention of that long debate the two similar men had during their mini Thanksgiving get-together. Eddie had decided the time had come to share his fondness of the movies with his older friends. Jake had gotten a real kick out of watching them go back-and-forth for nearly two hours. “If it were up to me, I’d let you.” He rolled his lips together to taste some more chocolate as he set down the mug. “You know I thought those movies were kind of...cool.” 

Eddie chuckled. “You were a real riot, Roland. Something to say about every scene.” 

“I just like the idea of...a spiritual force binding us together.” His eyes seemed to gloss over. “One that directs us...has a will of it’s own.” He clinked their mugs together before turning around to join his husband and Susannah. 

Eddie pursed his lips together. “I just like the lightsaber fights but whatever.” 

“Come on, Eddie! We’re watching ‘A Christmas Story!’“ Susannah called. 

“Can’t we watch a Christmas movie that isn’t overplayed like...‘Home Alone’ or ‘Scrooged’!” He pretended to pout. “Oooh or ‘Gremlins’!” He bounced on his slippery socks as he plopped right next to Roland. 

“Since when is Home Alone not overplayed?” Susannah rolled her eyes fondly. Delicate flakes of snow continued to fall and press against the glass of the window behind her head.  

“And we can’t watch Gremlins, it scares Roland!” Cuthbert smirked and was immediately rewarding with a hard kick to the ankle. The attempt to hush him did not even phase him. Eddie burst into hysterical laughter. 

Susannah even fell victim to the giggles, leaning over the arm of her chair to try and conceal it. 

“He’s lying. It doesn’t scare me.” Roland thumped his husband on the arm and leaned back on the couch, ignoring his husband mocking him. “Ask Jake.” Cuthbert pretended to nod in agreement but sipped his eggnog suspiciously. 

: : : : : : : : :

Jake gulped down his hot chocolate without considering that Benny might be staring at him. Father Callahan went on to his own table with a peppermint tea to finish sorting through his gifts. They could still hear the shuffling of gift wrap and bags upon bags. 

“Jake?”

The boy finally set down his drink and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The foamy residue was erased in a half-second. Benny had to fight away the thought of tasting that chocolate. Deep down there was a part of himself sparring against the naivety which he’d lived with for years. “Should we wait to walk over with Father Callahan?” 

Jake paused, noticing the tonal shift within his friend. “We could...” He glanced over at the man before going back to Benny with a gentle grin. “But we don’t have to. He could just meet us all there.”

Benny tried not to look too pleased with that answer but found it hard to stop his shy smile as he hid it behind his cup. He watched as Jake went over to say his goodbye to his old friend with nerves building up. 

“We’re good to go.” He threw away the empty cups and grabbed for Benny’s wrist, pulling him out of the Dunkin’ with something like excitement. The touch burned pleasantly at the boy’s skin with hot intensity. For a ridiculous moment, Benny worried Jake might catch the way his pulse was thundering and drop him from his grasp with disgust. He didn’t dare to look at the Father as they darted out. 

Together, they walked a little over a block before either of them spoke again. Benny kept his heart to a calm flutter and thought briefly of the Christmas song Jake was crazy for...‘The moon and stars seem awful cold and bright Let's hope the snow will make this Christmas right...’

The snow was at that point, a thin blanket coating the wet ground. It would soon be the same kind of dangerous ice that his Father had despised. It’d make it hard for him to drive to work, he’d complain with a shaking fist.

Abruptly, Jake turned to face him with his nose a bright color to rival Rudolph’s. He pulled softly at the end of Benny’s sleeve, truly making him all the more endearing. ‘My friend the world will share this special night. Because it's Christmas...’

His eyes were glowing like the festive sparkling bulbs across each house’s rooftops. If he knew of the stunning beauty it made him, Jake showed not. Instead, he just kept swaying their arms in the cold air. 

“Jake?” 

The boy blinked. “Sorry. I was just-” He waved his spare hand by his ear. “I wrote some stuff on your card. But I think I’d rather just say it to you...before we get to my house. If that’s ok?” 

Benny raised his brows but nodded quickly. “Yeah-yes. I’m ok with that.” He smiled, kicking himself for sounding so stupid. Jake smiled, looking confident in a way that Benny couldn’t imagine for himself. His heart thumped down to his gut. 

“First of all, Merry Christmas.” He chuckled, looking embarrassed for the first time in a while. He wiped his free sleeve against his cheek when hot color blossomed underneath. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Benny. I really needed a good one and you’re the best.” He swayed their hands again but did not meet Benny’s eyes. “I really like you.”

Benny couldn’t even begin to convince himself that he didn’t hear Jake’s special inflection or see the way he’d widened his eyes. “I really like you too, Jake.” 

His friend blushed fiercer and let his hand fall from Benny’s sleeve to fully grab onto his hand, interlocking their grip. For a second, the boys couldn’t manage much else but giggling there in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“I’ll race you home?” Jake challenged.

Benny smirked and hugged the boy’s hand tighter, their palms were a sweaty and warm relief from the bitter cold. “You’ll have to let me go.” The party seemed a weary idea now compared to their new found discovery. But as the snow continued to poor down on them, Jake seemed suddenly eager. 

He hesitantly slipped his hand free and blinked up at Benny with curious eyes before launching forward and placing a surprise kiss against his cheek. He pulled back and stood for a mere second before taking off towards his house. 

“That’s cheating, Chambers!” Benny called out, catching a few snowflakes on his lips before chasing after the boy. 

: : : : : : : : :

Eddie was curled up against Susannah with a look of pleasant shock at the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. 

Cuthbert lounged right onto Roland’s lap and was heavily making-out with the man in such a...relaxed state. Neither neighbor had ever seen Roland so...open or frisky before. The guy was downright playful in the way that he ran his large hand through Cuthbert’s tangled hair and knocked off his obnoxious Santa hat. 

Susannah smiled for a moment before throwing the DVD case at their heads. “Quit that, will you?” She chuckled when Cuthbert tumbled onto the floor with a smile. She pretended to ignore her husbands thumbs-up directed to a now more in-character Roland, who was looking stern once again. “Your boy will be home any minute.” 

Cuthbert leaned against Roland’s tall leg and grinned. 

As if on cue, the front door creaked open to reveal two red-faced boys as they piled into the home, wiping their boots on the mat. “Hey guys.” Jake bounced inside, greeting Oy with rushed excitement. His friend stayed back by the doorway with a shy expression. Eddie waved, hoping to ease the kid. 

“This is Benny Slightman.” Jake reached out for his friend from his place, kneeling in front of Oy, and urged him forward. 

Roland shifted in the arm chair, both Eddie and Susannah noticed the uncomfortable look on his face. Eddie felt a sudden urge to go over and ask him about it. However, Cuthbert crossed the room to shake the kids hand before anyone could do anything else. 

“Cuthbert, Jake’s Dad.” He grinned, the beautiful one of his. He pointed to his Husband. “That’s Roland, his other Dad. Over there are our neighbors, Susannah and Eddie Dean.” 

Benny nervously shifted on his feet and nodded. Susannah smiled kindly and was close enough to offer her hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Benny. You boys want to watch ‘Home Alone two’ with us?” She asked kindly, not knowing this had immediately endeared her to the kid. Benny decided just then that he really liked her. 

Jake gave Oy a final pat before stealing a glance to Roland. “Maybe we’ll join later. Benny and I are gonna go exchange gifts in my room.” 

Roland seemed to consider the statement with some kind of tension hanging in the air. Nothing necessarily bad...just a bit awkward though for once in his life, Jake didn’t seem to notice anything was off. “Alright.” He took a long sip of his coffee and smiled back when Jake rewarded him with one. 

The boy ushered his friend into the other room and quickly shut the door behind them. 

“And what did I say?” Cuthbert asked, a smirk on his face but Roland didn’t seem too amused. He looked blankly at the closed door before excusing himself for a refill. Eddie watched Cuthbert deflate and felt a pang of sadness for him.

He got up, Susannah urging him to follow Roland, and went straight for the kitchen to chase the pacing man. “What’s up with you?” He asked, sparing his own look to Jake’s closed door. 

“Nothing.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and dug his fingers into an open bag of cookies left on the counter by Cuthbert earlier. He wasn’t the biggest fan of Peppermint but the taste was actually quite nice on his hot tongue. Ignoring his friends obvious attempt to shut down the conversation, Eddie blocked the doorway. “I’m not an idiot, you know?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Eddie.” Roland corrected himself with that special classy asshole tone of his. Nothing couldn’t possibly piss Eddie off quicker than that voice. 

“Just when I think we’re getting to be close, you shut me down.” He scowled and swallowed a particularly minty chunk of cookie. “I wonder how Cuthbert feels being married to someone so...”

“So what?” Roland’s wise eyes crinkled with anger. 

“So guarded...so solitary.” Eddie flicked his tongue accusingly and nearly choked on the cookie crumbs lingering in his mouth. Part of him found it disgustingly strong and wanted to spit up the remnants into the silver sink. But he held that back in favor of appearing non-idiotic. 

Roland huffed and blew past his skinnier friend and treaded his way back to the lounge seat. 

“Oh no, Don’t waltz back in here if you’re all worked up.” Susannah’s voice came from a ways off, making Eddie smile despite the annoyance flaring up inside him. He could always count on his wife. 

Eddie followed in shortly after and plopped down next to Cuthbert who was looking just as irritated when he leaned over to whisper; “Suzy thinks Roland has some internalized homophobia to work-out.” 

Eddie raised a brow. “The dude is married to a man, how can he be homophobic?” He asked, feeling that dreaded idiotic feeling again. 

Taking another invisible cue, the doorbell rang and was used as Roland’s next distraction. 

Father Don Callahan & a handsome friend entered behind a small pile of Christmas printed bags. 

: : : : : : : : :

Benny ran his hand through his hair, feeling through the soft curls. He found that he did that more and more, especially when he was nervous. The heat from just his nerves alone was getting close to unbearable. He shed his larger coat (finally) and placed it awkwardly in his lap. 

Though, Jake simply reached out to swipe it and threw it across his bed (blue sheets) with a smile thick with teeth. “Merry Christmas, Benny.” He placed a delicate present (silver wrapping) between their criss-crossed legs. 

His hands shook but his smile never faltered because Jake was just about the cutest Benny had ever seen him. He watched nervously as he playfully shook the gift. 

Unwrapping slowly, bending the paper under his curled fingers and enjoying that attention…was NOT of his nature. Not at all. Benny tore open the gift with anxiety pouring out of him like sweat.

Laying atop a bed of fluff was one of those spinner rings he’d talked about just a couple weeks ago. It stared up at him, shining into his eyes. 

“You said you wanted to try one of them to help with your fidgeting.” Jake grinned before scooting closer to pick it from the bed and hold it out for his friend. Benny slowly slid his ring finger into the cold silver with a warm blush taking over his cheeks. 

“I got one with paw prints on it...cause you only like me for my dog, you know?” He chuckled, backing off slightly to watch Benny’s reaction. 

“Rad.” A horrible word really. But it was just the one to pop into his mind like a dumb old jack-in-the-box. Benny cringed but quickly laughed it off. “I mean, Thanks, Jake. I love it. Thank you!” He spun the metal and watched the prints blur. “Your turn, now!” He reached into his own bag and handed over a medium sized green box. The red ribbon glittered under the light. 

The boys had gone for the same theme, it seemed. Jake pulled free a silver ornament in perfect likeness to Oy by it’s velvety red loop. Though Benny felt a renewed sense of inferiority as he spun his ring, Jake’s eyes light up. He cradled his hands under the ornament with that shy smile of his. 

“It’s lame, I know, to get someone an ornament for Christmas...” Benny frowned. “Your gift-”

"It's not a competition, Benny. Besides..." Jake turned back to look at the ornament that was now laying in the tissue paper. "I love it, you know me so well." He chuckled before biting into his cheek and turning slightly, to face Benny fully. He opened his mouth to say something but Benny was quicker to voice his own thought.

“Do you want to go back to watch the movie...?” He gestured to the door. 

“Do you?” Jake countered. 

No. He did not. Benny really wanted to keep their illusion of privacy up for just a little longer. His heart was doing flips in his chest just at the thought of it. “No...” He giggled. “But I get the sense that you’ll be missed, Jake.” 

The boy shrugged. “Ok. We’ll go watch.” They set their gifts onto Jake’s nightstand and went for the door but before either of their hands could curl around the gold, Jake leaned over and gently kissed Benny’s cheek. 

It was quick and devastatingly soft. But very, very important to both of them.

: : : : : : : : :

The two boys ended up on the couch with a blanket tossed over them by Cuthbert, only one so of course they had to squish together or else one of them would be too cold.

Jake had somehow found himself with Benny’s sleeping head resting on his shoulder by the second movie. Not that he minded it at all. Benny had a candy cane hanging out of the side of his mouth that he occasionally twirled around. But was now slipping from the corner of his lips. 

Roland watched Jake, who was watching Benny, with a feeling of...discomfort(?) that even he didn’t understand. 

“Please free that cane before it goes down the kids throat, Jake.” Susannah chuckled. The boy chuckled and when he slipped the red & white candy out, Benny shook himself awake.  

“Sorry.” 

“S’fine.” Jake grinned and let his gaze linger. Benny looked around for that Father Callahan, who’d been in the kitchen when he fell asleep, and found him basically curled up with that friend he’d brought; Lupe. 

Benny widened his eyes. “Is he gay?” He snapped his head over to whisper to Jake, who’d started to cackle. 

“Yeah, he is.” He wiped his sleeve across his mouth to settle down. “We’re you worried he was...homophobic?” His brow raised as he remembered how off his friend became in that Dunkin’ when ol’ Father Don Callahan came over. 

“Yes!” 

The boys dissolved into a privately shared laugh as Oy jumped onto the couch next to them.

Cuthbert plopped down into Roland’s lap and gently ran his fingers down his shoulder as they just watched their son. “Are you alright?” 

Roland nodded, pulling his eyes away and towards his handsome husband who was cuddling down next to him despite the limited seat room. It would be annoying if it were anyone else on earth but for Cuthbert, Roland loved like Cupid. 

He kissed the top of his head and hid behind it slightly as the intro to ‘Gremlins’ played on their small TV. “I hate you.” He mumbled into Cuthbert’s hair. 

He hummed. “I love you too.” He leaned back and kissed Roland’s jaw. “Merry Christmas.” 

Outside, the snow had slowed considerably but the ground was not visible under the thick blanket given from the sky. 

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

neil finally gives up his hair as fried and a lost cause and shaves it off without warning. what are the foxes/andrew's reactions?

This took forever and I doubt it was what you were looking for, but here it is love! Thanks so much for your ask. 

 Allison is PISSED. She keeps insisting that she could have saved it. The rest of the upperclassman were sad to see it go but they don’t give him too much shit about it. Nicky is in mourning. He spends at least, the next two months whining. During each of their breaks, he comes up to tell Neil that there was nothing sexier than the way his hair fell when he pulled it out of a bandana at the end of a game. He insists that it was the only reason he dragged himself to practice. Neil just ignores him. 

Aaron has a mental breakdown. He thinks that Neil looks really badass and gets scared because now he thinks he’s gay and has a thing for Neil. It takes him a week and a half to chill out. It’s a good week for Katelyn tho. In an attempt to satiate his fears, Aaron’s been her eating out every day and she’s living for it. Katelyn and Kevin end up liking Neil’s hair too. They like the way it tickles their palms when they run their hands over it. Kevin used to ruffle Neil’s hair all the time, even before he cut it because Neil is his baby brother and he loves him with his whole heart. Recently, he’s been doing it as a stress relief thing. Something about the way it feels now makes him feel better. Don’t ask me to explain this one. I do this to my friend all the time. It makes me feel better and I like projecting onto Kev and Neil. Once Aaron calms down, he shows up at Neil’s dorm before practice one day. Neil frowns but lets him in. He goes into the bathroom and digs the razor Neil used out of the cabinet. Returning with it in hand, Neil finally understands. They lay a towel on the floor and drag in a stool. Aaron hesitates before taking his shirt off and Neil just glares at him. After losing the staredown, he shucks it off and Neil replaces it with a towel. 

“What exactly do you want?” Neil asks as he plugs in the razor.

“An undercut,” Aaron mumbles. Neil looks at him with wide eyes and an amused grin. Aaron just scowls. When he flips the razor on, Aaron curls into himself. 

“Hey,” Neil says, turning the razor off. He grabs Aaron by his chin and forces him to look him in the eye. “You’ve got to trust me.”

“Trust a liar?” Aaron snapped. 

“Look, man, you’re the one that came here. You want me to be honest? I really don’t care about you. You mean absolutely nothing to me. Last year, I needed you so that we had enough kids to make the line-up. This year, however, we’ve got two new backliners. Jack and Sheena might get on every one of my nerves but here’s the bottom line: I. Don’t. Need. You. To me, you are expendable. 

“To Andrew though? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he loves you so goddamn much. You think he chose me over you? Wrong. Your brother knew that if he kept holding on to you, you’d only grow to hate him. He saw that letting you be happy would be a show of good faith. He trusted that you’d return the gesture by showing him that he didn’t have to keep you on a leash. And you did. Why? Because I know you love him as much as he loves you.

“Contrary to what you keep deluding yourself into believing, I love Andrew. Andrew lets Katelyn live because he knows you’d never forgive him if he hurt her. I let you live because Andrew would never forgive me if I hurt you. You don’t have to trust that I’m a good person because, let’s face it, we both know that I’m not. No, you just have to trust that I love Andrew more than I hate you.” Neil lets go of Aaron’s chin and leans back against the counter. “So? What’ll it be?” 

Aaron can feel his blood boiling. A small part of him knows Neil is right. He came in here. He asked for this. Screwing his eyes shut, he takes in a deep breath. “Do it,” he says, finally. He hears the razor cut on. Every pass it makes scares the living daylights out of him. He’s too scared to open his eyes. He’s just going to have to trust Neil. Beneath the towel, he clenches his hands into fists. He focuses on the way his nails bite into his palms. You asked for this, he tells himself. When the razor cuts off, he feels the towel slide away. A hairdryer is turned on and he can feel it blowing on the back of his neck. 

“Done,” Neil says. Aaron pries his eyes open to see himself in the mirror. His jaw drops and he runs his hands over the buzzed sides.

“Damn, I’m one fine son of a bitch,” he whispers. He hears Neil snort behind him. 

“You’re the ugliest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen,” Neil replies. 

“What about Andrew?” 

“He’s the most beautiful man in the world.” Neil’s response is immediate. Aaron turns to look at Neil, dumbfounded. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just stating the facts. Andrew absorbed your aesthetic appeal in the womb,” Neil snaps. He tells Aaron to shower and dumps some of Andrew’s clothes on the counter for him. The two of them have to walk to practice because Andrew left without them. They arrive just as everyone is about to hit the court. 

Everyone is shrieking at the sight of Aaron. He looks amazing, even if Neil doesn’t think so. They all know Neil had to have been the one to do it but he refuses to say anything about it. He hits the locker room to get changed, leaving the others to fawn over Aaron. 

Neil slams his locker door shut only to find himself face to face with Andrew. His face is as unreadable as always. Neil’s abrupt haircut was a week and a half old at this point but Andrew still hadn’t said a single word to him since his original comment. Every nerve in Neil’s body screamed for him to reach out and touch Andrew but he knew better. The status of their relationship was up in the air and Neil was too scared to push the subject. 

When Neil had first walked into the Foxhole Court with his hair buzzed, Andrew had been the first to react. He had also reacted in what had been simultaneously the worst and best possible way. 

“I want a divorce,” he had said. All of the foxes had been stunned. Even Wymack looked taken aback. They’d all burst into laughter moments later but Neil wasn’t sure that Andrew hadn’t meant it. He still drove him around. They still shared a room and smoked cigarettes but Andrew hasn’t touched Neil since his haircut. Not a hand resting on the back of Neil’s now exposed neck. Not a forehead pressed to the back of Neil’s skull. Nothing. Neil was terrified. 

“Drew,” was what Neil said. Please was what it sounded like. Andrew hated the word please so Neil had found a way around it. He felt dirty for playing that card but he was getting desperate. 

“460%,” Andrew replied as he ran a hand over Neil’s buzzed hair. Neil felt his knees give out from under him. Strong arms wrapped around him and hoisted him up. His legs wrapped instinctively around Andrew’s waist and he pressed his forehead to Andrew’s, feeling himself relax for the first time in over a week. 

“It was fried,” Neil whispered. He hears Andrew hum in response. “Is it really that bad?” 

“No,” Andrew replied. “It’s actually really badass.”

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

104 for Jack, Sammy and Wally?

104. That’s a fact, Jack.

(I’m gonna do something with my ‘the ink itself frees everybody because Joey didn’t feed it’ Au* as I’ve made memes about it but haven’t written (or posted what I have) anything about it. *Title still a wip)

There were many, many, pros to getting freed from the studio, or rather, the studio's loop in most people's cases. Almost too many for anyone who had the misfortune of once living in it to count. But there were also a fair amount of cons. One of those cons being that it was kinda difficult to sneak ink monsters and living cartoon characters into society without raising suspicions. Thankfully for the group, by the time they got back to civilization it was dark and cold enough for coats, giant hats, and long scarves to be normal wear when out and about, making it easy to hide most of the odder ink monsters. But it was obvious that lingering in heavily packed and bustling cities like New York wasn't the greatest long-term investment.

Another big con was that Sammy went missing shortly after the studio went down once and for all. And as it had happened every time that the mad maestro was taken out of the picture 'for good' in the studio, the lost village was once again in a chaotic uproar that were refusing to listen to Henry, Tom and Allison. This time, with their heightened sentience, these angry ink creatures were mostly vocally angry, there were still some lost ones who got physical with the gang, (but they were rare as most of them feared Tom, Allison, Susie, and Norman enough to not try anything.) and ones who were both.

"Ah, for the love of... not these guys again."

"Liar! Liars all of you!"

"I'm gonna rip you to pieces!"

"Fuck off!"

"You killed him! Again and again you killed him! Every single time... You came to OUR village, you defiled OUR church, you had killed OUR prophet, followed it up by killing all of us as well... And now that he won't come back you expect us to grovel at your feet and obey your every whim?!"

"Behind you, Dumbass!"

"Leave us alone! Don't you think you've done enough?!"

"Start praying!"

"What makes you think you're any different from that lying puppeteer?!"

"You can run from your sins, but you can't hide from them!"

"Get them, get them, get them, get them!"

"Kill them!"

"You Bastards!"

"Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey... Just like Joey..."

"Enough, you sons of bitches!"

"Not again..."

"Go Away!"

"You've led him astray for too long false shepherd, now that you've powerless, you can't expect us to follow you too..."

If it was difficult to herd thousands of ink creatures in general, it was even harder to herd them when they were fraught with worry and despair over their missing prophet as well as furious and terrified of the ones they blamed for his disappearance. Who had unfortunately for Henry, had been himself, Tom, Allison, Susie, and Inky, who was very bitter about learning that pretty much everyone in ‘his’ cult were actually only loyal to the missing musician.

The task of trying to get the lost ones and searchers to not start a giant riot that would cause a global eldritch ink outbreak had fallen to Jack and Wally. As the group had agreed that as they were the ones that Sammy was closest to before the studio fell, they’d be the ones who’d the village would listen to out of everyone who had been on Henry's side.

While it was a good idea on paper, in practice, the reality was that a swollen searcher with a hat and sentience and a talking tape recorder simply didn't make good replacements for the Prophet, let alone convince anyone that they were. However, they were mercifully a lot more civil with the pair than they were with Henry's other friends. Well, at least they were for the most part.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't take you two seriously. As leaders, I mean."

"No thanks, but good luck finding someone who will take you up on that."

"The Prophet was a complete loon, and an idiot for trusting the false shepherd in the first place... But he was a loon who had held us together when no one else would."

"Please just leave."

"You weren't there for us then, how can we trust you to be there for us now?"

"We understand that they fear we'll infect the world, but please tell them that they should at least give us time to grieve. We won't be leaving this place anytime soon to our knowledge."

"...He was more than just our prophet to us you know."

"Count yourself lucky none of us have killed you on the spot yet and just crawl back to your precious 'Creator' already."

"I doubt either of you two together have half the willpower he had."

"...Go Away."

"I want to trust you two... but I don't like that you're trying to replace him. Especially so soon."

After a long day of rejections and getting doors either slammed in their faces or having people awkwardly creaking the door closed in their faces, Jack crawled back to his hotel room, collapsed on the bed and chucked Wally onto the pillow of the other bed. Both glad the day was over and dreading the next one.

"Ugh, what a town..." Jack sighed as he was almost about to melt into bed, he quickly reformed with a sense of chilled dread in his tone "...I don't think that Conner or the Ink Demon will be too happy to hear that they don't plan on leaving."

Static played out of Wally's speakers before the tape recorder man finally got his thoughts together. "...Fuck."

"Fuck indeed." Jack nodded. "Fuck, indeed..."

"What are we gonna do?!"

"Calmly explain to the group that the town needs time to process everything going on before they try getting a new leader. ...And hope that the Ink Demon doesn't try to make the situation worse."

"Uh huh... Easieah said than done. How do we pull THAT off?"

"Good point, um..."

As the two mulled over how to break the news to the group, the phone on the nightstand began to ring. Startling both of them out of their thoughts.

"Should I pick it up?"

"Well I ain't got no arms."

"Oh! right..."

The searcher fumbled with the phone for a bit, almost worried that he accidentally hung up on the mystery caller. But instead, a familiar voice came through the speaker.

"Hello, Is this Wally and Jack?"

"Sammy! Thank goodness ya called! You've gotta entiah cult dat misses ya! We've trying gettin' them outta the studio, but they won't budge! They'll only listen to you!"

The speaker paused for a moment, almost as if expecting that response and unsure of how to proceed.

"...Well that's awkward because I only called to ask if you two wanted anything from Europe."

"What?!"

"As long as you're asking and if it's not too far out of your way, there's this Spanish nougat called Turrón. I've always kinda wanted to try it."

"Got it. Wally, what about you?"

"Ya gotta be pullin' my leg! You're going to Europe?! Now of all times?!"

"That's a fact Jack."

"I'm not Jack he's ova there!"

"Wally, it means that I'm not discussing this any further. And in this case, I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"I...!"

Wally thought this through. He knew Sammy and he knew that if he tried to push any more than he already was, he'd only shove him away, possibly when he'd be in danger too. But if he didn't, he'd lose the precious opportunity to get information on where the musician went. But if he did, he'd do unrepairable damage to his relationship with the man who had done everything in his power to keep him and his family off of the streets in his time of need. But if he didn't, Thomas would be mad at him if he told him about talking to Sammy.

He made up his mind.

"...Fine. Get me... da weirdest thing ya can find an' buy in a foreign gas station."

"Got it."

"And Stay safe, ya hear me! I don't wanna hear ova da news dat ya got yerself killed ova somethin' stupid okay?"

"Okay, you two stay safe as well. Bye guys."

"Bye."