#I’ve purposely cept most

[mewrecipes]

Blackish Forest Cake

This is a combination of recipes I’ve smashed together cause I’m a picky bean and wanted certain things in my cake. It’s very convoluted and takes me most of the day to make. I use weight for things that are usually fucking up my bakes like flour

Sponge: 219g All Purpose Flour 62g unsweetened cocoa powder (like Fry’s Cocoa) 1 ¾ cups sugar 2 teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons espresso powder (I just throw instant coffee with espresso written on it)

½ cup oil (flavourless like vegetable or whatever) 2 large eggs at room temperature ¾ cup sour cream (180g is about the size of a small container) ½ cup buttermilk 2 teaspoons vanilla

½ cup coffee

Chantilly Cream: 2 ½ cups heavy whipping cream (590ml you’d need the big size) 2 cups powdered sugar (1 ½ for cream, ½ for mascarpone) 2 teaspoons vanilla 8oz cream cheese (226g) 8oz mascarpone

Chocolate Ganache: 285g 56% dark chocolate (just like, fancy dark chocolate, for baking) 125ml double cream 220g unsalted butter (or use salted if youre a lazy bitch like me)

Amarena Cherries (i shove as much as i can inside the layers) Cherry Kirsch (i combine a splash of it with the amarena juice) Assembly: For the sponge, combine dry ingredients and wet ingredients (cept the coffee) separately. Then combine them together, add coffee. Bake at 350 degrees  for 21-25 minutes in 3 separate GREASED pans (i hecked up greasy and paid with only a two tier cake).

Whip the whipping cream up with some of the powdered sugar and vanilla. In another bowl combine the cream cheese, mascarpone and the rest of the powdered sugar. Then combine all of it together. Don’t overmix the mascarpone, it hates it.

Put dark chocolate, double cream and butter in a bowl and place it on top of a pot of simmering water. Once its all melted, put the bowl in the fridge (stirring occasionally) until its thick. Take out of the fridge so it doesn’t completely harden and set aside. 

Once the cakes are cool, take out of the pan. Mix kirsch and amarena syrup together (the ratio depends on how horny you are for the taste of alcohol). Drizzle it onto the cakes so it can soak up the liquid. Spread the chantilly cream onto the cake, cover in amarena cherries and place the next cake layer on top. Repeat this for the next layer. Cover the whole cake in chantilly cream (doesnt have to be neat). Cover the cake in ganache and hurray! It’s done.

[nosesinroses]

Ableism regarding recent events

Just a reminder that if you're gonna post your 50 paragraphs of dream crit to not conclude everything with "god dream please go see a therapist”, especially in that demeaning way i have seen most recently :) ) aswell as making other comments regarding his mental state and questioning his mental stability.

It doesn't matter if your intentions aren't that, but it comes off as degrading as hell, as if any of you are in position to be making comments on this

Also in addition to that, maybe some don't realize this, but relating his adhd to manipulative and scheming behavior is NOT the big brain idea some of you think it is. I've genuinely seen people try to make the connection between his adhd and a likelyhood of being insincere and manipulative.

No you didn't crack the case wide open.

You're being ableist.

It’s good many people want to discuss recent events but you can do so without being invasive as hell and calling his mental stability into question. Please stop, and check if you aren’t just subconsciously equating nd to evil cartoon villain behavior.

[sky-scribbles]

Party banter with Inquisitor Essek

(Because this ridiculous crossover has taken over my life. A brief explanation, as much as explanation is possible: a mis-cast spell has yote a post-campaign Essek through a planar rift and into Thedas, and he happened to land in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. These banters go up to the destruction of Haven, which is why Cole isn’t here - but he will be in later instalments!)

Cassandra: Leliana has found no information about you. Not a thing. Essek: Considering that most mages are met with disgust and imprisonment, it would be... imprudent of me to advertise my presence. Cassandra: Living in secrecy is one thing. Leaving no mark on the world at all is another. Essek: And you would prefer, I think, for all my secrets to be at your disposal.  Cassandra: Are you surprised that I suspect you have something to hide? Essek: Is hostile intent the only possible reason for secrecy, Seeker?

Solas: It would appear that your mark is affecting you physically, Herald. Essek: My hand was not green before, no. Solas: Aside from the obvious. While I tended to you after the conclave, you did not always seem to be asleep. At times, you lapsed into true unconsciousness. At other times, you seemed to trance, half-sleeping. Essek: Ah. Yes. I suppose... the connection to the Fade has altered the way I sleep. I find I can enter these trances at will, as a substitute for sleep. Solas: That is fascinating. The ancient elves could enter an endless dream called uthenera. Perhaps this is a related phenomenon. Essek: So one would assume.

Essek: So, Sera. I was going through  my research notes - Sera: [Sniggering] Essek: And I found that they had been expertly illustrated. Sera: That's what your weird rifty timey magic shite needs. All the butts. Essek: They certainly add interest. Although... that drawing of me closing a rift full of demon butts? You should have shaped my cloak so that it looked like a dick. Sera: [laughs] Like a dick! You're all right, Herald Weirdyhand. Essek: And you are quite the jester.

Varric: How is it you can just walk around pitch-black caves without a problem? Don’t tell me you're part-dwarf and it's stone-sense. Essek: Ah, no. I would assume it is yet another change from the mark. Varric: So this thing lets you fix the sky, and it's a free torch? Who knew that being Andraste's chosen came with a multi-purpose toolkit? Essek: There is no evidence for my being chosen by anything other than political convenience.  Varric: You’re not crazy about the whole Herald business, are you? Essek: About people deciding that I am the mouthpiece of an unproven god who does not speak to anyone, and yet whose name and teachings people use as an excuse for war and conquest, without investigating the truth behind those teachings? No. I am not.

Blackwall: So what does an apostate do, if he's on his own for... I don't know, how many years? Essek: Arcane research, mostly. Why, what does a Grey Warden do when he's on his own for however many years? Blackwall: Kill darkspawn. Recruit for the Wardens. Kill more darkspawn. Essek: And your fellow Wardens do not accompany you? Blackwall: You don't need more than one person to say 'how do you feel about fighting darkspawn for the rest of your life?' Essek: Did you... ever find yourself becoming lonely, in your solitude? Blackwall: I... sometimes, I suppose. Never gave much thought to it. Easier that way. Essek: Mm. I know the feeling.

Dorian: So you think Alexius’s perception of time was fundamentally flawed? Essek: I do. Time is not a straight line, through which one can jump ahead, skip back and rub bits out. Dorian: How would you have done it differently? Aside from the whole ‘conjure a world infested with red lyrium and catastrophe’ part. Essek: Imagine time as a branching thing. Every choice we make causes potential timelines to fade into non-existence. Essek: But their potential remains, waiting to be tapped. Alexius should have attempted to manifest a timeline in which I was never here, rather than removing me from this one. Dorian: Well, don’t tell everybody how to make it work. Wouldn’t want them to get ideas. Though perhaps you’d like to compare notes, later? Essek: I... would like that. 

Vivienne: You carry yourself remarkably well, Herald. Almost like nobility. Essek: Only 'almost'? I shall have to try harder. Vivienne: And despite your youth, you deflect personal inquiries with the deftness of a seasoned player of the Game. Quite remarkable, from a hedge mage. Essek: I'm mildly curious: 'hedge mage'? Vivienne: A self-taught mage, dear. One who has gone without the instruction of a Circle, or even a Dalish clan. If you ever require tuition, I am at your disposal. Essek: I’m sure you are. But I am not especially interested in whatever you think you have to teach.

Sera: You’re proper weird, you are. You go all swanny around the noble piss-bags, all smiles and pretty words like Lady Josie, but you put teeth in it, like Vivvy. Essek: Like Vivienne? I should hope not. Sera: And then you screw the nobs over like Josie does, ‘cept she makes them love her for it and you make them scared. Leliana kind of scared. Essek: When people don’t know you, or what to make of you, they fear you. It makes them... malleable. It’s something I’ve learned to use. As has Leliana, it would seem.

Varric: You doing all right, Smiles? Essek: 'Smiles'? An intriguing choice. Varric: Same reasoning as Iron Lady and Sparkler. Meet as many messes as I have, and you get good at spotting masks. Essek: Indeed? Varric: You fell out of the sky, got attacked by a shit ton of demons and put in charge of an army, and never once stopped smiling. Kind of impressive, actually. Essek: Thank you. Varric: Also, creepy as shit. 

Solas: I'm curious about your name, Herald. Essek: My name? It's Essek. Sera: [laughs] Solas: I meant that it isn't elven, though your family name sounds very like it. Solas: ‘Thelyss’. I wonder if it is is a result of syllables from the name 'Lethallas' being lost and altered over the years. It means, 'a gift to one's kin.' Essek: Ha. Solas: You don't find that likely? Essek: Me being a gift to my kin? Highly unlikely.

Iron Bull: So, boss, what do you make of my guys? Essek: They clearly have an array of talents. Iron Bull: Oh, come on. I didn't ask for what the Herald thought of his new recruits, I asked what you make of my guys. Essek: Very well. They are... unusual. Enthusiastic. I think that some would underestimate them, some would be thrown off-balance by them, and many would do both. Iron Bull: Ha. Yeah, we like to keep people guessing.  Essek: I like them. They are... lively.

Sera: I don’t get it. You can screw over noble shite-faces without being scary. And you’re not scary! I know you and you’re not scary, so why be scary? Essek: Well, I don’t find you scary either, Sera. But I’m sure our enemies do, when they’re on the wrong end of your arrows. Sera: That’s different things, though. I learned arrows because arrows mean nobs are dead and I’m not. Essek: Exactly. Like you, I have had to fight for survival in my own ways. And unlike you, for a long time, I was without friends. Sera: So... you learned how to do scary because you’re scared? Essek: I would say more... aware of potential dangers. Sera: So, scared.

Solas: As for your first name, the final syllable is not even a sound that occurs in elven. Is it Qunlat? One of your parents is Qunari, I assume? Essek: Ah. Yes, of course. Solas: So it is Qunlat? Iron Bull: Nah, that’s not Qunlat, whatever it is. Almost sounds like it, though. Kinda like ‘isskari’. Name for Ben-Hassrath who get hold of weird magic crap. Essek: Oddly appropriate. But since I'm not in contact with my family, the truth shall have to remain a mystery.

Blackwall: Are you all right, Herald? Essek: Fine, thank you. I simply have somewhat sensitive eyes and skin, and it is a very bright day. Blackwall: If you need to stop, I could... I don’t know. Hold a shield over your head? Essek: I appreciate it, but no, thank you. It is tolerable. Blackwall: Didn’t meant to offend. Essek: It is all right. I - [sighs] I apologise. That would help, if you could. Years of solitude have made me... reliant on my own self-reliance, I suppose.  Blackwall: I know what you mean. Shield parasol it is, then.

Sera: Don’t need to be scared, right? Anyone gives you shit, I give ‘em arrows. Or just pies. Or worms in their shoes. Essek: [chuckles] Thank you, Sera. Please do. Sera: Did think you were scary at first, you know.  Essek: What changed your mind? Sera: Scary wouldn’t grin when I drew butts on things.  Essek: ... Are you at all fond of cupcakes, Sera?

[amor-immortalem]

My Adoring Fan Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Before he knew it, a week had passed. It was the start of a new school term. As Aurelius rolled out of bed, he shut off the alarm so it wouldn’t go off at its normal time. He didn’t sleep well the night before, not because he was excited to return to his studies but more like he was debating if he should really betray his parents’ trust when it came to meeting with this girl who’d sent him the letter. If he was being honest, the half demon was hoping that the letter was forged.

Ever since he’d met her that night, Aurelius often found his thoughts wandering back to her. He wasn’t lying when he told his sister that he thought she was pretty. No one had ever had this effect on the sixteen-year-old before so why was she so different?

“I don’t have time to think on this any longer.” He sighed. “Maybe some tea will take my mind off things?” The half-demon makes his way out to the kitchen and is only slightly surprised to see his mother in the kitchen already making herself some tea. He doesn’t know why, but he still figured she’d be asleep at four a.m. like a normal person.

“Aurelius, good morning. Why’re you up so early?” Arella asks as she sets the kettle on the stove. “You should go back to sleep for a bit.”

“No, I’m good, Mum. I can’t really sleep all that well anyway. Can I have some tea?”

“Sure. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah, I guess that couldn’t hurt...” He lays his arms on the counter as he’s leaning against it, chin resting on top of his arms. “Or maybe this is something I should talk to Dad about? I don’t know...”

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was one of those things...”

“No, no, no,” He waves his hands about as a blush covers his cheeks, reaching down to his neck and up to his ears, “It’s not about that kind of thing. More like... relationship advice? Girls in general? I don’t know.” Arella only laughed softly as her son let out a groan. “Please don’t laugh, Mum.”

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” Arella sighed as she pulled the kettle off the stove and got two cups down for them, “I wasn’t laughing at you, more like the misunderstanding. If you feel more comfortable talking to Dad about this then that’s fine, but you know you can talk to me about relationships or girls too as well, right? I’ve had more than my fair share of relationships with women as well so I think I can provide some helpful insight too.”

“Yeah... It’s about that girl I met the other day. You know, the one who I can’t be sure sent me that letter?”

“Yes. She hasn’t tried to contact you again, has she?”

“No, but it’s just.... I can’t stop thinking about that little bit of time we interacted. I’ve never really given much thought to anyone I’ve ever met before but she still sticks in my mind for some reason. Is there something wrong with me?”

“No, not at all. It’s perfectly normal to have someone on your mind at this age.”

“So... there was something wrong with me before then?”

“No, that’s not true either. You’re perfectly normal, Son. Some people just aren’t interested in things like that and that’s okay too. What worries me is who this girl is. You don’t know all that much about her and the fact that she may have sent you that letter doesn’t bode very well. It makes me worried for you.”

“If we have classes together at RAD, I’ll have to talk to her since she’ll likely take a seat next to me at some point and I have a reputation to uphold- well more like I don’t want to be rude. And I kind of want to talk to her too. If she was a fan, she pretended not to be and it makes me wonder if she was being considerate since I nearly trampled her trying to get away from ‘Zalea. She was... normal. I’ve never gotten that from someone outside of our family.”

“Well,” Arella slid the teacup toward Aurelius. “I can’t stop you from talking to this girl. You seem rather dead set on it too. But please, for the love of your grandfather, don’t go off with her alone.

“’for the love of my grandfather,’ why do you guys always say that? It’s not just you and dad but my uncles too. What’s with that? I’ve always thought it was a weird saying. And Max says something similar. Are they related?”

“Yeah, they are. You see, your Father and Uncles- save for Uncle Satan- were once angels a long, long time ago. All angels are “created” by God so technically he would be considered your grandfather as everyone in our family still refers to him as ‘Father’.”

Aurelius nods, “Oh, Alright. I always just thought Dad had always been a demon... but wait don’t you have distant heritage from the Celestial Realm too? That’s where you and I get our magic from, right?”

“It’s… messy. Technically, the angel I’m descended from was reincarnated into a human and Angels aren’t actually related by blood to begin with in the way you’re related to your siblings so really, it was anything goes when it came to me- genetically speaking that is.” Arella was skirting around her connection to Lilith as much as she could as they hadn’t yet told any of the kids in the family about this kind of thing. “I really wouldn’t think too hard on it if I were you. It’ll give you a headache.” The boy only nodded as he sipped on his tea. He had never seen his mother trying so hard to skirt around something she didn’t want him to know. “Anywho, are you hungry? I can start on breakfast.

“Yeah, thanks. I can help if you want.”

“Thank you, that sounds lovely.”

“Also... Can I have that letter back...”

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Getting up and dressed for school was difficult for Persephone. Ever since she’d overheard her dormmates snickering about the letter they’d forged and sent to Aurelius, she’d been dreading the idea of seeing him at school. She wanted to get to know him but now he was probably going to avoid her at all costs. As she looked herself over in the mirror, she hoped he hadn’t put two and two together yet or that the impression she made on him that day would be enough to tip him off that something was wrong.

Instead of having breakfast with her dormmates, the succubus just headed out for school. She was too nervous to actually keep anything down. She kept looking around, Persephone was hoping to spot the object of her affections. And then she saw them, the three girls that he lived with at the House of Lamentation: his sister, cousin, and a sorcerer-in-training that had come to stay with them. But Aurelius was nowhere to be seen.

Persephone moved to trail just behind them, just far enough away to not look like she was eavesdropping but close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

“A new term, a new start!” Zulima smiles as she stretches. “It sucks that I’m grounded. What I wouldn’t kill to go out shopping after school for skin care products. There’s a new line I’ve been interested in trying that comes out today.”

“Hey, that’s all on you, Missy!” Azalea grumbled. “And what’s worse ya got my brother booted out of the dorm and grounded too for doin’ your dirty work.”

Zulima squawked at that as she threw her arms around her cousin. “That wasn’t my intention though! I said I was sowwy.”

“Hey, hey, hey none of that cutesy shit, got it? Cut it out.”

Zulima pouted at that as Max laughed softly.

“Come on, Zulima, you have to admit that you were in the wrong even though it all panned out in the end.” The human smiles.

“MAX!”

“Huh? Oh shit- Sorry, Sunshine, it slipped.”

“Wait... Wait did my plan actually work?” The silver-haired girl’s eyes lit up. “It did, didn’t it?! Stars, I have to tell Daddy.” The sixteen-year-old dashed off.

“Zulima stop! Don’t- aaaaand she’s gone...” The half-demon only sighs,” Damn, what are we gonna do with her...? You know we’ve just unleashed a monster, right? She’s gonna tell everyone.”

“Yeah, I mean we could just go public with it ourselves. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

“Well, no, under normal circumstances it wouldn’t, but I still have enemies at school. Sure, it's no secret that you’re important ta me but if our classmates knew we were datin’, they’d go after you ta get ta me. I know you’ve been workin’ on improvin’ your magic and Solomon even gave ya that charm that’ll mostly protect ya from most attacks from demons but it still makes me nervous since I take advanced courses while the rest of y’all take regular classes and I can’t be with ya ‘cept for homeroom and lunch. I mean my family can know, that’s all well ‘n good. They all like ya anyway but the reason I didn’t want Zulima knowin’ is that when it comes to secrets, she’s got the loosest set of lips this side of the human world...”

“Aww thanks for being worried about me,” She slung an arm around Azalea as they walked.

The white and black-haired girl stiffened slightly. Even after a year, she still wasn’t really used to someone outside of the family showing her any kind of public displays of affection, platonic or otherwise.

“Sorry, are you uncomfortable?”

“N-no. I like it. Don’t stop. Anyway, love, we should go. Aurelius is waitin’ for us.” The half-demon’s voice was quiet as they kept going.

Watching from a safe distance, Persephone laughed softly. Azalea had a reputation for being an unapproachable tough girl so to see her being so soft with a human was interesting. She wondered if she could manage to get close to his older sister and her girlfriend, she might be able to get close to Aurelius. Was it wrong to use Azalea for her own purposes? Yes, and Persephone knew that but if the letter was still a factor, she had to prove that she didn't mean him any harm.

Hurrying to school, she thought of a way to introduce herself to the girls ahead of her. What she wasn’t expecting was to bump into Azalea and fall on her face.

“Hey, watch where yer goin’!” Azalea growled as she puffed out her chest, that tough girl front making its first appearance for the day. “Ya almost knocked me over.”

“Azalea, be nice. Are you okay, Miss?”

“Sorry, I thought I had more room. I didn’t mean to bump into you and yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for asking.”

“Whatever, just make sure it don’t happen again, got it?” Azalea's blue to gold gradient eyes studied her appearance. “You go to RAD? I ain’t never seen ya around before. You new here?”

“Ah, yes. I just transferred here. Today’s my first day.” Persephone smiled as she held out her hand.

Max reached out to shake her hand and Azalea thought about stopping her but that might not be a good idea. As she regarded Persephone, an eyebrow raised slowly, remembering what her brother told her about the girl he was unsure had sent that letter.

“What’s yer name, girly? I heard about a transfer student from my brother. That you?”

Persephone’s eyes widened. He talked about her? How does she answer? Does she tell the truth or does she lie? Ultimately, the succubus nodded deciding the truth was best.

“Stay away from my brother, got it? Yer gonna regret it if I find out about ya harassin’ him. He already gets enough of that and you don’t need to addin’ to that. He’s already thinkin’ about quittin’ the one thing he loves ‘cuz of crazy fans like you.”

Max could sense that Azalea was getting more and more worked up. Before the situation could get out of hand, she grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and drug her off so she didn’t do something she’d regret later.

Well that option was out. As they walked off, Azalea turned her head back toward Persephone with a warning glare. The former idol knew now she had to set things straight. She knew what it was like to have crazy fans too.

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Homeroom was the first class of the day, having been dropped off by his mother, Aurelius was able to get prime seating at the back of the class where the teacher could hardly see him and therefore wouldn’t call on him if they thought he wasn’t paying attention. He pulled out that letter, waiting for Persephone to show up. They were all in the same year and there was only one homeroom teacher for their year so every student in their year- advance courses included- had the same homeroom hour.

The teen watches the door with baited breath.

“I hope this is the right room.” She mumbled. When her eyes met his she looked away. They were the only two in the class room.

“Hey again.” He smiled, using his charm to his advantage. “Come here, I’d like to speak with you.” She was a little hesitant to begin with but ultimately, she decided to sit with him. “So...” Aurelius slides the letter over to her. “I want you to tell me the truth. Did you actually lie to me when we met last week? Did you really know who I was all along and still chose to lie to me?”

Persephone stared at the letter with horror. “Y-Yeah. I just didn’t want you to feel bad about knocking over a fan of yours...”

“Thought so, well thanks for thinking of my feelings. That was considerate of you. And by the look on your face, I take it you recognize what on the table.”

“I didn’t send this letter. It was forged by a dormmate of mine.” The former idol panicked about losing her one chance at getting closer to him.

“Mhm... Well, I’d believe it. And I think I know who sent it. Would you like to read it and tell me if anything in it is actually true?”

“Your sister told me you’re getting harassed.... I’m sorry you have to go through that.” she said as she nodded.

“You’ve already run in to ‘Zalea, huh? She didn’t say anything or threaten you, did she?”

“She told me to stay away from you or I’d regret it. Should I move before she gets here?”

“No don’t. I called you over here because I wanted you to sit with me. You’re going to end up with a few of my self-proclaimed ‘super fans’ nipping at your heels though. Just ignore them, alright? And if my sister tries to start anything, let me handle her.”

“Okay, also... this letter is really creepy but a couple things are true... I do have all of your issues of DevilStyle Teen and I am a big fan. But I want to get to know you. I know there’s more to a person than what you see in a magazine. Would that be alright?”

He’s surprised at this, but it was a welcome surprise. “Yeah sure. I’m kind of grounded at the moment, but we can hang out here in the morning and talk. The teacher unlocks it at 6 a.m. so meet me then. After I’m out of punishment, we can hang out outside of school too. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in getting to know you as well. Also, stop trying to charm me. It’s not going to work. Like my mother, charms don’t work on me.”

The succubus blushed as she sputtered apologies and a deep embarrassed blush covered her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized she was using her powers on him- the same powers that skyrocketed her to fame as an idol.

He only chuckled at that. “If you really want to earn my affections, you’re going to have to put in the hard work.” He teased.

“G-Good to know.” She squeaked as other students began to enter and she and Aurelius began to chat casually.

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Next

Find more on my masterlist

[acadicus]

Black Forest Cake

This is a combination of recipes I’ve smashed together cause I’m a picky bean and wanted certain things in my cake. It’s very convoluted and takes me most of the day to make. I use weight for things that are usually fucking up my bakes like flour Sponge: 219g All Purpose Flour 62g unsweetened cocoa powder (like Fry’s Cocoa) 1 3/4 cups sugar 2 teaspoons baking soda 1 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons espresso powder (I just throw instant coffee with espresso written on it) 1/2 cup oil (flavourless like vegetable or whatever) 2 large eggs at room temperature 3/4 cup sour cream (180g is about the size of a small container) 1/2 cup buttermilk 2 teaspoons vanilla 1/2 cup coffee Chantilly Cream: 2 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream (590ml you’d need the big size) 2 cups powdered sugar (1 1/2 for cream, 1/2 for mascarpone) 2 teaspoons vanilla 8oz cream cheese (226g) 8oz mascarpone Chocolate Ganache: 285g 56% dark chocolate (just like, fancy dark chocolate, for baking) 125ml double cream 220g unsalted butter (or use salted if youre a lazy bitch like me) Amarena Cherries (i shove as much as i can inside the layers) Cherry Kirsch (i combine a splash of it with the amarena juice) Assembly: For the sponge, combine dry ingredients and wet ingredients (cept the coffee) separately. Then combine them together, add coffee. Bake at 350 degrees  for 21-25 minutes in 3 separate GREASED pans (i hecked up greasy and paid with only a two tier cake). Whip the whipping cream up with some of the powdered sugar and vanilla. In another bowl combine the cream cheese, mascarpone and the rest of the powdered sugar. Then combine all of it together. Don’t overmix the mascarpone, it hates it. Put dark chocolate, double cream and butter in a bowl and place it on top of a pot of simmering water. Once its all melted, put the bowl in the fridge (stirring occasionally) until its thick. Take out of the fridge so it doesn’t completely harden and set aside.  Once the cakes are cool, take out of the pan. Mix kirsch and amarena syrup together (the ratio depends on how horny you are for the taste of alcohol). Drizzle it onto the cakes so it can soak up the liquid. Spread the chantilly cream onto the cake, cover in amarena cherries and place the next cake layer on top. Repeat this for the next layer. Cover the whole cake in chantilly cream (doesnt have to be neat). Cover the cake in ganache and hurray! It’s done.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“The Final Match” || YEAR 3 – Ch.32 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

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Day posted: 12/1/2020

Word count: 4, 201

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

 Hello! Sorry I didn’t post for a few weeks! I needed to take a break and deal with some mental health stuff but I feel much better :D I hope everyone’s been ok! Also I will be going back to the normal twice a week schedule so yay :D enjoy the chapter!

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Easter break had been the most tiring holiday Heather had ever experienced. Practice twice a day, essay after essay, having to pay attention to Ron and Harry and not seem exhausted by their presence, and even help Neville avoid a nervous collapse. As absolutely worn out as Heather felt, it was nothing compared to Hermione.

Mid break she had stopped responding to them all together, focusing only on her essays and studying. She was so off her usual self she didn’t even want them wandering around the library when they needed to look up books. ‘I need to stretch my legs anyways,’ she claimed and would go fetch whatever book they needed so long as they stayed put.

Hermione was so stressed she was constantly on the verge of tears, especially after coming back empty handed, unable to find the book Ron wanted.

“It’s alright, Hermione, Really.” Ron looked around uncomfortably. “I’ll just… read Harry’s book upside down. I’ve gotten good after three years of potions exams.”

While Hermione studied and during any time either Harry or Heather was at Quidditch practice, Ron read and gathered as much as he could for Buckbeak’s appeal. He took out books like ‘Fowl or Foul? A Study on Hippogriff Brutality’ and ‘The Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology’ and was so engrossed in it that Heather wondered why he didn’t put that much energy and effort into their normal essays. Ron seemed as hardworking as Hermione in those instances, except he was much more willing to call it quits when he’d had enough.

By the end of the Holidays, several of the Slytherins had done exactly what Marcus had told them to do and gone out and earned points any ways they could. Slytherin was ahead of Gryffindor for the House Cup by two-hundred points. Now if Gryffindor won the match, they’d either tie bare minimum or would have to work as hard as possible to earn over fifty points to beat Slytherin in the House Cup.

The Quidditch Cup however, was much more difficult. Marcus had sat the whole team down in the locker rooms and explained how tricky this match would be with Harry’s advantage. If no one scored any points at all and Harry caught the snitch within seconds, then Slytherin would lose the match but tie with Gryffindor and no one would earn the Quidditch Cup.

“So Bletchley, don’t let them score at ANY cost.” Marcus turned his intense eyes on Heather and Graham. “Potter, Montague. We’re plan b. By the end of the match we NEED to have scored at least one-hundred-and-fifty points to stay in the lead for House Cup. We’ll each aim for five scores each.”

Heather nodded and looked at Draco who was leaning against the lockers, sulking. All break long he’d tasked Crabbe and Goyle with getting into a fight with Harry but they hadn’t succeeded yet. Harry was constantly surrounded by his Quidditch team as often as possible ever since he’d told Wood what she had said.

“’Cept we won’t need that when I catch the Snitch.” Draco crossed his arms.

Marcus nodded. “Potter won’t be attempting to catch the Snitch until the Gryffindors have earned enough points if they’re smart. All you’ll have to do is catch it before he does – and I’ve no doubt he’ll do his best to stop you, though the Gryffindors aren’t the physical type so that’ll be easy.”

Draco kept his brows furrowed and glared at the nearest bench. There was more than just the Cups riding on this match. Heather knew Draco was still upset over the mud-throwing incident and Harry was even more furious with him after the fact of Buckbeak’s trial. Their rivalry was at its peak for the year, and it had even bled into her and Draco’s friendship.

It was weird to call it a friendship, considering she was supposed to hate him but there were the odd conversations with him that she enjoyed, and he never left her out like Pansy did, glad to talk to her about himself and how great his family is all the time. Now that he felt he was losing to Harry though, he could hardly look at her for very long without scowling at her. She was a Potter after all.

As the week went on, all Professors seemed to be assigning less and less homework on account of the match Saturday. It seemed like the whole school was anticipating the match and Slytherins and Gryffindors most of all. Scuffles broke out in the corridors, hexes and jinx were thrown during breakfast and lunch, and all the Gryffindors gathered around Harry constantly to keep him safe while all the Slytherins seemed to want to be tripping and elbowing him.

It was Friday night and Heather paced the dungeon corridors trying to keep her anxiety under control. She braided and re-braided her hair as she walked, holding her breath, counting to five, and letting it out. Five goals. That was all she needed to score. Just five. It seemed like a lot suddenly. All of Slytherin would be angry and Marcus would be furious if she didn’t do her part.

She headed back to the common room and sat on a cushion by the door and observed everyone talking about the match tomorrow. Marcus, Miles, and Graham were talking to a few girls and on the other side of the room Peregrine and Lucian were smacking hexed curtain puffs they’d ripped out. Draco was of course surrounded by his usual crowd by his favorite desk. Pansy was talking on and on to the group of third years but Draco just sat there, shaking his leg.

The common room door opened and she looked up to see it was Snape. He stepped inside and closed the door. He was searching the room and quickly spotted Marcus. “Flint.” His voice was low and yet everyone in the room seemed to recognize it immediately. Everyone hushed and turned to look at their Head of House. “I suggest you get your team to bed at once. I don’t intend on giving up the Quidditch Cup over a bunch of drowsy brats with no sense for time.” It seemed even Snape could sense how difficult the match would be.

Heather could smell the tangy scent of pickled tree oysters coming off his black trousers and the unmistakable smell of the penetratingly sweet base liquid used for almost all potions they brewed. She stayed seated in her spot as her team gathered their things and went into the dormitories. She wasn’t ready to go to bed with her anxious thoughts, and certainly not by Snape’s command.

She pulled her legs up to her chest and cursed to herself. Her movement had caught Snape’s attention out of the corner of his eyes. He glared down at her but she refused to look into his cold black eyes. She could feel her hair stand on end and finally gave in, standing up and marching to the girl’s dormitory, slamming the door hard before huffing and marching to her dorm.

She changed and fell back on her pillow, wishing she could have stayed downstairs and just ignored Snape. It would’ve been at least a small victory for her against him. Her eyelids began to close and she let them. If she were Harry, she’d just make potions incredibly annoying for him to get him back for bad mouthing her father. She could ask about the difference between Horn of Plenty and Trumpet of the Dead and whether they were less or more reactive than Black Chanterelle – which are of course all the same mushroom which would annoy him extra.

She fell asleep thinking about making her toad even more mossy on purpose next lesson instead of finally de-mossifying him and woke from a dream about replacing all of Snape’s Bladder Campions in jars with actual tiny bladders. Heather sat up and looked at the clock, seeing it was the perfect time to get up and shower before heading down for breakfast.

She got dressed in her Quidditch robes and headed out of the common room towards the Great Hall.

“Heather!”

Heather turned around and searched for Harry as he whispered her name again. She spotted his red robes hiding behind a column and walked down to him.

“Harry? What is it?”

He crossed his arms and bit his finger. He shook his head and sighed. “Alright. I know it’ll sound crazy… I think I saw Crookshanks walking with the Grim last night.”

Heather frowned.

“Listen!” Harry looked around and sighed again. “I woke up from a nightmare about the match and got up to get some water and I looked out the window and saw Crookshanks followed by the Grim and he was leading the Grim around the side of the castle!”

Heather tilted her head. “So… Hermione’s cat is friends with your Grim? Harry, the Grim isn’t an actual animal. It’s a sign. I saw the Grim in the clouds and Professor Trelawney sees it in leaves and mist and floating dust clumps… Are you sure you really saw it?”

Harry rubbed his neck and shook his head. “I tried getting Ron to see it too but he fell back asleep too fast.”

Heather placed her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s just the match nerves. Or maybe you know deep down Slytherin’s going to win,” she teased.

“You wish.” Harry smiled and pushed away from the wall, stepping out from the column. “Maybe it was just a dog or something from Hogsmeade.”

Wood came out from the Great Hall and called Harry down to him.

“Good luck,” Harry said and quickly punched her arm before jogging over to Wood.

Harry entered the Great Hall to enormous applause, leaving her standing alone in the empty Entrance Hall. She really hoped she was right about it not being the Grim. She took a deep breath and entered after him.

She could see three out of the four tables were wearing as much red as possible. Hufflepuffs had on red hats and small twirling red signs while Ravenclaws held scarfs in their hands ready to swing in the air. Gryffindors were all wearing red shirts, red sweaters, red trousers, red socks, and red hair clips – it was a sea of red that looked to bleed onto the other tables.

She sat at the center of her Slytherin table with the team and picked up some toast and a few small links of sausage. Was she hungry? Was she starving? It felt like the butterflies in her stomach turned to rocks every so often. It was the hardest meal she’d ever had, having to watch the stone cold face of her captain as he glared at the rest of the school behind her, and even Draco looked sickly pale next to him.

Heather kicked Draco under the table making him jump. “We’re going to win and you’re going to catch the Snitch, alright? Harry’s not even going to try until they earn enough points and Bletchley won’t let them score any. You’ll have enough time.”

Draco nodded and took a bite of his toast, getting jam on the corners of his mouth. “I’m catching the Snitch first thing.” He nodded again as if cementing the idea in his head.

Heather relaxed a bit after some color returned to Draco’s face. The cheering had gotten too loud to ignore now and Pansy started cheering for the team, looking around at others and glaring at them until they joined in with her. Soon the Slytherin tables were thumping their fists on the table, filling the air with bangs and the slight clatter of metal forks bouncing off glass plates. It did a good job of drowning out the cheers for Gryffindor.

It was time for both teams to head out and Heather stood with her team and walked down, high fiving every stuck out hand from the Slytherin tables. She looked left and saw the Gryffindors were doing the same. Harry was walking down the other side of the Gryffindor table closest to the Ravenclaws when he stopped momentarily next to the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang, and went red. As they left the Great Hall Heather tried catching Harry’s eyes but it was no use, Wood was talking his ear off.

Heather grabbed her broom with Draco and they both entered the locker rooms, ready for whatever talk Marcus had in store for them.

Marcus paced the small space between the walls and stopped as they joined the rest of the team. “Win,” he said firmly. “Just win. By any means.”

“And just like that our nerves are gone,” Miles scoffed.

Marcus pulled him up by the collar and shook him. “What nerves? We’re Slytherins. We’ve been winning the Quidditch Cup for almost a decade. And no Potter will ruin that.”

Heather swallowed, feeling like he was also kind of talking about her.

Draco lifted his broom handle towards the team and yelled “No Potter can ruin that!”

The team smacked their broom handles against Draco’s and Heather had no choice but to join. She supposed she could consider this motivational somehow?

Marcus led them out onto the field where they took their spots. The whole school was cheering and making noise on the stands and although there were waves and waves of red, the Slytherins did their best to cover as much space with deep green and bright silver. In the front row behind the Slytherin goal post sat Snape wearing green like everyone else around him. He had on a grim smile and looked to Professor McGonagall who laughed and gestured to the stands of students waving ‘LIONS FOR THE CUP’ and ‘GO GRYFFINDOR’ flags.

“ON THE GRYFFINDOR TEAM,” Lee Jordan started his commentating, “WE HAVE POTTER, BELL, JOHNSON, SPINNET, WEASLEY, WEASLEY, AND WOOD – THE BEST TEAM CAPTAIN ON THE BEST HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH TEAM WE’VE SEEN IN A GOOD FEW YEARS – ”

His comments were drowned out by ‘boos’ from the Slytherins sitting not too far from him.

“AND ON THE SLYTHERIN TEAM IS CAPTAIN FLINT AND IT SEEMS HIS MAIN STRATEGY THIS YEAR WAS MAKING SURE THERE WAS MORE SIZE THAN SKILL ON THE TEAM – ”

Even Heather booed with the Slytherins at that. She and Draco were the smallest on the team for certain, but at least Graham and Miles had some skill too, even if they were enormous. Marcus, Lucian, and Peregrine however, they could do with less aggressive plays.

“BY SIZE THERE IS ALSO MONTAGUE, BOLE, DERRICK, BLETCHLEY, POTTER, AND MALFOY.”

Heather looked over at Draco to see him close his mouth and hide his look of shock. He glanced at her briefly and scowled, making her hold in a laugh.

The morning was fairly bright and there were no winds at all, making it perfect conditions for an intense final match. The Gryffindors mirrored their positions on the other side of the half-line and she gave Harry a tiny thumbs up which he matched for a split second. Madam Hooch came out with the ball-chest under her arm and set it down, ready to unlock on her whistle.

Heather gripped her broom hard, feeling her palms already sweaty and kicked off hard at the loud shrill of the whistle blow. Fourteen brooms rose in the air and darted into positions as Marcus and Wood fought for the Quaffle.

“GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION – QUAFFLE TAKEN BY SPINNET HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE SLYTHERIN GOALPOSTS – LOOKING GOOD ALICIA! ARGH! NO – QUAFFLE INTERCEPTED BY MONTAGUE AS HE TEARS UP THE FIELD AND – WHAM! GOOD ARM THERE GEORGE. QUAFFLE CAUGHT BY JOHNSON AS SHE TAKES IT ALL THE WAY BACK – SWERVES AROUND POTTER – DUCK! OHH – OH! SHE SCORES!”

The Gryffindor fans filled the field with whistles and cheers as they waved red flags and scarfs in the air. Miles avoided looking towards Marcus but Heather gave him a thumbs up, he nodded his head as the Quaffle was recovered.

Heather gasped as Marcus smashed into Angelina Johnson, nearly knocking her off her broom.

“Didn’t see her!” Marcus yelled to the booing crowd of scarlet below. “Sorry!”

Heather rolled her eyes at him and gasped again as Fred’s Beater’s club flew through the air and smacked Marcus on the back of his head, making him smash his nose on his broom handle causing a nose bleed.

Madam Hooch flew up between them and blew her whistle. “Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to THEIR Chaser!” Before they could argue Madam Hooch blew her whistle again and Johnson flew forward to take penalty, eyeing Marcus with immense loathing.

“JOHNSON TAKES THE SHOT AND – SCORE! SHE’S BEATEN THE KEEPER YET AGAIN. TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR, FIRST TWO POINTS MADE BY ANGELINA JOHNSON.”

Marcus flew forward with the Quaffle under his arm and aimed at the Gryffindor goalposts where Wood sat ready on his broom.

“FLINT TAKES THE SHOT AND – WOOD’S SAVED IT! HE’S SAVED IT! THAT’S STILL TWENTY-ZERO WITH THE BEST HOGWARTS TEAM STILL IN THE LEAD!”

Heather groaned and felt the little butterflies in her stomach all drop dead and turn to boulders. The Gryffindors were much closer to getting the necessary points they needed to win both cups and allow for Harry to catch the Snitch. Draco flew by quickly, desperately searching for the Snitch as Harry trailed him meters behind – a distance afforded to him by the firebolt.

Heather nodded at Marcus and took her position again as the Quaffle was recovered and put back into play.

“GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION – NO – SLYTHERIN IN – NO BACK IN GRYFFINDOR POSSESSION AND ITS WITH BELL AS SHE STREAKS UP THE FIELD – THAT WAS DELIBERATE!”

Graham had swooped down and grabbed hold of Katie Bell’s head instead of the Quaffle, making her drop it in an attempt to dislodge her head from under his arm.

Madam Hooch flew back up and yelled at him before awarding Gryffindor another penalty which Katie gladly took.

“THIRTY-ZERO! THAT’S RIGHT, KEEP CHEATING YOU DIRTY – ”

“MR. JORDAN, IF YOU CAN’T COMMENTATE AS UNBIASED AS POSSIBLE – ”

“JUST SAYIN’ IT HOW IT IS PROFESSOR – ”

While the game was stalled on Lee Jordan and Professor McGonagall’s arguments, Heather flew over to Marcus and Graham. “Drop the whole ‘win by any means’! We’re losing! Stick to the plays!”

Marcus glared at her but nodded. “We’ll take those points back. Stick to the plays.”

Graham nodded and they split up, taking their positions around Marcus like they normally did. The game was back on and as they wrestled with Gryffindor for the possession of the Quaffle, Heather spotted Derrick and Bole closing in on a speeding Harry just as he pulled up out of the way and they collided against each other.

“HA HA! SOMEONE GET DERRICK AND BOLE AN ICE PACK, THEY SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN WHY THE FIREBOLT’S THE BEST BROOM ON THE MARKET!”

Graham had barely grazed the Quaffle when Johnson intercepted.

“GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION – MONTAGUE FLYING ALONSIDE JOHNSON – MONTAGUE IN POSSESSION! OH NO FLYING TOWARDS THE GRYFFINDOR GOALPOSTS – BELL AND SPINNET CLOSING IN ON HIM! – FLINT IN POSSESSION NOW – NO STOP IT WOOD! – ARGH! SLYTHERIN SCORES.”

The Slytherins behind the Slytherin goalposts erupted with cheers. Lee Jordan swore and Professor McGonagall tried tugging the magical megaphone away.

“SORRY! WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN! – THIRTY-TEN, GRYFFINDOR STILL IN THE LEAD BUT SLYTHERIN HAS POSSESSION AGAIN – ”

The tide was turning now that they were more focused on plays and not cheating. Heather followed close beneath Flint and on cue caught his dropped Quaffle and scored the second points for Slytherin. Wood pounded on his handle and the Slytherins cheered again.

“THIRTY-TWENTY, COME ON GRYFFINDORS DON’T LET THEM CATCH UP!”

Four of five goals down, she just needed five goals total to reach her own goal. That was the plan. She zoomed forward and cut off Spinnet, sending her diving down to avoid collision, freeing up space for Marcus to throw to Graham. Graham shot forward with the Quaffle in hot pursuit by Bell and Johnson and just as he aimed to throw into the goalposts, Bell snatched it from his hand and made her way across the field. Gryffindor scored freely for the last time that match.

It was forty-twenty and now even Heather felt the same angry fire behind Marcus and Graham’s eyes. Marcus scored, and then Graham, and just after Heather had rammed into Johnson to stop her from cutting between Marcus’s throw, Heather caught the Quaffle and scored for Slytherin once again.

Forty-fifty and Slytherins were in the lead now. Bell was on Heather’s tail from then on as she shadowed Marcus to his right. A Bludger nearly knocked him off his broom but Graham saved it and scored again. Fred and George were now focusing their efforts on Marcus as Lucian and Peregrine aimed for them.

Heather looped on her broom to lose Bell momentarily to help pass the Quaffle to Graham again as Marcus dodged two Bludgers, and he scored again. On and on it went cleanly until the score was forty to one-hundred and Heather had scored her five goals. Then Lucian hit Alicia Spinnet with his club, stopping her from taking possession and George elbowed him in the face.

Madam Hooch gave each team a penalty shot and Miles finally blocked it. Wood didn’t let Marcus score. Bell attempted to score and while Fred and George were distracted trying to help block Graham and Heather from closing in on her, Peregrine and Lucian aimed the Bludgers at Wood, giving Gryffindor two more penalty shots. Miles saved one and the score became fifty to one-hundred. Wood climbed back over his broom and clutched his stomach.

Slytherin quickly took the points back. Heather scored twice more after Flint scored twice and Graham scored once.

“SLYTHERIN IS AT A HUNDRED POINT LEAD… WHERE’S THAT SNITCH!”

The game was dragging on and Harry and Draco were now searching the skies and ground for the Snitch. Draco kept on Harry’s tail as best he could as they circled the Quiditch pitch once, twice – Harry dashed forward and reached out for the golden speck twenty feet in front.

Draco sped after him, managing to cut the distance on a quick turn as the Snitch flew away from them. Harry had the Snitch inches from his fingers when Draco jumped forward and caught the tail of Harry’s broom in his hands, dragging him back.

Harry swung a fist at Draco’s face but couldn’t reach. Harry turned back and slowed, realizing the Snitch had disappeared from view.

“CHEATER! CHEATING! YOU FILTHY CHEATING SLYTHERIN – !” Lee was dancing out of McGonagall’s grasp.

“Penalty!” Madam Hooch yelled.

Spinnet took the shot and was blocked by Miles who was still laughing at Draco’s penalty. Heather felt her team was newly invigorated by Draco’s desperate ‘by any means’ tactics.

The game was back on and Johnson had the Quaffle. Heather and the other Chasers flew after her, closing in at once when Harry cut through them like a red bullet, making them all scatter to avoid falling off their brooms and allowing her to score.

“Harry!” Heather yelled and quickly noticed Draco across the field streaking up towards a tiny shiny speck.

Harry noticed and tore after Draco, closing the field-wide distance within seconds. Heather watched, frozen in place, as Draco closed in on the Snitch. Marcus took this chance to score once more as everyone’s attention was on the Seekers.

Draco’s fingers were stretched, arm fully extended as he leaned forward on his broom. His blond hair whipping back as he cut through the air.

Harry had reached Draco and was now urging his broom to go faster as he stretched out his arm towards the Snitch.

They were both inches away from it, closing in – Harry threw himself forward, knocking Draco’s arm out of the way and caught the Snitch in one cupped swoop of his hand.

“HARRY POTTER’S CAUGHT THE SNITCH! THAT’S TWO-HUNDRED POINTS TO ONE-HUNDRED-AND-SIXTY! GRYFFINDOR WINS!”

The crowd erupted with cheers and the field below filled with red and gold as everyone touched down. Heather walked up to Marcus who was fuming but surprisingly remained calm. He clenched his fist and looked at all of them as they gathered around him quietly.

“We won the cup. That’s all that matters. They needed at least a fifty-point lead before Potter caught the Snitch.” Marcus looked at Draco and nodded. “Good try, Malfoy.”

Draco looked like he could murder anyone who looked at him the wrong way. He nodded and headed towards the broom shed, shoving and pushing any and all Gryffindors in his way.

The Gryffindor crowd was lifting Harry on their shoulders, satisfied with the win and victory over Slytherins and Draco. Heather trailed behind the crowd not wanting to bump into Ron or Hermione. Although the cup was still and would remain in the safety of Snape’s office, the loss against Gryffindor was felt among all Slytherins.

Draco almost had it, inches away, seconds away, but was doomed to lose against Harry’s firebolt.

Was everyone doomed to lose against Harry?

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[desparikon]

Murdoc/Mac + s4 distress

I really like the idea of The Merchant, Murdoc, and Helman all trapped in the black site together, but the lack of Murdoc’s screeching of ‘BFF Angus Visiting Someone Other Than Me?!?!’ was disappointing, so maybe Murdoc just...got bored and escaped.

(The Merchant is supposed to be in the black site, right? Because when Mac breaks Scarlett out, her cell looked the same, but it was in the Phoenix building. So just a case of reusing sets?)

Tonight wasn't going to be a good night.

Mac stared at the beer in his fridge. Was he really doing this? Riley and Desi had left maybe 15 minutes ago. Starting to drink now wasn’t an admission of fear of being alone with his thoughts; it was just taking advantage of the alone time.

No. No. Get involved with something else.

He shut the fridge and sighed, plodding back across the room, and up the stairs to the veranda. His many projects scattered about, in various stages of completion, mocked him. None of them were currently appealing, despite his fingers’ itch for activity. Why was he so often bored, yet could never focus long enough to see one through?

No time for idlness. The world needs saving.

Codex, the impending apocalypse, his aunt. He wanted to hate what they stood for, but deep down, admitted there was some logic to it. And he wanted the familial connection to have a solid place in the world. His dad, his mom’s good memory, his chance at any normal family members, gone. Jack, MIA. His friends wouldn’t be far behind, thanks to his growing indecisiveness and unreliability. Being alone hurt, but it was better to push them away before he burdened them with his feelings, his existence. Any deaths due to his failures already ate at him. Having any one of their deaths on him would literally kill him.

It was too heavy. His life was shattering into a million pieces, and all he could do was watch as the shards slipped through his fingers. He wanted to go back. Back to when every little thing didn't lead to catastrophe. Repairing one shard, at the expense of all the others. It was exhausting.

He couldn't fight the darkness. Not tonight. He was going to lock himself in his room, and drink as much of his hidden stash as possible. Since his brain insisted on lacking an off switch, he’d shut it down by force.

The exciting prospect of hard alcohol, and the warm, blanketing buzz it’d bring, lifted his mood. The fuzziness would come quick, and it’d be his little secret. No awkwardness. No prying. No ‘Mac, there were a dozen beers--’

The force from plowing into an unexpected obstacle jolted him into a backwards stumble.

“Attacking me already! I haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Murdoc.” His sudden appearance stunned Mac. All the time that’d passed without incident since Murdoc had escaped had left him secretly saddened that Murdoc had grown bored of him. Ironically, at a time when their worldviews were becoming closer aligned.

“Do you have to sound so disappointed?”

“I’m not disappointed, just...surprised. Thought you’d finally gotten tired of me.”

“Tired of you?” His slightly narrowed eyes and suspicious expression warned Mac that his indifferent front was failing. Murdoc was picking up on something.

Dammit! He had to be careful, and get this perfect; any sign of weakness, and Murdoc would discover everything (if he hadn’t already), and use that knowledge to give the one, final tap to destroy him.

What a waste of their cat and mouse games.

“I could never get tired of you, MacGyver. I—actually, more so you—have been busy.”

Mac retreated to the kitchen sink, hoping to find dishes, empty cans, anything, to distract him from Murdoc’s interpretation of the chaos his life had fallen into, but Murdoc followed, settling himself onto the counter.

“The Phoenix shutting down, forcing you into an ordinary life. Your genius being wasted on low-level teaching gigs. Painful. It’s a shame I wasn’t around to help.���

“I...survived.”

“As you do. But wait! From the ashes, Phoenix gets bought and reopened, returning to its former glory under new management! I love that! It’s beautiful. Gets you right here.” Murdoc patted a fist over his heart.

“You always manage to keep track of me.”

“I pride myself on being informed about your life.”

Mac rubbed the back of his neck, and shrugged his shoulders to prevent them from locking up further. Murdoc said all that so casually, like the whole time hadn’t been miserable, but most noticeable was the lack of mention about Codex or his dad’s death. Surely Murdoc still had enough connections to know of them, but maybe he didn’t realize Mac’s personal stake.

That’s what he needed. Someone who wasn’t involved in this whole train wreck. Murdoc had liked him when he’d been blinded by idealism. Maybe he’d like the new, damaged Mac. Even if he hadn’t been the cause.

“We’re besties, and I consider you and Team Phoenix to be my pet project. Speaking of, your new boss is interesting, kinda strange fit for The Phoenix, don’t you think? Can’t imagine him and Matilda get along too well. Now don’t get jealous, but I think I’d like to meet him.”

“Russ would just love that, as I’m sure the views through the cameras weren’t enough.”

“I know, I know. Everyone loves me, but I’m more impressive in person.” Murdoc directed an offended glare in his direction, “Don’t snort, Angus. You know it’s true.”

His confidence was undeterred by Mac’s knowing smile. “Also noticed that the newbie stuck around. Since she’s going to stay awhile, I think new introductions are in order.”

“Her fist to your face?”

“And Bozer made a movie! Good for him! I need to congratulate him. At his new place, since you have New Roomie Riley now. She’s too good for some tech shop. All of you. Too good for an ordinary life.”

“You’re full of compliments tonight.”

“While I wish they’d be used for better purposes, I’ve always appreciated the skills each of you have. ‘Cept when they’re being used to hunt me.”

Murdoc’s playful grin was infectious, almost making him forget that Murdoc could choose to be a threat whenever he got bored. Ugh, so cute. It was embarrassing how attractive he found Murdoc, even just physically.

“By the way, when’s she moving to Desiree’s? Seriously. Took them forever to leave. I was starting to think I’d have to sneak in through the rooftop portal in your room.”

Typical Murdoc, pleased to talk about stalking, and breaking and entering. The eagerness to talk to Mac hadn’t changed, and it made him smile, even as guilt began creeping in. He’d said terrible things to Murdoc, personal attacks that weren’t necessary, and at times when it’d been uncalled for. How long had he railed Murdoc when they’d gone to Colombia? And how could he forget how the viciousness he’d directed at Murdoc, even after he’d already surrendered to Phoenix’s custody? After everything, why did Murdoc still like him so much?

“When’s it my turn to be nosy?”

“You want to know more about me?! Ohmygosh, this is-- I’m going to cry.” Murdoc fake sniffled, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Two things?”  

“Shoot.”

“OK, how’d you escape?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Mac mirrored Murdoc’s smirk. “C’mon. Never? Even if it’d impress the audience?”

Murdoc smiled, despite a huff. “Is it more impressive that I didn’t plan it? Saw the opportunity, and took it. Improvised. Y’know, I think you’ve been a bigger influence on me than I realized.”

“Can you really call it an opportunity, though? Since you had to kill every other person in the building.”

“Oh, I can’t take credit for all that. Just Helman.”

“What? How…? You were the only survivor.”

Murdoc waved a dismissive hand at Mac’s bewilderedness, “I didn’t waste my time on the guards; they weren’t in my way. Everyone was too busy shooting each other, even before lights went out, or the “critical system failure”. This could come back to bite me, but you might want to tell your new boss to be a little more careful about who he hires in the future.”

Power failure? Infighting?

Codex. Could they have orchestrated Murdoc’s escape? Why? They’d never successfully recruit him, even if they demanded him to repaid a debt. And despite his thrill for violence, he wouldn’t be a good fit. He doesn’t get along with people, and definitely wouldn’t care for saving the world, or complying with a shadowy leader’s orders. Too chaotic, cynical, independent--

“What’s the second thing? Hopefully, something more interesting like, ‘The next time we team up…’”

“Why haven’t you taken Cassian?”

Murdoc’s hands curled around the edge of the counter, his knuckles paling from the force. “I don’t know where he is. With Matilda’s knack for hiding things, and your dad’s connections, it’s difficult. But it’s only a matter of time.”

“No.”

“Don’t worry, I know you don’t know. They bring him to you. Smart.”

“Lie! You’re lying! And at this point. You think I don’t – This is important! Murdoc!”

Mac didn’t bother to hide his aggravation. He’d speculated, and come to a conclusion that hit hard, especially now that he was dealing with the loss of his own dad. He needed to hear it from Murdoc, even if it was a confirmation.

“You should be happy! You said yourself that the best thing I could ever do was get away from him! What, you think I wasn’t listening?! To any of that?? You didn’t give me much choice.”

“I know!” Murdoc’s eyelids did that twitch of sadness that absolutely killed him. “I know.” Mac blinked against the tears welling up.

He couldn’t take it back, couldn’t take back the fact that he’d gone along with the punishment of taking away Cassian’s visits, effectively leading to the destruction of the only good thing in Murdoc’s life. And he’d taken Murdoc away from Cassian, who still loved his dad, had good memories of him, and happily talked about him.

Mac understood now, that he’d ruined everything.

“It wasn’t just what you said...I saw how happy he was, and realized that I’ll have to be happy with watching from afar.”

“For the rest of his life?”

“People like me don’t get a happy ending. I’ll always be running, hiding in the shadows, until the day I die. I did that. I trapped myself, and I’m not going to destroy Cassian’s life too.”

“But he needs you. You’re a part of him.”

“Does it make you feel better to have your dad back in your life after all this time? Because it doesn’t seem like it, judging by your rocky relationship. Is it worth it to have to say goodbye twice? Three times? Every single time it doesn’t work out?”

A few tears escaped down Mac’s face. "Every effort counts. Every minute counts! Even if you think he’ll hate you. Even if he says he hates you!! It. Doesn’t. Matter. You can’t get time back. Show him you care! Tell him the truth if he asks! Maybe he’ll say he wants nothing to do with you, but at least then, when you die, maybe he’ll have less questions and regrets. Don’t abandon him! Don’t leave him to wonder what--”

Mac fought to keep his voice steady around the lump in his throat. "—what would’ve happened if you’d come back sooner." He clapped a hand over his mouth to hide his quivering lip.

Don’t cry in front of Murdoc. Don’t cry in front of Murdoc. Don’t cry--

Mac hugged Murdoc, burying his face into Murdoc's shoulder to stifle his sobs. He couldn’t handle seeing Murdoc’s disappointment at his intellectual equal, his foil, his desired companion, broken and weak, and hanging all over him. Pathetic.

Murdoc’s arms hesitantly wrapped around him, and in the most sincere tone Mac had ever heard him use, whispered, “I’m sorry.”

[eve6262]

that damned gal

There has only been one time in my life when I questioned things. It was when Lucy, the damned gal, asked me what the purpose was behind my purpose. And I couldn't answer, 'cause she'd told me before that if I'd answer God to any question she'd smack me silly, and I like Lucy.

So I had to question what the purpose was behind my purpose that God had, 'cause I couldn't just tell her only he knew. And I'm sure "because this is peace, and we're having fun, aren't we?" was the best answer I could come up with then, and thus is the best answer I could come up with now, because I haven't changed.

Lucy has. Those little dark wings of hers have become the size of a full vulture each, and she spends less time dancin' and playin' the violin, and most of it waxing something poetic 'bout the stars and the dark. I couldn't care less, to be honest, though I do wish sometimes I could hear those pretty strings along with those pretty vocal chords one more time.

Her eyes are always unfocused, too. Strange. Real damn strange. But I don't mind a bit.

What I do mind, and why I'm thinking about it now, is Lucy hangin' out with me less 'cause of this whole transformation. She backs away from me when we are sittin' at the same table, for God's sake, and doesn't seem to see the problem with sitting a damn foot away from the food.

Because a little less Lucy in my life is a little less luck, and a little less of a lovely lass I've love to kiss.

Should tell her that one. Oh, I'll flirt with her all the time; it's the only time she acts like she always used to. It's like a spell that was cast over her suddenly disappears, and she laughs and calls me a blind, fool ol' angel of a woman, and we'll both have a hearty chuckle and drink a bit o' whiskey.

My wings feel the wind and tell me where she is, instinctively. I can hear the ringing of my Blade in its sheath, and I cannot for the life of me fathom why. When I sense Lucy I feel happiness, and joy, and all those things that make you want to kiss and spin a woman 'till she's keeled over with laughter; when my Blade hears that it wants to scream to the heavens with blood.

"Live a little, will ya?" It comes out as a quiet whisper, because I have never been a silent woman, but nobody looks at me funny for it. 'Course, usually they save their weird looks for Lucy and I in front of the bar, wings folded up, lookin' too raucous for our divine- well, my divine, her hellish- bodies.

I'll tell you now- only way to get a partner is to have a hellish body. A heavenly body you don't want to desecrate- don't get in the bad graces of God, unless you already are- but a hellish one's got all the charm with none of the consequences.

Like gettin' drunk without a hangover. Thank God for this body, coincidentally, because I do not have to endure a headache ever in my life.

Lucy's sittin' on a cliffside, writing something, or maybe drawing. I can't tell from this far away. Her wings are halfway out; clearly I am invited if I feel so inclined.

And I am very much inclined, so I spread my wings and with a few moments I blot out the sun. She looks up at me, hovering in place, wings slowly moving more out of muscle memory than need. Magic's a beautiful thing.

"Takin' away my light. Need that to draw."

"Sorry, Lucy darlin'. Thought I could be that for ya."

For a moment, I think. I hadn't thought about it before, 'cause usually I don't consider things like this, but perhaps it's worth it here. I don't want to scare the dame off; no, I'd be beside myself with shame if I did that. Don't want to be too gentle 'bout it neither, though.

There's the laugh, again, the smile, the recklessness. "Come here, you old gal. I'll bet you didn't come up here to court me."

"How'd you know?"

"Oh, please. You know very well I've got a sense for these things."

"That you do. Got a question for ya, today."

"Do go on."

Lucy closes the sketchbook and daintily puts the pencil down. She turns completely to face me, her wings blocking away everything. Sure, I could look up or down, but the message and feeling is clear. This is private.

"Something spooking you 'bout me?"

"Now why would you think that?"

"Listen, I know you said you had your reasons, but nobody is goin' to sit a damn foot away from the table when there's some perfectly good potatoes sittin' on it."

"Ah...suppose I can't get away with that any longer."

"That you cannot."

"Very well. I'll explain, but promise me one thing."

"Yeah?"

"Don't get angry."

"Lucy. In all my years of living, the only thing I have ever gotten angry about is a third wrong order in a row- and maybe a couple o' bandits."

"Alright."

"You know well you're an angel. You know well I'm a devil. These things don't mix, Lora, I- I know you're not your average angel who sees a demon and thinks "well, that doesn't belong in my town." I know that. But the light scares me sometimes- more than that. Takes my dark away, and I can't live without my dark, much as I'd love to live in your light."

She closes her eyes and simply breathes for a minute, possibly waiting for a response, possibly making another sentence. Her hair drapes over her skin- always the color of unfired porcelain, even when she's been out in the sun all day. Love her like that, no matter what.

Her wings start to move, and I start to speak.

Before she can get another word out I pull on the gem acting as a clasp for my sword's scabbard. It comes off like butter, and then absorbs the rest into it; a nice little package of fight, all in one little blue crystal. Shove that into my pocket- not gonna toss this little one away, not in a million years- and look up at her.

"Lucy, I think you know damn well by now I love you. If you haven't- well, I'll be impressed, say the least. And I think you know damn well if you just tell me this kinda thing, I'll put that light away, thank you very much."

"Wha- What do you mean put it away, you're an an-"

She stays still for a moment, then smiles something small. Something precious, something genuine, something pretty. Used to think I liked her reckless smile the most; this is better. Thousand damn leagues better.

"So come to me next time you're feeling this type o' way, yeah?"

"You didn't have to do that for me-"

"Lucy, I think I've already once professed my undying love for you, so don't go thinkin' I won't be botherin' myself to make you just a bit more comfortable."

Her mouth moves in surprise for just a moment; then she's laughing, and her right wing- facing the town- is open again, covering us both.

She folds her wings back, still smiling.

"Thanks. And the same for you, you know."

"Really? Might I ask for something then?"

"Of course. What is it?" She looks at me, intense and curious with a lil' bit of purity, and I know I've caught her on the hook.

"I'd be real comfortable if you gave me a kiss right now and secured this little relationship right here."

"Damned horny angel. Never seen one in my life, 'cept you. Of course I'll give you a kiss, you old gal."

And when we kiss, her lips taste like honey and a little bit of sulfur. Just the way I like it.

~~

written while listening to Pepper Steak from OFF. how that OST is such a bop all these years later I’ll never understand.

[willieloomissavescollinsport]

Hawkes Harbor Review

"Surely, Louisa, you are not suggesting I take Jamie to Disneyland."

After a bestselling author's work is rejected, in a move of irony & karma, Dark Shadows finds ITSELF the subject of plagiarism. And now, brought to you by the letter 'H', here is my review of Hawkes Harbor by S.E. Hinton.

  As the legends go, the novel 'Hawkes Harbor' was originally intended to be an entry in publishers HarperCollins' Dark Shadows series. What changes were made to the storyline & characters afterwards are hard to pinpoint, but for all pretense and purposes, I chose to read this book while mentally changing each character or location to its DS counterpart:

Jamie Sommers..........Willie Loomis Kellen Quinn............Jason McGuire Grenville Hawkes...Barnabas Collins Dr. Louisa Kahne...Dr. Julia Hoffman Sophia Marie........................Josette Katie Roddendem........Maggie Evans Richard..................................Roger Lydia.................................Elizabeth Ricky.....................................David Barbara...............................Carolyn Hawkes Harbor.................Collinsport Hawkes Hall......................Old House Terrace View....................Wyndcliffe

  This comes in handy mostly because, with the exception of the 3 male leads, not many details are given regarding the other individuals mentioned in passing or who enter the storyline from time to time.

  The plot itself more or less follows Willie's storyline early on the show, with some added details & flashback accounts to his time spent with Kellen/Jason, along with a few other changes. For starters, Jamie gets more tail in a chapter of this book than Willie could ever hope to get throughout his entire run on the show. He gets it on with a rich bitch who scratches his back up; with Katie/Maggie, IMMEDIATELY after Grenville/Barnabas kidnaps her; with two girls on a cruise ship, at the same time. Hell, even the book's equivalent of Nurse Jackson climbs into bed with him to give him a pity handjob.

Whereas onscreen, I think Willie only got as far as copping a feel while holding Maggie hostage.

  And as I mentioned before, there are rather large sections of the book devoted to Jamie/Willie's backstory, which had previously been unexplored in the show's official canon. The story begins by showing Jamie/Willie, an out of wedlock child with a dying mother, being placed in an orphanage at the age of 7. There, his mother's heirloom crucifix necklace is taken away from him, hinting at his future fascination with shiny trinkets. In his adulthood, he enlists in the Navy & later befriends Kellen/Jason after defeating two Hawaiian men in a brawl.

  For the years to follow, Kellen & Jamie primarly travel together on the high seas, makin' cons, makin' scams & fightin' round the world. During the course of their adventures: Jamie is accused of rape by a rich heiress who seduced him; Kellen tells a story where the punchline involves a frozen sausage; and the two are robbed by pirates while a shark attacks Jamie as he dives for a ruby.

After their resources are dried out, the duo end up back in the states in the town of Hawkes Harbor, Delaware/Collinsport, Maine. Which, of course, is where these characters were introduced on Dark Shadows. But since this isn't suppose to be a Dark Shadows novel, some of the details have been mixed around. For starters, instead of Kellen being Lydia/Elizabeth's husband's two-timing friend, HE is her husband. They were married overseas while Lydia/Elizabeth was working as a nurse for the war. After the marriage went sour, Kellen took a buyout to produce a death certificate, vanish & allow her to go back to her family as a widow.

  Posing as the brother of Lydia's late husband, Kellen moves into the grand family mansion & collects clothes & money while Jamie stays at a boarding house nearby. There, he befriends one of the workers: Katie Roddendem/Maggie Evans, as well as her little sister Trisha(/Amy, perhaps?) & their mother, Mrs Pivens (who seems to be playing the role of Mrs Johnson, as evidenced by this line: "Well, my landlady, Mrs Pivens, she liked me. Don't ask me why-'cept she had a son around my age, he turned out bad. I guess she wanted to believe guys like us were good, deep down somewhere.") Ricky Hawkins/David also forms a bond with Jamie & later tells him of buried pirate treasures located in the caves of a nearby island, said to be haunted.

  With just that information to go on, Jamie foolishly goes a treasure huntin' & unchains a coffin revealing vampire Grenville Hawkes/Barnabas Collins. Grenville, who's sounds more like a chain of motels than a scary vampire, puts Jamie under his power & to work on restoring Hawkes Hall/Old House. Now, it is worth mentioning that some changes were made to Grenville, from the Barnabas we all know & love/hate. Most notably, Jamie describes him as being around the age of 50, with no trying to pretend that the middle aged vampire was 25 when confined in a coffin. In addition, Grenville has had *gasp* MULTIPLE wives! One of which produced an offspring named William, which is perhaps a nod to the our protagonist's original name. Guess William also dodged a bullet in that he wasn't named Bramwell.

  Some time after Gren's first wife passes on, he marries a young woman by the name of Sophia Marie/Josette. Soon afterwards, Grenville finds himself turned into one of the living dead. Sophia/Josette is all too anxious to join him in being eternally damned, but unfortunately for her, Bizarro-Barnabas will have none of that & decides chokes a bitch instead. Fast forward a few centuries and Grenville spots Katie/Maggie & makes up his mind that he wants Sophia/Josette to be a bloodsucking creature of the night after all! But here's where it gets WEIRD.

  Instead of slowly brainwashing Katie into believing she IS Sophia, he plans to have Sophia's spirit, who just happens to be hanging around Hawkes Hall for no good reason, inhabit her body. I guess just like in 'Ghost', when Patrick Swayze jumps into Whoopi Goldberg or something. So, Gren attacks Katie & leaves her alone in the Hawkes Hall long enough for Jamie to find her, allowing THIS exchange to take place:

"Jamie," she said suddenly. "Make love to me." "W-w-what?" he stammered, drawing back from her, searching her eyes. "Make love to me. Now."

  Yep, you've only got mere moments to escape, but why not do the nasty instead? I mean, it's not like an angry jealous killer vampire could walk in at any second or anything! Actually you know what? If I didn't believe it was impossible, I think Willie Loomis himself wrote this book. That's right, after hearing about his parallel time self being a famous writer, he thought to himself 'Well, why can't I do that?' And then he proceeded to write a thinly disguised biography of his life, giving everyone a different name & changing the events to the way he thought they SHOULD have happened!

Oh & here's another kicker, Katie/Maggie claims to be a virgin. Ha! Yeah, I know Joe is always shown sleeping on the couch in the show, but I've figured that was because Sam had a short fuse & a shotgun handy amidst his paintbrushes, just in case someone dared to lay a finger on his daughter. Trust me, if Maggie's a virgin, then Carolyn's in the freakin' convent. So Katie is saying that she wants her first roll in the hay to be with pretty boy Jamie instead of Count Hawkins. Actually I wonder if Grenville is even capable of performing such an act. Usually vampires in popular culture are as dead below the waist as the rest of their bodies, & Barnabas never seemed to be any exception. Sure he was interested in anything under 30 with a vagina who walked within his line of vision. But as a vampire, he never showed an interest in sinking anything except his fangs into a young lady.

  But, getting back to our story. Jamie & Katie are engaging in some fluffy coitus. They kiss, they cry, they climax together. Cherubs come down from the heavens & sing. Then Grenny shows up & doesn't seem to show any reaction to the fact that some hard core nookie just took place in that very room. But no matter to that, because Grenville has to deliver some corny dialogue to his sweetie:

  "Come, my heart, " the low voice beseeched the air. "Come and join me."

  "All right!" (All right! Let's get this party started!) Jamie shouted as he struggled back up. "You go ahead and do this, kill Katie, I can't stop you. I seen people kill before-for money, God, or country, and you with your 'necessity for existence.' I even did it myself once. But don't you call it love! This isn't love!"

  After that speech, I half expected Jamie to break out into song, but instead Sophia Marie talks through Katie, forming a ghostly glow over her body. The lovers embrace, kiss, cry, the cherubs come back for an encore & Sophia Marie/Josette basically tells Grenville that although she loves him, they can't really be together like this. A ghost & a vampire together? Might make for a decent mid season replacement sitcom, but doesn't lend itself to being very practical for real life.

  So with Katie now useless, Grenville tells Jamie to get rid of her. Maybe he just meant to dump her in the trashcan out back for pickup, but Jamie takes Katie & runs for the hills. And who should see them on their way, but a Sheriff Patterson/Joe Haskell hybrid known as Mitch Morgan. To make matters worse, Katie is Mitch's main squeeze & she's been missing for awhile. Mighty Mitch takes aim & Jamie gets 3 bullets in his back, as opposed to Super-Willie who recieved FIVE & recovered in record time!

  From there, Jamie is taken to a criminal insane ward & later transferred to Terrace View/Wyndcliffe under the request of Grenville & Dr. Louisa Kahne/Dr. Julia Hoffman. This is where the majority of the story takes place in the forms of flashbacks & remembrances while a physician named Dr. McDevitt conducts therapy sessions with Jamie. Which is an affective tool for storytelling, but I wouldn't really buy as being able to take place. Think about it. Would Julia really allow anyone to ask Willie questions, taking the risk that he might reveal something? Frankly, I've always imagined Willie as being kept heavily medicated & isolated in his room while at Wyndcliffe.

Oh, & while it's not even brought up until much later in the novel, you should know that, much like on the show, Kellen/Jason became worm food some time before Jamie got shot. Worse yet, instead of Grenville merely using Barnabas's trusted M.O. of strangling someone to death, here Grenville drinks all the blood from Kellen's body. And then orders Jamie to stake his friend to prevent him from rising as a vampire. Adding yet another thing to give Jamie nightmares at night.

  After several months of being at Terrace View/Wyndcliffe, in following the storyline of Dark Shadows, Jamie/Willie is released into the care of Grenville & Dr. Louisa Kahne/Dr. Julia Hoffman, against the wishes of Dr. McDevitt. Grenville is magically now 99.9% vampire free but it's still alluded to that he needs shovels for misdeeds, which are never fully explained in detail. Meanwhile, Jamie has become the Boo Radley of Hawkes Harbor, with small children throwing rocks at him. And on top of that, from his ordeal & time spent in the institution, he's become greatly addicted to prescription drugs.

  Following Jamie accidentally ODing on his pills, Louisa/Julia finally gets it through her thick wig that Jamie just may have problems & observes he's likely suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Although since this takes place in 1968 & that term will not be conceived until 1973, I guess Louisa took some trips to the future that we didn't know about. She suggests that Grenville should take him someplace to relax while he is gradually reduced from his meds, to which he reacts with this line:

  "Surely, Louisa, you are not suggesting I take Jamie to Disneyland."

  Oh man, I'd pay good money to see Barnabas & Willie in Disneyland! Can you imagine it? Within the first 24 hours, Willie will have beaten up Goofy & been banned for life from Mr. Toad's Wild Ride while Barnabas has already made plans to kidnap Snow White & turn her into his new Josette!

But unfortunately for us, Louisa/Julia has other plans in mind.

  "Richard was saying..." she began. His look warned her he had little interest in what his cousin had to say, but she went on. "The Collins shipping industry needed to look into passenger cruises. They are the wave of the future-You know Roger and his puns."

(That above line is NOT a typo, by the way. For two sentences they let the names 'Collins' & 'Roger' slip through without changing them!)

  "No," Grenville said. "No."   "Of course he offered to go. But you could investigate for yourself. And it's not unusual for a man of your position and background to travel with a valet."

  So, Grenville & Jamie are off to the high seas in a high class cruise ship. Jamie manages to come down off his drug dependency while he spends his vacation having nonstop threesome with 2 babes who hang on him like bark on a tree. Grenville also finds time to cheat on Louisa/Julia score with an older lady by the name of Leslie while on board. This leads to another quotable line:

  "So Grenville," Jamie said conversationally, "yours give good head?"

Greetings from Commodore Cruise Line! Wish you were here. Love, Jamie.

  Yep, Jamie/Willie & Grenville/Barnabas discussing oral sex. An area most fan fiction writers wouldn't even dare venture towards. But all good things must come to an end, including the boy's pleasure cruise & they return to Hawkes Harbor with Jamie greatly improved & more confident in himself. In time, he becomes a productive member of society, working odd jobs & donating his services to schools & charities.

  The book then flashes forward 10 years where Jamie has become Harvey Lacey & lives a content comfortable life with his former captor. That Christmas, Grenville 'Last of the Big Time Spenders' Hawkins gives him a quilt. Jamie gets to enjoy it for exactly one night before a deer crashes into the car while he's driving Grenville home. He dies moments later & meets Kellen/Jason in heaven. Kellen claims that Jamie's act of lighting a candle & saying a prayer, allowed him into a much less fiery accommodation in the afterlife, but personally I think he just had some dirt on God & blackmailed his way through the pearly gates. The two sail off into the sunset of the great beyond. The End.

  So that's the book. It has its pros & its cons, but it actually might have been much better if released as originally written, with the characters' names, places & events as we know them still intact. If you are familiar with Dark Shadows, it's impossible not to associate the book with it & become annoyed with some of the changes. While if you're NOT acquainted with the show, you're very likely to read the novel not being completely clear of the characters' personalities or motivations. It's really a no win situation.

  In general, I like the way Jamie is written. But I think he's made out to be too much of a Gary Stu in some parts of the book. For one thing, Jamie is written as being primarily well liked by anyone he comes across, whereas this is certainly not the case for Willie. Early on, he insults & gets into fights with nearly anyone he meets. Jamie acts as an older brother towards Ricky & Trisha while Willie is mostly seen just throwing David's ass out of the Old House. The character of Katie is deeply fond of Jamie, going as far to name one of her sons after him. Regarding Maggie & Willie, early on she deeply despises him as he continually comes on to her, even when she makes it perfectly clear that she is not interested. After he is shot & she comes to believe in his innocence, her feeling towards him becomes one of friendship. But it's still more of a commiserative manner rather than romantic as Willie would like to believe. Often her interactions with him come off as if she's dealing with a child or slow minded adult.

  And in turn, I think many of the secondary characters seem to have been made less likable, perhaps to make Jamie even more of the hero. The Hawkeses are described in brief as simply a family of rich snobs. Richard/Roger has to be taken to detox clinics, Barbara/Carolyn gets involved in one scandle after another. Granted the Collins themselves were far from perfect, but never near the level of arrogant highbrows as they are presented here as the Hawkeses.

  Dr. Louisa Kahne is also written as a very flawed individual. In addition to being extremely controlling towards Jamie, it is mentioned by Dr. McDevitt that Louisa barely has any medical training or knowedge & yet goes around acting as a doctor. And while I'm not gonna defend Julia's treatment of Willie which ranges from small acts of kindness to being a complete bitch, I think it's unfair to quickly write her up as an unqualified quack. Her Doctor Feelgood reputation of passing out sedatives like Halloween candy precedes her, but Julia has been shown treating vampirism & creating an artifical person, & seems able to handle whatever injury or emergency is thrown at her on a daily basis.

But while we're on the subject of the Queen of Barbiturates, I do want to discuss a subject which I thought the book did well in covering. Which is in dealing with Jamie's health & mental state. On Dark Shadows, after Willie is shot enough times to kill a person two times over & regains consciousness from his coma, he is shown as being in a great amount of pain. And furthermore, he appears to have undergone a complete mental breakdown. Showing signs of amnesia (whether genuine or as a protective defense), he seems to have regressed to his state after being attacked by Barnabas, begging for it not to be dark & for no one to hurt him.

  When we next see Willie a few months later at Wyncliffe, he claims to be physically strong as ever, but is still showing occasional signs of delusions, bad decisions, as well as sparks of his old mean demeanor that was repressed after being bitten. Miraculously, following his release, his mental state actually seems to improve over time, even while he is seen getting thrown into one dangerous situation after another. This I've always found hard to believe, especially considering Willie's parental caregivers rarely give him a thought of concern at all.

Willie: (After being forced to dig up a corpse & bring it back to the Old House) "You know, every time I touched it I felt sick. When I came back here I couldn't even go to sleep. I put it down here & I went to my room & I just lay there, Barnabas!" Barnabas: "Well, next time Julia will give you a sedative."

  Yeah, I don't find it hard to picture Willie becoming dependent on painkillers & tranquilizers with his environment or the health problems that would come from 5 bullets in the back. But by this point, Willie mainly served as a background character, carrying out duties for Barnabas & Julia, with limited insight into his own personal life, or lack thereof. After all, what reason did the writers have to give his character a story arc of his own, when the viewers seemed content with watching Barnabas repeatedly pine on a lost love or mope over his vampire state?

  But that's where its the viewer's job to watch, observe, read between the lines & ponder the untapped stories, feelings & adventures for characters who remain a mystery. And for that, despite some of the book's shortcomings, S.E. Hinton has done a respectable job in trying to make the reader better understand the character of Willie Loomis. Or Jamie Sommers, as she chooses to call him. Or if nothing else, I'm at least thankful that the author wanted to give Willie his moment in the spotlight.

[theshmeepking]

4/14/2019

D--> Jesus Christ what did I just spend the last twelve hours of my life doing? I never knew I had such power running through me. Neigh, such STRENGTH. After all these years, I have gained the ability to binge! So, allow me to give some than% to the people who have driven me this far.

D--> To all of my Homestuck friends who have never actually read the webcomic: I don’t blame you. The journey is e%tremely perilous and it takes more dedication than most people can muster. But allow me to say this: before today, I lacked the ability to binge anything. Considering I’m currently plowing through two shows with nearly 350 episodes combined on top of this, it is honestly doing me more bad than good. However, I managed this. I literally just spent the majority of the past twelve hours reading a webcomic some of you have refused to even touch. Now, I’m one of those people who try to refrain from indulging in a fandom before indulging in its source material. I’ve probably said this before, but I feel the need to say it again. There have been e%eptions, but not many. Even then, I at least dabble in some of the source material before interacting with its fandom in any way. I’m not saying I’m disappointed in you. E%cept I am. I’m disappointed in you. If I can do this, I believe you can too. Especially if you can binge things. I know it’s a major drag at first, but it gradually gets more interesting with time. I’d rather have that than something that starts great and progressively gets worse and worse. All I’m trying to say is that if I can do it, you have no excuses. Unless you do. I mean it might be boring but at least give it a shot guys.

D--> To all of the people who can binge things: I was so privy to your ways. I feel that the e%perience genuinely makes it more interesting. I mean, nothing’s really changed but you don’t find yourself stopping and coming back later only to realize you’ve forgotten pretty much everything you’ve read. I guess it’s not so much better as it is easier to follow. So I suppose easier is the better term here. Regardless, I think I have a newfound understanding now. It’s not that I didn’t understand before, but I just couldn’t figure out just how you did it. I tried and failed multiple times, even with Homestuck. What changed? Why was I unable to do this before? Alas, I do not know. What I do know is that I am a new shmeep who is now able to plow through multiple pages/chapters/episodes/whatever whenever I please. I thank you all for your wisdom and helping me find my untapped binge potential. I will never forget your teachings.

D--> It’s trivial, I know, but for some reason, I’m really proud of myself for what I’ve accomplished today, even if it’s really not that important. A part of me felt bad for not having finished the comic by now, but another part just wanted me to challenge myself. Recently I’ve been trying to get myself to binge things more, but due to a busy schedule popping up out of nowhere, I’ve kind of been putting it off. Now that I actually knew the significance of 413, I figured that’d be a good time to push my limits and put my abilities to the test. When I later realized this 413 would be Homestuck’s tenth anniversary, that only served to fuel my devotion. Now that I’ve succeeded in binge reading an unusually large number of pages, I feel a tinge of pride within myself, even if I didn’t really get anything done today. So to Homestuck: thanks. I may not have been with you for all ten of those years, but the few years i have been here have been pretty great. Even considering all of the horror stories I’ve heard about your fandom, what little I’ve seen of it has actually been pretty nice. I mean, pretty nice pretty much just means they’ve yet to spoil anything for me, but in all honesty that’s better than i can say for most fandoms I’m in.

D--> Now, to tally the page count, which I have purposely kept ambiguous this whole time because why the hell not.

D--> Today’s progress:

D--> Starting page: 5309

D--> Ending page: 6299

D--> Total pages read: 990

D--> Rough total of hours spent reading: 12

D--> Shmeeps who are proud for being crazy enough to spend twelve hours reading nearly a thousand pages of a webcomic: 1

[cargoshortsenjoyer]

“Memories.” He lets out a raspy laugh and flings his head back, palms hitting the damp floor he’s sitting on behind him,“The little juices in your skull that torment you until you die. You get a nice one every while, but it’s just to keep you from killing yourself before it kills you.” 

“I...” The small boy - or was it a short man? - tugged at a bit of hair behind his head, “I like memories. They’re soothing.”

A pause. Then howling laughter.

“That’s ridiculous!” The old man coughs out phlegm flying onto his hand, “Why would anyone - especially someone like you - remember when you can forget? And forget so easily?” The man holds up a liquid that’s in a whiskey bottle but most certainly isn’t alcohol. It has muted green fog rising up out of it and smells like if sadness and odd numbers had a hate-child. 

The old man takes a swig, then offers some to the man-boy. He declines. 

“No, thank you,” He wipes sweat from his brow; he needs to get out of there, “I know what that stuff can do to a person...I think.”

“Do you know it’s a godsend?” He asks, “Or do you ignore everything everyone says except for your boyfriend?” 

The boy-man blushes. “N-no! He’s just my friend!” Then he added with shame, “Was. And I do to listen to other people!”

“Of course you do, my mistake. But who now?” The silky smooth of his voice drastically contradicted the manner the old man was just speaking in. The sudden proper-ness of it catches the boy-man off guard. The old man takes in the boy-man’s surprise and finishes the last of his beverage off, tossing it to the side. Littering.

Littering.

The boy-man breaks the silence. “I like some memories. But the bad ones teach me lessons, so they all serve a purpose!” He adds a whisper, “I need them all.”

“To torture yourself? Ha! No thanks.” He crosses his arms, “You don’t deserve his lessons, trust me.”

“I...” The boy-man thinks for a second. “What led ya to this?”

The man seems taken aback by this. “What?”

“You used to be a respected sheriff. Why did you do it?” He gestures to the old man’s clothes. “You haven’t showered in years, probably, and you have the gut of someone who never eats anything ‘cept beer! Why?”

And cloud of grey suddenly moves over the old-man’s face.

“Why did you let your leader control you?” He scoffs, a dark, cold glare burning holes into the boy’s eyes. The boy-man looks away quickly, which leads to a, “Coward. I guess that’s my answer.”

“Wha-what?” The boy-man holds his arms around his waist; he didn’t even realize he was shivering.

The old man gets up, leaning on a steel bar to help support his weight. He looks out through the many openings, just big enough to tease you into thinking you might be able to get out, but too small in the end. He stares out the window that sits above the desk and into the world and society he can never again be apart of. The boy sitting behind him thinks the same thing as he gets up, much faster, and leans against the bars in an attempt to see better squishing his face in the process. If he’s an adult, he’s an odd one. 

“I mean that he controlled everything you two did.” The old man sighs, looking down, “And now you can barely hold eye-contact without crying. And Antonio is dead.”

The truth cut through the small boy-man like a knife. He grips the bars as hard as he can, and cries through gritted teeth, trying to do it as silently as possible, like so many times before. The old man pats him awkwardly on the back.

“I know. I just wish I could see his face one more time.” A dark sheen took his eyes, “Then I’ll kill him like he did your friend and so many others.”

“If you even remember.” The boy-man felt something he wasn’t used to tugging in his stomach. It wasn’t anxiety, no, it was something harder to shatter him open. He felt empty, all cried out for once in his life. He leaned up against the bars, no more energy left. He could hardly keep his eyelids open. The young man’s words came out cold and harsh.

“I don’t. But I’m creative; I’ll think of something.” The old man looks at his cell-mate, “Oh. You finally broke. Welcome to where I’ve been.”

Hopeless silence.

“I’m sorry, you know that?”

“I do.” So cold, and not the temperature. Not entirely. “I am to.”

[cognito-ergo-creo]

Rained In

[[In which these two dumbasses say so many words to each other.]]

“Damn,” Ashei sighed on the second day. He leaned against one wall of the cave, watching the rain. “Would you call this is a typhoon or a monsoon?”  

The storm had not caught them off guard. In fact, it had rolled in slowly, darkening the sky for several days in warning. It had given them enough time to find somewhere to take shelter that was big enough for the two of them, the cart, his horse, her boar, with room to spare. To be on the safe side, they had ventured deep into the cave until they were satisfied that there was nothing else already in residence that would take offense to them being there. Still, the two of them performed their own protective rites to keep their little campsite safe.  

And then the rain came like it had been waiting for them to get settled.

And it came like it hadn’t rained in years.

And it came some more.

For the first day and a half, they had managed to entertain themselves by taking the time to finally sort through their gear and other general cart-keeping. They mended what needed to be mended, sharpened what needed to be sharpened, and made a firm and final pile of what they no longer needed to hold on to. The animals got groomed. The people got groomed. They cleaned the cave. Their bedroll moved around the camp no less than seven times, and got more stuffing added (and removed) twice.  

By the second day, Ashei was, to put it simply, bored out of his mind.

Maj leaned against him, having set her book down by the campfire some time ago. “Don’t think we’re near enough to the coast for it to be a typhoon, and monsoons are more wind than this. So, neither. It’s just a big ol’ storm.”

“Huh.” Thunder rolled in the distance. “You piss off any storm elementals then?” He nudged her playfully. She snorted and nudged him back.

“Not recently, no. C’mon, you’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes. If you haven’t willed the rain away by now, I’m sorry to tell you but you’re not a storm mage.”

“That’s heartbreaking. I’m heartbroken.”

“I know you are, honey. But you had to find out one day, and you’re starting to drive me crazy. Let’s play cards or something.” Maj took hold of the arm that had wrapped itself around her shoulders and pulled on Ashei as she spoke. He resisted by pulling her back to his side.

“I don’t wanna play cards with you! You cheat!”

“So do you!”

They played cards. Despite his better judgement, they played with her deck. They counted wins by trading pebbles and other debris back and forth, and he was winning. Based on the size of her smirk after another loss, she was letting him win to prove a point.  

“You’re cheating! You’re cheating right now! I know you are. Who uses magic to lose?” He threw his cards down, disrupting their carefully stacked piles of winnings.

Maj laughed and rescued her cards from the ground. “Well, it’s not magic, I’ll tell you that much. You know I can’t do magic on my own, and Vee wouldn’t waste his time with card tricks.” Ashei hated it when she talked about her book like a person. She shuffled the deck as she continued. “There’s a little bit of counting involved, but mainly I know what cards are in play by the backs. Each one is slightly different, so I memorized them.”

“That doesn’t explain how you change your whole hand. I’ve seen you do that.”

“I have my ways.” She did a trick with the cards.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what they are?” Ashei asked after several long seconds passed in silence.

“Why? A lady’s gotta have some secrets.”

“’Cause I know you wanna tell me about it.”

Maj stuck her tongue out at Ashei. He chuckled and returned the gesture.  

“You’re right, it’s pretty clever and I’m proud of myself for coming up with it. The fronts of my cards are decorated with little transmutation circles. If I rub a certain component on my fingers before I play, I can touch one of those places and change its appearance. It’s pretty straight forward.”

“I don’t know, stuffing your sleeves with cards sounds like a more straight forward way to cheat.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Absolutely not.” He made a show of shaking out his sleeves. A card fell out. It wasn’t one of hers. “I have no idea how that got there.”

They both laughed, the sound echoing against the walls of the cave and rivaling the sounds of the storm for a few moments. Once they calmed down, they were left with the problem of finding something else to do. With eyebrows wiggling like they had a life of their own, Ashei proposed a more... physical way to pass the time. Maj declined his offer; she didn’t want the animals watching, and it would ruin the mood to know they were out in the rain. Neri and Pappy seemed to sigh in relief. Ultimately, they decided on playing more cards, but with Ashei’s untampered with deck.

“Let’s play a new game. I’m thinking Truth or Lies, but with cards. Loser of each hand has to tell the winner about a story and the winner has to guess if it’s true or not. It can’t be a story you’ve told me before.”

“Isn’t that a drinking game?”

“Well, now it’s a card game.”

“A story I haven’t told you before, huh?” Ashei nodded as Maj got into her most comfortable slouch. “I feel like you’re making these rules up to bully me. What do I get if I guess right?”

“A kiss!” He wiggled his eyebrows again. “No, I don’t know. The thrill of being right? The rest of the story?”

“Let’s go with the rest of the story. Now deal the cards, Ponytail.”

After discussing what game use as the skeleton of their new game, they played. Ashei lost the first round after an embarrassingly short amount of time.  

“Ouch, that hurt. Okay. First story.” He scratched at the stubble that was already trying to take control over his face as he thought. “I’ve got it! Once, in a storm much like this one, I had to leap across a river while carrying—”

“—I’ve met Teo.” Maj cut him off. “Getting caught cheating this early isn’t a good sign for you.”

Ashei grinned, putting his hands up in defeat. He dealt the cards again, maybe bending luck a little more to his side as he did so. Maj lost the next two hands in a row. She sighed and leveled a look that could wilt vegetation at Ashei. Ashei grinned wider in response and waited.

“Alright, here’s a school story: I had my own room, but I slept in the library most of the time.”  

A simple statement, with none of her typical vigor or gestures. “I think that’s a lie,” said Ashei after a brief deliberation.

Maj’s face split into a smug smirk. “Nope, it’s true. I was so young they didn’t want to stick me in the regular dorms, and having me room with a professor was—no. Out of the question. So. I got my own little room. Jasper still thinks it used to be a broom closet, but it was fine for me. ‘Cept I wasn’t used to sleeping on my own. It was too quiet, so the library it was. It was busier and cleaner than the dining room; folks in there all hours of the day. Just knowing there were other people around was enough for me to relax enough to sleep.”

She lost her second hand.

“Fucker.” She sighed. “How about another Baby Maji story? I scared Ruben so bad that he went off and became a member of the clergy.”

Ashei snorted his drink. “W—which one is Ruben?”

“One up from me.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that that happened.” He shifted to get more comfortable, foot brushing against her leg. “What happened?”

“Ruben told Mica and Mica told me, so it’s a third-hand story, but I guess it’s true. Neither of them are much for embellishing tales. The two of us—Ruben and me—used to share a room before I left, and since no one ever took the second bed out of his room, it’s where I stayed when I came back for term breaks and holidays. This happened when I was like, eight, maybe? Which would have made him,” she paused, trying to place her brothers’ ages in relation to hers, “fourteen or fifteen.  

“Apparently what happened was he woke up in the middle of the night one night ‘cause he heard something like whispering, or rustling, or something dragging. It was a noise that had no business being in our bedroom, whatever it was. So he rolled over and opened his eyes, and saw me, talking in a language he couldn’t understand to something he couldn’t see... except for the huge black shadow that was on the wall behind me, even though there wasn’t enough light for there to have been a shadow. And then I looked over at him, and my eyes were glowing. He was so scared he couldn’t even scream.  

“He packed his bags at the very ass crack of dawn the next day. He didn’t leave for a few weeks, but he wouldn’t even pass through the same room as me.” Maj scratched the back of her neck and shrugged, signifying the end of the story.  

Ashei tapped his foot against her leg again, this time on purpose. “Your eyes do kinda glow in the dark, you know.”  

On second thought, glowing implied that they produced light. Her eyes just reflected light at the right angles, like a raccoon’s. Or an opossum. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snickering at the comparison. But oh, how comforting he had started to find it when he woke up in the middle of the night and found eyes shining in the dark.

Maj’s shrug and demand to take over as dealer shook Ashei out of his tangent. He passed the deck over with little ceremony. He had been cheating, after all, but so did she. It was with very little surprise that he lost the round that Maj dealt him in retaliation.

“Fair enough. When I was still in the monastary, one of the boys I shared a room with and I decided to put glue into one of the ink bottles of our least favorite Brother.”

“Did you get caught?”

“I didn’t.”

“Bullshit, you didn’t get caught!”

“Well,” he dragged the word out, “I, me, did not get associated with the crime. The other boy did eventually get found out.”

“Oh, I see—”

“—Which is also when I found out I could take hits for other people without physically putting myself in front of them.” He cracked his knuckles to have something to do with his hands. “They weren’t exactly gentle with us there. But I guess when you’re trying to train up holy warriors, why would you be gentle with them?”

“Ashei, what the fuck?”

“It’s a useful feat to have though, taking damage for other people. I’m glad to have it! Really.”

“I ain’t glad you have it. That’s fucked up.”

“What do you mean it’s fucked up?”

“I mean, I wish you’d quit doing it to me. I don’t feel pain anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“Maj—not feeling pain isn’t the same as not being injured—”  

“—I’ll still be fine, it’s—”

“It isn’t “fine” for you, I’m—Maisie—D—did you miss the part where I’m literally a holy warrior?”

“No, I got that, Sir Paladin, what I’m sayin’ is,” she slapped her chest for emphasis, “I’m pretty fucking resilient, so we’ll both be fine if you never pull that shit like with the axe again.”

“You’re talking about that damn ballista again, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!”

“Okay, well, listen, okay. Normal people aren’t usually fine after taking an entire fucking ballista bolt through the chest—”

“That’s my whole point! I was fine! I ain’t nor—”

“—And I’m still going to do my best to protec—”

“--How do you know I’m not some kinda holy warrior too, huh? I—”

A clap of thunder like a mountain being dropped on top of their cave accompanied a flash of lighting so close it bathed the inside of their shelter in bright white light. All of the hair on their arms and legs and everywhere else stood on end from the sheer power of the storm. The animals screamed.  

Silence sat in the cave like another camper until the last echoes of thunder grumbled into the distance.

“I…. I guess that’s how you know I’m not a holy warrior.” Maj said once she found her voice.  

Ashei took a moment longer to catch his breath before laughing. Maj joined in not long after. They laughed until they cried, clutching their stomachs and gasping for breath. They each tried to speak several times before dissolving back into uncontrollable laughter at the face of the other. Once again, Maj was the first to be able to form coherent words.

“My point,” she said through chattering teeth, “I had a point.”

“Okay,” Ashei supplied helpfully from where he was laid out on the floor.

“I was trying to say that I’m not asking you to not have my back. I want you to have my back, and I want to have yours. But I also want you to keep yourself in mind too. Does that even make sense? I just can’t stand seeing someone I love all beat to hell like that and know it’s—”  

“Wait—”

“—all—”

oh no

“—did you just—”

“—my—”  

Her blood simultaneously began to boil and turn to ice as her brain started to catch up with her mouth. Ashei sat up fast enough to give himself a head rush.

“...fault.” She ended weakly.  

Ashei had scooted closer to her, close enough to reach out and touch her, but he kept his hands to himself.

“Did you just say you love me?” He sounded breathless, and not just from laughing.  

Maj couldn’t look at him. She was still staring wide-eyed into the middle distance as she reeled with the realization of what she had said.

“Like, love-love?” He pressed gently. Ashei held his breath until Maj nodded, face firmly hidden in her hands. “Since when?”

Maj groaned and gave an answer to her hands. Ashei waited with patience he didn’t know he had until she scrubbed at her face that was so red it looked painful, blush running from her face, to her ears, and down her chest. Ashei opened his arms to her for a hug. She slunk over to hide her face in his chest, despite the fact that he was the entire reason for her embarrassment.  

“Since that boat ride we took last year.” She sighed like a creature with lungs twice her size. “You were terrified of being out at sea, but you didn’t let it get in your way. You still acted up and played with the crew to make sure they liked us the whole time. The easiest way to keep up safe was staying on their good side. No one noticed how much your hands shook when you weren’t holding something, or how much teeth your smile showed.

“And then, gods, we had to sleep sitting up the whole time because—”

“—because the bunks were too tiny for us to lay together, but we couldn’t just sleep separately,” Ashei remembered that trip vividly.  

“Yeah,” Maj laughed into his shirt, still refusing to meet his eyes. “That’s when we learned how needy we both are. But we survived the boat somehow, and we made it to land, and you held it together long enough to get away from the dock district entirely before you started dry heaving for like twenty whole minutes.

“But somewhere in the middle of your heaving, you looked up at me and smiled. You looked like you wanted to die, and your hair was all sweaty-plastered to your face, and you smiled. At me. Like you were as glad to have me around as you were to be back on dry land. I thought my heart was gonna beat right out of my fool chest through one of the holes I’d made.

“You took it one step further, because that’s what you do. Once you were done being sick, you reached into your bag and gave me the captain’s star charts to feed to Vee. And that’s…. when I knew I had fallen… in love. With you.”

She pressed her face back into his chest after repeating her admission. Maj wasn’t great with feelings. He could feel the warmth radiating off of her through the fabric. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and thrilled at the feeling of her arms sliding around him. She could hear his heart pounding from where she had her head.

“You know I only stole from them because I thought they were pirates,” He said while he committed the moment to memory.

“Of course they were pirates, Ash. They were the only crew not looking for travel papers. Which we didn’t have. Still don’t have.”

“I can match your story,” he said, his voice full of warmth as he rested his chin on her head. “I realized I had fallen in love with you when we were still looking for information for that ship. We had tracked down a lead to some tavern, what was its name? The Exhausted Explorer? The Busty Mermaid? The Hung Man?”

They laughed and Maj pushed herself away from him enough to look at his face. She was still pink all over and was searching his face for any tells that he was just messing with her. She couldn’t find any. She didn’t look away from him this time.

“Whatever the name was, we found our guy and bought him dinner, and drink, and we’ve been talking to him real nice the whole time trying to butter him up. I’m not sure it’s working. In fact, I was pretty sure he was going to try to run off. And then you reach out and start playing with his hand, and I think, ‘oh shit, I can’t let her try to seduce this creep. That’s my job!’  

“But you’re the one holding his hand, and he and I are both so focused on that that neither one of us notices you pull his knife over to you. You lean forward like you’re about to kiss him and for a second, I think I’m gonna kill the guy if his mouth touches yours. Don’t get me wrong, I have never minded you kissing other people before or since then, but in that moment, he had to die.  

“At the last second, you said something badass like, ‘if we’re friends now, friends talk to each other. Now talk.’ And then you stab the knife though both of your hands! You don’t even flinch. Then you look over your shoulder at me and grin that mean, crooked grin of yours. And wink at me as the guy starts talking.”

“I still have that scar.” She moved her hand forward to look at it. He took her hand and kissed the scar.

“I know. I was too busy standing there with my mouth hanging open thinking about how hard I had fallen for you to even think about healing you.”

“Gods above and below,” Maj swore, mirth and exasperation in her voice, “We’ve been in love with each other this whole time? And didn’t say anything? How did we survive to adulthood?”

“Well, I guess it’s like you always say. I’m a lucky bastard and you’re a stubborn bitch. We’ll make it work together.”

[hanzobarmoustache]

Moonshine Kisses (pt1)

It’s on my ao3 with better formatting but here it is for the tumblr crowd <3

The bell above the entrance rang, alerting her of a customer, but she didn't need to look away from the poultice she was creating to know who it was, his thick accent greeting her seconds before the stench of his cigarillos did, "Howdy, Miss Amari."

Chuckling gently to mask the disappointment - she had been expecting a taller, brawnier, older charismatic fellow - she turned from her worktable to make her way to the counter, settling atop the stool behind the register with a smile. "How many times must I tell you, Jesse? Please call me Ana."

"Pardon me, Ana," Jesse smiled softly, leaning forward on the counter, sleeve rolled up past the elbow, the other pinned up at his shoulder where his prosthesis was missing. Her eyes dropped to the long scar raised along the length of his forearm, still prominently discolored.

She hummed, reaching forward to prod at the scar, carefully watching Jesse for any signs of discomfort. Pleased with her examination, she took her hands back to tidy up a few loose herbs on the counter, speaking as she worked, "Your arm has healed quite nicely. Keeping it clean, I assume?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's been just fine 'cept for some minor aching in the morning. No puss, no fuss."

Ana rolled her eyes at the crude statement, "Very well. I trust you to tell me immediately if something happens."

"I've been around the block before. I know the drill. Trust me, it's a walk in the park compared to this thing," he wriggled the stub of his left arm.

"Odd to see you without it. I assume it is in for repairs?"

"Yep. Torb said it needs intensive repairs." Jesse scratched at his beard, recalling what the blacksmith mentioned about the prosthesis. "Something about how poorly I've treated it for the last, oh, coupla years."

Ana nodded sagely, "Yes, that would do it. Well, then, what brings you here if not for my herbal wisdom?"

"Force o' habit... and, well, as for why I'm here... there's, uh-"

Ana knew that tone well, dealt with it enough in her years to understand the tentative, almost shy nature of those unaccustomed to a topic that unnerved them, who chose to treat it with utmost - at times unnecessary - caution to the point of stagnation. It would not do, having Jesse of all people hold that tone. The man spoke of all natures of things; whatever was on his mind was serious.

She pushed herself off the stool, grabbing her walking stick and starting off to the living quarters behind the storefront. "Would you like some tea?"

Jesse's shoulders drooped, and he nodded. "Yeah, I think that'd help."

"Change the sign to 'closed,' then. I'll get some brewed in just a moment."

Jesse sighed, watching the leaves in his teacup swirl about in the water, dancing around each other like sakura blossoms in the wind.

Ana sipped at her own cup silently, patiently waiting for Jesse to speak. She leaned forward to spoon some sugar into the man's cup, speaking only once the granules dissolved, "Take your time, habibi." She certainly was not prepared for what the man was about to blurt.

"Billy's dying."

Ana blinked, put down her tea, and turned in her chair to properly face Jesse. She placed a hand on his knee, and the words began to pour out.

"He's the oldest wolf Hanzo has running with him. He's not doing too hot, not since winter let up anyway, always taking a lil' too long getting up and down, and his old bones creak something awful. It's pitiful, but I just know he ain't gonna last much longer. I'm just not really sure what to do.

"Back home, it's common to just take old dogs out someplace quiet and shoot 'em, get it over with before they suffer too awful bad. But Billy's not just some mangy mutt picked up on the side of the road. He's Hanzo's family. Hell, the old fart's grown on me, too.

"It ain't like we can put him in hospice or, hell I don't know, retire him to live out the rest of his days as a lapdog. He's a wild animal... I guess I thought you might be able to help. Might be able to give advice, at least."

Ana was quiet a moment, digesting the information Jesse confided in her. She spoke gently, "Unfortunately, I am an herbalist, not a veterinarian. However, if it would put you at ease, I can come visit and have a look at him? If I can do nothing for him, I may at least be able to brew something for the pain."

"Would you be able to...?" Jesse didn't finish his statement.

"If it came to it, yes. So long as Hanzo consented, I could lay the old dog to rest."

Jesse hauled Ana up into a hug faster than she could blink, squeezing tight enough to pop her back. He murmured into hair, "You're a God-damned angel, Ana."

"I do believe those are demons, Jesse," Ana laughed, patting Jesse's back until he released her. She smiled widely, stretching her back, "Let me collect some things, and I'll stop by tomorrow."

"Hell, bring 'Reeha, too. Let's make a night of it. It's been awhile since I've had a proper bonfire, and the weather's perfect for it."

"I don't know if-."

"I've got my own little plot of land up there now, log cabin and everything. Long as I don't burn the forest down, Hanzo won't say a word."

"Jesse, I'm unsure if-."

"C'mon, you've not even seen the place yet. I cleaned it up real nice."

"If you are sure, then I suppose-."

"I'll invite Reinhardt." Jesse winked.

Ana scoffed, pushing at Jesse's chest, "Oh, please. There's no need to bribe me." She huffed and crossed her arms. "If you want a bonfire, you'll have to wait until the weekend. I need time to make something sweet."

"Oh, Ana, I'm sure Reinhardt thinks you're sweet enough."

Ana sneered, "I meant something to appease your sweet-tooth of a lover. I suppose I shall spread the word to Reinhardt and Torb, then?"

"Works for me. Saturday it is! I better go tell 'Reeha the good news."

"She should be down at the beach. She's been spending quite a while down there recently."

"I'll check on her, don't you worry none. She won't be getting into trouble on my watch."

"Thank you, Jesse."

The beach wasn't a short trip from the village, not for the average man. The rolling hills leading down to the water's edge were enough to take the breath from even the most athletic of men, and often a visit to the lovely waves and warm sand was reserved for a lazy summer day where the entire day could be reserved for the sole purpose of enjoying the atmosphere.

Fareeha Amari jogged to the beach every morning to swim. She claimed that swimming was a better workout than even working in Torb's forge, but Jesse wasn't about to believe that for a moment. She was always too giggly when she came back home. It was about time to figure out what the girl was doing so far from home; he only wanted to make sure she was safe.

Or to embarrass the hell out of her if she had found herself a sweetheart.

Jesse stepped onto the sand from the main path, youngest Amari nowhere in sight. Aside from a footstep in the sand, he could have been confident saying no one had been on the beach that day aside from himself. He shook his head, toeing off his shoes and rolling his jeans up to his knees. There was no dry place on the beach that had any semblance of privacy, but Hanzo had shown him a few secluded caves the few times they had explored the beach together. One had to be willing to get their feet wet to get there, but the atmosphere was like nothing else.

In those caves, it was as if nothing else existed, no earthly qualms or problems could reach them, where the air was cool and the only sounds were that of the other's breath and the gentle plip-plop of water droplets falling from the stalactite, where he could get lost in Hanzo's eyes and the feel of his lips, where the sound echoed just right and Hanzo's giggles sounded absolutely divine.

He splashed some cold seawater into his face to will his blush down before poking around looking for Fareeha.

He didn't find her in the few caves closest to the path, didn't find the slightest hint of her even being around aside from that lone footstep. He pushed his jeans as high as they would go and started wading out to the most secluded system Hanzo knew of. Jesse wasn't allowed to go out there normally because Hanzo said he had a friend that lived out there, but Jesse felt like a missing person was reason enough to poke around just a bit more.

He laughed aloud once he made his way to the small, isolated stretch of beach alongside the cave. Folded neatly above the line in the sand carved by high tide, Fareeha's outer clothes rested on a clean rock.

This cave had no entrance to be seen above the water's surface; the only way in was found by swimming ten feet below the waves and crawling through. Jesse recalled Hanzo saying the first time through had been "harrowing" due to the absolute lack of light and sound, as if one was traveling through the infinite, unflinching cosmos.

Jesse wasn't sure if that was an apt description, but he'd never been one for terribly frilly language anyway. He stripped himself, threw his clothes toward Fareeha's, and dove into the water.

It was freezing. He'd been wading through it, but once it encompassed his entire being, the chill pierced through his skin and settled deep in his bones, slowing him as he swam through the water with all the grace of a drowning turkey. He was raised in a desert, he wasn't built for water dammit!

Just when his lungs were about to burst, he found the entrance to the cave and pushed himself through urgently, breaking the surface of the water with a gasp and cough. He frantically caught his breath as his eyes adjusted to the darkness until he could see two vague figures on the other side of the cave pressed close to each other.

Upon hearing smacking and giggling noise, he shouted, hoping to save all of them some embarrassment, "You've got a visitor!"

Fareeha jolted, breaking off from the other woman, floundering uselessly as the unidentified woman - mermaid - rolled over her to assume a defensive position, tail wrapped around Fareeha, arms propping her up, jaw extended and sharp teeth exposed as she hissed, gills flaring.

"God dammit, Jesse!" Fareeha shouted, wriggling free of the mermaid's tail. "What are you doing here?"

The mermaid tilted her head, curious. She relaxed immediately with Fareeha's words, coaxing her to sit back down with the wides puppy-dog eyes Jesse'd ever seen. She wrapped her arms around Fareeha's waist, resting her chin on her shoulder, quietly asking, "You know this man, chand ka tukda?"

"Unfortunately," Fareeha groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

Jesse pushed himself up out of the water, padding over to the two and sitting before them. He offered the mermaid a grin and his hand, "Jesse McCree, nice to meet you, Miss...?"

"Satya Vaswani," she said simply, staring at Jesse's hand as if it were a stinking, dead fish before reluctantly placing her hand in his to shake. She recoiled when he pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"Stop trying to charm my girlfriend!" Fareeha growled, kicking out at Jesse.

"Trust me, it isn't working," Satya deadpanned, pressing her nose into Fareeha's shoulder, wiping the back of her hand off on Fareeha's shorts, "He's so furry."

"You should see his boyfriend," Fareeha grumbled.

"At least Hanzo takes care of himself."

"Girls, I'm sitting right here!"

"Well maybe it'll teach you to not be a peeping Tom!" Fareeha shot back, crossing her arms over her chest much to Satya's amusement. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Jesse gasped, hand flying to his chest, aghast, "I wasn't peeping! Your ma was concerned about you going off all the time, and I was the good Samaritan who - out of the kindness of my heart - went out of my way to locate and ensure the safety of her one beloved daughter! Now I get to tell her the reason you're sneaking off is because you've been seeing someone behind her back."

"Jesse James McCree, you wouldn't dare!" Fareeha's accusation prompted Jesse's brow to jump and a shit-eating grin pull at his lips.

"Oh, but dare I shall!"

"Satya, let me go. I need to kill him," Fareeha whined.

The mermaid scoffed, "You are not getting blood in my cave."

"Why thank you, Miss Vaswani!"

Satya stared at Jesse, lips curling back in a smile that mimicked Hanzo's when he was being devious, "Kill him outside."

Jesse bristled under the girls' predatory gazes, spluttering, "Now hold on just a minute!"

"So, I take it you really like this girl?" Jesse teased as he and Fareeha began the long walk back to the village.

"I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Hell no."

Fareeha shook her head, kicking a pebble as she walked, keeping her eyes glued to the ground instead of risking any eye-contact with Jesse. "Yeah, I do. She just... There's a connection there, and we really understand each other. I know we're from two different worlds, but... I don't know. She's so smart and funny and so so..."

"Beautiful?" The mermaid with her long, dark hair and warm brown skin cut an impressive figure. She knew how to doll herself up with all sorts of golden baubles without appearing tacky, and her cyan scales were absolutely gorgeous against the sand where she waved Fareeha off before disappearing back into the waves with an angelic grace. (Made sense why she was Hanzo's friend. Beautiful, audacious people stuck together apparently.)

"Breathtaking!" Fareeha corrected, a lovely dopey look on her face as she spoke, "I can listen to her talk for hours about the things she builds, and she is beyond ecstatic when I bring her anything to build with. I brought her wood reed a few weeks ago, and we spent all day weaving baskets, and I loved every moment of it!"

"You have it bad."

"I do," Fareeha agreed dreamily, shrugging unapologetically.

"Bet your mom would be real happy to hear all about her."

"No! You can't tell her! She'll kill me if she finds out from you. I have to tell her myself or she'll hate me forever."

"She will not h-."

"Jesse, you do not know my mother. I have to tell her."

"Fine, fine. I won't tell her."

"Thank y-."

"On one condition."

"Miraculously, The loathing I felt for you has returned."

"Don't be like that! All you need to do is bring Satya to the bonfire this weekend. Introduce your mom to your girlfriend, and I'll act like I didn't know a thing."

"You are evil."

"You want me to tell Ana? I'll tell her, cross my heart."

"Fine! I'll bring Satya to your bonfire! She probably wants to see Hanzo anyway and ask him why he's dating you."

"Fareeha!"

"Jesse?" Hanzo asked, his eyes glued to the stamped-down grass where Billy lay, fitfully kicking out in his sleep and smacking Belle in the face with his tail. A sharp look convinced her not to pounce upon him, and she hobbled over to wrestle with the twins instead.

"Yeah, sweetpea?" Jesse looked up from the ground where he'd been reading, marking his page with a piece of grass, smiling gently at the way Hanzo's cheeks still reddened with the pet name.

"You mentioned once that you are cursed." He murmured, watching the siblings sandwich Belle between themselves and playfully nip at her.

Jesse coughed, setting his book aside and crossing his arms, preparing himself for the inevitable conversation that would follow. "That I did. What about it?"

"Would you mind telling me about it? You have no obligation to do so, I was just..."

"Curiosity hits us all, no need to apologize." Jesse pushed himself to his feet with a groan, walking the short distance between himself and Hanzo to plop down next to his friend where he sat upon a rock, the rabbit he had been skinning long forgotten if that distant look in his eyes was anything to go by.

"It may be raw, still. I do not know when you were-."

"Guess I could spin you that tale," Jesse groaned exaggeratedly, stretching his arms to prepare himself for a long story full of gestures. It pulled Hanzo from his funk and brought a laugh to his lips, at least. "Oh, boy, but where to start? Well, s'pose it might be apt to explain what the curse is first. The demon what done cursed me called it 'deadeye,' said it was both a gift and a burden. Thing was horribly full of itself, I tell you what."

"That would be the demon that imprinted on you?"

"Nah, now hold up, don't get all riled up now, hon. Those devils're both long dead. Anyway, uh, to put it bluntly, I see dead people."

"Dead people?" Hanzo echoed, throwing the rabbit carcass in the general direction of the wolves, far too entranced with Jesse's theatrics to bother with his chore.

"Heh, yeah, thanks to this-" Jesse tapped his right eye, the one that was just a slightly darker shade of brown to the untrained eye - "I can see ghosts and the like. Can tell if someone ain't really alive, too. They look kinda... kinda shimmery, like the air over hot asphalt in the middle of summer. And, well, that's more an issue half the time, let me tell you."

"The dead upset you?"

"Well, depends. Sometimes they're loud sons of guns, that's for sure. Not many up here, all things considered. Pretty quiet."

"Many... so there are some spirits lingering here?"

"Yeah, but none with a -how do I put this?- real defined presence, none that are gonna be around for an extended period of time. Those bounty-hunters you killed, one of 'em keeps wailing and making a ruckus. I reckon it's that one you used as a pincushion, but he'll leave soon enough. Ones like him usually don't stick around too long, just long enough to get over their deaths and move on."

"Ah, then there are many types of spirits."

"Yup. Stories are rooted in fact sometimes, and ones about ghosts are no different. Ghosts and poltergeists are different devils, but... I guess I could say that they're kinda like wolves and dogs. Related in their ways, but different enough." Jesse toyed with his lighter, idly searching his pockets for the cigarillos he had run out of.

Hanzo bent down, pulling one of the cigars he'd purchased in town for Jesse out of his bag, handing it over. "There is more to it, isn't there?"

Jesse sighed, nodding, pinching the end of the cigar as he lit it, watched it burn for a moment before taking a drag and speaking, "I've also got a damn fine aim, if I do say so myself, but that can't hold a candle to what this eye of mine can do. Hand me a six-shooter, and throw a few men in front of me. All of them will be dead before they can draw. Comes at a price, of course, but sometimes there's no choice."

"What is the cost?"

Jesse blew out the smoke, letting it dissipate before speaking, "Their souls. I can hit ten men with six bullets, but their souls're taken by the thing that cursed me if I have to shoot without ammo. Damn thing took my natural talent and twisted it for its own gain. Shootin' without bullets can be nice, but... takes a toll on a man."

"Ah." Hanzo was silent, unsure if Jesse would continue. When it was clear the man wouldn't, he took a breath and bumped his shoulder against the other man's. "Seems like a bargain."

Jesse laughed, smiling as he shook his head, "Aw, darlin'. You've got an awful high opinion of me if that's what you're thinkin'."

"You will not prove me wrong."

Jesse's grin met his eyes, and his snicker died as he took another drag from the cigar before offering it to Hanzo. While Hanzo pressed the cigar to his lips, Jesse continued, "Guess I oughta let you know how it all happened, then. Not a whole lotta people come out of the crosshairs of two demons alive. I'm certainly not unscathed, but I'm still breathing.

"I'll start with Deadlock. Now, it was really more of a gang than a coven, but... we had plenty of desert-witches and small-town magic users, but most of us were just plain old human. Everyone learned a lil' bit of magic eventually, little incantations but nothing like big old fireballs thrown from our hands, more like charms and stuff of that sort. I still make a charm on occasion for luck and protection." Jesse paused a moment, tapping the metal decoration on his hat before continuing, "This thing's enchanted, actually. Gabi didn't believe a word of it, but-."

"Gabi?"

"Ah, yeah, my old boss. I think I mighta mentioned him once, actually."

"Oh, right, you called him 'a real mean old fucker' if I can recall."

"Yup, that's the one. Gabriel Reyes. You'd think someone that turned into a bat on occasion would put a little more faith in magic, but what the hell do I know. Anyway, back to Deadlock, I wasn't really as old as some of the others, shitty life led to shitty choices you know, but I was useful enough. Sharp aim, quick wit, pretty hand with protection spells, handsome as I'll get out-."

"I believe the story is muddling behind your ego, Jess," Hanzo chuckled, leaning into his side.

"Heh, alright, alright. I was good enough to get myself a name in the gang in any case, had myself a wanted poster before long, too. 'Course, it didn't have nearly the number of zeros it does now..."

"Modest."

"Always, sunshine," Jesse winked. "Anyway, someone eventually had the bright idea to summon a demon to get some more power, get the gang some more recognition, ask the thing to lend some power for... something. Hell, I don't remember anymore. That damn thing fed on memories, and all the time around it is just fuzzy. I didn't participate in the summoning, the thing killed just about anyone that did before coming on into the gang and doin' as it pleased after setting itself up as kingpin. Might've stuck around a year, maybe three? That was the worst of Deadlock, when that thing was in charge, greedy and hungry as hell. That's when Deadlock switched from robberies, muggings to kidnapping, ransoming, anything and everything that would help fill that sunnova bitch's stomach and pockets.

"People came and went fast through the gang then. Some of 'em died on jobs, but most of 'em lost enough memories to the demon that they were just gone. None of them were real nice folk, but they were nothing after the demon sucked them dry, left them husks of people, bleary-eyed and missing everything but a pulse. Empty.

"I had a friend, someone I might've called my first love if that demon hadn't come through when it did. Seein' them sitting there, idly spinning a revolver out of pure muscle memory and not recognizing me when I walked up, not knowing who I was or even who they were, not reacting to their own goddamn name-" Jesse took a breath, steadying the rapit beating of his heart and the anger that still flared in his chest from that day. He hooked a hand through his hair, staring at his feet through teary eyes. "It felt like they'd been erased, like everything we'd ever been through meant nothing, didn't happen, wasn't real even though I knew damn well it was."

Hanzo took McCree's knee in hand, squeezing gently to ground him again in the present. "What was their name?"

McCree smiled ruefully, shaking his head and snuffing out the cigar on his metallic wrist, "Heh, that's the fucking kicker, that. The demon took that, too. I don't know what it was. Might've started with a K, but I don't know."

"I would never ask you to continue this tale if it upsets you so. It is still raw, but if you don't mind my asking, how were you spared such a fate?"

"It'll always sting, but it's nice to be able to share if you'll believe that." Jesse took off his hat, playing with the brim as he continued, "The demon only took certain things. Preferred nice things, good, wholesome memories.

"I've got a memory of my mother. I'm not... I... she was..."

Hanzo extended his hand, carefully twining his fingers around Jesse's, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb.

"We were eating dinner, tacos, outside on the porch where we could look out over the horizon and watch the sun descend past it. I wasn't too old. Old enough to feed myself but not quite old enough to be neat about it yet. I dropped a taco right into my lap, damn thing spun and landed with all the fixin's face-down and got salsa all over me. Mama laughed so hard she smacked her face with hers and got salsa all over herself, too. I remember how hard my stomach hurt from laughing, where the salsa smeared over her lip and made it look like she had a mustache, how the song the radio was playing - a song I can still sing from memory - drifted out the window... but..." Jesse took a breath." Hanzo, I don't remember what her eyes look like. That demon went through every memory I ever had of her and wiped her beautiful eyes away.

"It was real picky, liked to see what it could take and make outta people when it took things. One of our best fighters, real big guy, died from a fight he should've won because the demon swiped some of the combat training he'd gotten with his dad. Best damn cook there was stated to burn everything because it took her abuela's teachings away. Worst part was, we couldn't tell if it took something from us, could always tell when it happened to someone else though. We only knew if it or someone else told us, but the damn thing loved to rub it in, liked to make us know how miserable it was making us.

"It only took good memories. It said something once about bad memories tasting like ash and cyanide.

"It's the demon that imprinted on me, if that wasn't clear. It was pickier about its favorites, and it took a real shine to me for whatever reason, carefully removed little bits and pieces and shaped me up how it wanted. It recognized a lotta people didn't really like me, and since it never touched sour memories, lots of people got stuck on hate and little else. I can't name all the poor bastards that tried to slit my throat in the middle of the night when the demon fished all the good out of them. I don't know why it didn't... why it didn't treat me like the others. It taught me things, put memories in my head that weren't mine, forced me to know what it feels like to put your mouth on a gushing artery and drink, what it feels like wh-" Jesse cut himself off, glancing to his companion before silencing. The words he had been about to say - when someone's tearing through your guts and chewing on your liver - tasted as bitter as the memory.

"When?" Hanzo pressed, disgustingly intrigued by the horrors Jesse described.

"I'd best not continue with that. If it's all the same to you."

"I... I am here for you, do not forget that," Hanzo murmured in lieu of an apology.

"I know, thank you. Now, this whole operation of the demon callin' the shots fell apart, nowhere soon enough mind you. It got reckless, started taking things people were gonna miss. People with money and power and the ability to do something about it. And that's where... no, wait, I was... I was cursed before that. Shit, I mixed the two up somehow. I'm sorry, I told you it's all fuzzy, guess it's jumbled too."

"You do not need to tell it as it happened, Jesse. If it is easier, tell it as you remember. Or do not tell it at all. It has stressed you enough for one day if you would prefer to leave it for now."

"No, I'm gonna tell you. I've just gotta get it straight, that's all. I'll get through this then talk about the other demon. If there's still time in the day."

Quietly, Hanzo clicked his tongue twice, pulling Belle from the bottom of the cuddle-pile she and the twins had formed. She hopped over to the men, making herself at home over their laps, presenting her stomach to not-so-subtly demand the worship she deserved. Always weak to her demands, Jesse dutifully began to scratch her stomach in that special spot that sent her tail a-wagging and her left hindleg a-jerking.

"When the demon got too big for its britches, someone called in a sort of supernatural defense force, government made up of supernaturals meant to deal with supernaturals: Blackwatch. All very hush-hush, not completely legal. They started breaking up little hideouts, flushin' Deadlock back to the main base, cuttin' off portions and hauling everyone they could off to jail while disposin' of those too far gone. Naturally, this royally pissed off the demon, and just prompted it to send off more people to get more troops. It used up too much energy, got hungry and started killing when it fed. Thing wasn't smart by any stretch.

"Now, none of us were really thralls, not under anything but the fear of it, and fear only grew when Blackwatch was around. The thing was sloppy, losing ground and losing people, and it didn't take long for Blackwatch to come knockin' at the main base. They came in with probably... I dunno, six people for the rest of us. None of us realized 'till they'd already dealt with the crew on the first floor.

"I was up on the third, right before the demon's office, put in charge of a whole group of people that were just room-temp if you catch my meaning.

"Gabriel came up to my floor, alone in a puff of smoke, two shotguns in his hands, just blastin' away. I was scared as hell, never'd seen something like him before, thought another demon had shown up and I was caught between the two of 'em. So I just returned fire, throwing off shots like my life depended on it because for all I knew, it did. Didn't land most of them because he was all ghostly incorporeal smoke for the most part, but then he materialized right in front of this kid named Annie -if I ain't mistaken- and he brought up a hand and just crushed her neck, watched how her eyes just barely glazed over 'cause there wasn't much left in her anyway. And I took the opportunity as it presented itself and fired." Jesse brought up a hand, mimicked the shape of a gun and made a little 'pchew' noise before dropping it to tap at his jaw, "Hit right in his ear. He flopped down, and I thought it was over, and then he was scrabbling on the floor and tearing at Annie's neck and his damn brain was on the ground but it crawled back to him when he pressed his mouth to her neck and-." Jesse cut himself off, coughing. "And then he vanished, and then he was in my face and I screamed and tried to shoot him again. And he took my gun away, half-eased half-pushed me down to the floor, said something into his comm, and started off for the demon, leaving me there, absolutely confused.

"And I, like the dumbass I am, floundered to my feet and followed him. He was going to shoot, but I opened up my fat mouth before he could level his shotgun with my chest, pointed him directly to the demon, warned him about some of the traps it'd set up. He didn't get why I was tellin' him, that I wanted it dead as much as - hell, more than - anybody. So Gabriel just laughed at me, told me thanks in his own way, and misted through the door.

"Prolly shoulda listened to me. The bastard set off the first trap as soon as he walked through the door, nearly got his head cut from his shoulders.

"Now, the demon was about as happy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. It went absolutely ballistic, launched itself at Gabriel. It wasn't speaking, just garbling and screaming as it fought against him. I'm not really sure why, but I pulled the door open a bit to watch. Guess I wanted to see the demise of it, get some twisted relief when I could see it stop twitchin' for myself.

"Instead, I saw Gabriel wrestlin' with it, not really winning or losing but losing steam. The bullet I'd hit him with had taken its toll. The demon was fadin' too, but not as fast as Gabriel. And it kicked out, knocked loose something on Gabriel that spun across the ground to the door where I was. It was my gun, and I realized I could just pick it up and shoot. So I did, and it was like they knew it, too.

"They both looked at me, the demon all excited 'cause it thought I was going to help it out and shoot the vampire it was grappling with, Gabriel's eyes wide and a string of curses flyin's outta his mouth where he called himself an idiot... I'm never gonna forget how scared the demon looked when it noticed I was aiming for it.

"Gabriel just stood up after, all calm while the demon's body withered up, curled around itself and turned to ash. I was still holding the gun when the rest of his crew busted in. One of 'em tackled me. I got a scar from it, actually, where she ripped into my shoulder while holding me down..."

   Gabriel stared down at the sight before him, one of his subordinates pressing a dirty teenager into the ground mere feet away from the disintegrating corpse of a demon. The kid howled, bucking against the soldier's hold even when it began to draw blood, cursing Gabriel, "¡Eres un pedazo de mierda!"  

   Gabriel laughed, crouching down next to the gangly, malnourished brat that wore too much leather and too many spikes, asked, "¿Como te llamas, chico?" Something was up with this kid, something that made him keep most of his good sense while under the rule of one of the worst mind-consumers Gabriel had ever seen, something that made him able to shoot Gabriel, that made the kid watch a scuffle between a demon and vampire and had him pick up his gun and fire instead of crawling up into a ball like the few other survivors Blackwatch had found, that actually made him hit home even while he was shaking. Gabriel was sure some of his subordinates didn't even have such fantastic aim to land a bullet in a demon's head.  

   The man reached out, examined a patch on the boy's jacket that indicated a higher rank in the gang. Most of the others Gabriel had seen were practically robots for all they could recall, everything but programmed to fulfill the demon's wishes. But not this one. Maybe the vampire could squeeze some answers out of the boy about this whole mess.  

   "¡Se ayudé!¡Se ayudé, su hijo de puta!" The boy spat, accusing Gabriel of betrayal, wriggling as best as he could beneath Private Elisa. He wasn't going anywhere.  

   Though none of his strike team were vampires like himself, Gabriel's crew was stronger than the brat, well-fed, well-rested, cared for in the way soldiers constantly sent on suicide missions were.  The most the little shit was going to do was bruise himself. Eliza pressed his face into the floor, slurring his speech slightly against the concrete.  

   "Tranquilo, chico. No vamos duarte... más." Gabriel straightened up, picking up the revolver that had been thrown from the boy's reach. He stifled a laugh at the growl it pulled from the boy, turning his back to examine the weapon as he ordered Elisa, "Cuff him."  

   Elisa took a moment to find her cuffs - they weren't exactly standard-issue in this branch - and locked them none too gently around the boy's wrists. He practically hissed, "Let go of me! I wasn't going to hurt him, let me go dammit!"  

   "Shut the hell up!" Elisa snapped, hauling him to his feet.  

   Gabriel held back a grin, "Simmons, get the team ready for extraction. You five are done here."  

   Elisa raised a brow, gesturing to the boy that continued to growl in her grip, "What about the kid?" She asked, scowling as he struggled against her.  

   Gabriel blinked and cracked his knuckles. "Little shit shot me. I think we need a little time to talk."  

   "We'll send you the extraction time. You want us to call the local authorities to clean up this mess?" Simmons, a somewhat shorter fellow, asked, rubbing the butt of his gun with his glove to wipe away some blood.  

   "I'll handle it. Now get out."  

   "Yes, sir." Simmons led the way out, and Elisa roughly released the boy, keeping herself facing him until she was out the door. It slammed shut with a hollow bang.  

   The boy's shoulders slumped, and he wriggled his wrists, feeling the handcuffs dig into his skin. "Ya gonna bust me up now? Make yerself feel like a big, tough guy? Ya really need to do that to feel all high 'nd mighty when you're already head honcho?"  

   "You have quite the mouth on you," Gabriel muttered, stepping over what remained of the demon's corpse to stand in front of its chair. He stared at it a moment, wiped some weird goop off the seat, and sat himself down, reclining quite comfortably in the worn leather. He kicked his feet up onto the desk, "Now, I seem to remember asking you a question. What's your name, kid?"  

   The boy glared at him a moment longer, fingers curling into the cuffs on his wrists. He wasn't exactly accustomed to wearing them; though, he'd been in his fair share in the early days of Deadlock, before the demon. When it felt like people cared. But maybe it was just easier to get people outta jail than find new blood. He sighed, "McCree."  

   "First name?"  

   "Does it matter? Way you were talkin', don't seem like I'll be using it much longer."  

   "Answer the question."  

   "Jesse," the boy grunted like it was killing him, stepping forward to right a chair that had fallen during Gabe's tussle with the demon, sitting on it with his chest against the backrest. "And who the hell're you?"  

   "Gabriel Reyes, Blackwatch Commander. You're in some deep shit, Jesse."  

   "Spare me the lecture. What d'ya want? Y'ain't killed me yet, but y'don't seem like a real patient sort of fella either."  

   "I want to ask a few questions about this whole situation, about your demon and why you betrayed it."  

   Jesse scoffed, rolling his eyes before pressing further into his chair, "Psh, alright, fine. Can't promise anything, but go on 'nd shoot."  

   "Why is that?"  

   "Thing-" Jesse kicked at the ashes "-are memories. Everything went fuzzy after it showed up. Not so much for me, but plenty enough for all my compadres out there. You saw how much was left of them after the demon had its way with 'em."  

   Gabriel had seen, first hand, but that didn't clear up a damn thing. "What makes you any different?"  

   Jesse shrugged, "Guess you vampires ain't real sensitive to magic, huh?"  

   "Depends."  

   Jesse hummed, stretching his legs out in front of himself, "Now I ain't about to say this like I'm proud of it or nothin', but I was its favorite. And I reckon that's on account of my being cursed."  

   "Cursed," Gabriel echoed, thoroughly intrigued. Now that he was paying attention, he did recognize the acrid air that seem to twist around the boy, the thick and suffocating aura that came with dark magics. It was slight, no doubt intentionally masked, but present still. "You've got a masking spell at work. Not of the demon, then."  

   Jesse shrugged again, bringing his hands around and spinning the cuffs around a finger while the opposite hand tucked the lockpick back into the slit of his belt where it belonged, He tossed the cuffs to the desk between them and fiddled with a ring of twine around his finger, "Nah, that was me. Just a charm, really, but I guess it's all the same."  

   Gabriel couldn't find it in himself to even pretend to be angry. He sat up, resting his clasped hands on the desk after retrieving Elisa's cuffs. "You hungry, kid?"  

   "Guess I could eat. Why?"  

   "There was a diner a ways down the road. I don't have the best memory on an empty stomach. Do you?"  

   "Nah, don't s'pose I do... y'know, they have the best chocolate milkshakes?"  

   "Do they?"  

   "Yeah."  

   "Well, c'mon then. ETA's thirty minutes." Gabriel led the way out of the warehouse, politely keeping his mouth shut when Jesse lingered a moment to spit on the demon's corpse and collect his meager belongings.  

   He did let Jesse throw the lighter that sent the place up in flames, though. That seemed to cheer him up a bit. 

"And that seems to be about all there is to it," Jesse murmured, rubbing circles against Belle's jaw as the wolf grumbled, content.

Hanzo wordlessly reached over to curl his arms around Jesse's shoulders, rolling the wolf off their laps to land in the dirt with a confused borf. He pressed his face into Jesse's neck, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to hold him close.

Jesse smiled, returning the gesture and murmuring into Hanzo's hair, "Love you, too."

"Does it hurt?" Jesse asked suddenly, too quickly for Hanzo to comprehend focused as he was smoothing a small amount of oil along the length of his bow.

"Hmm?" Hanzo looked up from his task, wiping his slippery fingers on a spare rag before closing the container and pointing to the string that sat by Jesse in the shade, narrowly catching Jesse's eyes lingering where his pack lazed in the shade of a tree, gnawing upon the bones of what was once a sickly fawn.

Jesse handed the string over, returning his gaze to Peacekeeper where she lay in his lap, rubbing a cloth against her barrel to buff out an unseen spot of dirt. "Changing. Going canine. Does it hurt?"

He twisted the string between his fingers for a moment, quiet as he measured the length necessary to restring Stormbow, remembered the deep ache in his bones from constantly shifting between forms. He opened his mouth and lied, "Once, when I was young. Every time it was agony. I am unsure if I have grown numb or accustomed to it. I am unsure which is worse."

"Oh, that's... that's good."

Hanzo raised a brow, confused, "Good?"

"That is doesn't hurt you anymore, at least." Jesse shrugged, spinning Peacekeeper in his hand before resting her back in her holster. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Just don't like the thought of you hurting yourself every time you wanna run with your wolves or switch back to livin' on two legs."

Smiling gently, Hanzo rubbed a bit of wax into his bow string and stood, grabbing both his quiver and Jesse's hand, "Come."

"Hey, hold up now!" Jesse snatched his hat from the stone he'd been sitting on, plopping it on his head before matching Hanzo's hurried pace. "Where're you taking me?"

"Someplace where you won't think so hard."

"Wha-? Now I was just-!"

"Being far too sweet for your own good," he finished for the other man, "You do know of my sweet-tooth, do you not?"

"Sweetheart, I don't think there's a soul on this mountain that doesn't know of your boundless appetite for all things saccharine. Think I'd die a happy man if you'd devour me, though."

Hanzo sputtered, turning away from Jesse nowhere near fast enough to hide the flush on his cheeks. It only worsened with Jesse's hearty laughter. Growling, Hanzo promptly pivoted on his heel, pressing a kiss to Jesse's cheek and murmuring, "Later," to shut him up.

"Sir, yes sir," Jesse chuckled, following Hanzo until the elder stopped in a clearing he didn't recognize. Not that he'd really explored the forest much after winter passed; there'd been no need. He only needed to follow the paths he'd worn from his cabin to Hanzo's cave, the river, and the main road. There was no need to wander and get himself lost in the brush, not now when everyone in town knew him, when he didn't need to hide from them.

It wasn't a wide clearing, but it was long, intentionally so as if someone had fell the trees into an oblong shape. Where the two stood, it was shaded, would be for the majority of the day, but the other end of the area stood fully in the sun, nary a shadow cast over it.

"Wait just a moment," Hanzo spoke, pressing his hand against Jesse's chest to make him stay before disappearing into the woods at the opposite side of the clearing.

Jesse huffed, looking over his shoulder to see someone'd followed them into the clearing. "Hey, Billy. What're you up to?"

The elderly wolf growled at Jesse's question, convincing the man to refrain from offering to scratch the mangy thing in that one spot on his back that just sent his rear leg wild, and wobbled to a thick patch of grass in the shade before plopping down.

"Stubborn old man," Jesse grumbled.

"What did you call me?" Hanzo asked playfully, hauling something  into the sunny area and affixing it to a sturdy but bare sapling. He adjusted the rope around the straw amalgamation, carefully pressing what looked like some sort of goggles back into place in its head and straightening out its overalls.

"I was talking to Mr. Kid over here." Jesse threw his thumb behind himself, pointing out the wolf where he lay, legs kicked up in the air where he'd fallen asleep in a pretzel-eque shape.

"Of course you were," Hanzo joked drily, making his way back to Jesse's side.

"Now, take no offense to this, but what the hell is that thing you just tied up to that tree?"

"My target?"

"Don't tell me you made that thing."

"Oh, please. It washed up on the beach three summers ago, and my friend beseeched me to rid her of its hideous appearance on her property. It's shaped enough like a human to be an adequate target, and the straw refuses to decay for whatever reason," Hanzo added under his breath, taking his bow from where it rested on his back and testing the draw.

"Uh-huh... Creepy as hell, whatever it is," Jesse muttered, squinting at the thing from where he stood behind and to the left of the archer. (Best not to be directly behind anyone firing a weapon in his experience,)

"Absolutely. Reeks of explosions and rust," Hanzo mused, nocking an arrow and drawing back the string of his bow.

"Certainly looks like it just made its way out of a fire."

Hanzo laughed and released the arrow. It flew true, impaling the target through the chest. Pleased with his weapon, Hanzo handed it over to Jesse and ushered the taller man into the space he just occupied.

"The draw may be a bit more than you are accustomed, but you will adjust to it. Spread your legs a bit more, stand straight, take a deep breath and-."

Jesse loosed the arrow before Hanzo could finish, sending it spiraling through the air to lodge deep in the target's stomach and scratch against the sapling supporting it.

"You have done this before, then?" Hanzo, amused, teased, retreating to Billy's side to watch while petting the wolf.

Jesse was silent, testing the bow with another shot that went wide to understand its particular nature before nocking a third arrow and speaking with the string drawn to his cheek, "Mama McCree knew a thing or two about this. Best archer I've ever seen. Absolutely terrifying on horseback, I tell you what." His fingertips slid free of the string, and the arrow flew into the target's neck with enough force to shake it and the sapling.

"I have never had the opportunity to shoot from horseback. She must have been a fantastic marksman."

"Oh, phenomenal. Mounted archery's a whole different beast, having to account for the horse below you, worrying about leading the damn thing in the right direction and shooting straight. I'd prefer my six-shooter, but in a pinch I know my way around a bow." Jesse flinched when his next arrow landed next to Hanzo's where a heart would be in a living being. He swore he heard a whine, but it must have been the bowstring.

Hanzo rolled his eyes, "I never thought I would see the day. You? Humble?"

"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up. I'm just saying that 'cuz I'm standing here with Robin Hood behind me."

"Oh, believe me, he cannot hold a candle to my skill." Hanzo stood with a groan, clicking his tongue to encourage Billy to follow suit. "I'll get supper started. I trust you to collect the arrows."

"You do that. Maybe next time you can have a go at it with Peacekeeper?"

"I look forward to it." Hanzo pressed forward to kiss Jesse quickly before walking off with Billy back toward their home, leaving Jesse to gather the arrows and put that target wherever it was supposed to be.

Jesse picked his way over the clearing to the thing's side, whistling as he set about easing the arrows out of the burlap.

He stopped abruptly when the thing released a noise like an age-old crypt door easing open for the thick, acrid stench of death and decay to flood out. Pausing, Jesse gave the thing a thorough look-over, but he was unable to see anything damning the thing to any supernatural origin. He steeled himself and peered into its thick goggles.

He wasn't sure if he imagined that sentient orange flicker where an eye would be, but he wasn't sticking around long enough to find out. He wrenched the last arrow out of the thing's stomach and hauled ass out of the clearing, pretending that impish laughter taunting him as he ran was just the wind whistling past his ears.

[the-wonder-duo]

It just stuck.

During our third year internship, sensei had a stick up his ass over pairing us up for patrols. Sent us out together a lot. 

The press caught on and started slapping that dumbass moniker onto us to sell their headlines.

Caught on. We decided to keep it around.

I don’t really like cold food. 

There’s a place down on the corner of Shibuya that sells something called Breath of the Devil. I guess that ain’t too terrible. 

I dunno, why don’tcha pull your thumb outta your ass and ask him yourself? 

We don’t. 

‘Cept when we do. 

We’re grown ass fucking men. We can put aside our differences for the time it takes to get shit done. 

I trust him. 

That helps. 

As far as the similarities thing goes... people say that I’m a cocky son of a bitch. You know, before I rip out their tongues and turn them into ash. 

And I know he’s a cocky son of a bitch. 

So that’s one thing. I guess. 

Who says we have? 

Alright, alright, the resident shitnerd can stop his fucking bitching now. And he should know that if he tries to slap me one more damn time, I’m gonna flush that dinky JF16 Limited Edition All Might that he snuck in here down the toilet. 

I dunno.

It’s a process. Big gestures and small things. It’s in the way we ground each other. The way we speak to each other. It’s both a spoken and silent agreement. A certain camaraderie. A routine. 

And at the same time, it’s not. Seems like Deku’s anything but predictable at times. ‘Cept he is, when it comes to some things. 

This thing’s like a whole bunch of opposites all wrapped up in one. 

I guess it’s hard to explain. 

There wasn’t some big, defining moment that turned everything around between us. A bunch of shit has accumulated over time. 

And it’s not like it’s over. Every day’s another step on that staircase towards something... else. Friendship. Or whatever. 

At the end of the day, we’re a team. And that’s that. 

There’s a lot of red tape that you can avoid when you’re only working in a team, as opposed to an agency. In short terms, being in a team gives Zero and I the maneuverability that we prefer when it comes to certain aspects of our jobs.

In addition, there’s a lot of wiggle room when it comes to staying informed on the latest going-ons within the city when you’re contracted under several agencies. Although they’re all fairly willing to give us that information now, we suspect that it would probably dry up should we create own agency together— after all, we’d officially become competition for the rest! Vying against them for government funding and press attention. 

It’s one of the harsher truths of being a hero— this is a business, and other agencies wouldn’t want to lose any leads to us. We’d definitely have to branch out some more, build networks to gather our own intel, and— well, there’s certainly many variables to consider when it comes to building your own agency!

Not that the notion’s off the table altogether! Don’t get me wrong; it would be great to lead our own agency one day. It probably won’t happen for a long time, though— we’re thinking at least a decade or so from now. Of course, there’s the matter of our partnership to consider, as well.

As Pros, it seems like you can never really plan that far ahead. I’m not sure if Zero and I will still be working together when the ideal time comes. For fans of the wonder duo, though— don’t worry! We don’t have plans to go our separate ways anytime soon, if at all.

Oh! I’ve actually read a little about that!! 

Research shows that the whole idea of Alphas and Omegas may actually be an incorrect preconception! A long time ago, the prevailing view of wolf pack structures was reliant on the findings of certain researchers— they’d concluded that gray wolf packs consisted of individuals each vying for dominance over the others. He referred to the dominant wolves as Alphas, and the subordinates as Omegas. 

However, one of those researchers later gathered more information that proved the initial conclusion to be erroneous; it was based on incomplete data because they’d only been studying captive wolves that’d been unrelated. Wild wolves usually live with their families— the breeding pair serve as the leaders. 

So I’d have to say neither, given that the predominant theory of our time suggests that those structures don’t actually exist in wolf packs! 

The last time I gave something like this away in an interview, I had three baskets of the stuff show up the next day, and not that I didn’t enjoy it— I really appreciated it, and thank you guys so much! —but I really think you guys should save your candy for yourselves, and—

Well. I guess Zero’s place is, for all intents and purposes, untraceable. No harm, right? 

I enjoy Hi-Chew! 

Ah... ha. Haha. 

Social lives. 

I imagine that we’ll actually have a pair of those someday. 

I haven’t dated anyone since high school— and since it seems to be fairly common public knowledge, I’m sure that most of you know that I was in a relationship with Uravity for some time. 

There hasn’t really been anyone significant since then... I’ve been on a few dates, but they haven’t really gone beyond two or three outings. And even those have been far and few between. 

I don’t think that Zero has ever been on a date. 

To my knowledge, he’s never really shown interest in someone like that. 

[woozletania]

Living with Rocket 6

"It's always something horrible," Peter Quill is prone to mutter when he learns some new awful thing about Rocket's past.  But some things are more horrible than others.  Some just gradually become part of you until you're not sure where they stop and where you begin.

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

It was their weekly routine.  Every week, on what Pete called Sunday or thereabouts if 'Sunday' was too busy, Rocket got out his tools and did a thorough scan of Lylla.  He then handed them over and she returned the favor.  Between the checkups on two Uplifts and Gamora, occasional visit from Nebula and running diagnostics on the translation implants they all had, they kept in practice.  Rocket and Lylla didn't get to operate on cyborgs very often so this was the next best thing.

Every week started the same, a shallow scan and a deep scan followed by socketing a probe in the data port each had to the left of their spine.  Lylla's cybernetics were a generation ahead of Rocket's and they got more useful data from her implanted data nodes, so it was their habit to spend extra time going over Rocket's scans for abnormalities. They were experts on each other's bodies and their own, even more than most couples.

Then one Sunday, as Star-Lord detoured around the apparent clutter of tools surrounding the two little Uplifts (the clutter was an illusion. Move a single tool a quarter of an inch and the raccoon would snap at you), Rocket saw something on one of the screens.

He didn't say anything.  He didn't have to.  Lylla, though  engrossed in other scans, felt him tense.  She didn't say anything, either.  Nor did she look as Rocket expanded and rotated a view of his own brain.

Turning a raccoon or otter brain into a human-level intellect took some cheating.  Each of them had numerous subprocessors implanted in their heads, purpose-built organic computers no larger than a peanut.   When an Uplift went well - and theirs had each gone extraordinarily well in the final analysis - these worked together with the animal brain.   You kept the excellent senses while adding intellect and, if desired, nearly superhuman additional attributes.

Rocket was an ace pilot and a crack shot.  He was also a frighteningly adept intuitive mechanic.  Were he not a Guardian and were he to receive the respect he received from the galaxy, he could make a very good living customizing weapons and equipment for anyone smart enough to hire him.  Thus he was the one to spot the anomaly in his own brain scan.  A line, a spot that had no obvious purpose.  Flipping through scans from previous weeks he found it had always been there.   The new scanner he'd picked up just made it more obvious.  What was it? What did the spot and line (wire?) do?

Lylla, though growing into an adept mechanic in her own right, wasn't as quick to spot such things.  He was built as a soldier and pilot who could build and fix his own gear.  Her specialization was quite different.  Lylla was a diplomat.

That meant, among other things, that you never, ever wanted to play cards with her if money was on the line.  Her intuitive grasp of body language, vocal inflection and facial expressions made it virtually impossible to bluff her.  She'd know your cards almost before you did.

So that night, after they'd stripped down to the fur and crawled through the little porthole under Rocket's workbench into their padded sleeping space, Lylla wanted to talk.

"Don't try to distract me," she purred as his talented hands began to roam.  He was very good at a lot of things and his clever little clawed hands were as adept at pleasing her as they were at snapping together bombs.  "You're worried about something you saw on your scan."

Rocket sighed.  "Can't blame a guy for trying." He curled up and the otter, longer bodied, curled around him.  It was their usual position when they were in bed to sleep as opposed to being in bed to do other things.  It put her whiskery muzzle behind his ear and he smiled as she tickled him.

"Now who's distracting who," he said as it was her turn to let her little webby hands wander.  "Do you want to know or not?"

"When you want to tell me," she purred, and as her hands continued to roam his mind turned to anything but talking.  An hour later, when the padded walls no longer echoed their chirps and growls,  he finally spoke up.

"There's something in my head," he said, and touched his forehead.   "A wire so fine I never saw it on a scan before.  It connects to one of my subprocessors."

"A control?" The worry was that there was a kill switch or other trickery buried somewhere in their bodies. It was one of the drawbacks to being a cyborg and one of the reasons Rocket was so adamant about the checkups.  Maybe they'd spot something on the twentieth scan they'd missed on all the others.

Rocket was silent until she nudged him.  Only then did he speak up.   "No.  Nothing like that.  I know what it is.  I've suspected it was there for a long time."

As he explained she nodded.  She had her reservations but Rocket had his reasons.  Afterward they snuggled up together to sleep, and that was the end of it...for a few months.

Three months of adventure, bounty hunting, mercy runs of supplies and medicine to outlying colonies - paid mercy runs, naturally - later came a call from an old friend.

"Call for you, Rocket," Star-Lord said from the pilot's seat. "It's Doc Foster."

Rocket, in the co-pilot position, nodded. They were docked at a   space station set up as a Xandarian outpost. They'd just finished taking on fuel and hypernet reception was good.  He stabbed a claw at a control and a screen popped up with Paul Foster's face.

Lylla nudged Rocket the second she saw the doctor.  Rocket already knew something was up from the badly concealed look of concern on Paul's face.  Rocket had gotten markedly better at reading human expressions since meeting his mate.

"Rocket," Paul said.  He considered the other Guardians for a moment until the raccoon spoke up.

"Pretty sure I know why you're calling, doc," he said.  "If it's something you saw on those scans I sent you a while back.  Lylla and I already know.  No reason the rest of this gang of idiots shouldn't." He gestured amiably at the rest of the crew.

Paul still looked uneasy.  "Are you sure, Rocket?  I swear I didn't know, and I was the backup cyberneticist.  It must have been something Tschu put in without documenting it."

"Yeah." Rocket hovered a claw over a control.  "I'm switching this to the common room.  We'll be there in a minute." His claw descended.   "OK.  You guys deserve to know this. C'mon."

A couple of minutes later, after Gamora and Drax unfolded the table that normally sat racked next to Rocket's work bench, they all took seats.  The faint smell of animal musk filled the room from the curtained-off nook under the bench that led to the Uplift's little sleep spot.  The smell had long since ceased to bother anyone.  The whole ship smelled of their two furry crew mates, just as it smelled of human and alien, but it was stronger here.

"Okay Paul," Rocket said, and leaned back as he looked at the screen. He put a clawed finger up against his skull.  "Wire."

"That's right." Paul looked down for a moment.  Though he was a good friend to the raccoon now, his role in Rocket's creation still wracked him with guilt.  "A wire into your pleasure center."

"Pleasure center," Pete said.  "What, to control you?"

Rocket leaned back further in his chair.  The others didn't miss how Lylla's hand stayed on his forearm.  Relaxed as the raccoon seemed, he was tense.  "This is what happened.  You know the guys that made me weren't the nicest crew around."

"That is why they are dead," Drax said with a typical lack of tact.

"Yeah.  Now, I don't remember much from when I was little.  Sometimes I can kind of remember my mom, just warm fur and safety...most of what I do know I read in their notes.  I was the youngest of a litter of four.  The other three were bigger and stronger and they took them away one by one to try to do with them what they ended up doin' to me.  All those cubs died.  Then they came for me." He paused.

"My mom was just an animal.  But she was a mother. She knew that they they took her cubs away they didn't come back. They had to kill her to get to me.  They cut her up for parts."

He looked up.  A year ago his eyes would be bright with tears.  A year before that, hard with hate.  Rocket was stronger now.  He'd grown. "That's neither here nor there.  Anyway, the first thing I remember for sure was hate.  How much I hated them.  So when they started makin' me do things, put together weapons an' such, I played dumb even when they tortured me.  I didn't start to cooperate until I heard 'em saying they were gonna cut me up to see why the Uplift failed.  And then it was just to stall so I had time to escape."

"An' it wasn't until I got out, after killing every one of 'em 'cept Doc Foster here, that I started to work on stuff.  Tools.  Weapons.   Flyin'.  Shootin'.  And you know what I found?"

Absently, seemingly without input from his brain, his little clawed hands disassembled his data pad to the components, then snapped it back together again.  He didn't need to look.  His hands knew what to do.

"I found I liked workin' on stuff.  And fighting, and flyin'.  Before I met Groot," he looked fondly at the adolescent tree.  "That and drinking was all I had. All that kept me together.  So I did it a lot.   When I met Groot I was five, I guess."

He smiled at the startled expressions.  "Raccoons mature fast.  Good thing they made me so I live longer than one.  Anyway, I was out of the lab for maybe three years when I met Groot and about all I did to make ends meet was fight an' make stuff.  I liked doing it an' I was good at it. It made me Units.  So why worry why I liked it so much?"

"Couple years later I met Pete and the rest a you losers," he said, waving at Mantis, Drax and Gamora.  "An' after that I got better.  Yeah, I know I was a mess.  You guys helped me a lot.  But pretty soon, I noticed something. I'd be workin' on something and just ignoring you.   Even though you were the best thing that ever happened to me."

He leaned his head to the side so his cheek pressed against Lylla's. "And then the real best thing to ever happen to me happened.  And sometimes I ignored even her. That's when I knew."

"You knew there was a control of some sort," Doc Foster said from the screen.

"Yup.  Some compulsion.  You don't make a little brain like mine smart without cheating.  Little organic processors implanted in the meat.  Wires, connections.  So I was always looking for what was going on.  There had to be something in there.  And then a few months ago I bought a better scanner, and there it was.  I saw it first checkup I did."

"That's horrible," Star-Lord said.  "It makes you work and fight?"

"Sorta," Rocket admitted.  "It just made it feel good.  But I grew up like this.  My whole life has been like this. I work, I fight, I fly, I feel good.  For a long time it was all I had. All that kept me alive and sane. And we can't get it out, can we doc?"

"No," Paul Foster said on the screen.  "Not safely.  Your brain grew around it as you matured.  And we can't shut down that processor node because we don't know what else it does.  If we mess with that there's no telling what it would do to you."

"Sooo..." Rocket reached over and stroked Lylla's nape, but he was looking at the other Guardians.  "This is who I am.  You put up with me, so it can't be too awful.  I just want ta say, and don't expect me to say this every time..."

"If you see me workin' and I don't hear you when you talk.  If I'm doing somethin' and ignoring you.  I'm sorry.  I just like to work.   Most of it's real.  Most of it's me.  A little bit of it isn't. Its just the way I am."

Pete could count on the fingers of one hand the times he'd heard the raccoon say 'I'm sorry.' One of them was the time Rocket bit him.  He didn't say it unless he meant it.

"I'm sorry, Rocket," Paul said from the screen.  "I didn't know.  I would have told you if I did.  I called as soon as I figured it out."

"It's not all bad, doc." Rocket leaned over and nuzzled Lylla.  "Its just something I hafta keep track of.  I have things better than that little wire now.  An' there are worse things to be addicted to than work."

And that was the heart of it.  Rocket knew about it now.  He knew what to look for and how to deal with it.  And of all the horrible things they'd learned about him, this was perhaps the least bad.  

Pete smiled.  "And the next time you do something stupid, or lose your temper, you have a ready-made excuse."

"Well," Rocket said, and smiled at Lylla,"There's that too."

[simptasia]

for the ask meme, all the numbers for the science team

ah, you read me like a book. thank you, i’ll get right on that. just the trio of course, cuz i can’t be bothered writing about frank too (no offense)

1. What do they sound like?

daniel: whispery (not all the time tho, he isn’t constantly whispering, thats our brains exaggerating), breathy, lil raspy, kinda sounds like he’s high. ASMR trigger. the accent is california, took me a while to notice that cuz Voice Weird. boy be mumbling a lot, like i gotta turn the volume up (and then jack starts yelling and i freak out and gotta turn it down again. its a difficult balance)

miles: NEW YORK BABEY but not very broad new york, not stereotypical but i hear it. miles is from california but ken ain’t doing shit about that so he’s got his new york/brooklyn/jersey deadpan thing going on. it’s why he’s so funny. not always deadpan tho, another exaggeration. his voice gets higher when he’s angry, mostly flat when he’s sarcastic, and soft/broken when he’s sad

charlotte: ohhh bitch that’s sussex.emotive, pommy, says “oi”. sweet enough to be lovable (and for dan to reasonably consider her voice to be music) but shrill enough to be entertaining. and borderline annoying. which is fun. i have trouble describing women’s voices but her’s is distinctive enough to stick with me

2. What do they smell like? (in their natural habitats because everybody on that island has gotta be smelling like sweat and jungle and mangoes)

daniel: cotton, chalk, generic soap, metallic kinda like copper (not like blood but like that taste in your mouth after you’ve had an x-ray… times by 20. radiation, basically) limbo dan has a faint smell of rat but he keeps himself clean enough to not be a bother. like he’s not the smelly rat guy. its a vague smell

miles: salt (that’s more a taste, whatever those two senses are basically the same thing) and uh… uh. didn’t imagine beyond that… he’s a salty boy. oh wait, fuck, duh. black coffee. silver. and sometimes, the cheapest cheese imaginable

charlotte: watermelon shampoo, chocolate sometimes obviously, tea leaves, highlighter pens, and like okay i don’t mean this in a bad way but ginger people have a different unique smell to them than other people so uh… that also. oh and sometimes (from work) char smells like Good Dirt and old books and its relaxing

3. What does their laugh sound like?

daniel: i���ve only recently heard his actor laugh (gow4 interview and in “spanking the monkey”) so yeah, it’s rare. from what i’ve seen, when dan’s amused he doesn’t so much as laugh but smiles a bit. in the finale, i think there’s a “heh”. when i imagine daniel laughing, it’s the head down, funny breathing kind of laugh (you hear that kinda laugh? where its just breathing in an amused rhythm? yeh)

miles: okay you know that kinda laugh when somebody smiles and air comes out their noses and the shoulders move a bit? that’s the one. comes in a no smile variation. but i imagine if u get him proper laughing, it’s just a somewhat flat but genuine laugh (i can’t describe or create it) and rarely there is… a snort

charlotte: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrFD597lgCI 

4. What does it take to make them laugh?

daniel: in canon i seen him amused by 1. his own joke. 2. miles being an asshole. 3. just outta love for charlotte. so anyways i think he, when much happier, gets laughy over miles’ n char’s sense of humour. and them being cute. and sometimes he makes a joke and even if nobody else laughs, he does

miles: being a little shit. dan being a little shit. bill murray comedies (like, i imagine him watching one and from the other room char is like, what the hell is that noise, and she checks and miles is laying in a weird position sounding a bit like a goat) and as he becomes less a grumpy edgy bitch, he’s prone to laughing more genuinely with other people (richard, claire, kate, dan, char, etc)

charlotte: despite her never making those bex noises in canon (she replaced her laughs with Big Smiles) i do imagine char as a rather giggly, laughy person when she’s happy and comfortable with the people around her. so, like, most things. she’s easily amused when she’s in a good mood

5. Who was their first celebrity crush?

daniel: i was just about to say that dan’s only had crushes on like a handful of people so that doesn’t really apply but then i remembered. charlie pace

miles: sigourney weaver (zuul!dana gave teen miles some Feelings)

charlotte: carrie fisher (i was racking my brain to think of whom lesbian/bi geek girls whom were born in the 70s would crush on. cuz the only ones who came to mind were ladies crushed on by MY generation. then suddenly star wars hit me! yes, i have only now just decided char likes star wars too. she can be both!)

6. What’s the number one thing on their bucket list? (if they had one)

daniel: meet and play with driveshaft (including giving some of his comps to charlie cuz he wants to see what he thinks of his work

miles: go on one of those shows where people supposedly communicate with the dead, playing along with all the bullshit (like during the sign up and the interview to get on the show) and once he’s on live television, calls out everybody: the host, the producers, the audience. just fucking disses ‘em

this’ll do with any of ‘em but he thinks about doing this with john edwards the most because he fucking hates that guy

char: around the world trip with dan and miles (including some dangerous places they’re not qualified to go to but hey, it’s just a fantasy)

7. What’s their concept of family?

daniel: bitterly, his concept of family is… the mother who controls him. that yucky feeling in his tummy when the phone rings because it might be her. pressuring mother, no father, two loves of his life sick and dying. family causes anxiety. grief he isn’t capable of handling. but, hopefully, when things feel good or life is better, his concept of family is… whoever he loves. it’s just Love. eloise, theresa, charlotte, miles, desmond, penny. love (and music) give him purpose

miles: family, the only people who’re on your side. part of the phrase “you and me against the world”. his mom, i’m talking about his mom. and sure as hell, all the post-finale gang are gonna grow to be a family. so in general, family are people who won’t treat him like a freak for his powers. people who won’t avoid looking at him because they’re secretly afraid. people who treat him with genuine kindness even tho miles really did try to push them all away

charlotte: her family is a mother who gaslit her all her life, the father she misses so much her heart hurts and it drove her career choices, two little sisters who didn’t know any better and im sure char loves very much. so, for her, her blood family is motivation. this pressing need to find answers, to find something more thats buried deep in her memories. but later of course, when all is said and done, her family will be dan and miles. and her cat. just more love, and finally a feeling like she can actually trust the people around her

so in general family = blood, love, happiness and overcoming the sadness in your life. but also for whatever reason i decided to talk very poetically during miles thing so then i couldn’t stop with the other two or i’d feel weird

8. Weird hobbies?

daniel: i get the impression that having many rats is considered Odd. he talks to them like they’re people and sees very distinct personalities in them 

miles: i can’t think of anything miles does (in canon or my fanon) that would be considering weird. except the dead people thing, that’s weird, but that's not a hobby, its a superpower / way to earn a living. i don’t consider liking ghostbusters to be weird, but miles considers it embarrassing so there ya go

charlotte: she collects bones that she’s allowed to keep. she has tasted the bones and she will do it again (archeologists do lick weird things)

9. What kind of drunk are they?

daniel: he’s only tried alcohol once at an oxford party, getting some glee outta how much his mother would hate this (eloise was very insistent that dan doesn’t drink or do drugs. gotta keep that brain safe). it kicked in quickly because he has like no weight, and he’s a little giggly and buzzed at first but then Things Get Bad because dan’s body can’t handle alcohol so he gets horribly sick

miles: ya almost wouldn’t be able to tell miles is drunk, cept the differences of his words slurring and he’s blinking way too slow. he’s way more likely to be openly sad to people when he’s drunk because them walls are down. but for the most part, he’s just sitting there making fun of other people whilst under the impression he’s the most sober and level-headed person in the room

charlotte: LOUD DRUNK!!! CHAR BE YELLING!!! whatever the emotion: anger, joy, turned on, char is being loud as fuck. and even more defensive. somebody even looks at her (or dan or miles) funny and she starts talking shit

also altho dan is the sober one, he can’t drive. so miles is convinced he’s the sober one and thinks he should be the one to drive. and that’s no good. so poor dan is just trying to wrangle these drunk fools home, with miles insisting he drive (poking his keys into someone else’s car) and char is draping herself over dan and laughing obnoxiously. they didn’t even take a car here in the first place

10. Favorite sport?

(we did see miles reading a baseball magazine but besides that hahahaha no)

11. Favorite team?

my first thought was “team of what??” so you figure it out

12. Feelings towards having pets?

daniel: he doesn’t keep pets in his living life (and his rats barely count because they were used for fatal experiments and then he cut ‘em up. actual canon dan’s relationship to rats is uh oh) but in limbo he has many rats, all named after classical musicians and he loves them and talks to them and pets them. its a wonderful stim for him and also animals really do help ND people. espech ND people like dan whom is very tactile and clearly needs affection. and relating to what i’ve written with char, of course, dan loves char’s cat jean-luc (and vise versa, dan is practically just a pair of hands at his beck and call)

miles: miles has never hept pets (when dan mentions his rats, miles jokes he has a snake just to freak him out for a second) because 1. he’s never been capable of taking care of a pet. 2. animals really don’t like miles. this started from my headcanons about char’s cat just hating the fuck outta miles (for my amusement) but having put more thought into it, i’ve decided that all animals are uncomfy around miles because of his powers. it is a fact in real life that animals are aware of supernatural/occult things and are troubled by them. so i figure animals get near miles and are like “doesn’t feel right. don’t like that”

charlotte: limbo char has a sphynx cat named jean-luc. he is very ugly but char thinks he’s the most beautiful cat in the world. this cat is very mean to miles (dan is Hands and miles is Scratching Post) but char doesn’t believe that because her kitty can do no wrong, so she never punishes him. yeah, i’ve got char as one of those pet owners. she also has him wear funny little jumpers. (hairless cats do get cold, so its not weird) oh and she’s baby talky with him

and yes i’ve put a lot of thought into this cat. some people have ocs. 

i have rats and cats

13. What would they name their pets?

oh i jumped the gun here, sorry

daniel: take any classical musicians last name. that’s a rat name

miles: N/A (besides all the swears he calls jean-luc)

charlotte: jean-luc

14. Feelings towards having kids?

daniel: dan, with his fixations and his… life, had never really considered fatherhood to be a viable thing. like, yeah, he thought about it, when he was with theresa. but they were young and he was busy so it felt more like a nice thing to think about rather than an actual option. eventually, with charlotte, once she brings up the subject, the concept feels so much more real. like, it could happen. he could be a dad. then his mind with racing with the possibilities. if he’ll be a good dad, char being a mother, hoping they’re be ginger like her. so he’s nervous but excited about the whole thing

miles: i have my heart set on miles and richard eventually (10 years post finale) having twins together, via surrogate. and like, i’ve put the most thought into miles being a father because it’s an interesting idea. like, he grew up without a dad and that made him bitter and sad, so i figure he’d really wanna be a good dad and really be there for them. oh and like for most of his life up until things started to change, miles had no intention of ever being a father or ever even being in a romantic relationship in the first place. i think miles is good with kids (cuz he helped his mom babysit and because ppl who are like miles, anti-social and cynical, don’t tend to be that way around kids. they’re different) but he found the idea of him being a dad to be laughable. but then he fell in love with richard and ya know, time passes, people grow up and he takes that terrifying leap. when he sees his newborn babies he’s so amazed at how his life got to this point

and in limbo when dan and char have their kids, miles is a third parent to them

charlotte: she was never against the idea of having kids but having a rather active sex-life, she’s always careful to not get accidentally pregnant because she’s happy to have kids one day but it’s gonna be when she chooses to, damn it. when she feels she has the time. she hadn’t been with anybody who made her actively desire to have kids until she was with dan. and since it’s limbo and everybody life is finally on track, they have all the time in the world. so dan and char do eventually have the babies they never got in life (bex approved!)

and to be clear, i think they’d all be wonderful parents

(good parents? in lost? it’s more likely than you think!)

15. What would they name their kids?

daniel and charlotte: i made them have four kids in sims and their kids are named penny, ada, marie and isaac. one loved one and three scientists. there are other options but i’m rather fond of these names for their kids

miles: isabella (izzie for short) and lara are the twins names. yeah, i’m a huge fan of the Dead Guy Junior trope

16. What’s their taste in music like?

daniel: classical and punk (of either the rock or pop variety). thats fucking canon, thank you lost for giving me daniel faraday liking punk music

miles: Oh You Know. emo, punk, punk rock. the late 90s and early 2000s was the perfect era for miles

charlotte: whatever the heck geronimo jackson is. also somebody around here has gotta love fun bops and it’s gonna be char. get some 80s pop in here

17. What’s their favorite band?

daniel: driveshaft (and miles teases the hell outta him for this)

miles: i dunno shit about the actual punk genre that exists so i’ll go with my instincts and say green day. if anybody else wants to suggest bands miles would like, go ahead. and please remember what miles looked like in the 90s

charlotte: geronimo jackson

18. Phobias?

daniel: has irrational nightmares about doing school again. and also that other nightmare where char is dying over and over and he can’t stop it. but i’m not sure heartbreaking fear of a loved one dying counts as a phobia. but besides that he actually has less fear than most people tend to have (ranging from “would happily pet a spider” to “exposes himself to radiation 20 times a day and doesn’t care about the consequences”. dan is actually very reckless)

miles: phobia is a strong word but animals don’t like him and he doesn’t like them back. besides that i can’t think of anything for miles to be afraid of except for reasonable things like death or his father not loving him. so like??

charlotte: again, no phobias i can think of (what kinda phobia woulda brave indiana jones type lady have? heights, claustrophobia, insects, water and dead things are totally off the table with that. so, N/A)

also rats make miles and char a lil squeamish (miles because he grew up poor so rats = vermin, and char because she’s a pom so rats = death) but obviously, its not that bad and they eventually get over it. they won’t touch ‘em tho

19. Random headcanon(s)?

daniel: 

autistic and has anxiety. 

as well as the can’t process alcohol thing, he can’t digest meat either so he’s a vegetarian. also sometimes, when he’s overfocused, he’ll forget to take care of himself, including not eating. (this isn’t the reason he’s so skinny, daniel - and his actor - is just Like That)

he was in his brain damaged state for 3 years before he went to the island theres actually nothing confirming dan’s post-grad flashback is in 1994 so that’s just an assumption of mine (and several other ppl in the fandom) 

this means him and theresa were together 7 years total 

is entirely indifferent to his body/appearance, his gender and other people’s genders. when his attraction to des kicked in, he wasn’t bothered by him being a man, but was confused because dan didn’t know he could be attracted to more than one person at a time. and the whole concept causes him guilt anyways cuz eloise is a horrible person who tried to raise him to not have romantic relationships/feelings. but with dan it has nothing to do with gender, he has a whole host of other problems

his fave colour is orange simply because it’s char’s hair colour 

his petting thing and weird hand gestures is three things: 1. a stim. 2. he’s very badly touch starved due to being autistic and also his mother is terrible. and 3. again, due to being autistic, his way of processing stimuli is genuinely better with his hands than with sight or any other senses

has never done a drug in his life, including ones he probably needs like anti-anxiety medication. eloise would never allow this to happen because she, a terrible person, refused to let dan have anything that’d alter his brain. as such he never went to the doctors to get diagnosed with anything, such as autism. his accident caused his first trip to the hospital

jacob’s touch happened when he was bedridden and brain damaged after his accident. jacob gave him a little comforting touch on the arm while saying “everything is going to be okay, you’re going to be better soon”. daniel just assumed he was a doctor or nurse

miles: 

was on anti-psychotic meds for a lot of his life

has depression 

his nipples and dick are pierced. i see 15 piercings in his face, i think… that’s not a person who stops there. also fun fact: body modification is addictive! like, im not kidding

sexual masochist as i’ve made abundantly clear

has… issues with love and romance which he gets over with time but for a lot of his life, the concepts are off putting to him

was the type of person to use his powers to get money but hates other people who do that shit, especially when it’s with grieving people

never believed in an afterlife, thinking people just stop at death

he’s 19 during the punk flashback (making it 1996 which matches his attire. and it lines up with dan, which i like)

his only “type” is simply hot. dan is an outlier to this and miles has no idea why he’s into him, it just happened

i like to think all the sci team were sorta friends on the boat, but pal’d around with naomi more than anybody else on the boat

was in a threesome with sawyer and juliet in dharma, a polyam relationship with dan and char in limbo, and he finds richard in limbo with isabella and she’s very okay with miles and richard’s love and life together. so what i’m saying is: Miles Straume, Eternal Third Wheel (its like im compensating for how he had no love interests in canon)

i think of all the people on lost, he’s the most likely to use pot

jacob’s touch happened right after miles’ mom died. she’s being carried out by paramedics, miles has just heard her last thoughts, he’s more upset than i can even imagine and so he’s storming off to cry somewhere else, and jacob purposely bumps into him as he walks, throwing miles off balance, jacob reaches out all fake-concerned and miles, angry and hurt, shoves him away going “get your fucking hands off me!” and. yeah

charlotte: 

she’s a feminist and outspoken about it

dated penny during her oxford years. yes, that penny

she’s both an anthropologist and an archaeologist (what was writers incompetence, i’ve turned into char being extra impressive) 

her sisters names are chelsea and chloe cuz her mum really wanted to keep that theme going and on that note, char doesn’t change her last name when she gets married bcuz she wants her pun name intact

its implied she can speak many languages - i’ve decided she can speak every language. okay not literally, there are 2500+ languages on earth so one human can’t learn all that, but i mean at least one for every country. 

and many fictional languages too, since i’ve made char a massive geek. she mentioned star trek and she loves daniel faraday, this is a logical conclusion. nerds fuck nerds, y’all

she knew dan was staring at her at the museum and just pretended she didn’t notice him (and the only reason she wasn’t creeped out by this, which she normally would be, is cuz of the lost connection vibe thing)

jacob’s touch happened when she was about to receive a reward at a ceremony but she took a few minutes to cry in the bathroom first (she’d had a fight with her mum on the phone beforehand. she didn’t come to the ceremony because she doesn’t care about char’s work) and when she came out, her eyes a little red, jacob stopped her and asked what’s wrong, touching her shoulder. she evaded the question and moved along

there, that’s quite a lot (and more than the original prompt wanted)

thank you very much, i enjoyed writing that so thanks for asking