#also I know most make Rye the middle but I forgot that when I named mine so Rye's the oldest

[loungemermaid]

No.1 Everlark Shipper

for @jhsgf82, based off this post by @goldrushenthusiast and some of the tags/replies I left on there. crossposted to my ao3!!

We’re standing in the disgustingly hot July heat, the sun beating down on us, already burning the tops of our noses. Really, for the sake of all us Townies, the town square should be covered. I’m pale enough, but some of these kids, like little Lottie Sayers over there, are too white to be outside now. She looks like she’s going to burst into flames at any second. I look around at the sea of sweaty necks and brows, looking for a dark braid instead a blonde one. Not for me. For my idiot brother. Everdeen has her hair up in a crown of braids today, and she’s in a pretty little dress, shows off her little waist. The hair and dress make her look sweet, maybe flirty, but she’s (as always) scowling. Can’t imagine why Peeta likes her. She looks fuckin’ mean. Stuck up. Also, the fact she can kill things and drag ‘em through town? Something tells me you’d have to make sure you toed the line with her, or else. Kinda like how Mama is to him. Well maybe that’s it then.

I have heard about Everdeen for comin’ on Eleven Goddamn Years now. I know everything there is to know about this chick that can be known without actually saying a word to her, because he’s never said a word to her. I’ve seen the sketches, the letters, the truly awful attempts at poetry, the (admittedly, pretty good) pencil drawings that took weeks for him to finish scattered across our room for Eleven Years. I’ve heard the soliloquies(see, Mrs. Marks? I’m payin’ attention) practiced in the mirror, the grand planned gestures, the paper flowers and ribbons gathered and then abandoned after Sweetheart’s Day, every instance of young tender love and I could not be more sick of it. It ain’t-isn’t. Isn’t real. Not a lick of it. If it was, he’d talk to her. If she’s too scary, which again, she sure as shit looks that scary, maybe move on? Maybe pick someone different? Hell, it can even be another Seam girl, if that’s what he’s into. Leevy’s got that same little tits and long legs thing. And she actually smiles. But whatever. One day something will break it, and then I won’t have to fuckin’ hear it ever again. 

That weird Trinket woman is just about to pick the girl’s name, and I’m still wondering what it takes to get someone’s hair that big, that pink, that shiny when she reads out the slip. Primrose Everdeen. Well. Shit. I don’t know what this is gonna mean, when her little sister dies. When her dad died, Peeta talked for months about how we needed to help her. I kept telling him it wasn’t the time or place, that the last thing she needed was some over-enthusiastic Townie meddling in her shit. She already had it rough enough. We could tell she was taking care of everyone now. That her mama wasn’t doin shit, and she was the breadwinner now. I remember thinking it was weird, and how I couldn’t imagine it, then I thought about how that’s just what older siblings do. That that’s what Rye does for Peeta and me. A buffer for when Mama’s on the war path. Even when she ain’t-isn’t. Isn’t coming after me, he protects me all the same. She usually doesn’t come after me, and that somehow feels worse. I owe ‘em both a lot of beatings. Rye used to take the blame sometimes, but we all kinda quickly realized I could get away with significantly more than he could, and especially more than Peeta could, poor fucking kid. Never understood why she hates him so much.

There’s some screaming and shuffling, and I look over and there she is, her face showing real emotion for once, screaming that she’s volunteering. I can’t imagine that. How would you ever do that? And then it sinks in. Shit. Everdeen is gonna die. I look over at Peeta, who looks like he’s gonna spew. Shit. What am I even gonna say to him, when this is over? While we walk home?  Happy fucking birthday! That girl you’ve been obsessed with your whole life is gonna get gutted by some teen-freak Career. It’s too awful. I just sigh and brace for the boy’s name. Almost over. One more year of it for me, two for him. 

And then that pink and green bitch calls his name. I’m shocked. I can’t move, or see, or hear anything, and then it’s too late. He’s up on the stage and it’s too late. I can’t volunteer, can’t save him, can’t fix it. Once again he’s getting more punishment than his fair share. This kid that cries when he sees a hurt wild dog. That cried when he learned we ate our baby pigs. That’s been in love with the same girl for eleven years. The girl that’s going in with him. Shit!!! She’s going in with him!! They’re gonna die in there together. Well, I think darkly, they’re gonna have to talk now. 

I go and look for Rye, and we both just stare at each other. He’s not saying it, but he’s thinking it. “Yeah, I know. I should’ve. I… I couldn’t make the words come.” I hate myself.

I’m expecting him to scold me, to yell. Being the parent’s favorite makes me the least favorite brother. They neither one like me much. Well, that ain’t-isn’t true. They like me just fine. They’re just very jealous. I would be too, if I was-were gettin’ beat for minor shit that don’t even matter, and someone else wasn’t. I don’t expect him to hug me. He does, pulling me in close, even kissing my forehead like he did when I was little. I don’t even wipe it off this time.

“Hush. It isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t do anything right neither.”

He smiles a little. “Either, you mean. But it doesn’t matter. It’s going to be okay. Besides, I think she’d kill him, if you went in instead. It wouldn’t be a good sacrifice. She’d hate him even more, especially if you didn’t come back.” He shook his head. “God help me for what I’m gonna say, but it’s better this way. If he comes back, JoAnn won’t think he’s worthless anymore. If he doesn’t”, his breath shudders, “if he doesn’t, well. Then she never touches him again.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. The one thing she only did to him. Rye got beat, sure. But he didn’t get touched like she touches Peeta. It… it’s not that she straight up sleeps with him. But it’s…uncomfortable, to even watch. Humiliating. Can’t imagine what it feels like. “Right. Well, ready to say��� Oh I can’t say goodbye. I blink some rogue tears. “To send him off?”

“Yeah.” He says gruffly. “Yeah.” I can tell he’s thinking what I am. This is gonna be a shitshow.

It’s worse than I thought it’d be. We’re all standing there and not saying anything. Rye at least held him while he cried. JoAnn is world class, says something truly evil. Says she’s rooting for Everdeen, and if there was any fondness I ever had for that woman, it’s done. She runs out, even though all the rest of us are begging her to not. I scoff, but Peeta is laughing, no, cackling. Like nothing has ever been so goddamn funny. 

“Love you too, Mama! Hope I get to see you again!” He yells out, voice hard and bitter. “God. What the fuck?” He scrubs at his face, leans back, screaming and laughing and sobbing into his hands. 

Rye runs after our useless fucking parents, trying to talk sense into them. It’s pointless. Anyway, we’re almost out of time. Almost out of time. I can’t fuck it up again. 

“I know it ain’t great timing to be asking you a favor, but do one for me anyway?”

“God, Soren. What?” He sighs, clearly not in the mood for whatever he thinks I might say. I sit down on the saggy sofa, clapping his shoulder.

“I need you to tell her. Please. She deserves to know.”

He huffs, rolls his eyes. “It’s all a bit pointless, ain’t it? Nothing either one of us could ever do now.”

“Yeah, but I know you. You’d never be able to live with yourself if you never told her. So you’ve gotta. Find some way. Do one of those grand gestures you’re always planning. Or, fuck, I dunno, do it private. Over coffee or whatever. But tell her, little bun.” I’ve never called him that. Not sincerely, anyway. That’s what Dad and Rye(mostly Rye these days) call him. But, it felt right. “I’m really sorry I didn’t”

“Don’t be.” He cuts me off. “I get it. Don’t be sorry. In fact, promise me. You don’t get to feel guilty about it.”

I swallow hard again. The Peacekeepers are coming to take me away. I clap him on the shoulder one more time. “Alright. I love you. Uh, good luck and all that. And happy birthday”

It gets him to laugh, even if it’s just a dark laugh. “Thanks. Uh…see…mm. See you later.”

“Yeah. See you later.” I don’t know if I believe he will, but I know he can win this. I hope he does.

I try to keep my promise, of not feeling guilty, for not stepping up and going in for him. It’s not easy. Suddenly our room feels too big, too empty.  Rye and I haven’t moved a damn thing. There’s still a half finished drawing on the desk, a pair of silver eyes. I wanna puke everytime I see them. I do my homework downstairs in the bakery now. 

We’re closed on the day of the interviews. We close a little more now, though not as much as I thought we would. Dad hides, crying in long showers or disappearing on errands, and JoAnn, Rye and I are stuck in the bakery together, avoiding curses and rolling pins being hurled at us. Now that Peeta isn’t here, I’m getting on her nerves more. I’m sporting black eyes now too, though I don’t let them show. I can’t cover them like Peeta does, and I’m a little paler than him anyway, but the little tube of concealer he left behind does fine enough. 

We all sit on the couch, pretend to be a family over some tea and cookies. We’re eating more fresh, a result of the sympathy money. People have been spending a lot on baked goods here lately. The mayer orders a cake a week. Madge must know we’re feeding Prim and Mrs. Everdeen(Mama does too, and she hates it. Dad catches an ashtray to the nose for it). She likes Katniss too. 

Anyway, my baby brother is talking to Ceasar Flickerman, and they’re playing off each other like they’ve been co-hosts for decades. He’s charming. Affable. He could make this a career if…when he wins. And then Ceaser asks about a girl, his whole body shifts. He gets a little nervous, a little small, tries to shift the conversation but Ceaser ain’t having it. He pushes Peeta again. Say it say it say it, you little dork, or I swear to god. I’m staring at his face in the tv. Maybe if I think it hard enough he can somehow get it. You promised.

He clears his throat. “Well, there is this one girl…”

I sink back into the couch with a sigh of relief. There you go, bro. Took you long enough.

She even goes for it. When they change the rules(which I still can’t get over, but maybe young love is more exciting than child murder for those people.((if that’s the case, can we make it a matchmaking game? I’ll volunteer. I’ll host.)) I just don’t know if I trust it) and she’s up in that tree, screaming his name, I know it’s over. She likes him too. She tears through the Arena just to find him, looking very camouflaged and very dead by the river. He flirts, and she giggles and blushes. What? Maybe she’s just soft for him. Good. It’s what he deserves. Hard for everyone else but soft for him.

For a few days I’m worried I’m gonna have to watch my baby brother lose his virginity on national television, but as cuddly and kissy as Katniss is, she’s clearly not very experienced. She won’t change around him, she blushes every time they kiss. She’s actually sweet. A giggly, nervous, even precious little thing. She looks even tinier next to Peeta, so short and thin and fine boned. They fit each other. They’re striking together.

It’s all anyone can talk about, but for the first time I don’t mind hearing about it all. I join in at school, spilling all the secrets I know. It’s a little shitty, but I can’t help it. It’s so…excuse the dopey ass phrasing, but as one teacher said, life affirming to see. My homelife is worse, but if they really can win and win together, it’ll be like a real life miracle. Hard proof that not everything always has to completely fucking suck, all the time. That sometimes, good things happen to people. Sometimes good things happen to the people who deserve it the most. 

The berries give me a heart attack. I’m on the edge of my seat and I don’t think I breathe the whole time. I don’t know what to expect. Are they gonna let them live? Are they gonna blow them up? Send in mutts again? Let them live and torture them on the air? I almost shut my eyes, bracing for the canons, but instead Templesmith is shouting, telling them to stop, that they both won, and he did it. He actually did it. I’m jumping and screaming and laughing and we’re all hugging even, because he fucking did it. He won, and he got the girl of his dreams. This one time, it actually works out for him. This time, Peeta gets what he wants.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 4,705 Dean x Reader Summary: Bobby hatches a plan to try to get you and Dean to reconcile after months apart. Warnings: None! A/N: Angsssst and then a happy ending. What more could one ask for?

Your name: submit What is this?

Dean turned when he heard a car door slamming across the yard and he immediately recognized the vehicle. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin and glared at Bobby, who was clearly pretending he hadn’t noticed your arrival and was making himself busy flipping the burgers on the grill.

“Bobby? Are you kidding me?”

Bobby glanced over at Dean carelessly. “What?”

“You called her? Really?” You were making your way up to the house and Dean thought your posture looked stiff.

“Oh, calm down, son. Not everything revolves around you. I lent her some gear and she’s just bringing it back.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip and glared at the back of Bobby’s head. “Uh huh. Uh huh, she just happens to be bringing it back the day I show up here with Sam.”

Bobby smirked to himself. “I don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist but it seems like maybe you have some unresolved issues to deal with…”

“Bobby,” Dean growled.

He finally turned and vehemently pointed at Dean with the spatula. “No. Now you listen to me. You two idjits belong together and everyone knows it. Figure it out!” he spat, before casually turning back around to the grill.

Your boot scuffing on the gravel finally forced him and Bobby to turn. You had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to crash the barbeque. You didn’t tell me you had company,” you said pointedly to Bobby. Dean thought he saw you swallow hard and you looked about as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Must have slipped my mind,” Bobby said, giving you a tight smile.

“Mhmm… I’m sure,” you said. You dropped the duffel bag with a heavy thud onto the porch and couldn’t keep your eyes from landing on him any longer—Dean was standing there with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and although it had been quite a long time since you had seen him, the expression on his face was one you still could readily decode. He was supremely uncomfortable. Bobby was looking back and forth between the two of you but finally turned back to the grill. You were about to open your mouth to say something when the front door swung open and Sam wandered out. He had a novel in one hand and an apple in the other and the slam of the screen door matched perfectly with the struck expression of surprise on his face to see you standing there so unexpectedly. The next moment he was grinning at you and before you could say anything he had you wrapped in a big bear hug, squeezing you tight enough that a little exhaled “Oof!” escaped your lips.

“Y/N! I didn’t—Bobby didn’t tell us—it’s so great to see you!” he said drawing back and taking you in, looking you over. His expression was so open and earnest and warm, just as you remembered, that you couldn’t help smiling back at him despite your annoyance at Bobby’s obvious scheming and the residual anger you felt toward Dean, with a heaping side of discomfort.

“Yeah, well Bobby forgot to mention you’d be here, too,” you said. Sam could hear the edge of tension in your voice and the swell of happiness he had on seeing you began to sink as he glanced over at Dean, trying to read his older brother’s mood. Dean was avoiding looking at you, mainly staring down at his boots.

An uncomfortable silence settled until you cleared your throat awkwardly and picked up the duffel bag again. “Well, I guess I’ll just go dump your gear in the house, Bobby, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“What? No! Y/N, you can’t leave. We haven’t seen you in forever,” Sam pleaded.

Bobby was pulling the last burger off the grill and he looked over at you with an obnoxious little uptick at one corner of his mouth. “I already counted you in for dinner so you have to stay or it’ll go to waste.”

You gave him a knowing look. “Go to waste? You’ve got a fridge. And two giant men visiting. It’ll get eaten or keep just fine…”

“Y/N, you can’t leave,” Sam said again. You made the mistake of meeting his eyes and goddammit, you didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose but those fucking puppy eyes. You couldn’t say no to that expression.

You sighed heavily and passed a hand over your brow, shaking your head a little at yourself for what you were about to agree to. “Alright… I’ll stay for dinner, but that’s it!” you said, vehemently pointing at Sam, who grinned triumphantly.

“Good. Now get on in the house. Sam’s already got the table ready, so we’ll just set an extra place. Dean—” Bobby held the laden burger plate out to him. “Take this in. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just gonna clean off the grill.”

“Uhh… alright,” Dean said begrudgingly. He followed you and Sam into the house, his apprehension growing. He wanted more than anything to let his eyes wander over you there in front of him, in the flesh, not just some image conjured in his mind late at night when he couldn’t quite drown out his regrets with whiskey or blaring rock music.

“Beer?” Sam asked, opening the fridge.

You heard footsteps behind you and turned, meeting Dean’s striking green eyes for the first time and awkwardly sidestepping out of his way so he could get to the table. He tore his eyes from yours quickly and you felt that familiar twist in your stomach. “Umm, got anything stronger?” you asked, with a wry laugh.

“Stronger?” Sam repeated. “This is Bobby’s house,” he said, walking across the kitchen and opening up a cabinet which was stocked with liquor. “What can I get you?” Sam asked.

“Rye whiskey, neat.” You and Dean had both said it at the same time and your mouth fell slightly open in surprise. He was straightening up from setting down the tray of burgers and this time when he met your eyes he didn’t pull them away.

He smoothed a hand down his shirt and you thought you saw the muscle in his jaw tense. “Sorry,” he murmured.

You just vaguely shook your head. It was the first time he’d really spoken since you had arrived and it was to recite your drink choice as if he had been sitting next to you sipping them in the evening in front of a log fire just the day before. In reality it had been months and months and months since you had even spoken to each other.

Sam watched the extended gaze between the two of you, the air in the room feeling thicker by the second and he thought about making some excuse to leave, but Bobby was expected in at any moment anyway so he cleared his throat and busied himself with a glass and the whiskey. “Comin’ right up.”

“Umm—” Your eyes were still connected with Dean’s and he was finding it hard to look anywhere else now that he had started studying you. “I’m just gonna—jacket…” Dean said, starting to take off his coat and heading out of the kitchen toward the front room. You didn’t want to admit it but just the sound of his voice, deep and somewhat gruff, was threatening to make you weak at the knees. It conjured images in your mind of lost times that were both precious but also now profoundly painful now that they had passed.

When Sam next looked up, you were standing stock straight in the middle of the room, staring in the direction Dean had gone with a queer expression on your face. It was questioning and a bit sad, but Sam noted that there was no hostility. “Here you go,” he said, breaking the spell you seemed to be under and handing you a small tumbler with your drink.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, accepting it gratefully from him and immediately taking a big gulp.

Sam’s brow furrowed slightly. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” you asked in surprise. You constructed the most casual expression you could and shrugged. “Yeah. Fine. Just… I don’t know what the hell Bobby was thinking—”

“Well, you could ask me yourself,” he said, rushing into the kitchen.

“Good. Fine. What the hell do you think this is going to accomplish?” you asked him in a hurried undertone.

“What? Dinner? Well, I think we’ll all be a bit less hungry at the end of it,” he said, clearly snarky on purpose.

You shut your eyes and gritted your teeth against the wave of annoyance. “You know that isn’t what I mean.”

Bobby sank into the chair at the head of the table. “Dean! Get your hide in here! Time to eat!” He turned his eyes to you again. “Y/N, are you going to join us or are you just—going to run away? Again.” He knew what he was saying. He knew that would get you fired up. And it did. You opened your mouth to argue, feeling another swell of exasperation rising up inside you but Dean was breezing into the kitchen again and taking a seat at the table, leaving the only empty chair the one right between him and Bobby. You felt like the wind just went out of your sails and Bobby smirked at you from his seat.

You bit your tongue and sank into the empty chair.

Dinner was composed almost entirely of Sam and Bobby asking questions of you and you and Dean avoiding looking at each other. You answered the queries as succinctly as you could until Sam finally found something to crack open the hard shell you were holding around yourself.

“Y/N, what happened here?” he asked, pointing to his own forehead above his right eyebrow with a vertical slashing motion. “You didn’t have that scar before, did you?”

Dean’s eyes shot over to your face immediately and you actually froze with your glass halfway to your lips, the next moment setting it back down without any thought of a sip. You cleared your throat and pressed your napkin to your lips briefly, almost as an excuse to hide part of your face for a moment as you steeled yourself against the involuntary torrent of residual fear. “No. No, that one is new.” You had sincerely hoped that Sam would allow you to leave it at that but, of course, he didn’t. And you could feel Dean’s eyes drifting over your face and sense his… apprehension? Concern?

“What happened?” Sam asked, his eyes now narrowed a little in genuine concern too.

“Just a hunting souvenir,” you said, trying to manage your tone so it sounded casual. You avoided everyone’s eyes.

Bobby was considering your body language carefully. He was debating about pressing you further. He could see that there was real fear surrounding that memory. Not only did he now want to know what had happened, but he knew this would break down both you and Dean’s constructed walls. What would be better at getting the dialogue going than vulnerability? “What was the monster?” Bobby asked.

You couldn’t avoid such a direct question without it being blatantly obvious. “Vamp nest,” you said, staring down at your plate. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. The familiar tunneling at the edge of your vision warned of a panic attack and you stood up abruptly, the movement emphasized by the groaning of your wooden chair on the floor. “I need some air.” You practically ran out the front door and onto the porch, leaning heavily on the railing and trying to force your heart and lungs to slow. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re fine. Just bad memories.

Inside, Dean was staring down the hallway where you disappeared and Sam and Bobby exchanged a concerned look, both now feeling a little guilty for pressing you. Something had happened on that hunt, more than the usual bumps and bruises.

Dean felt a familiar tightness in the center of his chest and even reached a hand up to absently rub at it to no effect. “Someone should go make sure she’s okay,” he said, turning back around to look at his little brother.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” Sam agreed, but he made no move to get up. Dean’s eyes next landed on Bobby.

“I agree with Sam,” he said pointedly, also stubbornly leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean’s jaw tense and the muscle twitched. “Oh, come on. I can’t—I’m probably the last person she wants to talk to right now,” he growled.

“Well, then I guess we’ll just leave her out there alone,” Bobby said, reaching for his beer. “She’s a grown up. She’s tough. She’ll be fine.” Dean was stubborn, but so was Robert Singer.

Sam was almost ready to cave and go check on you when Dean stood up abruptly, the same groan from his chair mimicking the one yours had made, swearing under his breath. You heard footsteps coming up the hall and the familiar sound of the squeaky screen door and straightened up. You were surprised to see Dean when you turned.

“Oh—” The noise of surprise escaped your lips involuntarily and Dean shrugged in response.

“Yep. It’s me. …sorry,” he said.

Your heart had slowed mostly back to its usual steady pace and you just stared at the older Winchester for a long moment. The silence was awkward, tense, and you found yourself wondering how long it was going to go on.

Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stole fleeting glances at your expression. He had to clear his throat. Why did it feel so suddenly constricted. “Umm—are you okay? You left kind of suddenly in there?”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, his lips pressing together in a thin line, the corners turning downward. “Good. …okay.”

You expected him to leave, having done the bare minimum to check on you, but he just went on standing there. So, you just went on waiting… for what felt like an eternity. You had a feeling that he was teetering on the edge of saying something and you gave him an inquisitive look, one of your eyebrows lifting of its own accord.

Finally, his green eyes rose from staring at his boots and landed on your face. He seemed to decide something in that moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“… ‘it’?”

“The hunt. How you got that fresh scar?” he asked, inclining his chin and his eyes flashing toward what had obviously been a good gash on your forehead.

You turned away from him again, trying hard to suppress the flash of fear you felt from changing your expression, and leaned on the railing again, looking out over the junkyard. “Not really,” you murmured.

“Not really or just not to me?” he asked. You were a little surprised at his bluntness and turned to look at him again, but you didn’t say anything. You straightened up again and after giving him one last, long look you sighed.

“I, uhh… I think I’m just gonna head out,” you said. “This was—whatever Bobby was thinking, I just—I’m gonna go.”

You could see Dean chewing the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly, his lips pressed together again. When he spoke there was an edge to his voice. “Sure. Go. I guess the good thing is I’m not surprised this time,” he said.

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut and the air rushed out of your lungs like it had been forced. “What?”

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? You run. When things get hard, you leave. How many other people have you left in your wake in the past six months, hmm? And here I am, fucking stupid enough to somehow experience it twice. Well, at least this one is mostly on Bobby.”

You were breathing fast and hard now, anger and hurt boiling in your chest. “I ran? That’s what you think happened? I just—I just up and ran? Dean Winchester is the sole victim.”

“No, I—”

“It couldn’t have had anything to do with the person I cared about more than anything else in this world lying to me, for months, and betraying my trust over and over again. No, that wasn’t it!” Your tone was dangerous and rising in volume along with your anger.

“I never said that I didn’t fuck up!” Dean roared back. “But you didn’t stick around long enough to even try to fix it—so I obviously,” his jaw clenched, “we obviously didn’t mean that much to you if you were able to just go tearing off like you did!”

You stared at him, incensed at his accusation. Your fists were clenched so tight your fingernails were digging into your palms, and you didn’t give a shit that Sam and Bobby could probably hear every single word.

“I couldn’t even get you on the goddamn phone,” Dean said. “You were just gone! Do you know what Sam and I thought? For months, we thought you were going to go barreling into something and get yourself killed, which is what started this whole thing in the first place! And now you show up here with that new scar on your forehead—what the hell have you been doing? A vamp nest? Jesus, Y/N, do you think you’re fucking invincible? You need back up!”

You broke your dangerous silence violently. “I had fucking back up! I had back up!” you yelled, sounding almost desperate. Dean’s anger broke at that exact moment and he watched you turn away from him again, slumping your weight down onto the railing. “I had fucking back up…” you said quietly.

Dean’s mind was whirring and he had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

You were staring down at your clasped hands. “You really think all I do is run? That’s what you think of me? Well, guess what? I didn’t. My hunter partner, one of my oldest friends, got caught and he tried to tell me to get out and I didn’t. I stayed. And you know what happened? They killed him in front of me and they turned me. I woke up with my head split open and the worst—I somehow managed to fight the bloodlust, murder those sons of bitches, and give myself the cure.” You sighed heavily, hanging your head and shutting your eyes, before straightening up again and looking at Dean. He thought he saw tears starting glisten in your eyes. “So, running or staying, I guess I can’t win.”

Dean was at a loss… He had said so much in hurt, in anger. He felt like a complete jackass. “Y/N, I—”

But you interrupted him and held up a hand. ��Just don’t, okay? I don’t want to fight with you, Dean. I’m just… I’m just frickin’ tired. From all of it.” You stepped past him and grasped the screen door handle when he interrupted you again.

“No,” he said suddenly, forcefully. “No. This time I’m not just gonna let you go.” There was a fire suddenly blazing in his green eyes, making it look like the hues in his irises were dancing.

“Let me?”

“That was maybe the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life,” he said. “And I don’t care if you don’t want to fight with me, I want to fight with you. Because I can’t go on like this, pretending that I’ve just moved on and that I’m fine with you not being in my life anymore because I’m not. I have to try. So, let’s fight. And, if at the end of it, you still don’t want anything to do with me, I can—I can try and live with that, because at least I’ll know I tried.”

You peered at him in bewilderment, your hand still on the screen door, but slowly your fingers slipped from it and the glassiness in your eyes returned as you looked at him. “You hurt me so badly—”

“I know. And you’re right about everything you said. I betrayed your trust. I lied to you for months, and the whole time Sam was telling me I was being a fucking idiot, and, God, I hate it when he’s right…” Dean gulped and stepped a little closer to you. He wanted so much to break that space barrier between you, just to touch your arm… just to hold your hand. “And if I could go back and do it over again, I wouldn’t be so insecure and so—so terrified. I would do it all differently. But at least allow me to explain to you—” he sighed in frustration. All his words were trying to come out at once. “I thought that because I was trying to protect you that it was justified. I didn’t—I didn’t—” he let out a frustrated growl at himself, that he couldn’t find the words. “Relationships are a partnership. We were a team. And I went completely against that and I made decisions for me and for you without including you. I see that now. And I’m so, so sorry. But then you just left… you just—” Dean felt like his voice was about to break and stopped. “And that hurt me more than I even allowed myself to realize at the time.”

Your face softened as you looked at him, the evening now wearing on and the diminishing light making his eyes look deeply emerald. Dean watched your lips part a little in a soft frown, saw your shoulders fall a little.

“Everyone leaves,” he said, and in that moment you saw the little kid in him, simply afraid of losing again and again and again. “One way or another everyone leaves and I just—I never thought that it would be you.”

That stung like a hot knife between your lungs and you felt off balance. The silence stretched for a long moment before you broke it with a heavy sigh. “To be fair, neither did I,” you said. You squeezed your eyes shut along with one of your fists. “I was just so angry and so—it was my fight! And you took that away from me. And I can’t get that back. Can you imagine if I had done that to you? What if I had gone off and killed the thing that killed your mom or your dad without you? And had lied about it to you for months?”

“I know,” Dean said, and took a step toward you. “And I’m so sorry.”

You sighed again, feeling like the last of your walls had just come tumbling down, like Dean had pulled one brick out from the bottom and the whole structure collapsed. “Me too.” You realized that, in a way, by leaving as you did you had betrayed his trust in turn.

“Y/N, you have to know that you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. Every day. Still. Always.”

You felt yourself, your resolve, crumbling further. Dean took another step toward you. “If you don’t feel anything for me anymore, then—please, just tell me right now and I swear I won’t—I won’t bother you again. And I’ll tell Bobby where he can shove his meddling."

You could only gulp nervously and go on looking back at him, the eye contact between the two of you magnetic. You wondered at how earlier in the evening you could barely look at each other and now you couldn’t stop. You felt tears stinging your eyes again and let out a wry laugh, blinking them away. “You’re an idiot,” you said through a teary smile.

Dean stepped a bit closer, his eyes not leaving your face. “I know.”

“This isn’t all just magically fixed—”

“I know,” he said again, his voice now a bit breathy. He was so close you swore you could almost feel the deep timbre in your chest, feel the heat of him, the weight of him.

You stared at him and only had one more second of indecision before you gave in. “Well… kiss me, you idiot.”

Dean didn’t need telling twice. You collided as if you hadn’t spent any time apart. Dean’s arm wrapped around your lower back and his other hand tangled in your hair. The kiss was fierce, insistent and you felt like you were clay softening in a sculptor’s hands. It was blissful to be melting into him again. It felt like you had been underwater for months and were finally able to come up for air. Dean was your air and you drew in deep lungfuls. He deepened the kiss and his hand pressed harder on your lower back, pushing you into him, your body arching against his. He clasped your face and kissed you desperately. Slowly his lips softened on yours and became pleading, gentle, and finally he pulled away slightly and heaved in a deep breath, leaning his forehead against yours, both of you breathless with your eyes closed. Your fingers trailing lightly down his back were familiar and felt like home. Your arm around his neck was comforting, safe. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes and your heart leaped at being able to study his eyes and count the freckles on his nose and cheeks.

“God, I missed you,” he said softly.

You smiled a little at him, still a little overwhelmed. “I missed you.”

His face turned suddenly serious again and he placed a kiss gently on the new scar on your forehead before meeting your eyes again. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that—and I’m—I’m really sorry about your friend.”

Your eyes fell. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Dean’s hands were resting gently on your hips now and you took in another deep breath, just thinking of how much time you had wasted when you should have been right there with him… True, there was work to be done, trust to be repaired, but this felt like someone had just turned on the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Suddenly, hushed voices just inside drew both of your attention and you caught a glimpse of Bobby shouldering Sam out of the way and both of them trying to sneak back up the hallway, rather unsuccessfully.

You laughed and pressed a hand to your forehead. “Oh no…”

Dean gave you a comical look. “This is going to go right to Bobby’s head.”

“He’s going to go on a total power trip,” you agreed.

“Ehh… honestly, I think given the consequences of his actions I’m kind of okay with it.”

You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Dean pulled you in for another kiss before you could set your heels back down…

[bokutosworld]

mine | kuroo tetsurou

a kuroo x f!reader one shot loosely inspired by taylor swift’s dancing with our hands tied. 

wc: 3k words, in which kuroo finds himself head over heels in love, in secret, with his project partner. contains manga spoilers!?

-- 

it started like any other modern school love stories: being project partners.

with the tokyo prefectural qualifiers inching closer, kuroo was getting busier with morning and after-school practices. being the captain of the nekoma volleyball team was not a walk in the park and he knew that very well as he was always dealing with the loud and playful, yet very reliable team. but as devoted as he was to the sport, kuroo was also still a student. and when he's not in the gym, he would be spotted in his classroom with his nose stuck in a science book or writing formulas for a chemistry project. he was a bright kid and he always excelled in anything he put his mind to, be it sports or academics.

but he was baffled with anything related to literature. the boy almost always fell asleep in class whenever their teacher would go on about hamlet, or catcher in the rye, or, romeo and juliet. he wasn't failing english literature but he wasn't technically the best at it. which was how he found himself right now in the library, various reference books about english authors laid out on the table, with a girl right in front of him.

y/n l/n, a graduating student just like him. also an accomplished individual in her own right, she was a nationally recognized violinist, a prodigy one might say. kuroo's heard of her, that's for sure, he's known that she's represented their school countless times in music competitions and recitals ever since middle school. it would be a lie to say he hasn't been keeping his eye on her because the truth? he thought that she was interesting and he respects her and her many accomplishments.

he did not realize that he was staring and not getting any work done until she called him out on his behavior. 'stop staring and get some work done,’ she said without stopping her typing on her laptop. she couldn't afford to get a failing grade in this final paper, so if it meant doing everything by herself, she'd gladly do it. but kuroo wasn't having any of it.

'you're probably thinking you don't need me to do this paper, aren't you? do i look unreliable to you? i am hurt.' that got her attention. bingo, he thought. she looked up at him, eyes wide open, and for a while, she studied him. granted she wasn't the most outgoing and social person in school. she mostly kept to herself and the few close friends that she has. some might say that she was very intimidating to talk to, hard to reach, out of their league. what they didn't know was underneath that calm and quiet exterior of a top-class violinist, she was a cheeky girl with a sharp tongue and witty demeanor.

she smirked, 'i'm sorry if i made you feel that way. but if you really bothered with our paper, you wouldn't just be sitting there, gawking at me for the past thirty minutes.' he was stunned, and was about to say something when she continued her little tirade, 'i don't know what is going on in that head of yours, but it better be about the analysis of the postmodern romantic literatures.'

he laughed and shook his head. she got him and he was falling hook, line, and sinker. the seeds of admiration planted in his heart from when they were in middle school were now slowly blossoming into something more. he didn't know what it is or how he would deal it. but right now, he was going to focus on their paper. so he stood up from his place on the table and settled on the seat next to her, and the two delved into conversations about their project, losing track of the time as they finished their paper until the daybreak arrived.

to everybody's surprise, the pair got a grade of 98 on their paper. the teacher remarked how he had his doubts about putting them together, but was glad that they were able to collaborate and pull through. after that period, she came up to him and thanked him for being a good project partner, 'you exceeded my expectations, kuroo. i am actually glad to have worked with you even if it was for a short while.' he felt the same, and being the awkward persons that they are, they shook hands and went on their separate ways.

yet somehow, even after finishing their paper and having nothing else to do with one another, kuroo found himself wanting to speak to her, to see her, to be with her. he'd grown to like her company so much. he thought she was comforting. he'd liked how she always had something to say to his playful quips, how she was able to keep up with his banters, and how being with her just felt so natural. they'd formed a bond, they shared a chemistry, and that much he acknowledges but he wonders if she also feels the same.

the night before their first game in the national qualifiers, kuroo was restless. he was anxious. he had high hopes for their team, especially now that he was on his final playing year. what if they drop out on the first day? what if their trainings and preparations weren't enough? what if he wasn't enough? constant doubts plagued his thoughts that he wanted nothing more than to talk to someone and let it all out. so without a second thought, he reached for his phone and dialed her number.

she answered on the third ring. 'kuroo? what's up?' he swears his heart skipped a beat at the way his name sounded from the other line. he closed his eyes, not saying anything, because at this moment, just hearing her voice already brought tranquility to his raging thoughts.

'i'm sorry, i just... couldn't sleep. and i-'

'you have your first game tomorrow, right?' how did she know, he pondered. 'everyone at school has been looking forward to nationals qualifiers. my friends say our school is one of the strongest. they've also been telling me that the captain is quite the catch.' there it is. her classic friendly flirtation. he could detect a hint of smile as she said that last statement and he couldn't help but hope that maybe there could be something more between them.

'will you be going to the arena tomorrow?'

'do you want me to?'

'yes, i'd like that very much.'

'then i'll be there.'

the opening ceremonies were done and the nekoma team was now warming up for their first game. while the rest of the players were doing their stretches, practicing their services and receives, kuroo was standing in the sidelines, his eyes scanning the benches for that familiar face. and when he spots her, making herself comfortable in the seat, he feels a huge load being taken off his shoulder. and when their eyes make contact, he finds a new strength and determination that he was going to win this game and make every point for her.

while they lost to fukurodani in their morning match, they were able to win their second game in straight sets and clinched a spot in the nationals. she was floored with how the team was able to overpower the opposing players. she's always known their school volleyball team was a powerhouse. but now seeing them in action and watching him in his element, she found herself being drawn to kuroo more, wanting to learn more about him, wanting to be the one to ease his worries, to be there for him in his victories and in defeats. she felt so proud of him and was overwhelmed with these emotions that she couldn't stop the smile that was showing on her face. he looked up at her in the audience, giving her the slightest wink, and she reciprocated with a flying kiss. cheesy, she thought, but it was worth it when kuroo suddenly blushed and looked away.

kuroo was making his way to the players' waiting room with the team when he saw her silhouette passing by the gym doors. he ran, muttering an excuse to kenma that he forgot something in the bleachers, and caught up with her. he took her wrists in his hands, spinning her around, and dragged her away to the back of the arena. when they arrived at a secluded place, they were catching their breaths. through ragged breaths, she managed to say, 'congratulations. you were great.' those words were enough to open a dam of emotions inside kuroo, those words were all he needed to confirm the growing affection that he was feeling towards her.

so he hugged her, so tightly as if he didn't want to let her go. finding comfort in the embrace, kuroo uttered the words that he has kept inside since that day in the library. slowly he pulled himself away and looked in her eyes, 'i like you. would you go out with me?'

the moment he asked that question, it was like time suddenly stood still for kuroo. no one told him that when you like someone, you're risking exposing your vulnerabilities to them. no one warned him about the possibilities that the potential lover would look at you differently, that expressing your love would drive them away. but she proved those theories wrong as she pulled him down by collar of his team jacket and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

'yes, i'll go out with you.'

and thus began their hidden relationship. secret glances in the hallways, discreet touches when passing by in the school grounds, and stolen kisses in the rooftop. it wasn't that they were ashamed of being seen together, they weren't just ready to be public yet. for sure, both of their friend groups would pester them with questions. they would be the topic of conversations of the entire student body, the mischievous volleyball captain and the quiet violin star. for now, they were content in loving each other in secret, in their after-school hangouts and weekend home dates and sleepovers. in fact for kuroo, he was more than okay with keeping the relationship to themselves because he did not want to share something so precious and so dear to others.

but of course, there were times that the couple almost exposed themselves. one time when the team's practice went into overtime, kuroo had texted her to go ahead and that he'd meet her at the park near her house. he didn't know that she also stayed behind, putting in another hour to practice the i giorni piece. so by the time she had read the message, she decided to wait by the school gym and wait for him. an hour passed and the doors to gym were opening, she jumped to her feet and searched for kuroo among the people who were going out. if kuroo hadn't spotted her first, she would've run and hugged him but he found her first. the team had questioning looks on their faces, kenma sizing her up and yaku looking like he already knew what was up. they barely escaped the situation unscathed if it weren't for lev, a big fan of classical music, who fanboyed and diverted the conversation toward her next music competition.

another instance was during nationals. when they lost to karasuno, despite enjoying the game against their friendly rival, the team were down in the dumps. the ride back to the campus was quiet, no one dared to speak, and for the seniors, they knew it was their last trip to the nationals. usually after a match, they would have post-game meeting but the coach allowed the boys to go home early and rest. at that moment, kuroo wanted nothing more than to run to her house and curl up in her arms. he said his goodbye to kenma, much to the second year setter's surprise because they always went home together. he was getting ready to leave when lev asked, 'where are you off to captain? that's not the way to your home.'

'i'm going to see someone first. see you guys tomorrow.' unknown to him, the team had shocked look on their faces, asking each other the one question: does he have a girlfriend? yaku actually proposed to follow him home, but kenma stopped them, 'let him go. he's not gonna be happy if you guys showed up somewhere he clearly doesn't want you to be.'

'but aren't you the least curious if he's hiding something,' lev inquired, earning him a smack on the shoulder from kenma, 'i am. but i am sure that he will tell us when he's ready. let's just let him be.'

however, the team couldn't contain themselves. since that time, whenever kuroo went out of the gym or the classroom without telling anyone, they would always have someone following him. mostly it was lev, the helpless and clueless first year. then one day, lev saw kuroo heading up to the roof top and in his excitement, he texted his teammates telling them what he was up to. almost simultaneously, the boys went to the fifth floor of their building and crouched behind the roof top door, listening in on the conversation happening behind the door.

it was one of their rooftop lunch dates. since he got a taste of her bento last time, he's been asking her to cook for him. she gladly took up his request, making all sorts of meals that he loved and putting them in cute bento boxes. they were having a great conversation, enjoying the breezy atmosphere, and obviously oblivious to the crowd that has gathered outside. but the nearing graduation was looming over them. they've always avoided having the talk. they were scared what would happen to their relationship if they brought up the topic. but kuroo knew there was no point avoiding it.

'what are your plans after graduation?'

she smiled, already knowing where this conversation was going. 'i want to pursue my music,' she reached a hand out to cup his cheek. 'it's special to me, you know.'

he put his hand on top of hers and leaned to her touch. kuroo understood. as important as volleyball was to him, her music was something she held dear in her heart. he was almost scared to compete. he knew that world-class musicians trained hard and often traveled for concerts and recitals. was this hidden relationship doomed since the beginning? didn't they stand a chance to be out in public as a couple and proclaim their love freely? why did they decide to keep themselves private in the first place?

she sensed that a million thoughts and doubts were clouding his mind once again. smiling, she pulled him in a tight embrace, with him encircling his arms around her waist and burying his face in the crook of her neck. but his worries were gone in an instant when she said, 'you're part of my future too, tetsurou.'

immediately, he detached himself from her and looked at her, not believing what he just heard. 'what did you say?' she laughed and tackled him to the ground, almost straddling him and gave him a kiss. 'i said, you're in my future too. if you think that our secret relationship will be over and thinking of breaking up with me the moment we graduate, you are so wrong, mister.'

'but, your career. wouldn't you be going to music school? you'll be so busy and-' again, she interrupted him. he was always no match for her, completely, he was a fool in love for her.

'and yes, i will be busy. but i am willing to make our relationship work. i want this to work. you're the best thing to happen to me and i have been thinking. i'm quite tired of playing hide-and-seek with my friends about our relationship,' she laid on his chest, hearing the erratic beating of his heart. 'i want to be able to call you mine in public,' she looks up at him, narrowing her eyes, 'i wouldn't want others thinking they can have you. in case you don't know yet, i am quite possessive.'

it was unfair, how she held so much power over him. how with mere words, his heart would be moving so fast that it was threatening to beat out of his chest. as she said that, he broke into a loud laugh. not being able to contain his happiness, kuroo caressed her cheek and gazed at her lovingly, and finally said those three words, 'i love you.'

and just as they were about to share their second kiss in the rooftop, the door swung wide open, with his teammates tumbling down like bowling pins in the process. like deer caught in the headlights, the boys sheepishly stood up, looking over their captain who was obviously pissed. if she hadn't gotten off him and went to his teammates, he would've chased them already. but she laughed it off, finding the situation amusing. 'well, i guess now we don't have to worry about how to tell our friends about us.'

she stood up, leaving kuroo in the concrete floor, and went to introduce herself to his teammates. sitting up, he observed the scene in front of him. over the course of their relationship, he learned that she wasn't much of a people person. his heart warmed at the sight, seeing her fit in instantly with his friends, giggling at their jokes and trying to get to know them better. he thought that he was a lucky one.

their story might have started like any other high school love stories, kept secret from prying eyes, but it wasn't facing the the threat of ending in graduation. after all, they have a future to look forward to.

[foofygoldfish]

EVERY SINGLE FUCKING QUESTION for the kids ask because YOU KNOW I WANT THAT CONTENT

oh my goooood

okay so i’m fairly certain i asked you what pairing i should do this for but it’s been so long that i can’t remember

so i’m gonna do this for elizabeth and tess!

1. how did they feel about raising children? did these feelings change once they became parents?

it wasn’t something they really thought would happen? they’re both older, they’ve both lead dangerous lives - not really the ideal situation to raise kids in, y’know? things change, when they get to jackson and they become “official” and.... i’m drifting away from the point lmao

they’re honestly more than a little scared to be parents - elizabeth’s never felt like she’s good with kids (even if kids adore her), and tess - she just knows that the world is dangerous, even if jackson seems safe.

2. what’s their parenting approach? do they raise their children differently than how they were raised?

elizabeth absolutely refuses to be the kind of parent that hers were, which means she can come off as a liiiiittle overbearing at times, even if she’s still a little clueless? tess, though, raises 

(edit; hi i apparently forgot the finish the question!!! i don’t remember what i was going to put there lmao)

3. what is their favorite thing(s) about their children? what do they love about their children the most?

they both love how happy and energetic and normal they are - tess says that they remind her of her cousins kids, from back before the outbreak, and that (so far) they don’t seem to be too affected by living in a post-apocalyptic society. my brain isn’t giving me anything concrete for the second question, so a vague answer... elizabeth loves running around and playing with them, and watching them play with the animals in the barn. tess - this is cheesy as fuck and i’m sorry - she loves watching them while elizabeth is reading to them

4. who gets the most emotional seeing their children grow older?

elizabeth. they’re babies, they aren’t allowed to be teenagers/adults/etc!!!!

5. who do they think their children takes after the most? which traits do the children share with their parents? (appearance or personality wise)

elizabeth and tess agree - they both take after bee, just in different ways. ryan is quiet and curious, lane is chaotic.

6. how do they celebrate their baby’s first birthday? are they the type of parents to go over the top for birthdays/holidays?

both kids are adopted well after their first birthdays - lane was ten and ryan was six. their first birthdays as maxwells, though, are big shindigs. elizabeth doesn’t know how to throw a casual party...

7. how do they soothe their crying baby when they’re out in public? who’s the best at rocking the baby to sleep?

i’m not sure if they ever adopt a baby - but tess for both, elizabeth is Not Good with babies

8. how do they care for their children when they get sick? who checks on them in the middle of the night?

elizabeth makes sure that they stay on the couch or in bed and she brings them whatever they need - water, tea, soup (so much soup), blankets, books... tess is more likely to take them to hannah and get medicine.

bee is also the most likely to check on them at night - they both will, but tess is better at sleeping through the night, so it’s just that elizabeth is more likely to be awake.

9. who is the most protective of their children? what makes them both shift into overprotective mode?

oh they both are - tess makes sure they’re protected from anything outside the walls of jackson (and is upset when she finds out lane went behind her and bee’s back and asked tommy if she could go on patrols), while elizabeth will absolutely fight anyone who bullies them.

10. who spoils their children the most? who finds it difficult telling their children ‘no’?

elizabeth. for both.

11. what was their baby’s first word(s)? if the baby’s first word was something used to address their parent(s), who claimed bragging rights?

they don’t know :( 

12. do their kids ever find them embarrassing?

lol yes

questions for the kids

13. what is their name(s)? is there any significance to it? any nicknames they go by? or cute pet names their parents give them?

ryan and lane are the ones that exist at the moment! neither of them were named by elizabeth or tess, but ryan’s name is special to elizabeth - that was her older brother’s name. ryan’s nickname is rye, but lane doesn’t like nicknames (her parents call her laney, but she pouts)

lane:

and ryan! (liable to change but)

(ben, not klaus lol)

14. how were they like as small children? did their personality change drastically as they grew older?

lane was... chaotic. she was the first that elizabeth and tess adopted, coming to them when she was ten, and well... let’s just say sharky would like her. she’s a goofball and clumsy and she really likes fire, just as much as her mom does. she calms down a little bit as she gets older, but she’s still fairly chaotic.

ryan has always been quiet, but he’s very much elizabeth’s kid - he sticks to her side as much as possible, and is really only talkative when he’s with her. he loves both his moms - he just clicked with her sooner. he becomes a little more outgoing as he gets used to jackson, but he’s never really too fond of being around people. 

15. what do they usually eat at restaurants? are they a picky eater?

well, i doubt they really have a variety in jackson - probably just whatever is in season. lane tends to favor anything fried, though, and ryan likes pizza. neither are too picky, though.

16. have they ever scared their parents?

oh have they

ryan likes to climb things - he’s fallen asleep on rooftops and in trees before. lane... just.... lane.

17. what was their favorite childhood toys/games growing up?

lane loves apples to apples - elizabeth is trying to hide the existence of cards against humanity from her for as long as possible, just for tess’s sanity. ryan likes mad-libs - both the ones his family makes up for him and the little pads that you used to be able to buy at gas stations etc. 

18. which parent do they call out to whenever they have a bad dream?

tess - she’s better at getting out of bed quickly (even if she was fast asleep), and she’s better at figuring out what they need than elizabeth is.

19. what is their favorite thing to do with their parents? any favorite games or mutual hobbies?

tess insisted on family game night - either video games or board/card games. elizabeth’s tried to make it a little more of a video game night (she kicks ass in mario kart), but tess and lane both prefer board games. ryan’s pretty good competition, though!

20. did they grow up to be different than what their parents had expected?

honestly, elizabeth and tess didn’t know what to expect? elizabeth’s honestly not surprised that either kid ended up like they did, though

[curious-minx]

“Did you know that Russian dolls are actually Chinese?”or how I learned to do the Time Warp in Alphabet City

Cut to: Tompkins Square park. A location that any professional dog walker worth their sidewalk salt inflicted dog paws has worked as a dog walker in New York City should be very familiar with. An area of Manhattan that  has a gravitational pull to it whereas most of Manhattan prefers to hold you at a distance or tickle you with a sweat soaked strap on and cackling finance bro pit stains.  

Back in the year 2019 (Otherwise known as The Year Of Loose Ends)  there was some sort of New York city public access event advertised on the nyc based the skint featuring Natasha Lyonne that I really wanted to attend.  NYC’s  the skint dot come is a digital guide to the scrappier and disingenuous side of nyc attractions. I am sure they will be broadcasting official boho Soho Covid-19 fashion bomb galas, sweaty stand up and inept wine tasting. Unfortunately my former roommate decided to leave the apartment completely unlocked because she was just that kind of witch and I had to course correct and miss the whole interview. A pretty weak New York missed connection but one that still rankles me, because who knows when we’ll be able to freely trot out our Hollyw00d starlets safely out into the public again. 

Natasha Lyonne is like if Joe the Camel were a Lioness (Joanne the Lioness?) adorned with a  flambeau crown of messy locks and a borrowed short king’s Columbo jacket. I haven’t smoked a cigarette in years but seeing Lyonne wield a cigarette in hand I am overcome every time with a second hand nicotine rush. The same way Jon Hamm makes me go ham for rye and vodka sodas. On her 2019 Netflix original curio Russian doll,  the series finds Lyonne delivering as a full force and auteur directing and overseeing the entire first season. A first season of TV that feels completely devoid of any studio exec middling and is actually filming on location. Russian Doll is one of the last and only interesting Netflix comedies focusing on original and interesting woman-centric stories. RIP Tuca and Bertie. RIP Lady Dynamite. Holding my breath for you Dolly Parton’s Heartstrings. 

This year Parks and Rec is sugar footing itself back into the NBC pasture and Amy Poehler in general feels  removed from the network (I guess she’s still making arts and crafts with Offerman which seems like a missed Covid content opportunity). Her latest  hands on deck executive produced project is a banal and ugly adult animated comedy The Duncans (or is it Dunceville, one can never remember these things). And lest we forget that she’s also in the adult swim orbit with Three Busy Debras. Remember 2019 Wine Mom romper Wine Country on Netflix? Poehler is operating at peak polarity. And unlike her SNL and award show gala gal pal Fey she hasn’t had to deal with any black face scandals, but instead had been quietly profiting off of the backs of countless thankless voices of the myriad talented people. Her UCB empire has since dried up and turned into something of a Wal-Mart of alternative comedy. As competitive as ivy league schools with even less reward.

Who can really blame Poehler of wanting to relinquish and brush away her origins in the UCB? Poehler is now a TV mogul and while she doesn’t have a Shondaland level keys to the kingdom she does still manage to have a growing pasture of content. How else could her brother have had the opportunity to foist his Swedish sitcom on an uncaring public? Bottom line, You don’t want to see Natasha Lyonne doing a Harold. That’s what. makes the Poehler collaboration a fun choice because clearly Poehler is putting her name on Russian doll as a means to an end to be in the same conversation as Lyonne.  In an interview with the LA Times (https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/tv/la-et-st-russian-doll-amy-poehler-natasha-lyonne-20190201-story.html ) Poehler calls Natasha Lyonne her personal Tony Soprano.

Russian Doll is a show built from the ground up by an exclusively female based creative team. I think it may explain why Doll’s depiction of New York  free of your typical white fuckbois and dilettantes that occasionally bog down these kinds of shows. All of the men in this Doll House are more or less leaning towards the unconventional character actor axis, and it’s Charlie Barnett’s performance as Alan that leads the pack. Barnett’s Alan makes for a perfect foil for Lyonne’s  Nadia and it might be due to the actor coming from a storied an interesting childhood raised on a sail boat in The Longboat Keys in Florida. As a twentysomething mostly cis white male I found these casting choices exhilarating. I suffer from representation fatigue and much prefer my creative outlooks contain perspectives I normally wouldn’t have direct access to. Like Nadia’s two besties, the artsy as hell queer and lesbian Maxine and Lizzy portrayed by two HBO alums Greta Lee (a brief but satisfying arc on High Maintenance, a show Russian Doll has a lot in common with) and Rebecca Henderson a similar brief arc on West World (a show i have not  been desperate enough in quarantine to revisit. Sorry to what I am sure is the horde of West Heads reading this right now). Also shout to Brendan Sexton III who is doing one of the most tasteful homeless performances since the Fisher King, and it blows me mind that he was one of the kids in cult classic Welcome to the Doll House. And there’s another fun Todd Solondz crossover with the smoky sexy dragon voiced therapist Elizabeth Ashley was in Happiness. 

Russian Doll like most recent streaming network offerings feels more or less lost and jumbled into the mix of content. Now in the throes of neverending Quarantine these Groundhog remixes and reimagining tickle a different portion of the imagination now than they did back in February 2019. Last year during its initial premiere  Happy Death Day 2U (the unexpected sequel to a mild campy horror comedy Happy Death Day) came out a week later.  I definitely recommend checking these movies out if you enjoy this series but not because they are all that similar besides the glaringly obvious overlaps in premise. Both creations focus on spotlighting a woman who is more or less a complicated anti-hero. There is a third Happy Death Day (Happy Death Day To Us!) in development and I have a feeling that it will realistically come out before there is another season of Russian doll. 

Will there still be able to be New York based TV and cinema set in and around New York with actors and background actors filling up sidewalks and parties again? Netflix has an annoying business model of swiping the table settings out from underneath series that are starting to get their footing. Netflix also seems more interested in making a viral season of reality television instead of an original scripted conceptual dramedy. The most spiritually connected property in Netflix’s cache is Black Mirror and a choose your own adventure style twist would be pretty satisfying set inside the Russian doll verse. Is that a feasible creative strategy filming every series into a choose your own adventure styled special? I am sure no one else wants to know what happens to Nadia and friends more than the Harry Nilsson estate who probably hasn’t been this thrilled with a licensing deal since the Popeye movie. 

Dammit I think I forgot to lock my apartment! I went out looking for my pet iguana Trail Mix who’s usually reliably perched at the Iranian health food bodega, but now I’m not so sure. Also, haven’t we already met before?

[vivaciouswordsmith]

Chapter 7 lives

Finally got some of my work under wraps, so I finished the next chapter of FLF. As always, you can read it here or beneath the cut. Enjoy!

(Unrelated note: I’ve seen quite a bit about that Ender Eye AU, and I’ve gotta say...I’m pretty intrigued. Might write something about it when this is all wrapped up...)

Chapter 7: Growing Into It

For a while, the reaction to their heist appeared to be minimal. 

Geoff poured over every newspaper from the last week and watched every single news video under the rather extensive ‘Local Crimes’ section on Weasel News’ website, but their heist was a mere footnote, a blip on the massively overloaded radar that was Los Santos. Still, it blipped, and there was coverage, and even an investigation. That was definitely something.

Their crew’s image had to be put on the back burner for the time being as Geoff, Jack and Michael wondered what the heck to do about Gavin. He’d brought what was practically a Wal-Mart’s worth of computer gear from his ‘place’, set it up, and showed them everything he’d cobbled together about their crew. Security camera footage of them staking out the bank. Screen mirrors of all three of their phones showing every text they’d ever sent to each other. A map of Los Santos with all their planned escape routes drawn in red. And a plethora of other files tucked away in a thousand folders, most of which had names relating to male genitalia. It was a downright frightening amount of data, and it made Jack and Michael nervous. Geoff was a little unsettled as well, but the Brit’s knowledge of their operations, along with the sheer tenacity with which he had complied his data, convinced him to keep him around, at least for the time being.

For the most part, Gavin fit in fairly well with the crew. He liked to go drinking with Geoff, had fun butting heads with Jack, and was playfully chased around and yelled at by Michael. In that aspect, he was one of the boys, and he was happy, even if Michael and Jack weren’t one hundred percent on board with him being one of the crew.

Ryan, however, had not been won over in the slightest. He’d stopped snapping at the Brit, but he still lunged at him, if only to see him fall on his ass and run away squawking. He never gave chase, just watched him run and walked away, tail held high and a bit of a strut to his stride. He ruined a pair of Gavin’s tacky Converse by pissing on them, chewed through two pairs of headphones, and, for several nights in a row, woke him up at five in the morning by barking outside his door.

As Jack so succinctly put it, Ryan accepted that Gavin was there, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I think you’re growing on him,” Michael told him one day. Gavin had come home after a job and Ryan charged straight at him. The techie barely had time to screech before Ryan hit him hard and knocked him to the floor. Now he lay on Gavin’s torso and panted. He wiggled underneath the wolfdog, but no matter how much he tried, the pup would not budge.

“Yeah, well, I well wish he’d grow off me!” he said back. He shoved at the wolf’s bulk, and only managed to make him jiggle. Ryan yawned, long and slow, and put his head on his paws and shut his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake!”

“He’s faking it.” Michael did his best to hide his laughter and failed miserably. He stooped down and rubbed the white splotches between Ryan’s eyes. The wolf cracked open an eye. “C’mon, Rye-Bread, let him go.” He grunted and shut his eye again. “Ryan, you know Geoff likes him. And he’s fucking harmless anyway.”

“Michael!”

“Shut up, you know it’s true.” Ryan huffed loudly and rolled off Gavin. He shook himself and walked over to Michael for pets. “There you go. Good boy.”

Gavin pushed himself upright and glared at the wolf. “Prick.”

The wolf looked back at him and growled. His lip curled up enough to show off a bit of white fang. Michael threaded his fingers through his ruff and managed to calm him down. “Man, if looks could kill, you’d be fucking dead.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?”

“He’s just not used to you, I guess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you mean what’s that supposed to mean? It means he’s not used to you yet!”

At that moment, Geoff walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. “The fuck are you dickheads arguing about?”

“Geoff, why do you have a bloody wolf, Geoff?”

“Uh…why not?” Ryan walked over and hopped up on the couch. “I mean, Jack’s the one who adopted him. Ask him.” The wolf’s wet black nose bumped against Geoff’s hand, and he absentmindedly scratched the pup behind his stump ear.

“Just look at him!” Michael gestured at the wolf’s facial markings. “Look how cool he is!”

“He’s pretty fucking smart, too,” said Geoff. “Saved my stupid ass, at any rate.”

“You’re just jealous ‘cause he doesn’t like you.”

“What? I’m not – why would I – I don’t even – what?” The Brit spluttered and gesticulated while trying to gather his thoughts. Ryan glanced at him, and they swore to God the wolf smirked. “I don’t give a shit about him!”

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.”

“Anyway, not that this isn’t fun, but I actually need you dickheads to do something for me.”

Both Michael and Gavin looked over at Geoff, all levity forgotten. “What is it?” the demo man asked.

“There’s a warehouse on the docks with some…stuff…in it. If we want to be a big, badass crew, we’re gonna need it.”

“So…”

“So you’re reconning! Just scope it out, see what the defenses are like, and all that good shit.”

“Why do you want me to go?” Gavin asked. “God, I just got back, for Christ’s sake! Why’re you sending me out again?”

“Because, as far as I’m concerned, you still haven’t proved yourself to us.” He held up his hand when Gavin squawked again. “I know, I know, you helped us with the heist, and you’ve been working with us ever since, and you’re sort of growing on me, but still, y’know, not quite on board.” Geoff gestured vaguely and sagged into the couch. “You know how it is.”

“No.”

“Well, my decision’s final, so tough shit.” He reached out for the TV remote, but paused and looked back at Michael. “Oh, and take Ryan with you. I, uh, forgot to take him for his walk this afternoon.”

“What?” said Gavin.

“Sure,” said Michael. “C’mon, Ryan.”

The wolf jumped up and sprinted over to the door. Gavin shifted back against the couch and held up his hands. “I’m not sitting in a car with that monster.”

“He’s a wolf, not a monster. And fucking calm down, already. He’s not going to hurt you.” Michael unhooked Ryan’s red harness and beckoned him over. The wolf sniffed the harness and let out a growl. “C’mon, man, I know you hate it, but we don’t need you running off all over the place, okay? You’re too wild, man! Can’t control ya!” He twisted and wrestled until he finally managed to get Ryan into his harness. The red straps nearly disappeared amidst the wolfdog’s fluff, but Michael managed to clip the leash onto the D-ring without any problems. “Where is this warehouse, anyway?”

“Uh, hold on, I’ve got it here somewhere.” Geoff rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a wadded up notecard. He flung it at Michael, who caught it without looking. “Have fun. But not too much fun. Adequate fun. Not-destroying-the-warehouse fun.”

“We’re not going to destroy the fucking warehouse, all right?” Michael put his hand on his chest and batted his eyelashes. “What sort of monsters d’you think we are?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Geoff waved them off and settled back to watch his show.

“C’mon, Gavin!” The Brit let out a startled noise and jumped back a step. “Fucking move already.”

“I was going anyway,” he said under his breath. “Don’t see why I gotta go to the sodding warehouse anyway.”

“Cause it’s protected with cameras, you dumbass!” Geoff yelled. “Also, seriously, you want to be part of this crew, don’t you?” The startled hacker could only nod. “Then shut the fuck up and do your job.”

“Aw, but Geoff-”

“No buts.” He waved them off and focused on his show.

“You heard the boss, Gav. Let’s check the warehouse out.” Michael grabbed Gavin’s arm with his other hand and pulled him toward the door. Ryan tugged at the leash and pawed at the door. “We’re going, we’re going.”

They stepped out into the greasy parking lot and made their way to Michael’s car. It was a shitty old square thing, painted blue with a red stripe down the middle, but it was Michael’s, and he liked it. He popped open the back door and whistled at Ryan. The wolfdog wiggled in place for a moment and gracefully leaped into the back. Michael let go of the leash and shut the door on the pup. Gavin slouched in the passenger seat while Michael started up the car and rolled both rear windows down for Ryan.

They didn’t talk during the fifteen-minute drive to the bay area. Michael focused on the drive, Gavin largely sulked, and Ryan ran back and forth between the two open windows, occasionally stopping to let the wind play in his fur and pant happily at passing cars.

Michael stopped on the beachfront and stepped out into the blinding sun. It was a busy day on the Los Santos beach, which wasn’t all that surprising. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon, and the beach was one of the few places the gangs agreed not to touch. Hopefully they’d just be two dudes and their dog, and nothing that would raise eyebrows. Or get the police called on them.

It would be about a five minute walk to the warehouse, and Michael wasn’t in any sort of hurry, so he unclipped Ryan’s leash from his harness. The pup’s ears twitched, and he immediately set off for the ocean.

“What’re you doing, Michael?” Gavin squeaked. He drew closer to Michael and gripped his bicep. “Why’d you let him off his leash, you bloody lunatic?”

Michael shrugged. “It’s a nice day, and it’s not like we’re doing anything serious. Let him have some fun.” He pushed Gavin’s hand off his arm, but let him stay close. “Also, Ryan’s not going to hurt anyone. You especially.”

The wolfdog in question bounded back toward them. He left a trail of sandy pawprints in his wake, and had something shiny in his mouth. He stopped at Michael’s feet and dropped a dead fish onto the toes of his boots. He looked up at Michael and licked his chops expectantly.

The techie let out a horrified retch and jumped back. Ryan snorted and nudged the dead fish with a paw.

“Nice job, Rye-Bread,” said Michael. He lifted the dead fish up by the fin with his thumb and forefinger. “It’s very nice.”

Appeased, the wolf turned tail and hurled himself back into the surf. Michael flung the fish away and continued walking, ignoring his companion’s gurgling and vomiting. Eventually, Gavin finished his heaving and wobbled after Michael, muttering irately under his breath.

What was probably a five-minute walk ended up taking nearly half an hour. Michael and Gavin weren’t in any hurry to scope out the warehouse, and the wolfdog leaped through the white surf and snapped at fish, foam and debris alike. Michael called him back over once they reached the dock area, and clipped the leash back on his harness. Ryan grunted and flicked his good ear, but he allowed Michael to leash him again and stayed by his side while they mounted the warped wooden stairs up to the docks.

“So, which one of these is our warehouse, then?” Gavin asked.

“Uh…” Michael pulled the wrinkled card out of his pocket and squinted down at it. “Fuck, Geoff’s handwriting’s awful…couple more, I think? Yeah, yeah, it’s that one over there.” He pointed towards one of the newer buildings.

“Let’s get this over with, then. I could do with a damn break.”

They drew closer. Gavin made note of the security cameras posted by the front doors and on both sides of the building. Michael noted the make of the doors and considered breaching them to see what was inside. All in all, while more modernized than the weather worn wooden buildings around them, it didn’t look like it would be that hard of a heist. Or whatever the fuck Geoff intended to do with it.

Then Ryan snarled. They both jumped and looked down at the wolfdog. His fur stood on end, his hackles raised and his muzzle pulled back to reveal his teeth. His ears rotated, and he turned his head to face one of the other buildings.

The hair on the back of Michael’s neck stood on end. He put his hand on his gun and glanced around. “Something’s up,” he hissed.

“What?”

A movement beside one of the other warehouses caught Michael’s eye, and he whirled around. Two men strolled out from the neighboring dock and froze at the sight of Michael, Gavin and Ryan. They were dressed in dark clothing and had thin, grim faces. Both of their hands jumped almost in perfect unison to their waistbands.

“The fuck are you two doing here?” one of them asked.

“Just walking my dog,” said Michael. He reached down and put his hand on Ryan’s harness.

“And what’s the twink doing with you?” the other asked.

Gavin let out an indignant sound, but any protest he was about to make was cut off by Michael’s elbow ramming into his stomach. “He just wanted to walk with me. The fuck are you asking for?”

“You’re on our fucking turf, that’s why.” They stepped closer. Ryan tried to lunge, but Michael held him back. Froth dripped from the wolf’s bared teeth, and his good ear pressed flat against his head. Michael’s fingers shifted down to the clip keeping the leash attached to the harness.

More footsteps sounded from behind and to either side of them, and several more black-clad men closed in a circle around them. Gavin’s fingers dipped into his waistband, where his gun rested against his stomach. Michael did his best to hide this movement, but he supposed there was no point. He could feel the tension heating the air around them, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it erupted in violence. Ryan huffed and growled and shifted in place, eyes flicking from enemy to enemy.

One of the guys gave them a once over. His eyes suddenly widened, and he pulled out a Glock.

“That guy’s one of the assholes who did that bank heist! Remember, a few weeks back?”

Guns appeared amongst every single person on the dock. “So, was that bank not enough for you greedy fucks? Had to rub your greasy dicks all over our stuff?”

“Hey, hey! My dick is not greasy!” Michael slowly pushed the leash’s clasp open. Ryan must have realized what he was doing, because he stood stock still, his eyes fixed on one of the men who’d first accosted them. “I have excellent genital hygiene.”

“Michael,” Gavin said. “Don’t antagonize them!”

“I’ll antagonize the shit out of ‘em! They’re pointing fucking guns at us, Gavin! We’re past the fucking ‘Oooh mistah we’re so sorry!’ stage.”

“You’re right about that, at least.” The main guy clicked the safety off on his gun and pointed it at Michael’s chest. “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of your bodies.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

Michael yanked the leash free and dived toward the nearest building. Ryan surged forward and leaped. His paws slammed into the man’s chest, and he went down with a scream. Two other men were taken out with headshots from Michael before the others cottoned on to what was going on, and then the docks erupted in gunfire and shouting.

Gavin somehow managed to duck a hail of bullets and took cover behind a nearby wall. Ryan had already vanished into thin air, leaving behind a wide-eyed corpse with a bloodied mass of meat in place of a throat. There were already four dead bodies lying in pools of blood, but other men swarmed, seemingly out of the woodwork, and took positions near their fellows. He pulled out his gun and returned fire as best he could. He winged one of the guys and killed another. He briefly considered calling Geoff and asking for help, but the storm of bullets dissuaded him for the moment.

He backed further into the alley, considering his options. The car had been left way back on the beach, and he didn’t want to leave without Michael anyway. If he had better weapons, he’d feel a lot more confident fighting until every last member was dead, but the gun was more a precaution than anything else, and he’d packed a pittance of ammo. The hacker’s heart thumped in his throat, and his legs trembled. He couldn’t see things getting worse.

So, naturally, things got worse.

An arm wrapped around his throat and yanked him powerfully backwards. Before he could yell or shoot or do anything, really, the still-warm muzzle of a gun pressed against his temple, and any thoughts of…anything, really, flew out of his brain.

“Listen close, you little shit,” a voice growled in his ear. “If you want to get out of this, you’re gonna do exactly as I say. Got it?” He nodded. “Good. We’re gonna walk back out there, and we’re going to convince your friend to stop shooting. Then you’ll both come along quietly to our boss’s place for a heart to heart chat. Hell, maybe we’ll give him a nice wolfskin rug while we’re at it.”

He started pulling Gavin back towards the no man’s land, ignoring the Brit’s dug in heels. His thoughts were frantic, desperate, trying to find some way to get out, some plan to escape, but he saw nothing…

A snarl sounded behind them, and the gangster turned to face it. Gavin couldn’t help the fearful adrenaline that clenched his heart at the awful sight behind them. The wolfdog stood silhouetted in the “alley”. Blood dripped from his muzzle and soaked the fur of his chin and chest. He stepped forward a few paces and growled again. His red-stained teeth glittered in the afternoon light.

“Stupid dog,” the man sneered. His gun moved away from Gavin’s head to point between Ryan’s eyes.

The moment the gun moved away from him, Gavin brought his pistol down hard on the man’s penis. He let out a garbled shriek and fell back, clutching his crotch. Ryan charged forward the same moment Gavin stumbled away and fell. For a moment, the Brit swore the world slowed down. He saw Ryan’s knees bend, watched him spring into the air, flinched when long teeth tore into pale flesh. Blood spouted into the air, and a shriek cut off almost immediately, replaced by pained gurgles. In moments, it was over. Gavin’s would-be captor lay dead on the ground, blood streaming from the gaping hole where his neck had been.

Ryan snorted and shook himself. He bent his head and snapped up the semi-automatic from the dead man’s fingers. He turned back and walked over to Gavin, who was busy trying to catch his breath. At first, he drew away from the beast. The fresh blood literally dripping from his muzzle was not a particularly endearing sight. The wolfdog huffed loudly and nudged Gavin’s hand with his nose. When Gavin still didn’t react, he growled and dropped the gun in his lap. He twitched and stared dumbly down at the weapon. Ryan put a paw on top of the semi-automatic and nudged it toward Gavin’s right hand. Finally, the techie reached up and grabbed it.

Ryan turned away and padded back down the space between the warehouses. Gavin hastened to follow him, and saw another dead man lying near the entrance to the “alley”. More bloody marks stood out on his pale skin, and the Brit shuddered when his eyes locked with the corpse’s blank lifeless ones. Ryan hopped over him and glanced around before heading to the right. There were still sounds of gunfire echoing through the area, but there weren’t as many of them this time. Unfortunately, one problem was replaced with another: the distant sounds of police sirens slowly called over the beach, steadily growing louder and louder. Unless they wanted to spend the night in LSPD lockup, they needed to get out now. He swallowed and tailed after the wolfdog.

They reached the end of the dock area, rounded around one of the shoddier warehouses, and headed back to the main area. Two men had taken cover behind some old steel barrels and shot at the side of another warehouse. Ryan’s pace slowed, and he crouched to the ground. He glanced up at Gavin, then looked at the man to the right. He pointed his gun at the man’s back. He swore the wolf nodded at him before turning back to the other. Gavin opened fire and blew the man’s skull wide open while Ryan leaped on the other man’s back and ended his life with a swift bite to his neck.

“Is that all of them?” he asked.

Ryan huffed and walked to the edge of the pier. He snuffled at the boards and the entrances to the warehouses. His ears jumped upright and he ran to the warehouse where the men had been shooting. Gavin sped after him, heart in his throat.

He turned the corner and nearly gasped out loud when he saw Michael sitting with his back to the warehouse wall, blood pooling around one of his arms. Well, he kind of saw Michael, because most of the demoman’s body was obscured by the giant black wolf sitting on top of him. His mind flashed back to the sight of long white fangs tearing into flesh, and for a moment he considered shooting the wolf right then and there. His fingers curled for a moment around the trigger.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Ry-Bread, I’m okay, it’s just a graze!”

The words pulled Gavin out of his fears, and he finally saw the wolf’s pink tongue lathing Michael’s freckled cheeks, and saw the smile on his face. Ryan’s tail wagged when Michael stroked his fur and gave his flanks a few pats. Gavin lowered his gun, and felt a sudden twinge of guilt low down in his guts.

“Michael, did they get you, Michael?”

“Huh?” Michael’s eyes flicked up to meet his. “Yeah, but it’s just a scratch. It’s nothing, I swear.” He pushed Ryan off him and pulled himself upright. He stepped toward Gavin and showed him a bloody tear in the sleeve of his jacket. “Fucking assholes. I like this jacket, goddammit.”

“Still, we’d better leave. Cops are showing up, and you know Geoff hates it when we get locked up.”

“Shit, really?” Michael cocked his head, and scowled when he heard the sirens. “Fuck. Let’s hit the road, then.” He walked out into the main area, but wobbled and would have fallen if Gavin hadn’t caught him. “Fuck me.”

“C’mon, boi. We’ll get you home, and Jack can patch you up, yeah?”

“I’m fucking fine…just a little dizzy, that’s all…” Ryan whined and bumped his nose into Michael’s palm. Blood dripped down his jacket sleeve and splashed onto the worn wooden planks. “Okay, he might…have cut something important.”

Gavin wrapped Michael’s good arm around his shoulders and dragged him back toward the stairs. Ryan trailed behind them, letting out the occasional whine.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you home.”

It was fairly late in the afternoon by the time Gavin, Michael and Ryan returned home. Jack was playing what looked like Call of Duty, but he immediately paused the game and stood up upon seeing the blood still oozing from Michael’s jacket.

“What happened?” he asked. “I thought Geoff was just sending you out for reconnaissance!”

“Some arseholes were watching the place. Shot us up and injured Michael.” Gavin propped Michael up against the kitchen table and stepped back to let Jack tend to him. “We managed to take care of it, but we, uh, made a right mess of the docks.”

“Fuck. Guess Geoff got bad intel on that warehouse.” Jack pulled his first-aid kit off the shelf and popped it open. Michael shifted about an inch away and grabbed his injured arm.

“M’fine,” he said. “S’not a problem.”

“You’re bleeding like crazy, Michael.” Jack batted his hand away and pulled the jacket off his shoulders. Gavin retched at the sight of the jagged wound torn into the meat of Michael’s arm. It looked much worse than it had with the jacket covering it. Ryan sniffed Michael’s hand, leaned his head back, and let out a howl.

“He’s gonna be okay, Ryan.” Jack briefly patted Ryan’s head before pulling a pair of gloves out of his kit and tugging them on. Ryan whined again and walked over to Gavin. He leaned his bulk against the Brit’s leg and nearly toppled him. After a moment’s consideration, Gavin put his hand on Ryan’s head. Surprisingly, the wolfdog’s tail wagged a bit, and he looked up at Gavin with big blue eyes. The dried flakes of blood clinging to the fur of his muzzle was still off-putting, but he didn’t look quite so batshit insane now.

It took Jack about twenty minutes to get the wound cleaned and to sew it shut. He gave Michael some painkillers beforehand, and by the time he stitched the last wound shut the demoman had nodded off and snored peacefully. Gavin had graciously lent Michael his shoulder, but scowled and shifted him off when he drooled on his shirt. Jack wrapped the wound up with gauze and bandages, and led Michael to the couch. He flopped down and let out a loud snore.

Not five seconds after that, the front door banged open again, and Geoff strolled into the room.

“Great news! I finally found my..” He trailed off when he saw the group clustered around the couch. “Uh, what’s going on?”

“Geoff, why didn’t you tell us the warehouse had a billion bloody guards, Geoff?” Gavin glared at his boss and crossed his arms. “They blasted the shite out of us, Geoff.”

“Guards? It wasn’t supposed to be guarded.” Geoff frowned and moved to look at Michael. “Guess that answers my question, though.”

“Not that it matters anyway,” said Gavin. “Cops showed up right as we left.”

“If that’s the case, they’ll probably confiscate everything in the area as evidence,” said Jack.

“Fuck. I really wanted that warehouse, too. Dammit.” He sat down in his chair and brushed the hair off his forehead. “This’ll set us back a bit.” Ryan walked over and put his head on Geoff’s knee. He reached down and scratched behind his ear stump, and the pup’s eyes closed happily.

“What did you find, Geoff?” Jack asked.

“Oh, yeah! So, me ‘n’ Gavvers here got royally fucked up a few nights ago, and we had the best discussion on what we’re going to name our little group!”

“Do we really need a name?”

“You – wha – of course we need a fucking name! We can’t just be ‘Those Fuckers Who Fuck Shit Up’ forever!”

“I don’t know, ‘Those Fuckers Who Fuck Shit Up’ is kinda catchy,” said Jack.

Gavin, meanwhile, stared at the ceiling and frowned. “I don’t remember this.”

“You wouldn’t, you fucking lightweight.” Geoff laughed when he squawked indignantly. “Anyway, we came up with some fucking amazing names, and I had the presence of mind to write ‘em all down. I lost the paper for a bit, but I finally found it in my car!” He pulled a cocktail napkin out of his pocket and offered proudly to Jack. “Tell me what you think of ‘em.”

Jack took the napkin and carefully uncrumpled it. “Geoff, this is completely illegible.”

“What? No, it should all be there.”

Gavin wandered over and peered over Jack’s shoulder. “What? Geoff, this is utter nonsense.” He laughed and tugged the napkin out of Jack’s hand. “God, this is absolute bloody gibberish! Nothing on here makes sense!”

Geoff stood up and pulled the napkin out of Gavin’s hand. He squinted down at the scrawling on it and frowned. “Fuck. This was brilliant a few nights ago.” He brought it up to his nose and squinted his eyes almost shut. “Wait…wait…I think…I think I see an f.”

“Where do you see an f in that mess?” asked Gavin.

“Yeah, I think…maybe…if that’s an f…maybe that says ‘Fake’? Fake…Fake ah…Fake AH Crew! There, that’s our fucking name!” Geoff slammed the napkin down on the table and sat back down in his chair. Ryan wandered over and sniffed the napkin. His nose wrinkled, and he turned tail and ran back toward his food bowl.

“That makes no goddamn sense,” said Jack.

At the same time Gavin said, “Did you make that up?”

“Obviously I made it up! And I don’t hear you coming up with anything better!”

“Is there a Real AH Crew? Also, what the fuck is AH?”

“You know what? Shut up. Everyone shut up. I fucking quit.” He shot to his feet and stormed off to the kitchen.

Jack shook his head and crumpled up the napkin.

“Fake AH Crew. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”